Jax stared at this hand as if he expected it to suddenly burst into flames.


"Stop staring at your hand, Jax." the Doctor administering the treatment ordered. "There is nothing wrong with it."


"I just.... I just expected to feel something," he waved his hand about in an encompassing gesture. "You know, like prickly needles or numbness or..."


The Doctor looked up from his work and frowned, "Why would you expect that?"


Jax sighed. "I don't know... I just thought I would."


"Well, that should do it for today. Tomorrow we will increase your dosage but let me know if you feel anything no matter how funny, embarrassing or ordinary it may seem."


Jax frowned, "Embarrassing? Why would I be embarrassed?"


The Doctor clipped his reports together after checking the medical droid's procedure, "Well, the last guy experienced an erection that lasted over four hours."


Jax's eyes widened. "Damn, Doc. I could have fun with that!"


The Doctor grinned, "Not when you see the needle we have to use to reduce the erection. Very painful and very embarrassing. Never seen a grown man cry that much.."


Jax suddenly turned white and coughed, "Well um... I'll be sure to let you know.."


The Doctor thought that unlikely and so made himself a mental note to increase the observational parameters of the scanners to report any oddities. Never trust a patient to do what they need to do.


Before he exited the room, Jax called out, "So Doc, how powerful am I going to be?"


The Doctor thought about the answer and in the end just shrugged, "From what little we know, the more you have, the more powerful you will be. But powerful is a subjective term. Will you be able to levitate a starship or leap tall buildings in a single bound, I do not know."


The patient frowned, "But if you give us all the same dosage and you don't know how much we have to begin with, how can you...?"


The Doctor smiled, "If you had them in abundance you would have higher than normal precognition, we believe. Since you do not, it is safe to assume you do not have the required level to even attract the interest of the Jedi."


Jax scratched himself, "Well, I wasn't stolen as a child.."


The Doctor nodded, "A salient point. A nurse will be by to unhook the restraints in a minute."


He heard the patient begin to whistle and wondered, for the hundredth time, why the Jedi felt it necessary to take members as children."


*


"The Jensaaria way of philosophy is the one that will help keep your thoughts on the straight and narrow.."


The instructor droned on as Jax turned to others of his cadre. Others who had undergone the same procedure in the Genetic Renovation Program. They were referred too as Gen-2 following in the footsteps of one Adrian Ravenna (Forging the Shards).


The man was already a legend in the field of 'Special Ops'. His abilities were already the stuff of legend in the CSIS and there were more than enough volunteers to join up for this new, yet secretive Academy.


Those that followed in Ravenna's footsteps were First Gens and their own growing abilities in the Force were the talk around the scientific community for they were, after all, the first stable subjects to come from such a procedure.


Artificial Force Inducement was the catch-phrase within the community and while there were those that abstained on moralistic grounds, the rest felt compelled to expand upon their successes. After all, the jury was still out as to First Gen's true limits and whenever that critical answer was found, they would have a base of measurement.


While their detection instrumentation and equipment was centuries behind the midichlorian scanner used by the old Jedi Order, their extraction and injection systems were just as good if not better. And as long as they measured the amount going in they would have a relative base if not exact.


The answer to a scientist's quest for perfection would either be an exponential amount of funding to research detection methods or simply expand the already successful treatment so that a greater set of analysis could yield a more exact baseline. The Jedi hoarded their technology with a passion and there were really not that many units still in operation or in existence since the Purge of General Order 66.


And so, Jax found himself a member of Genetic Renovation to expand the Confederation's Spec Ops. The military boys at Command were, of course, giddy with the prospect of having their own brand of force-users to counter Jedi or Sith interactions (which was intelli-speak for fights).


"To become a Jensaarai is not a decision to be made lightly. It will not be learning a set of skills or techniques. It is not a step to power or glory. It is a way of life. To become one of us, you must give up your personal desires, your passions, and your freedoms for the cause of the greater good of the galaxy. Our galaxy is continually in turmoil, the innocent and righteous are always under assault from the darkside, they always need protectors. We are those protectors. It is a life of service, not power. It is a life of sacrifice, not gain. It is a life of self-improvement in humility, not one of lording powers over others."


Jax was bored but, he reasoned, they all had to go through this if they wanted to make sure they did not fall to the evil and wrong teachings of the Sith and end up psychopaths.


Their pattern of training mimicked that of Adrian Ravenna and how a holocube trained him but for all the high sounding pious phrases used to indicate a "way of life", it seemed that they jumped into force-pushing, levitating and other force-using techniques rather quickly.


Perhaps a definition of what constitutes the 'greater good' comes later...



*


Dorumaa (Evanescent">http://therebelfaction.com/forums/showthread.php?t=13036">Evanescent Respite)


Jax looked through his scope and knew that the right moment was coming. He went through the meditative steps to keep his heart rate down since even the slightest excitement might throw his aim off.





It happened almost unconsciously as his finger depressed and the round was ejected from the weapon. An energy weapon would have left a trail or a visible incoming vector which would have pointed back to him immediately. Rather than using the more accurate energy weapons thus forcing him to gather his equipment and move as fast and as quickly as he could, he opted to use the harder projectile weapon and have some leisure time to see the results of his firing.


After all, one can't observe the enemy if one is running away looking for a place to hide.


The person's head popped like an exploding melon and red splattered on nearby onlookers.


Oh yes, this would be a speech long remembered.


"You won't be stealing from your people anymore.." muttered Jax as he casually disassembled his weapon.

