Sithbane
C H A P T E R
O N E
Several weeks after the Battle of Rodia
The Kyr'yc Saca, Siv Dragr's CVT-61 Stathas-class Gunship, roared through the cloud-ridden lower atmosphere of Lyran IV. The frontier world's usually clear skies were partially cloudy, unusual for the hot dry planet, and the dying light of a setting sun cast brilliant hues of vibrant violet and fuschias in the sky.
Down below lay the small settlement, roughly between ten or twenty thousand people, of Mons Colo. Siv could see it peaking out through the clouds as he descended lower, although it could not see him. Siv's gunship was cloaked from detection, both visually and by any means of sensors. A Karjr agent out here would cause a stir – and Siv wanted the opposite of that.
He landed the Saca several kilometers beyond the outpost, hidden well behind a low crop of hills on the outskirts of town. Siv was confident no one would be looking here at this time – dusk had already descended by the time he'd landed – but just to be safe, he left the ship with its cloaking device on, virtually undetectable from anything but the most sophisticated scanners. Not that any of them would be here, on the far-flung edge of the galaxy. His ship hidden, the Karjr veteran began making his way into town.
If anyone was a little more attentive than usual – if they looked up – they would have the possibility of catching a glimpse of a dark figure moving across the rooftops of the settlement. But only a glimpse. Siv was good at keeping himself hidden, and although his beskar reflected brightly off of the moonlight, a rough blastweave cloak obscured it altogether from view. Siv nimbly woven between the tight-packed duracrete buildings, staying aloof of the streets below. Although it was nightfall, lights illuminated the various walkways and people went about their evening business. He didn't want to draw the attention to the fact that he was here.
Why was he here?
Most of his Mandalorian brethren were rallying to Ryloth after insurrection had devolved once more to open rebellion, as it had on Rishi and Rodia. And after the breakdown of relations on Rodia – something Siv may have had more than just a hand in – intelligence indicated that the Galactic Alliance was preparing for conflict as well. No doubt Siv, veteran fighter of the Enclave since its foundation, would be leading the charge.
But here he was on some backwater world (though all Enclave worlds were technically backwater) chasing after the rumor of spice smugglers. Maybe he was tired of war. Maybe he felt like his skills were better employed at what he did best; hunting, not fighting. Maybe he just didn't know. But hunting cleared his head. Or rather, allowed him to focus and the other issues to drop from the forefront of his mind for a time. And with so many drawn to the war effort, there were often more open assignments than there were Karjr to fulfill them.
Maybe Siv was just trying to hold the homefront together. What was so wrong with that?
After twenty minutes of rooftop scrambling, Siv reached his destination on the west side of the Mons Colo. Nestled into the residential houses was an arms factory that had once been a manufacturing startup for Kestri Weapons Foundry, but had closed down operations some fifteen years ago. Now it stood abandoned, or at least officially so. According to official Karjr intelligence corroborated by ARTUS, it was now the headquarters for a small homebrew smuggling ring shipping spice through Enclave space from Hutt Space. Twenty years ago during the height of the Enclave's power, this type of operation would've been out of the question. Now, though, most gangs operated with little fear of the Karjr; for them, the Mandalorian hunters were more often than not figures of legend.
Siv gripped the leather-wrapped grip of his pistol, in its holster as he surveyed the dimly-illuminated factory warehouse. Tonight, they would relearn that fear.
The factory wasn't on lockdown, but it wasn't heavily guarded. Siv could count four, maybe five guards in total posted at the various entrance points; three at the main large blast doors, and one each at two separate side entrances. More muscle meant more attention, after all. The question would be whether he entered in guns blazing or tried to infiltrate the factory further. The sudden arrival of a heavily-ladened hovertank with a team of enforcers and suspiciously-large crate further complicated his dilemma.
Whatever they were transferring, by the way it was guarded and by the way three more enforcers emerged from the building upon the hovertank's arrival, Siv could tell whatever the cargo was, it was important. Shipment for offworld? Spice no doubt, from his intelligence. The arrival provided a needed distraction. Still, he thought as he slipped over the low-lying wall that surrounded the factoty warehouse, now he'd need to gather intelligence on what it was the smugglers were transporting. At least according to Karjr protocols, which if he was being honest, he actually only followed about half of the time.
The Guard at one of the side doors was a large Aqualish brute who didn't take notice of Siv as he landed almost silently on the other side of the wall. The Aqualish didn't seem to notice anything at until Siv was behind him, knife at his throat. And even then the Guard had little opportunity to do more than emit a faint protest – muffled by Siv's gauntleted hand – as he cut his throat clean through with a single slash of his Skira blade. He dragged the Aqualish's body behind a stack of large durasteel crates where it wouldn't be seen, before slipping through the door to the factory inside.
