The Climb Is All There Is, Part I

[Darth Osano]

FORT AMARANTH

As had been previously mentioned elsewhere, the collapse of Galentro Heavy Works and Dynamic Automata had opened up several new avenues for expansion onto various planets in Alignment Space. The acquisition of those new properties, as well as the establishment of the private prison on Bescane, marked the beginning of the end for the Syndicate's physical growth. Anything further than what Maleagant had planned was superfluous. Having a physical location on each and every alignment planet was just unnecessary. Besides, even if the Helix Syndicate grew to encompass ten thousand worlds, they would still only occupy a small fraction of the total territories within the Pentastar Alignment.

This was not the goal. It never was. The nature of the Helix Syndicate meant that it did not need tangible locations on every planet to project its influence. All they really needed were spy satellites and listening posts, which were possessed in spades. Yet even this was only good for so much. If the Helix Syndicate was going to survive and grow, they would need an increased presence on the holonet. That was to say, through malware and the compromised computers of unsuspecting civilians. In his line of work as an infochant, Maleagant had been privy to rumors. Legends. Like the fabled legend of the Red Codex, which acted as the key to a self-adapting strain of malware that had been automatically propagating well before the Gulag Plague. To many this had been nothing but a legend, but Maleagant had been convinced of its existence long ago, though he would never say why.

Maleagant was far too busy with other affairs, like managing his company and training himself in Sith Arts, to hunt for such an elusive device on his own. He did what all crime lords did, hired a rag-tag team of spacers to do the job for him. Maleagant had hired these people several years ago and had been paying them this whole time. They followed every lead, every scrap of evidence. They interrogated hundreds, murdered dozens, fought their way of out inconceivable situations, saw sights few could even grasp. They scoured ruins, derelict star destroyers, insurmountable mountains. It was the kind of high-stakes, prolonged adventuring that Maleagant had no time for. Who did, aside from these people.

He was sure there had been several changes in leadership since they had left. Dangerous line of work and all that. In fact, Maleagant would not have been surprised at all if the people who returned were a completely different set than he had originally hired. In any event, he had received word that they had concluded their mission and returned. Maleagant was to meet them in the city of Ravelin, on Bastion, for their report. And, hopefully, to be handed the Red Codex.

 

[Darth Osano]

RAVELIN
DIVE BAR

"Wasn't there."

Maleagant's right eye twitched in irritation. He had paid these people hundreds of thousands of credits over the course of their employment and they had... Nothing? Maleagant had been right about them being a different set of people, naturally, but most of the absent folks had left on their own accord rather than be killed. Maleagant was presently looking at the seventh second in command who had taken the position since the fourth expedition leader had died fighting Charon at the Wylis Space Station in Subsector Rugloko in Wild Space. It was a long, awful story of their exploits, but they had kept good track of it in the datapad they had given Maleagant.

"When you found the facility- where was it?" Maleagant asked, glancing up at him.

The Quarren shrugged his broad shoulders. "'unno. Some desert. Should be in the 'pad."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"We've been on like fifty desert worlds since we started, pal." Said one of the spacers, a Chiss woman with one cybernetic eye and one eye-patch. Budget cuts had apparently been commonplace. "Lay off, pal."

Fifty desert worlds since she had started, however, was an alarming figure. Especially since that Chiss woman in particular was one of the most recent additions to this crew. Maleagant scrolled incredulously to the bottom of the datapad, eyes absorbing every detail. "Rathars? Is this a joke?"

Guffawing, the Quarren shook his head. "Go ask Terrence."

Maleagant looked up from the datapad, glancing around at the assorted spacers. "Which one is he?"

"He ain't here." A Skakoan in a decked out pressure suit, more like a combat harness, chimed in. "Rathars got 'em."

"How thorough were you?"

"Thorough as could be, y'know, after we killed all the freakin' Rathars." Said... Someone else. It was a squat, rodent-like species that Maleagant had never seen before. It had a gun twice its size slung over its back.

With everything these people had seen, he was surprised they were hung up on Rathars. Maleagant had only heard of the species just now. How terrifying could they have possibly been? "I'll be going through this." Maleagant said tersely, shutting off the datapad and sliding it into his jacket. "You'll get your money."

A Mon Calamari woman emerged from the pack of spacers, placing her arms suggestively around the Quarren. "Looks like you'll finally get your money this time, Calvin."

"Yeah," said the Skakoan. "Don't want another repeat of that incident on Ortiz Prime, do we?"