"The planetary defense fleets are on alert," came an aide as Zell grunted in response. The initial hubbub of Hyfe's disappearing had calmed down slightly and everything turned to duty.


From what little monitoring they could get before the entire Yaga Minor system went dark showed unfamiliar ships escorted by a small ship that was, by now, all too familiar. INS had been playing footage of the Emperor's Fleet disappearing in a wormhole created by such a ship and now, it seemed, the same alien ships were being deployed in the Yaga Minor attack and, obviously,...


"..the same fucking ship that transported his fucking godship Raktus to Vladet!" Zell growled to himself. "If these ships were from the Black Dragon Empire, they just pissed off the wrong fucking people!"


"It doesn't make any sense.." complained someone in the crowd of people milling about the Throne Room, an analyst probably.


"It makes perfect sense," the Regent bit back, "They kicked Regrad's ass and now they are riding high on victory. They think they can kick all of our asses!"


"But if you look at the structural architecture of a known Dragon ship and these..," another analyst paused trying to find the right term and coming up short, "..other ships, there are clear differences."


"What I see is whether or not this fucking pissant ship is really from the Dragon ship factories or not doesn't fucking matter." the analyst blinked at the plethora of negatives in that statement. "The fact that this same type of ship accompanied his fucking godship Heir-son-of-a-bitch-Raktus on the Vladet mission tells us that he at least fucking knows about these fuckers attacking us and who attacked our Emperor!

So he's left us out here with our dick in hand and thumbs up our ass. So fuck him!"


Those Admirals that were with him in the Palace stirred, "So we ..?"


"Mobilize the fleets. I want some ships to reinforce Yaga Minor.. hell, we need to know what the fuck is happening there and, since the Moff of the entire fucking protectorate is trapped there, the rest of the region's planetary Governors are keeping their ships on station, which I don't blame them for even if they are letting Yaga Minor die on a vine."


He slammed a hand down, "We need to know what the fuck is going on! But we also have to hit these fuckers where it hurts! A staging area! Something! Find it!"


Admiral Jaeder cleared his throat, "They caught us with our pants down. It will take time to mobilize for both orders. I would like permission to release the Glee Anselm Reclamation Fleet.. they might get there a bit faster and perhaps give us some idea of what is going---."


"Do it!" Regent Zell ordered.


Jaeder nodded, "The Anselmi or the League may.."


"Fuck them! Do it!" Zell restated. "The League has their own ships to police their own fucking shit. Fucking damned pet project of Simon fucking Kaine! This is his revenge for all those arguments he lost!"


As Zell started to walk away, the Admiral cleared his throat. The Regent turned, annoyed, "What else?"


"The Mid Rim Fleet is in disarray and nobody in the region is going to do anything without a Governor or Moff overseeing.."


"What the fuck is this?!" cried the old man.


The Admiral shrugged, "With Yaga Minor being pounded on the holonet as we speak, they are afraid."


"Mid Rim has no fucking Moff?"


Jaeder shook his head. "The Emperor never got back to us regarding a confirmation or even a preference for the list we presented to him.."


"When did you present it?"


"A week ago."


"Dammit, Hyfe! Alright, alright, I'll take care of it! Anything else?"


Admiral Jaeder shook his head, "Not just this moment."


"Fantastic." Azrael Zell responded sarcastically. "I need to take a piss.."


"Sir!" a staffer from the Imperial High Command came in, "Admiral Pitta from the Corellian Diktat has left with his fleet too--"


"Excellent!" Zell's face lit up and he turned to his old friend, "Jaeder, we should have things up to strength in.."


"Relephon!" the staffer completed his interrupted statement.


"What??!" The Regent could not quite believe his ears, "I gave that man explicit orders too.."


"I was informed that Lupercus Darksword gave him superseding orders to proceed to Relephon." the man finished, hoping the old man Zell would not shoot the messenger.


Regent Zell, for his part, simply stared at the staffer, his eyes growing dark. It was surreal and the entire Throne Room quieted down wondering if the old man would simply lose himself into a rant and simply execute everyone out of hand. They watched with mounting tension as he turned and marched up the steps to the throne. He sat down and turned to the military people in the room, "I want you to issue General Order 102."


There was some confusion and someone stammered, "Umm, Sir. You want us to shoot Simon Kaine?"


The Regent raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "I mean General Order 103."


"You want us to shoot Bhindi Drayson?"


Zell glowered, "General Order 104?"


The crowd was definitely nervous, "umm... You sir?"


Fucking Hyfe!


Inexplicably, the old man broke out into a chuckle and everyone's shoulders seemed to sag as they exhaled, "Not today, but dammit don't I feel like it!"


He drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne, "Which General Order is the one where we shoot all Sith fuckers on sight?"


Confusion was evident on everyone's faces and Zell turned to a Stormtrooper, "Is there such a General Order?"


The trooper shook his head, "No, sir!"


"Of course not," Zell remarked dryly.


He turned to the staffer, "What ships did Pitta leave?"


"Just a spattering of defending units. Not much.."


Zell nodded, "Revoke Lupercus Darksword's current authority over the Corellian Diktat pending the outcome of whatever the fuck he has in mind. If he's a success, then we'll have a chat. If he's a failure, he better not return. Jaeder? I want you to put one of ours in Command over there and bring the Byss Fleet in as reinforcements."


"Byss is our Core reserve," warned the Admiral.


"Well, until we get all this other shit figured out, it'll do."


"Very good, Sir." and the Admiral left.


