After hydrogen and stupidity, they were the most plentiful resource in the galaxy

[Jantar Keltainen]

“For every TIE fighter you shoot down, a thousand more will take its place."
― Baron Soontir Fe

As Jantar entered the darkened briefing room, the pilots of Crimson Squadron broke from the knot they’d created — no doubt wondering what the Sith was doing here, and they took their places. Some of their expressions were difficult to read, but Jantar had the Force for those ones.

She checked the ones she knew off mental list. There was the Chiss with the impenetrable frown. That one who was always too cheerful…Jantar closed her eyes. She was too mentally tired to play her usual game.

She opened them when she heard the sound of chairs scraping as a ranking officer clearly entered the room.

The lietenant stepped behind and past Jantar, then paused with the holoprojection table in front of her. "I appreciate your getting here so quickly. No peace for the righteous it seems.”

“I’ll cut to the chase. The one thing we do know, people, is that the source of our problems lies on the a bunch of pirates. What doesn’t help is that four of this squadron have come down with some mystery virus, but they got quick treatment with enough bacta to knock it out. But for now…we’re going in three short.” Jantar was the reason the maths didn't add up.

She proceeded to detail their target — a small base on an uninteresting and insignificant moon. Except the pirates were anything but.

“As small as a mosquito is, it can cause irritation. These pirates…” She slammed her hand down on the holoprojector, hard. “Let’s stop their buzzing, pronto.”

“Dismissed.” And with that, she punched a button and the flight formation was shown. Jantar bided her time as every other pilot seemed to crowd the display to see who they’d be paired with. Jantar knew she would be someone’s wingman — it didn’t matter who. She was dutiful. The squadron was light on trained pilots, she was in the vicinity…the rest, as they say, is history.

[member="Keira Cerdulan"]

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

Keira might have laughed, shocker, Mastiff Squadron was out fighting pirate trash: the Corellian had found some place to lounge along with the rest of the Squadron while they went on their rabble or fighting pirates and all that usual nonsense. Go in, blow them up, maybe snag a new Mastiff member: that was how she viewed things like this.

Mastiff Squadron, of course, had pirates in their ranks. Two of them out of the bunch, Keira herself had flown an Ugly for a group calling themselves the Red Nebula and their bomber pilot who simply got referred to as “Azure” most of the time, the Weequy had turned on his pirate buddies the moment the Empire had appeared. These two were utterly certain that they’d excel at fighting their kind, hell, wonder if they knew them.

Of course, the second she saw there was some inter Squadron nonsense going on her usual grin was quick to vanish:

“What’s this? Inter-Squadron?”

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar glanced up. This group, the ones she remembered that is, were noisy as a rule, but not when she was around. Did they distract her? Fear her? Look down on her? She neither knew nor cared. They kept themselves to themselves and she respected that. Liked it even. She had a task to perform, and would get it done then bug out. Simple.

She had no place in their pecking order and had no desire to seek one. Similarly, she was content to be a wing man, whereas many Sith would demand to be leader. She was, in truth, an OK pilot, with reflexes boosted by the Force and the fortunate gift to be able to see into the near future. And across the galaxy too - in dreams - but that was another story for another day. Her short-term divination meant she knew where pilots were going to go before they did themselves. It was a handy trick, and got you home safely. It did not account for actions from those who weren't on your mental radar, but then - nothing's perfect.

So...who was the newbie with the mouth? Jantar knew...just knew...it would be the pilot she was assigned to.

[member="Keira Cerdulan"]

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

As fate would have it, that was just what happened. Fancy trick, that divination was.

Keira was evidently unamused, Mastiff squadron was much like a pack of the hounds they were named after, emphasis on pack they fought as one organ most of the time. A chaotic, unpredictable, organ. But this was a bit of something to spice it up, her annoyed features were quick to change though, pride was a natural thing to a hotshot like herself. This was a chance to prove her worth as a pilot and the worth of the Squadron as a whole.

What was life without a little bit of adventure anyway?

"Looks like we're stuck together, eh? Try to keep up."

There was no actual malice behind it, she was trying to make banter and not much else. Mastiff squadron always kept to the reputation, Keira fit right into this bunch of former (or current, depends who you asked) scum

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar was schooled by a master that believed in many of the teaching of the Rule of Two. Utter obedience to your master – and every action and reaction served a purpose. Even punishments for the apprentice were intended to amplify a lesson.

