“Yinchorr,” the Sith snarled the word, demanding. “Best speed.”
Vengeance consumed his thoughts. Wronged by another, he thought. This coil, a prison and a tool, he contemplated.
To his lord and commander, the officer bowed, “As you command.”
Xion, master of the dark, glowered. In his chambers darkness prevailed and in his soul as well. He hated it, despised it. Yet, in typically dualistic fashion, the Sith fed on their own anger and to this Xion was no exception. Rage, the emotional influence of it, made him stronger. The more he hated himself, his situation, the more powerful he became. This alone was not enough, not for him. Blame and guilt, these emotions stole from him, made him weak, flawed. Naturally he, Lord Xion, could not hold himself responsible for his current existence for to do so would compromise his integrity. If he saw himself as the master of his own destruction then upon that he would dwell and morality would sneak in. If he saw himself as bound by such a flimsy construct as morality then too would the dark side see him as such and his power would wane.
Lord Maim was gone, passed from this galaxy on to whatever thing followed. As the instrument of his resurrection, the one truly responsible for the corruption he so reveled in, his hatred of Maim gave him focus but with that focus removed...
Xion required a new focus, one on to which he could pour his considerable mirth. And he had found that subject, traced the pathways of the dark side to the barren, isolated planet Yinchorr.
Home of the exiled Imperial Royal Guard, home to their exiled leader; Sovereign Protector Silk.
From “Blood Red Crimson”
“Has he gone completely mad?”
Governor Daroth, Imperially appointed, thumped his fist in to his palm. He wore his outrage like war paint.
“Governor Daroth,” Captain Aldridge countered calmly. “Lord Xion's clearance is one of the highest in the Empire.”
The good Captain had grown accustomed to the Governor and his sanctimonious posturing.
“I couldn't give a damn if his clearance belonged to the Regent himself,” Daroth snapped, whirling on the Imperial commander like a dervish. “The fact of the matter is that I cannot and will not put the defense fleet of this system in to the hands of a hermit Sith Lord who is nearing on the brink of death.:
“Sir,” Aldridge maintained his composure. “If I may...”
“You may not, Captain Aldridge,” cut Daroth, interrupting his technical subordinate. “I will simply not authorize such an action. Are you even aware of our position in the galaxy?”
“Indeed I am sir.”
“Well,” said Daroth his words dripping sarcasm. “It seems to me something must have slipped your mind since the last time you looked at a star-map.”
“We are on the fringes of Imperial space!” Daroth quoted unnecessarily. “We are the first defense for the entire Empire. It is our primary duty to defend these boarders with our lives and I will not have a Sith Lord with a death which commandeer my fleet on a treasure hunt that will yield nothing of benefit to the Empire.”
Your fleet, thought Aldridge incredulously. Instead he said, “Sir, I offer my apologies. I was simply relaying information from Lord Xion. I meant no disrespect.”
“Of course you didn't Aldridge,” he said with a sigh, calming some. “I understand you were simply trying to bring this matter to my attention. As my second in command, it is your job after all. I am just tired of that rotting corpse getting all the perks of a Grand Moff while barking orders from the infirmary.”
“We protect this space,” he finished. “And we get treated with nothing more than mild neglect.”
Aldridge nodded sagely. For all his posturing and political maneuvering, Daroth was genuinely concerned about his Imperial duty and the citizenry which fell under his command.
“Sir, what if this time he is right? About Yinchorr? What if there are resources still left over from Lord Maim's rule?”
“Whatever remnants of the Crimson Empire were left,” Daroth said matter of fact, “had been wiped out by us long ago. Yinchorr is nothing but sand and dust now.”
It was true, to the best of their combined knowledge. Yinchorr had been the subject of sustained orbital bombardment.
“I have heard Xion,” Daroth continued. “His words are nothing but insane riddles and double speak. I'd put no faith in his words if I were you.”
Aldridge, sighing, turned towards the door.
“I appologise Captain,” Daroth eyed the others back. “But as long as I am commander of this system I will not reliquish my command to him.”
His head drooped visibly. Aldridge paused mid step, “Then perhaps I will.”
Turning, the Captain extended an outstretched hand to his Governor. In a single motion, swift and alarming, Daroth gasped and clutched at his throat.
“Why,” he wheezed even as the sound of his jugular could be hear popping.