On outside the abandoned warehouse had all the appearance of a dark, lifeless building. But it was a deception; inside, it was as if weapons production had never stopped. Brughtly illuminated by overhead spotlights, materials and weapons parts moved along conveyor belts to various points in the factory; assembly lines, offload ramps, it had them all. It was loud, too; somehow baffled so that the settlement on the outside was left unawares. Siv quickly positioned himself behind some large crates so that he could remain out of view. His vibroknife back in its sheath, his hand now drifted towards his holstered blaster pistol. It was busy, and the chances of this whole thing devolving into a shootout were now higher than ever.
Suddenly a large party of beings walked in through the open blast doors at the front of the facility, far from Siv's hiding place. He dialed in his helmets audioreceptors to be able to hear what they were saying.
". . . war's making it hard to run these through the Core. Alliance customs are extra suspicious of anything going rimward." It was a Klatooinian bearing a symbol on his jacket identical to the one emblazoned throughout the factory. By manner of his dress, he looked to be important to the smuggling ring here, although Siv wasn't sure if 'smuggling ring' was appropriate anymore.
The hooded man didn't seem too preoccupied. "As the Mandos heat up their war, more Alliance forces will be diverted towards the fighting. There'll be more holes. More opportunities, friend." The party stopped at the edge of the conveyor belts, where several crates stood seemingly ready to be shipped out. The hooded man pried open the encrypted-lock lid and peered at the contents inside; from his position and distance, Siv couldn't even manage a glimpse at the crates contents. Nonetheless, the man seemed satisfied, nodding as he sealed the crate. "Ship these boys out," he called, making a circling motion with his arm, his finger pointed upwards. Although his tone was light and casual, it carried an air of authority with it as the others scrambled to obey his words. The hooded man turned towards the Klatoonian. "You'll get your compensation next cycle. Banks are a bit of a pain at the moment." The Klatooinian grunted, clearly disgruntled, but otherwise assented. Then the man turned and seemed to state directly at Siv's hiding spot – although there was no way he could know he was there – before turning around and heading back out the massive set doors from whence he came.
"Ship out!" The Klatooinian called through cupped hands, echoing the hooded man as he left, and suddenly the factory sprang to life as if all the noise beforehand was merely just stalling. Conveyor belts moved double time as crates were loaded onto hovertransports. The noise would afford Siv the ability to slip out unnoticed. If anyone saw him now, that would jeopardize the valuable intelligence he had collected.
At that thought, as if the galaxy had a sense of humor, Siv suddenly a loud roar of starship engines that could be heard even over the din of the factory could be heard overhead. He could see the other beings in the factory looking up, the noise seeming to catch them off guard. Even the hooded man stopped, right at the doors, and looked up towards the sky. The noise grew louder and louder, until the roof over him exploded in a ball of fire. The guards closest to the center of their explosion raised their weapons towards the ceiling, but they were too slow. Bright orange laser bolts slammed into their chests, and they fell dead or wounded to the ground as three Mandalorians descended from the broken ceiling on jetpack.
"Chit," Siv swore, along with a chain of more creative expletives as he drew his own pistol.
The three Mandalorians had spread out as the factory had erupted into a full-out firefight. The Klatooinian boss had run back in to check out the commotion, but was promptly felled by a laser blast. The local enforcers had taken cover behind various crates, only breaking out to fire at the Mandalorians. One remained airborne, deftly weaving through a barrage of laser fire on their jetpack while returning it amply. The other two had landed. One, a big massive Mandalorian, was exchanging blows with a large Trandoshan, matching the thug's ferocity pound for pound. The third had projected some sort of energy barrier, a floating wall of bright blue light that blocked incoming projectiles but permitted the Mandalorian's own weapons to fire through, a one-way shield.
Siv stood in his corner, biting on his lip, thinking as he observered the firefight play out. Any secrecy of Mandalorian presence had been irrevocably broken, but Siv's own presence was still unknown. And the hooded man was still there, watching the fight like it was a show. If Siv hurried, he could capture the man and bring him in to Kestri for questioning. That could salvage this operation.
Siv turned to leave out of the factory the same way he came, through the side door. But as he neared the door, it burst open as three gang enforcers rushed inside, reinforcements for the pitched battle behind the Karjr. On alert, they raised their weapons instantly at the sight of Siv's Mandalorian armor – and Siv did the same. They all fired, Siv slamming his pistols trigger repeatedly as he fanned his blaster out at the thugs, dropping them quickly but not before they could let loose their own weapons. Two of their bolts struck against his beskar armor, impacting with force that pushed siv backwards but otherwise didn't harm him.
The third guard's bolts found purchase against Siv's forearm, just above his gauntlet, were the laser bolt seared against armorweave and skin. He could feel heat from the burn, quickly assauged by a spray of bacta mist dispensed by thin fabric of tubes built into his bodyglove. The armorweave wasn't impervious, but had dispersed much of the blaster bolt; and Siv had fought through worse pain than the burn he now had in his arm.