"Now, get me those fuckers in the Mid Rim," he ordered a staffer and the man backed out of the Throne Room and broke out into a run when he hit the Great Hall.


When everyone but Stormtroopers and the Guardsmen had gone, Zell sat back on the throne in thought. After a while, he noticed an Inquisitor walk by in the Hall outside and when he turned and focused around the room he noticed Aeacus looking a tad nervous.


After an uneasy moment, the Regent said in a quiet voice, "I would like to think that there is more variety to force-users than simply Jedi or Sith. Therefore, when I order the death of Sith, I do not mean those force-users who are loyal servants of the Empire. I mean those self-serving fuckers who think of themselves, like that rancor-bastard Raktus, as fucking Gods of the Galaxy."


He leaned forward, "That being said, I am unsure as to what Hyfe meant when he said Xa Fel had fallen. Does he mean pirates have taken the planet over? Does he mean the Coalition or the Jedi? Fallen to whom? Aliens?"


Guardsman Aeacus shifted slightly, "I would think that he would mean by another force user but I do not think he means Jedi. If it were Jedi, I would think he would have complained more publicly about it."


Zell grinned and sat back chuckling, "I believe you are right. Therefore, if this person or persons are Sith, then it just means Xa Fel has not fallen necessarily but is under new management. Still Sith, though.

Now, I have no problem steamrolling the shit out them if they tempt me but I would rather have these fuckers working with us than against us. Do you think this Sith will deal?"


The Guardsman shrugged, "I hear a great many things about Sith that it is hard for someone to believe it all yet what should one believe?"


"Besides the fact that they are fucking bastards that steal your fleets?"


"Besides that, yes. I would say that dealing with a Sith on Xa Fel, if it is a Sith, is not out of the realm of possibility but is it probable? I don't know. I would probably send an Inquisitor to deal with them since they are trained to try to find out how loyal or sincere someone can be."


Zell snapped his fingers, "That's not a half bad idea. They should be able to tell better than the Corps at any rate. The Viscount has done some good work for us in weeding out the disloyal. We'll send him to Xa Fel and see what we see.."

"It was announced that the Emperor approved the appointment of Admiral Carson as acting Governor of the Mid Rim Protectorate before his disappearance.." The commentator was reading the message given by the Regent's representative to Vladet earlier that morning in a recap of news when Azrael Zell sniffed as if he smelled something funny.

He was enroute to his personal shuttle to meet with the current Fleet Commanders and was being followed by a representative aide from Vladet


"Who the hell is Carson? Didn't he fucking die in a limo explosion or something?" (Revenge and Retaliation)


"Relative, Sir. Apparently the Carson family is large and a well-known staple in the Mid Rim Territories."


"As long as he fucking tows the 'Party Line', I couldn't give a shit."


"Well," the aide continued, "he is tapping Imperial Intelligence for any information regarding the assassination of Governor Park Kraken."


"Assassination? I thought the damned spark-plug backfired or some tragic shit like that?" Zell sounded anything but regretful.


"Given the unrest since Governor Kraken's death, there are indicators that perhaps the killings could have been politically motivated?"


"Internal?" The old man asked pointedly casting a glance at two Guardsmen following. Perhaps Hyfe knew what he was doing when he hired these guys.


"How should I know?" the aide responded without thinking.


"Well what did they fucking find from Park's body?" Zell growled.


"The damage to the bodies was too extensive for such a work up. The bomb nearly vaporized everything."


"Fucking convenient," Zell muttered.


"Actually, it wasn't. The Grand Isle has a main controlling power distribution hub that was thrown into a frenzy causing half the capital city to go without power for..."


"I meant for the assassins, dumbass." growled Zell. "So, we happy with this Carson fellow?"


"Well, he is tied to a famous military family..."


"So?" Zell snapped. "I could be Simon Kaine's Great Uncle but that don't mean I can lead worth a shit."


The aide looked like he stepped on bantha shit and Zell turned to him, pointing a finger. "I hate you Mid Rim flunkies who live the fucking good life while real soldiers do all the work."


The aide had no idea what good life the former Retired Grand Moff was talking about or what soldiers he was referring too but he did know it was best not to interrupt the old man when he got going.


"You tell this Carson that he better carry a stick and a damned big one! We don't need shit from the Occupation Zone spilling into the Territories. If anyone gives him shit, he better be willing to piss on them and make sure they drown in the experience!"


"Yes...yessir!" the aide snapped and saluted. He wondered briefly just how he would word that diplomatically to the new Moff.


"AND TELL THAT ASSHOLE TO GET SOME SHIPS TO YAGA MINOR!" He shouted after the retreating aide.


"Fucking worthless piece of..." the old man mumbled walking towards his shuttle, guarded by his own trusted soldiers. It seemed like all anyone had to do in the Mid Rim was blow up aircars or shuttles to get what they wanted and he'd be damned if he let some hick from the Mid Rim take him out. No, not that for ol' Zell.

Fuck that shit!

Confederation

"Jax, what the hell were you thinking?!" shouted the General. "Your OP was not an approved operation from CSIS! You'd better have a damned good explanation or we might just put you up against a wall and shoot you ourselves!"

The Jensaarai stood there calm as a light breeze on a sunny day.

The General suddenly stopped his bluster and squinted at the Spec Ops member as if suddenly figuring out something, "Someone else gave the order! Something hush-hush-like, yes?"

When Jax just stood there the General continued. "Yes...yes, that must be it."

He chuckled lightly, "Damn, you had me going boy. Next time let an old man in on the secret so he doesn't have a heart attack!"