“You short sighted fool.” Aldridge, his eyes blazing, spat contemptuously. “You have no vision beyond the boarders of this Empire. An Empire which you blindly follow but which has grown so weak as to be a shadow of its former self. Lord Xion has a vision more true than Kain or Hyfe ever has and it shall be realized!”
“If you will not give Lord Xion this fleet, then he will take it for you.”
And as he breathed his last, eyes bulging, Governor Daroth saw the awful truth of it. The man before him was not his Captain Aldridge. The force illusion dispelled, he saw only the half bent form of Lord Xion standing before him.
“I am in command now, Governor Daroth.”
"The Darkforce unites us," spoke a crimson clad warrior in full ceremonial Royal Guardsmen armor. "The Darkforce keeps us apart."
From upon a raised dais the soldier threw his fist into the air as a chorus of affirmations flooded from the assembly of similarly dressed ex-Patriots of an empire lost.
"We are together in isolation," chanted numerous Royal Guardsmen, also throwing high their fists and giving up a might roar.
With a subtle change of posture the Sovereign Protector, foremost among the rank of the Imperial Royal Guard, called a firm silence across the room. As his arms vanished under a waving crimson cape each Guardsmen in turn fell to his knees, bowed in reverence before their leader.
Dozens of helmets, their sleek black lenses hiding the eyes of those men behind their masks, locked attentively upon the speaker. The sovereign leader nodded approvingly and started into a speech all too familiar. For the hundredth time he stood before his deadly warrior force and spoke the words that would give them hope enough to cling on another month or more...
"The Empire we served is gone and gone with it, the glory of the Dark Side. What stands now is but and empty empirical shell, a broken husk."
Ambient light seemed to fade from the opulent chamber, dubbed the Temple by the remains of the Imperial Guard. What little light remained within the high-walled dome focused around the speaker like pale moonlight.
"Dark Lord Sidious, the Emperor Palpatine created us of his own grand dream. He alone achieved the single greatest goal of the Sith and in his efforts created a force so deadly and so powerful that none would question. The Emperor crafted our unity from the tatters of weak and shattered infantry, a royal dispatch whose name has faded with time leaving only our iron fist!"
All light abruptly vanished from the Temple, a heavy darkness falling across the assembly.
"Sidious died, despite our efforts. We were unable to save him, but... we were not left long."
"For into the void came a new presence. A new power that could give us aim and direction. After debate and confusion, after internal strife... I speak of Kir Kanos and Connor Jax... the Dark Lord Maim came into our midst."
"While some of our tradition fell to the charms of the continuing empire... You and I stood strong and keep the faith of our mandate. The Dark Lord Maim gave us direction and purpose."
"And he too is gone. What I demand of you is this; where will you stand when the return is neigh?"
Illumination bathed the temple abruptly. Bright white light flashed through the chamber. As the glow abated the whole of the true Royal Guard stood at attention with weapons drawn.
And they chanted, "We will stand ready!"
Korad hated his post. He hated it with all of his passion but he also understood that no other Guardsmen could do the duty that was his own. Like all of his crimson brothers he knew the hardship that was their life intimately and accepted his burden willingly. He did not have to enjoy it, however.
The rain only made things worse. It soaked his gear and weighed down his armor. Even in light rigging the sheer volume of water and mud slowed him down considerably. Muck gathered in clumps around his boots and gloves while he struggled up the dangerous face of Mount Overlook.
"Curse this," muttered Korad when his boot slipped for the tenth time. "Just another two..."
Not high above he glimpsed his goal. A squat durasteel shack sat neatly atop the perilous climb. The shack served as the single point of contact for the few functional satellites that still whipped madly around the planet. It was their only contact with the galaxy and, coincidentally, their only means of watching the skies above Yinchorr.
Not that they had any reason to fear attack or discovery. Yinchorr had been a mud and dirt planet even before the arrival of the Guard. Now, this far forgotten by time and stranded without hyperspace capability, Yinchorr was not only home to the Royal Guard, but prison too.
Korad smiled inwardly at the end of his climb and, shoving the heavy doors open, stalked into the relative comfort of the shack. A myriad of bleeps and blips greeted him as he pulled the doors shut behind himself.
Peeling away the layers of his saturated uniform Korad found himself greeted with something he would never have expected.
Urgently signaling for his attention, a single display monitored the movements of what appeared to be a cruiser in high orbit above Yinchorr.
"Fuck me," snarled Korad, keying open his communicator.