The whole section of the bar they had been crowded in roared with laughter, every single one of the spacers. Calvin flushed, which Maleagant had not known a Quarren could do. They were all so friendly with one another, a friendship forged in the fires of travel and serialized adventures. It was absolutely disgusting. Maleagant felt a strong and irrational hatred for each and every one of them. If he were fortunate, he would never see a single one of them again. Wiping some spittle that had emerged with a Weequay's raucous laughter off his cheek, Maleagant slid out of the booth and left. If he could not have the Red Codex, he would build his own.

 

[Darth Osano]

FORT AMARANTH

If he could not have the Red Codex, he would build his own.

Easier said than done. But then again, most things were. The principles of the Red Codex, at least the ones alluded to in rumor, were a rather simple affair and easily replicated. The only appeal the Red Codex had was that it had been around for so long. By now it most likely had a tight grip on large swathes of the galaxy. But Maleagant did not need large swathes of the galaxy, only the Pentastar Sectors were relevant to his interests, as well as the Stygian Caldera. Maleagant resolved to make his own device a scalpel, whereas the Red Codex was more along the lines of a broadsword. The holonet infrastructure of the Pentastar Sectors and any devices connected to them would be specifically targeted. The networks Maleagant could not access publicly, however, would require a more careful approach. Individuals would have to be blackmailed into infecting networks belonging to corporations and governments, opening them up to clandestine access.

Simple in design, complex in function as usual. Maleagant did not need a crack team of scientists for this particular operation, only a few skilled ones. Their identities would remain a mystery to the rest of the Syndicate with only Maleagant being aware of the details. They would be paid in cash. Maleagant did not want the existence of this network getting out and he also did not want to have to murder any scientists to get there. If he started murdering people who worked for him, no one would work for him. He was above that. He would do many terrible things to those who wronged him, but he would not lower himself to the savagery of... Certain parties. Just the thought of them was enough to make Maleagant seethe with anger. How long had they gotten away with it for? How long would they keep getting away with it? No one seemed able to stop them, but he would. Yes, he would.

Maleagant was jolted from his meditation when a Specialist, one of the few stationed at Fort Amaranth, burst into the room. The Acolyte's eyes flung open, staring past the Sith Holocron resting on the floor in front of him to the intruder. "I asked not to be disturbed."

The Holocron was a mundane one, checked out from an academy on Ziost. It detailed techniques on the art of Mind Tricks. Nothing terribly interesting, Maleagant had been meditating on its contents up until this intrusion.

"There's been a report from the facility, sir." The Specialist said. "The prototype was stolen."

Should Maleagant have looked surprised? It was always something.

 

[Darth Osano]

FORT AMARANTH

Maleagant stored his holocron away safely, among the various tomes and scrolls he had selected, before departing for Fort Amaranth's command center. He would have preferred to continue his meditations, but now that this had come up it would require his immediate attention. Nothing ever went smoothly. It was almost as if he lived within the confines of a story being written by someone who needed continued, present conflict and obstacles to write about in order to keep it interesting. A strange thought, but each of these passing episodes seemed to make it more likely. Deglarch and Eugene were already present in the room, Rahgot was out supervising the construction of a debtor mine on Isiring.

Those other mercenaries, Ogedei, Aldabert, and Grigori were out on their own missions. The exact details were best left undisclosed, as they weren't exactly glamorous adventures. Certainly on the opposite spectrum of what those spacers he had met with several days ago had endured. The recollection of them put Maleagant into a foul mood, now intensified by the unfolding situation. The Acolyte clasped his hands behind his back, approaching the holotable. Deglarch and Eugene stood at attention, or something approximating attention. This wasn't a rigid military outfit, but Maleagant still demanded their respect.

"Explain." Was all he said.

"The prototype was lifted from the facility by one of our guards, an Enforcer named Jeremiah Spoke." Eguene said, pressing a button on the holotable. Jeremiah's hiring profile was summoned into the air, displaying the various tidbits of information the Syndicate had on him. He had been screened thoroughly, as most Enforcers were. "He's got a large, poor family. Odds are he'll try to ransom it."

Deglarch added, "Or someone paid him off to steal it."

The holoprojection was a nice touch, Maleagant thought. Had they purposefully delayed telling him so they could prepare this little presentation? How t
tiresome. A large, poor family should have meant Jeremiah would be more reluctant to risk his job. Judging from his records, Jeremiah had performed quite well. He earned several bonuses for efficiency and had been in the top ten contenders for Enforcer of the Month these past few months. Maybe if they had just given it to him, he wouldn't have run off.

"Someone paid him." Maleagant decided. And it would have had to been a lot of money to tempt Jeremiah like that, the poor idiot. Still, everything Jeremiah did was for his family, extended family. Maleagant sighed. Time to become another cartoon villain. "Track down his family. Send some Enforcers. That should encourage him to come forward."