Jax nodded at the General and said frankly, "Of course, sir. My apologies."

His fears laid to rest, the General could afford to be magnanimous and patted the Jensaarai on the shoulder, "Think nothing of it, my boy. Truth be told, I am glad you put a bullet through the brains of that thief! He was pilfering funds away from Spec Ops as well as the Navy... who knows how many died because of that bastard!"

As he began to usher Jax out the door probably to hand another chewing out to someone else, the General asked, "Do you want me to put another team together for you? I know your buddies got butchered several months ago and you've been doing a bang-up job with your assignments but we don't want you burning out.."

Jax smiled, "Actually, General, I prefer to work alone. We are trained early on to let go of our own personal attachments and desires to be able to serve the greater good."

The General stopped as the door slid open to his office, "Everyone else is on a team, including Adrian. Are you saying that the Spec Ops teams are a bad idea? Is it your recommendation that we disband the teams?"

Jax thought a moment until shaking his head, "It would simply create more disorganization within the Unit, Sir. Besides, if it is working for them, why fix what isn't broken? Everyone has their strengths.."

"Too true, my boy, too true. Well, you better be off..." the General patted his back as the Jensaarai walked into the hall and the door to the office slid shut separating the men.

"..and everyone has their weakness."



**


"The General is off his rocker, Jax," a fellow Jensaarai commented while finishing his meal. "The Jensaarai may do special jobs for the CSIS but we do not answer to them. In fact, we only answer to Ravenna.."

"Who works for the CSIS.." mumbled Jax as he put down a datapad, frowning.

"Not full time," the other started to bring up when Jax tapped on the book page he was reading..

"I don't see what puts us on the moral high ground over the Jedi..."

"What? Do you not remember what the Saarai-kaar..."

"Grand Master.." Jax interrupted.

"..said? We are what the Jedi should have been!"

Jax felt annoyed, "Says who? Some hologram? All we do is learn the same force-moves as Jedi do. They have lightsabers and we have sabers, or foils or whatever. Some wear armour but that is more Jensaarai tradition since the Confederation and Adrian have seen to change the Jensaarai cause into something different.."

"What do you mean?"

"They were the custodians and protectors of Susevfi. Then they began to peddle their wares to Teras Kasi.. I mean, the Teras Kasi! Self-appointed galactic police? And a weak galactic police at that! Anyway, back to the Sarrai-Kaar... She is the reason for the Observer Order for without the force cloak technique, could there ever be such an Order?" (Searching out Allies)

"So you've got something against the Observer Order?"

"No. But that's just it! If the Jensaarai were what the Jedi were supposed to be, why did they not spread their philosophy to this Order? Did she think that simply teaching a force cloak would somehow compel this Order's adherent's to change to the Jensaarai way of thinking?"

Jax's eating companion began to munch on his dessert but took the time to point his fork at his friend, "This Vonta Horn did not ask for wisdom, though. Master Ravenna did."

"Yes, yes," Jax pretended to wave off the distinction when, in reality, he realized his friend had hit upon a very fundamental fact, "..you split a baby in half and the woman who screams the loudest is the mother."

His friend, a Jensaarai named Portland, grinned, "I thought it was threatened to split a baby in half.."

Jax grinned back, "Either way, the woman who screams the loudest is still the mother."

Portland took another bite of his dessert, "Anyway, you said the Jensaarai cause has been changed from protection of Susevfi too..? Protection of the Confederation?"

"Well, the General and Ms. Thorne would like to think that but no, we really are not the protectors of the Confederation. Not if we fully embrace what we've been taught."

Portland frowned, "How do you figure?"

"We've become the Teras Kasi in deed if not name! We strive to work for the greater good of the galaxy.. not the Confederation."

Portland's frown deepened, "What's the difference?"

Jax nearly kicked him under the table, "The Jedi were the champions of peace and justice throughout the Old Republic. That Republic eventually betrayed them and if they had not been blinded by being beholden to this political entity, they might have taken action sooner to protect that peace and justice! We think there is no separation between the interests of the Confederation and the interests of the galaxy now, but things change."

Portland smirked, "I am willing to wait the 20,000 years for that change to take place.."

"You are not hearing me, Port." Jax was getting frustrated all over again, "I am talking philosophically.... No! Wait. Let me ask you something and let you mull over this..."


"Ok," agreed Portland amicably.


"Was the Confederation's decision to pull out of the Galactic Coalition serving the greater good of the galaxy or the greater good of itself?"


A look of discomfort crossed Portland's face. "Look, Jax. If you've got a bone to pick with our elected officials.."


"Port, I am sure our elected officials are good people. I am sure they love their children the same as our wonderful Confederation citizens or their Coalition or New Republic counterparts love theirs. But our officials being good or not IS NOT THE ISSUE. It is not our charter!

We have to give up our personal desires, our freedoms....our passions to make the cold, hard decisions that will bring the greatest benefit to the galaxy.

It is not our officials. It is their policies that I scrutinize. I love my leaders, Port. But we cannot allow that love to blind us to what is best for the galaxy."


Portland felt a pain in his stomach, "But who determines what is best for the galaxy?"


Jax sat back and relaxed as his friend had come to the very point that had annoyed him for so long. "I have searched long and hard, my friend, for that answer.

Evidently, as Jensaarai, we do."


Portland suddenly felt like throwing up.

"These portals are... convenient," Zeratul commented and Artanis nodded acknowledgment of the unspoken praise.