Pain and death were at your fingertips, she was taught, but just because you can inflict them it does not mean that you have to. Killing a fellow flyer served the Empire no purpose. Even damaging them a little was counter-productive.

Jantar considered the notion that to allow such an attitude towards her to go unpunished was a sign of weakness, that others might pick up on and look to copy. Yes, this seemed entirely logical, but she would have to find a different way to demonstrate her position.

She considered destroying the holoprojector with Force lightning. Or using Force Choke on the first droid they encountered, to crush its exo-skeleton. But such an act would appear to be the tantrum of a spoiled child. Or worse, one without power to actually inflect some sort of castigation on the person that offended her.

No, that would not do – in fact it would make things worse.

So instead she smiled, her face not betraying any of the thoughts she harboured. The others in the room knew. Some appeared to be waiting, hoping to see some reaction. No…her control was what they would witness. Sometimes that was scarier than a random act of violence.

“Oh, I’ll keep up,” Jantar responded. “You can rely on it.”

[member="Keira Cerdulan"]

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

It was readily apparent that Keira had a very obvious character trait: she was fearless, not an ounce of fear oozed from her. She could tell this girl was one of those Sith, glowing eyed nutjobs she had been encountering during her brief career in the Empire. Pft, they weren’t so scary. Even with their big scary force powers, ram a Disruptor in their ribs and no fancy powers would help you there.

Makes sense why she flies an Interceptor.

She simply grinned, rather than dwell over the annoyance she decided she might as well have some fun with it all.

“Damn fine!”

She let a chuckle out with it, well might not be booze friendly but no reason to make their life hell. Just yet at least, Pirates were nothing, “fun” on the Battlefield was a possibility too. See what shiny tricks she could pull off.

As time progressed the mixed up squadrons moved more with their respective wingman, Keira just wondering away if this was one of those dumb teambuilding exercises she had heard about: not like the Mastiff’s needed them, they just worked because their lives depended on it. But the Corellian decided to probe the new wingmate some more.

“So, how many you got.”

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar had avoided the usual fazing that new recruits always endured. Her first assignment – when she was just beginning as an Acolyte – well they’d planned it. But when her eyes morphed a sulphurous yellow as they approached her, hair clippers in hand, they’d thought better of it. Maybe word got around? Maybe fazing was dying out as a ‘thing’ – given how frequently pilots came and went these days.






Either way, she didn’t care. She roamed from squadron to squadron as required – in-between assignments for her master. She still refererred to her as such, even though she’d recently endured her Knight trial. Her body took three months to recover. Her mind never would – but then, that was part of the ritual. She changed – otherwise she’d still be an acolyte. Not that she took her darth name yet. She kept that secret, awaiting the day she would become a master in her own right.

For now, she was just Jantar. Not that it was even her real name. Funny how she’d be trading one given name for another. Her real name? She had no idea and never would. But it was just a couple of words. It did not define her.

Aware she was no longer focused on the here and now, she stood, focusing on her partner. It seemed they were both new to this squadron for this mission.

“How many what?” Jantar asked. She surmised the meaning of the question but wanted to hear it. Just to be sure.



[member="Keira Cerdulan"]

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

“Kills.”

Keira was pretty obsessive in tracking the kills she collected during her missions, it was the big game. Get the most out of the mission and the Squadron bought you drinks, and of course she had a particularly brutal competition going with Mastiff’s bomber expert. Competition was life.

Keira flew not because she was ordered but because she enjoyed it, it had been originally to escape the cesspool of Cademimu V and now it was because she enjoyed to just go and live the thrill of almost dying every single time she went to fly.

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar did not react to the confirmation. It was precisely what she expected and – for once – she was considering her response. It did not pay to antagonise your flight buddy, but – by the same token – lying achieved nothing.






Her personal kills numbered hundreds. Not people she’d indirectly murdered, or killed via some weapon of mass destruction. No, her personal tally was measured against a criteria of seeing the whites of their eyes – even if that was only a metaphor when it came to helmeted foes, or pilots of enemy craft.

To tally them, in Jantar’s mind, was to hold them in some sort of value. They all died for one reason – their death served a purpose and they were, more often than not, meaningless individuals. Weak. For the weak deserved to die.