He made his ways past the bodies and outside of the factory. As he turned and began to head towards the front, he looked up at the sky. He could see a gunship-sized craft hovering above the factory, but it was obscured by a column of smoke was rising from the rooftop. After a second though his helmets field-ident sensors registered it as an MNV-56 Keldab-class Assault Dropship, which meant that not only were the gate crashers Mandalorian, they were Enclave Mandalorians. Chit, Siv swore again, but in his mind. This was shaping up to be one hell of an after-action report.
He turned the corner of the building only to find the hooded man standing around twenty yards out from him, facing Siv, his hands clasped behind his back as if he was expecting the Mandalorian. From inside the factory echoes of the ongoing fight rang out, but aside from that, outside under Lyran's night sky it was almost serenely quiet.
"Be careful where you point that blaster, brother," the hooded man said, nodded at Siv's blaster. As a response, the Karjr veteran raised it to level at the hooded man's torso. "Don't wanna hurt someone out here." His face was masked in shadow but Siv could hear the smile in his voice.
"Turn yourself in and we can have this conversation without it," Siv called back. It was a futile offer; Siv wasn't sure if anyone had actually taken him up on it. Didn't hurt to try, though, especially with the blaster burn along his arm searing in pain.
The hooded man laughed, and all of the sudden a jade-green blaster pistol was in his hand. He held it casually, though, spinning it around the trigger hold. "Don't really plan on it," the man shrugged. "Appreciate the offer, chief, but it'd set me back some credits. Another time?"
Siv raised his blaster a little higher, deftly moving the setting to stun. "It wasn't really a question," he said, his finger beginning to pull down on the trigger. . . but the hooded man wasn't looking at him, but behind him. Siv faltered on the pull for one second, and in that moment his blaster arm was hit downward. He fired, but the barrel was already pointing towards the ground, the blue stun-ring dissipating harmlessly against the dirt. The second blow came towards his helmet, knocking him off balance, before a third sharp blow hit him at his torso from the opposite direction. Stumbling, his blaster dropped from his frip as he spun to meet his attackers.
A loud roar met him as he faced up against two large, scarred Wookiees, one who batted him with a massive paw that sent him to the ground. "My friends aren't too happy about what you Mandos did to their homeworld," he could hear the hooded man laughing. Mandalorians had razed Kashyyyk, a neutral world in galactic politics, in a raid as escalations had risen. Siv personally had not participated, nor supported it; but now he was the atoning figure for his brother's actions. Siv fired with his gauntlet's twin-paired holdout pistol, hitting one Wookiee in the knee. The other kicked him in the chest, thumping him upwards before he fell belly first on the ground. "Have fun," the hooded man simply finished. Siv couldn't see him anymore, but he heard crunches on gravel – the man leaving.
Siv swore and rolled to dodge a stomp from one of the Wookiees, his Skira vibroblade unsheathed and in his hand in a flash. He splashed at the Wookiee's densely-furred ankle, drawing blood. The Wookiee howled in anger, but it was just enough time for Siv to jump to his feet. He dodged a powerful but slow swing, using it to get low and under the Wookiee's arm. He slashed again, this time at the armpit, and felt a satisfying slight tug of resistance as his kal dagger met and slashed through bone. That didn't stop the Wookiee's partner from swinging a blow that connected with Siv's shoulder, threatening to send the Mandalorian to the ground again. Siv stumbled, but this time kept his balance.
Stepping back a few paces, he swore something in Mando'a – he wasn't exactly sure which curse left his mouth – and ignited his flamethrower, spitting out red and orange fire in a wide arc. It caught instantly on the Wookiee's densely-matted fur, spreading until both figures were engulfed in flame. The Wookiees howled in agony as their flesh burned. Siv retrieved his blaster from the ground and dropped the two beasts with a single blaster bolt to the head each, and the bodies dropped to the ground silently, still aflame. It was brutal, but Siv wasn't someone who would let his opponents suffer needlessly.
He immediately whipped around, turning on his biotracker to try and track the hooded man. Siv didn't want to watch the Wookiees burn. He hadn't been able to get a good lock, and readings would be hazy at best. But his scanners picked up nothing. Blasterfire still echoed from the factory, but the hooded man and the cargo he was shipping was gone. The Wookiees had been sacrificed for an escape.
The next swear that left Siv's mouth was very long and detailed.
He sheathed his knife and pistol, taking one last look at the factory and the hovering gunship, the smoke billowing from the roof, before turning off into the night. His body was incredibly sore from the Wookiee's thrashing, and he had an after-action report to file. It was going to be a long, sore flight back to Kestri. The Karjr turned back into the night, his cloak billowing as he left the compound and began the trek back to his starship.
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