"The Dragon machines are indeed clever.." the High Elder said which drew a sharp glance from the Skey'g'aar.


"Tell me that Dragon machines are not constructing these portals for us?" A dread fell over the Shadowcaste warrior. For them to blindly trust the Dragons in what amounted to a linchpin in their operations was... foolhardy.


"Of course not, Zeratul," Artanis replied. "I am not a fool."


The Skey'g'aar relaxed slightly and the High Elder continued, "I asked for the... instructions to build one ourselves. If machines can do it then for a certainty Cree'Ar can as well. The designs are along a different principle but not impossible. Our initial test was our ability to ensure resupply to the infidel Fearsons and his Empire."


Zeratul's eyes glowed, "What if our initial tests had failed?"


The look Artanis gave him was one he'd seen on Kal Shora many times, "Then the infidels would have had to tighten their belts. I care not the disposition of heretics, especially Ta's's'ador! (traitors!)"


Zeratul looked amused, "Fearsons is not Ta's's'ador to the Empire. The Empire crushed his kingdom and failed to put him to death.."


Artanis grunted, "The inhabitants of this galaxy are fools."


"So Kal Shora has said time and again--" Zeratul started when a fresh scream of an infidel sounded out again.


"Annoying.." muttered the Skey'g'aar. The least they could do is die well!


"I am deaf to the cries of the inferior," Artanis stated the traditional Cree'Ar remark of the conqueror to the conquered.


A crevice opened allowing Vejuun to leave the room of the hysterically screaming infidel with an aura of pleasure.


He bowed to Artanis, "High Elder."


"Was the test successful?"


The scientist could not keep the pleasure from his voice, "My research of the Cor'ai'var has increased ten-fold!"


"These pak't'ah were not brought to you for your amusement, scientist!" Artanis snapped. "Can we put them to the purpose?"


"Oh yes! To far greater efficiency than I originally thought, High Elder."


Zeratul's question hinted suspicion, "these users of the Cor'ai'var are weak."


"Quite. I had thought our purpose could not be carried out unless we found someone of what the infidels call knight caste or master caste and so, quite expected this.. stop-gap of Jedi Corps-caste to be even more inferior thus creating a substandard Tek’a’tara." (The Project)


Artanis said nothing to the presumed failure the scientist expected of his designs and moved forward, "So you use four of these Corps caste where you would use one of the other knight or master caste?"


"No, quite the opposite!" The scientist was very excited, "I had thought of such an equation prepared to concede to the inefficiency when I decided to simply put the Test of Strength to them."


"The Cor'ai'var can be cultivated. That is why those who use the Cor'ai'var start off at a lower caste and rise in rank through discipline and training. But..."


The crevice opened again as if a maw were widening allowing another aide to the scientist to enter the room of the prisoner who was continually being tortured.


Vejuun's eyes lit up in pleasure, "I find there is a quicker way. By inducing the pain centers of these pak't'ah, it triggers their primal aggressiveness and their minds.." he pointed to Zeratul and went off on a tangent, "I told you, Zeratul, your mind is what makes the difference!"


Artanis tapped a foot impatiently.


"...their minds tap into unconscious recesses of anger and pain and it seems to augment their abilities. Of course, this Corps-caste is weaker than the knight or master caste but that just means a longer pain-inducing treatment to produce the required amount of neuralelectric energy."


Artanis was pleased, "That is excellent work, Vejuun. Judicator Shran Badaar's assault on the world the infidels call Yaga Minor is being carried out right now. The portals are being created and the Parrow Lin are ready. But this campaign is for nothing if we cannot follow through with the new Tek’a’tara."


Vejuun bowed again. "Then, High Elder, please rest assured that the glorious campaign will go forth! On my life!"


The Cree'Ar and Skey'g'aar both looked at each other in surprise. Usually scientists waffled and wavered regarding the results of their research and were unwilling to stake their reputations and skills, let alone their life on a particular (desired) outcome.


"This will be a campaign like no other.." the scientist continued. "The new Tek’a’tara, with this augmented Cor'ai'var pulled from the tortured bodies of these infidels, are a sight to behold."


Vejuun gestured to the other two. "Come, see.." he invited.


And when Artanis and Zeratul entered the room through the widened crevice, they moved past the various instruments of inducement and their subjects to a large pit where the Tek’a’tara had been created from inert material.


There were three for testing purposes in the reinforced pits but they looked different from typical tek’a’tara soldiers. They had a more malevolent aura about them and as the Nexus entered a new set of commands at Vejuun's order, when the restraints were released the cybernetic creatures threw themselves at each other with a viciousness unmatched.


Zeratul looked perturbed by the sight but Artanis nodded in satisfaction.


"Borleas will sweep the galaxy clean with these!"

"Raktus in excelsis"


The chant was intoxicating.

The chant was nonstop.

The chant was inevitable.


The great overmind of the Daemun Imperium was closing off options as time passed ever progressively onward to the conclusion of Purpose.


The Taj was all.


The Taj was ready to take the Imperium into it's next state.



But not every aspect...



Focus pulled away from those who were merged with strands of BioLogic and the Phage. Those who considered themselves the next step in the evolution of the Imperium and were convinced they would soon receive the Taj's blessing.

And perhaps, in another reality, they might have. Perhaps, in another reality they did. A reality where the political machinations and game of thrones so prevalent in galactic society actually delayed the Grand Purpose by several decades...even perhaps centuries or millenia. The Dracconis, while not the pure Daemum, would find their God favoring their existence and use them to his glory and as he saw fit. They would come to be protectors of their god's domain from all would-be enemies no matter where... no matter when.. (Of Endings: Vol 1, Vol">http://therebelfaction.com/forums/showthread.php?t=5210">Vol 2.)