If not, well... Maleagant would not enjoy it or do it himself, but the Helix Syndicate would have to make due on promises made.

 

[Darth Osano]

FORT AMARANTH

Maleagant remained in the room as his staff went about the arduous process of putting out feelers for Jeremiah Spoke and the rest of his family. The Helix Syndicate had many different contacts at many different levels of society, all throughout the Pentastar Alignment. Many contacts were direct links, but many others were utilized by the Syndicate through third parties. Thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of people were unwitting employees of the Helix Syndicate at any given point. This was the true beauty of the underworld niche the Syndicate resided in. Few people, if anyone, could do what the Syndicate did even with the resources the Syndicate possessed. It was a talent that had to come naturally.

It took all of two hours to find the information they required.

Several members of the Spoke family had been found in the same place and, judging from their predicament, similar (if not more gruesome fates) could be expected of the remainder. They had been sold into slavery not long ago, vanishing into the mist of the galaxy on crowded barges meant for who knew where. Glee Anslem, maybe. A tragic fate. Maleagant did not care what happened to the Spoke family, but their fate was interesting, especially since they were sold into slavery by a known Waylon Syndicate patsy. If Maleagant had to guess, Waylon had promised Jeremiah money and to protect his family. Considering the nature of the protection that had just been offered, it seemed unlikely they were actually going to pay Jeremiah either.

There was a lesson to be learned here. Good things come to those who wait at their current job of beating up debtors. Bad things happen when you double-cross bad people to work for worse people. Maleagant felt no sympathy. Just an annoyed, bored sort of determination that had slowly come over him the more and more often he dealt with these kinds of situations.

"We can stop the slave barges if you-"

"Don't bother." Maleagant cut in. "Find me Jeremiah."

That didn't take much longer. A contact on Devon 4 reported a sighting of the same ship that had also retrieved Jeremiah after his theft. The Syndicate was more than aware of several Waylon Syndicate safe houses on that planet, but had seen no reason to waste their time with that dying criminal enterprise until now. Waylon had been a formidable force in the Pentastar Sectors before the Helix Syndicate had shown up and beaten them out of power. Now Maleagant and his men were on top, but that apparently had not been enough to dissuade Waylon from further spiteful attacks.

They were able to pinpoint the exact location of the warehouse by looking for the ship. Within the next subsequent hour, Maleagant was en route aboard a shuttle with Deglarch, several Specialists, a droid he owned, and a bad attitude.

 

[Darth Osano]

CHURRUMA

The doors to the warehouse were wide open. “They’re gone.” Deglarch observed, forcing Maleagant to roll his eyes.

“Of course they are.”

Maleagant and his team fanned out into the safe-house, poking around for anything Waylon had left behind. The only thing they found was the corpse of Jeremiah Spoke. There was a single scorch mark between his brown eyes, which stared vacantly at the ceiling. He had emptied his bowels and bladder in death, but otherwise the corpse was still fresh. Rigor had not yet set in, so it appeared as though they had just missed him. Maleagant had expected that much. There was always a false start to these sort of adventures, an indication that he could still be eluded and outmaneuvered even at this stage in the game.

You had to remind the audience that you weren't perfect. Perfect characters, Maleagant often found, were only really good for mockery. Ridicule. He had done a lot of reading these past few months as he furthered his studies. This included digestion of Old Sith Literature and analysis of their literary traditions. How could he become a Sith if he didn't understand the traditions of their original culture? At any rate, the ancient Purebloods tended towards very idealized leading characters. Warriors with no immediate faults performing ludicrous, exaggerated feats of valor. It would have been entertaining if it weren't so tedious, so irksome. The Pureblood Renaissance at the height of the first Sith Empire had seen the inversion of that tradition, when-

"Superintendent." Maleagant snapped from his daydreaming. "Search through his pockets."

The KX-Series Security Droid stomped over, surveying the corpse of Jeremiah Spoke. "Sure thing." Said [member="Superintendent"], stooping down so his long arms could reach Jeremiah. Maleagant was not about to go rooting around in the pockets of a corpse that had just freshly soiled itself. After a few moments, the Superintendent retrieved a datapad.

"Look, a data-"

"Unlock it." Maleagant interrupted. He knew what it was.

A few seconds passed as the Superintendent bypassed the security countermeasures on the device and was able to analyze the data. This did not take very long, owing to the experimental programming and droid brain the droid had been outfitted with. Another of the Syndicate's ongoing projects which would be more clearly revealed at a later date.

The Superintendent's head swiveled away from the datapad and to Maleagant. "Mr. Spoke seems to have thought he was heading to Devon 4 to be paid."