"KayAreOhDee. Status; Initiative Seven. We have visitors. Data relay, active!"
For once, things were looking up.
The buzz of battle flew like an angry wasp through the halls. Warriors in red and black moved this way and that with fluid movements, the result of endless training, making ready for the inevitable. The Sovereign Protector had planned for just such an occasion.
When first stranded on Yinchorr the Sovereign had known that their biggest obstacle would be to overcome their isolation. From the moment that technicians had taken apart the last hyper drive in order to maintain the running capacity of the base he had accepted the responsibility. The crimson brotherhood would have to reduce themselves to pirates and take, by force if need by, whatever ship first stumbled upon them.
Lost beyond the inner rim, beyond the reach of the Hydian Way, Yinchorr had once made an excellent staging ground for the Empire's fleet. But now, without official garrison or apparent worth, the planet was like so many others... flung between the stars.
Probability for discovery remained low, the Sovereign knew, but he had to be prepared.
He moved like his namesake, like Silk, through the throngs of Guardsmen. He reveled in their silent determination and the grim resolve that marked those 'the best'. "Today, we will break free."
None of the soldiers responded visibly but through the force Protector Silk could feel their strength grow. Approvingly, he sent himself out into the Darkforce and touched the minds of his numerous warriors. Through the warren-like structure of the Temple and the network of caves that ran well beyond the perimeter of their home he could feel his army moving.
A sinister smile touched his lips.
"Liege," spoke one of his brothers, bowing as Silk stepped calmly into what served as the tactical command center and base of operations. "We have confirmation."
Silk nodded in the slightest of fashion, "Extrapolate."
"Transponders mark the intruder as an Imperial Cruiser with escort. Judging by speed and trajectory, they know where we are. Landing parties will come in here, and here."
A gloved hand tapped out points on an overlay map. The motion was needless, however; as Dioan Silk himself had chosen this position for its attack options. Furious cliffs and jutting ridges of bedrock made landing anything larger then a small freighter impossible anywhere within three hundred kilometers of the base. Layers of moving sand and mud caused a constant shifting the area's topography, father frustrating landings. Walkers and hover tanks would have similar problems in the rough terrain, only specialized equipment could even attempt to navigate the local terrain (such as the spider walker’s already in positions around the ridge). Even drop-troops would be wary attempting to make any sort of safe impact with the fluctuating density of the soil and rock.
The only safe landing sites, aside from their own hidden bay, were two moderately sized plateau's located ten klicks north and south of the base. A daring pilot could, at best, put down a keel of perhaps one hundred meters in these two spots. Depending on rigging, the first wave his Guards could expect would number no more then five hundred.
Silk and his brotherhood numbered almost that much itself and could easily dispatch a dozen regular-army stormtroopers each. The odds, for now, remained very heavily in the Guard's favor.
"Keep me appraised," ordered the Sovereign Protector, turning on a heel and departing the command area. "I want to know when the first wave is inbound."
No confirmation was spoken in reply; within the brotherhood... it was unnecessary.
Immediately out of the well appointed room two similarly clad Guardsmen, though equipped with light sabers rather then the traditional pike, feel into flanking positions behind Silk.
"You agree then," said Silk evenly. It was not a question.
"We do," they spoke in unison.
"It feels familiar. Ready my chamber. I will discover this... force."
They bowed, the soldiers at his sides, and departed without fuss.
Silk clicked his tongue once, his communicator clicked open in response. "Deploy the walkers and put our birds up. Stay within the shadow of the ridges and mountains and await my reply."
I can sense you; spoke the ethereal version of Dioan Silk into the force. You are familiar to me.
Strength welled up through the projected and corporeal aspects of the Sovereign Projector. One floated high in the space between stars, the network of the force. The other kneeled within a chamber of deep onyx black with walls that rose beyond sight into the darkness above.
You are nothing, came the reply. You are Dioan Silk, and you are nothing.
Pain shot through his body. Silk recoiled in response.
You cannot hurt me, screamed the silent voice of Dioan Silk but he didn't believe it. I am within the chamber of my Lord. You have not the strength!
The Sovereign Protector knew his words were in vain.
A face appeared to him in the darkness, a horrible face. A face Dioan Silk could not mistake.
Darth Xion, exclaimed Protector Silk before closing himself away from the force.
Sweating, he became intimately aware of his corporeal self again. In a second he was up and sprinting out of the chamber.
He had prepared... but would it be enough?