Perhaps it was due to their aggressive protection that the current political landscape had now changed and it would be the greatest irony that the Taj Daemun would use them to be the architects of their own destruction.

He had allowed their mutations and perversions with the marrying of their biological and technological aspects to continue and eventually their crossing of boundaries affected even the ideological and this, Heir Raktus could not...would not allow. And so, by allowing their plan in tampering with the timeline, even as such allowances increased the Dracconis irreverence towards their God, the Dragon God ensured the continuation of Purpose.

And that was the difference between Heir Raktus and the Dracconis.


The Taj did not plan.

Plans failed.

No.

The Taj Daemun Purposed so that the outcome that was arrived at was that of his will despite any and all changes in details. Plans changed. But Purpose, Purpose remained.

And, with the new changes in the galactic political landscape, Purpose had gained ground and the Imperium, once again, began it's march along a path that, now, no longer included those who played their own version of god with their bodies.


Bodies that would ultimately reject the immortality from their god.


But such was the way with biologics.


They tried to do whatever they wanted assuming their god would forgive them. For why would god deny them something they wanted if he loved them?

But that thinking only served the selfish for that justification never took into account the real meat of the issue:

...what their God wanted.


It was time to cut loose the excesses of options no longer needed.


It was time to focus on perfection.


And so, the time of the Dracconis was no longer.

It was history in the making...


The fleet...well, those that could be spared, had dressed up for the showing of the Grand Admiral and while, perhaps, the population was less enthusiastic in sharing the pride of the Imperials, they had showed up and were keeping up appearances by waving streamers and banners.


For no one enjoyed the pomp greater than Grand Admiral-Baron Telan Desaria...


And this was history in the making...


The first Moff appointment granted during a time of war...


Interlopers from only Sith-spawn knew where had entered the 'Zone' and had attacked several worlds (Threshold; Blitz; Bloodbath). The Grand Admiral had been working to trap the fleet knowing that he had infrastructure on his side. Without a close source of resupply, the attacking fleet could be.. (and would be) whittled down ship by ship, man by man, if necessary until they were totally destroyed.


Some traps worked better than others and while some traps worked...


...others did not and Desaria could not help but feel the sting of those plans that went awry. But one could never plan for the unforeseen and he took solace in the fact that the enemy operating within the 'Zone' had fewer ships now than when they first started.


But even that solace paled in comparison to the state of the Empire. There had been no word from Yaga Minor and the Imperial Reclamation Fleet stationed on Glee Anselm was supposed to have arrived but, so far, there was no word on public or private channels about their status or the status of the alien attack on that world.


The disappearance of Emperor Hyfe was demoralizing but the loss of his three fleets was just simply devastating. The reserves from Byss were serving as the Home Guard and he had expected a recall but Regent Zell had other things in mind.


The rest of the Imperial Guard was being assigned to the Occupation Zone and he would be given the entire Seventh Fleet and the authority to pacify and hold the sector.


It was a shame the Regent could not attend to the ceremony himself but he was busy coordinating a fleet to respond too and reclaim, if necessary, Yaga Minor as well as an attack against the Dragon Imperium for their seeming support of these alien attacks.


Troiken was to be the jump point as it was designed to be in one of those "what if" senarios that was no longer hypothetical.


Wes Vos was chewing at the bit to enter Yaga Minor with the Reclamation Fleet but they had been on a mission against these new attackers who had been dubbed "Mandos" due to the nature of their field army that attacked Generis. Even now, the Colonel-General shifted uncomfortably during the ceremony as if he wanted to be anywhere but there and the Grand Admiral sympathized. But such ceremonies were inspirational.


They inspired confidence.

They inspired awe.

They inspired fear.


And as the shuttle carrying the Regent's representative descended, Telan Desaria and Wes Vos watched from a small distance away standing on a platform surrounded by their soldiers, guards all with polished armor and starched uniforms.


The representative would descend the landing platform and walk between shouting throngs separated by Stormtroopers and ascend the steps to Desaria's platform to recite the lines that would publicly confirm his appointment.


Wes Vos, of course, grumbled under his breath as if arguing with himself that the mysterious aliens attacking could have been defeated if he had only been at Yaga Minor. The Grand Admiral silently shook his head realizing that sometimes conflicts took on a life of their own and there was not always an easy answer of victory or defeat. (Cold Blooded)


Thus the need for inspirational pageantry and ceremonies.


And, a few minutes later, they both saw what else these ceremonies could inspire..


Hate.


For a spectator had charged through the Stormtrooper line and ran up the steps to the shuttle. He would not have made it as the troopers were already turning to target him but the spectator did not have too. He shouted, "For Onyx!" and in a brilliant flash, the spectator along with half the landing platform vanished in a fireball explosion that sent a wave of heat felt by the Grand Admiral and Colonel-General.


People were panicked and running and if that would have been the end of it, Desaria would probably have been glad. But the spectator was not the only one as both men witnessed from their vantage point flashes erupting at several locations sending out signals of smoke against the horizon.


The SS leader's communications signal chirped and as he took the call, Desaria sighed to himself. This was not what he hand in mind at all.


"Moff," Wes Vos correctly addressed and the former Grand Admiral felt a certain affection for the man's acumen in matters of protocol, "We are getting reports that there have been several such suicide explosions across the Occupation Zone. This was planned.."