Finally, Jantar shrugged. “Too many to count, not enough to make a difference. But it matters to you…why?”



[member="Keira Cerdulan"]

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

Keira laughed, what a bore. But even bores could have some bits to have fun with:

“What does it matter? Ya’ count your kills to gloat, take a jab at ya’ wingmates, place bets, and swim in a’ river of booze if ya’ get enough of em.’.”

Keira wasn’t used to that concept of kill-count being meaningless, it had always been quite important when she had done her work as a pirate and just as important when she had joined into Mastiff Squadron: the rowdy pilots were very big on competition between themselves when the fighting started and even outside of combat.

Amusingly enough, this was Keira’s attempt to just make conversation and be friendly: a violent way of doing it but it was an attempt nonetheless.

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar looked at her partner in the way a dog looks at a man whose explaining something very complicated – with no comprehension whatsoever.

Sure, she understood the words. They were easy to decipher. But ‘why’ – that was her question and it remained unanswered. She was given a list of ‘whats’, of outcomes. But something, surely, was driving the need to count. Jantar suspected she could be here all day and never fathom the logic of the action. Not that it made it wrong, she was just a different person, with different priorities.

Maybe it was just bravado. Which often, in Jantar’s experience, hid insecurities. Which could be a worry when your life depended on the person at your side in space.

But she felt compelled to say something, anything really. “I seek freedom, and this I gain through power, at least indirectly. Which comes from strength. So, unless it meets one of these criteria, I pay it little regard.”

“So, take as many kills as you can today. I can flush them out for you – there will be no competition. Let your return to your squadron be one overflowing with alcohol.”

[member="Keira Cerdulan"]

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

Keira simply grinned, a good chuckle coming out with.

“Aye so you’re one of them?”

“them” of course meant the Sith, she meant nothing by it, it was just her blunt way of speaking towards most things. And them seemed like a perfectly fine word to describe the Sith.

“Pft, where’s the fun in that? But I gotta accept, free booze is free booze, eh?”

Her grin didn’t waver, if anything it grew at the thought, you didn’t get raised in the Underworld and not grow a love for booze.

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar was, as a rule, a smart-alec – ready with a wisecrack at any juncture. She was, invariably right – which was the most annoying feature for any know-it-all. But that was because, under the façade, was a diligent worker. She was driven as much as any acolyte – and earned her Knighthood – not that she’d made it public to the wider Sith Order as yet. She would, as ever, chose her moment. Anyone who confused quips for a lack of depth seriously underestimated her. Which was, of course, part of her grand plan. Given the Sith could no longer hide their presence, the next best thing was to hide the extent of your power.

Which was, in some small way, why she volunteered for such missions. She was not the best pilot by a long way – not even in the ranks of the Sith. And most saw such duty as beneath them – and judged her for accepting the assignments. And the judgement pointed to a lack of credibility as a true Sith – her powers woefully underestimated.

Which might have annoyed many egocentric dark-siders. But Jantar revelled in it.

“I guess I am,” she replied. “Jantar, by the way.” She did not go by the Darth moniker she’d been given once she’d attained the level of Knight. Again, to hide her true power. “And fun comes in many forms…alcohol doesn’t do it for me, and I know – I’ve tried it. And drugs and even near-death experiences, just to see if I could get a buzz. But none even came close. And then I found the Force…”

Her irises paled slightly, from their natural amber to a sulphurous yellow. She was not so far gone down the corruption of the dark-side that the change was permanent – but it would come…one day. It was a price every Sith had to be prepared to pay.

As they walked towards the hangar bay, she saw two troopers, accompanying three prisoners. Jantar stopped and extended a hand. Red light coalesced around her hand and then arced towards one of the captives. It connected with their eyes and they convulsed, involuntarily. The connection remained, looking like bolts of lightning joining her extended fingertips and the man’s eye sockets. In a matter of moments, the man crumpled to the floor. Dead yes, but more. His body seemed drained of life, his form a mere husk of the man that had stood so erect only a few moments before.

And Jantar’s skin virtually glowed, even to a non-Force-sensitive, she seemed to have gained life essence at the expense of the corpse.

“Now that…” she grinned, “That is addictive.”