"General," Desaria replied, "I am sorry but it seems your trip to Yaga Minor is going to be delayed."


If the SS man was disappointed he did not show it. Perhaps he saw that his task here became that much more dangerous and difficult for how do you occupy a place where the people will blow themselves and you up?


Another aide ran up to the two as they watched emergency and investigative units take charge of the scene.


"Grand...err.. Moff Desaria! Ord Mantell has fallen to the enemy!"


Calmly, Moff Desaria turned to the aide showing his distaste at the lack of detail, "Which enemy, Mister!"


"Errr.. Sorry, Sir! Mandos, Sir!"


"Mein Gott!!" whispered Moff Desaria fiercely.

"Sir, incoming transmission from.... from.. Coruscant."


Admiral Wilkar frowned but nodded to the Ensign to put the transmission through. A holographic representation of Regent Zell appeared and while the Admiral was surprised, he was also annoyed since the Empire, or any other faction for that matter, did not have the hardlight technology he had gotten used too. Instead of talking with an almost exact likeness of the Regent to his face, he had to face a smaller, more transparent and fuzzy standard hologram.


Funky technology's made me soft!


"Regent!" he got out in spite of his surprise but before he could congratulate the old man on his promotion Zell snapped, "Shut your hole, Wilkar. If I wanted to hear something intelligent from you, I'd whisper what to say in your ear!"


Wilkar flushed red, "As if I could distinguish your drunken mumbling for something intelligent!"


"Clean your ears out, boy, and you just might! Or don't they teach you hygiene in that fucking Commonwealth of yours?" the Imperial leader spit out.


"What do you want?" the Commonwealth Admiral growled.


Regent Zell, pleased with himself for having won (in his estimation) the round, sat back and brought his fingertips together.


"Admiral, if a Commonwealth fleet attacked an Imperial world and failed...What would your government do?"


Admiral Wilkar suddenly sobered up and quickly ran through his memory of the fleet disposition and whether or not there was any such operation executed much less planned?


He came up with zero but, then again, he was pretty drunk the night before so who knows what he authorized so he simply said, "They would disavow any knowledge and condemn the rogue soldiers..."


Zell suddenly smiled a feral smile, "And if they succeeded?"


Wilkar did not miss a beat, "I would accept the accolades due to me for planning such an successful operation to liberate a world from your tyrannical hands and our government would promote everyone involved!"


The Imperial probed even deeper, "You would keep the world?"


"Hell, yes! You know how hard it is to get a world from your greedy clutches? Damned if I am going to simply give it back! We might as well make the most of it!"


Zell chuckled to himself and Wilkar suddenly wondered if anyone in the Executive Council had initiated such a mission and, if so, why the hell had they not informed him?


The Regent suddenly turned serious.


"Then listen carefully, boy! Last week, his fucking Lord Darksword left for Relephon with his entire fleet!"


Admiral Wilkar went pale, misunderstanding the Regent. "Regent, I am sure that Lord Darksword does not mean to take the Hapan Fleet into Imperial Territory..." his mind racing with the possibilities of the Empire destroying a member of the Executive Council.


Zell laughed out loud at that, "Not Dakkon Darksword you dimwitted dolt! I am talking about Lupercus Darksword, his motherfucking brother! The entire Corellian Fleet was at Relephon last week.."


"Last fucking week!?" shouted Wilkar. "Why the fuck am I hearing about it now?"


"Because your spies are worthless Sith-spit, that's why! And I am not your fucking news service!"


"Why tell me now?" Wilkar threw out there.


"Because, boy, I want you to know that if you happen to fucking kill Lupercus, you will not get any repercussions from me."


"You mean INS will not lie out of their asses and blast the Commonwealth for murdering poor Lupercus Darksword?" Wilkar mumbled and Zell barked out a laugh.


"It means if Lupercus fails, we will disavow his actions, which are, honestly, his own. I don't understand his fucking obsession with Hapes but whatever. He will be considered rogue and cut off."


The Commonwealth Admiral's eyes narrowed, "But if he succeeds?"


Zell leaned forward, "Then, my boy, I will have no choice but to pronounce Lupercus a Hero of the Empire and we will keep what he takes!"


Wilkar was about to burst with rage complaining about the unfairness of the situation when he suddenly realized his own answers to the questions Zell raised in the beginning.


That slick, old bastard!


The Imperial saw that and pointed a finger, "That's right, asshole! I will keep it just like you would and you will have to simply take it in the ass!"


The old man's voice darkened, "And if you don't, I have no trouble ordering the Empire to steamroll the Commonwealth out of business for good! Don't think I won't!"


"You can't take us!" Wilkar snapped back and Zell grinned in appreciation.


"Whether I can take you or not is immaterial. I can smash you up good so that you don't resemble the Commonwealth when I get done with you!"


Wilkar's mouth closed at that. Maybe the Empire could take them but maybe not. In either case, they would be pretty smashed up.


"Son of a bitch.." the Commonwealth man muttered.


"Don't take your inability to stop Lupercus out on me!" Zell growled.


"If you had a better hold on your people..!" Wilkar snapped back.


"You hold a Sith Master half as well as we have! Then you can raise your head and bring your fucking indignation up to me! Otherwise shut the fuck up and start calling your Commanders!"


The Regent of the Empire blinked out and the Admiral sat there for a full minute wondering just what the hell he was going to say.


Excuse me Ms. Councilwoman, but Hapes is about to be invaded by the galaxy's worst homicidal maniac. Oh, and his fleet not only smashed half of the total Coalition's Gross National Output but is big enough to swallow us too!