[member="Keira Cerdulan"]

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

Keira, as a rule, was a blunt and overly aggressive Underworld denizen when the times proved it necessary, and then as a rule she was that same wise-cracking and overly sarcastic Interceptor Pilot. Such was the life, so one could say.

Her existence was piloting now, she needed to keep the whole pilot jist going so that Imperial retribution didn’t fall down on her for those past crimes. She didn’t tolerate the idea of just being another pilot, she hunted for glory and honor to make sure they all knew she could fly, and make sure there was more than just the reputation of Mastiff Squadron.

She tried to hide the weakness, and do it rather well.

“I-uh, personally don’t find that all too fun. I think I’ll just stick to booze.”

Gods they were a weird sort, always knew to tread the path carefully when around the Sith.

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar knew how arrogant Sith could be — even around others who served the Empire, sometimes even more so. She was not looking to shock or intimidate the pilot, just give her a glimpse into her world. And the truth was that the Force Drain she demonstrated was addictive, highly so.

“Believe me,” she said as they walked on, “If alcohol does it for you, then go for it — there are a lot of worse things in the galaxy to be hooked on. And if you can keep it as a buzz and not a need, then you’ve done even better.”

“Now, let’s rid the Empire of a few more pirates.”

[member="Keira Cerdulan"]

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

Keira just knew the Sith as a bunch of weirdos in charge, but not like she should be judging too much: more than enough problems with her too, she was an interceptor Pilot, they all had problems.

“Yeah I tried a line of spice once. Stuff is awful.”

She was remarkably calm about saying her experience with the drug, before she joined the Empire.

“Can agree to that!”

She was quick to make her way to the hangar after that.

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar chuckled. “Most stimulants are what they are – artificial ways of achieving highs our bodies are capable of naturally. I suspect the rush of flying and taking out an enemy ship is the best feeling ever…am I right? Drugs? Well, they’re a poor substitute in my opinion.”

“Now, ex-pilots, then I can see the attraction – when you’re no longer able to sample those natural highs. Then a substitute, however pale by comparison, becomes more attractive. But I’m no counsellor, just a kid with an ego – one who always thinks they’re right.”

She smiled at her own self-deprecation and heard engines starting and then a faint pop as a ship breached the hangar’s magcon field, which obligingly permitted the ship through but held the tunnel's atmosphere within.

And then they were in the hangar and Jantar scanned the available craft. “After you,” she said – having not been listening sufficiently to the briefing to know which ships they’d been assigned to.

[member="Keira Cerdulan"]

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

“Yea’, fly for the high.”

Only a half truth of course, she adored the danger of how she flew: reminded her she was still alive but Keira flew how she did for a more, simple, reason: she wanted to get out of Cademimu V, go to the stars and leave all the crime and great cityscapes behind. It wasn’t that romantic in how it actually played out, she became spaceborne chaff for pirates who happened to be lucky enough to actually know how to fly. Not like she ever said her sob story.

“Can tell ya’ all about an ego.”

She made her own little joke before heading into the hangar, without a second thought she went to the one ship she always had her Interceptor, like a child she was right off into the seat. She loved that ship.


[member="Jantar Keltainen"]

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

“Fly for the high,” Jantar responded, softly, and walked to the adjacent Interceptor.

Suited up in black flight armour, she carried her helmet under one arm sighed. TIEs are more cramped than other fighters, and although she wasn’t necessarily tall, she hated being constricted.

Climbing on-board, she checked her sensors, sealed the hatch and readied her weapons. A voice came over the intercom.

“Prepare for take-off.”

She lowered the black helmet over her head. Now she had no face, no identity. Now nothing remained of her but her duty to the Empire. She was no longer a Sith, no longer Jantar. “Ready.”

[member="Keira Cerdulan"]

 

[Keira Cerdulan]

Rolling her neck with a satisfying crack Keira was quick to begin her preparations, helmet on her black gloves flew across her cockpit: flicking switches and pressing buttons to make sure her vessel was doing exactly what she wanted it to do: which more or less meant go as fast as possible without blowing up, what was the fun of an interceptor if you weren't almost always going max speed?

That command was like music to her ears, and she was nigh immediately going right off to the void of space.

"Bet yer' sorry Sith bum I'm ready!"

Being friendly never hurt, if anything it was that usual childish overexcited mixed with that usual pilot banter/teasing.

[member="Jantar Keltainen"]