"Get me the Executive Council and Command!" he barked out sending aides every which way.


"Sir?" intruded a female voice and Wilkar turned to her.


"What is it!?" he asked harshly.


"Reboam has gone silent."


Wilkar fumed.


Son of a bitch! The fucker waited a week to tell me! A fucking week!

Diosynes saw the clouds darken and he stood up raising his arms to the heavens. A biologic would probably see the darkening as a foreboding sign but the Dracconis knew better.


They were assemblers that carried out the will of the Taj for Heir Raktus had ordered an Exodus of his own. With the armies of the Coalition fleeing from their own territories thus widening the distance between either faction, the Dragons were able to carry out their Purpose at their own determined pace.


It was truly a glorious time to be alive!


The indigenous population who lived under the protective wings of the Taj, while they truly could not appreciate the totality their god was in their present form, were going to receive the Rites before proceeding through the mysteri to become true Daemun.


Most were docile enough though there were others who were problematic as flesh can be. The rebellion on Chandaar that was incited by the Coalition (The Teth Spearhead) had been brutally put down (Ambassadors of Truth) as only an artificial intelligence could conceive but that did not mean the flesh had learned their lesson. Insurrection, like a software virus, spreads quickly leaving a wake of destruction that only a total cleansing scour of your system could get rid of.


But how many planets could one scour?


As many as necessary came the logical and emotionless answer.


The future Dracconis were gathered awaiting their turn when the assemblers, after processing the last of the flesh, suddenly broke apart and began to rise.


Diosynes watched perplexed but not feeling particularly anxious for everything happens at it's appointed time.


The assemblers disappeared...


Afternoon turned to Dusk...

Expectation turned to Curiosity...


Diosynes could feel a stirring of confusion but not from the group he was a part of. No, it was a weakened strand of a link he possessed with others of his kind spread throughout the Imperium.


Evidently the Taj intended to treat with them as a group as he had with the flesh. Still, the choosing of the flesh over Dracconis did begin to fill his mind with anger but that anger had it's root in jealousy.

But the Taj always had a reason for doing things as he did.

But was it a good reason?

Diosynes shook his head for to question the Taj was to question reality.

The reality according to the Taj!

But wasn't reality non-subjective?

Only to those with the power to enforce reality!

The Dracconis shook his head again, wondering why these questioning thoughts suddenly came up unbidden.


That faint curiosity he had felt from others scattered about the Realm was growing even fainter and Diosynes suddenly realized....


The presense of Raktus was leaving!

Leaving? his mind suddenly thought in panic.


Curiosity turned to Anxiety as those of his group began to lose control..


Without the shadow of the Taj, what would happen?



Dusk turned to Night..

Anxiety turned to Terror.


For they could perceive the Taj no more.


Why?! screamed the receding part of his rational mind.


The last thing Diosynes perceived was the biting coldness of the realization that the Dracconis had been abandoned by their god.


Denied entry into Purpose...


into...Paradise..


Damned...



We are the reapers of what we have sown...

We are the reapers of what we have sown...

We are the reapers of what we have sown...

We are the reapers...

We are the reapers...

We are the reapers...

We, reavers..

We, reavers..

reavers..

reavers..

reavers..



Night turned to Darkness...

Terror turned to Madness...



Thus were born the Reavers...

"TYSCIO! I HATE YO...AAAGGGHHHH!!!"


"Push!"


"Babe.. Ahh.. Babe, that hurts.... Babe, you're hurting my hand... Babe, you're a Jedi Master with Jedi reflexes... Babe...THAT really hurts.."


The sweat drenched woman on the bed turned a wild glance at the Caprician and said through clenched teeth, "You should try child birth!"


Tyscio grinned and turned his hand into the figure of a gun and 'shot' it, "Couldn't you just 'force-shoot' the baby out?"


Leia nearly choked on a cough, "Force-shoot the baby out?"


"Badda-bam, thank you ma'am.."


"Do you even listen to yourself sometimes?"


"Passion... heh. Excitement...heh... A Jedi craves not these .."


"Master Yoda never gave birth!" snapped Leia as she let out another yell.


"I can see the head!" exclaimed a nurse as the birthing droid simply said, "ooba oobaa boo.."


Why do these droids voice baby-speak?


It may be a soothing tone but it's really creepy!


At that moment, a sound of a baby crying cut through his thoughts.


"oooba ooobaa boo," the droid said, it's salad-spoon cupped hands handling the baby as if they were formed specifically for his son..


Son?


"It's a boy!" Leia exclaimed laying back clearly exhausted. Tyscio rushed to get her water giving an annoyed glance around the room.


Evidently, in the twenty thousand years the Old Republic had been a going concern, the only advancement to mothers giving birth was creating a droid that said, "ooba ooba boo" or some derivative thereof.


Tyscio Korban was not sure what he would feel at this moment but, quite honestly, he really could not help grinning like a fool.


Turning to his wife, he put a hand on her forehead. "Babe, I am sorry but you had a little Trandoshan.."


A grin tugged at the Jedi Master's lips, "So you're saying he's got your nose?"


The Caprician shrugged, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but babe, we made one butt-ugly baby.."


Leia burst out laughing at the unexpected comment only to grimmace in pain.


That pain intensified and she starting howling all over again.


"There's another one!" some medic exclaimed.


The birthing droid was back, "oooba oobaa boo.."


You said it! Tyscio thought.


Twins?