Devon 4? Maleagant was not aware of any Waylon bases there. It appeared they had hidden one from him after all, although their sloppy execution of Jeremiah Spoke was about to cost them dearly.

"Thank you, Superintendent."

"It is always a pleasure."

 

[Darth Osano]

DEVON 4

Devon 4 was such a remote planet, barely inhabited. Very different from the usual Waylon operating spots. They must have been wising up to the way things were going, trying to adapt. It wouldn’t help. They could try and replicate an organization that actually knew what it was doing all they wanted. If they kept making amateur mistakes like forgetting to destroy Jeremiah Spoke’s datapad and leaving the body somewhere it could be found… Well, no one could help them, not even Maleagant.

The only inhabitants of Devon 4 were members of an obscure religious sect. They lived among themselves in small, remote villages. They kept to themselves, sustained from small scale farming. From what Maleagant understood, a few of them owned some rickety shuttles. Anything they needed that they couldn’t get on Devon 4 they would barter for at some of the trade stations. Usually with some local-made knick knacks and souvenirs. Not the most comfortable existence, but they got by. It also meant they really weren’t in a position to do anything when the Waylon Syndicate moved into an abandoned droid foundry that dated back to the Clone Wars.

To their credit, the Waylon Syndicate hadn’t bothered the locals much. Probably not out of any sense of altruism. Just that harassing them would have tipped the Helix Syndicate off to their being here sooner, and that the locals had nothing worth taking. Piss poor dirt farmers rarely ever did.

The Helix Syndicate moved into the system under the escort of a small mercenary fleet contracted for the job. The Syndicate was not yet in the position to field combat fleets of their own. But they could field troops. Angry, angry troops who were getting sick and tired of Waylon’s goons taking pot shots at their friends while on patrol. The hatred towards the Waylon Syndicate was not just a phenomenon for the Helix Syndicate’s uppermost ranks. The Enforcers had ample reason to dislike them as well.

Dropships came under fire as they soared towards the droid foundry. The Waylon Syndicate had not anticipated discovery, apparently, as their defenses were only rudimentary. Despite some casualties incurred during the landing operation, a few strafes from escorting starfighters were enough to knock them out for good. And once those dropships had discharged the Enforcers waiting within them, the battle only got bloodier.

Once the Enforcers were out and the worst of the Anti-Air Guns disabled, the Specialists were also flown in. The Enforcers took the bulk of the heavy fighting and established some secure areas as they pushed Waylon’s thugs further into the facility. Once the Specialists arrived, however, the game was pretty much over. The Waylon Syndicate could not afford the kind of training the Helix Syndicate could. If the Enforcers hadn’t been bad enough on their own, the arrival of the Specialists sped up Waylon’s defeat substantially.

 

[Darth Osano]

DEVON 4

Hours passed before the all clear was given. Then another two hours before it was actually cleared and the survivors had been hunted down and killed, the prisoners executed. There was no need to keep any of them alive and no need for any mercy. The Helix Syndicate expected none and gave none. Besides, there was nothing they knew that Maleagant could not find out on his own at a later point. In the wake of the battle, Maleagant landed to personally retrieve the Crimson Codex for himself.

His escort, a few Specialists and Deglarch, brought him into the depths of the foundry to where Waylon had been keeping the codex in a sealed container. They had all been ordered not to touch it if they found it and, obedient soldiers that they were, they complied. As he moved through the foundry, Maleagant could not help but admire its design. There was a great deal of history in this place. War machine had been manufactured for one of the greatest galactic conflicts in history. Although now it was just considered a prelude, a footnote, to the rise of the first Galactic Empire.

Pitiable, really. The Confederacy had fought so hard and for so long, and their ideals had all becamet. They were nothing more than the enablers of a dastardly Sith Lord, the principals they had fought for forever being re-branded into pro-Sith doggerel. Maleagant was not sympathetic to the Confederacy, but he did recognize that an individual like himself was more prone to flourish in a country governed by their principals than those of the old Galactic Republic.

Then again, was he referring to the old him or the him he had become? Doubtless the Maleagant that had wanted to become a playwright could have cared less. The new Maleagant, the one forged from tragedy and discontent, had a distinct Separatist lean. So if he did have that lean and if the Separatist droid army had almost won the war, why shouldn't he have one of his own? If everything they stood for had become inseparable from the Sith they helped enable, why shouldn't he use it?

There had been that one flare up, that one similar entity. They were weak, though. Far too soft. Paraded themselves like an alternative to the Republic, not its successor. They were hollow. They definitely persisted for a while, of course, and Maleagant could give them credit for that. When he reached the lowest level of the foundry, past old and immobile machinery, he was brought into the control room. Waylon had rigged it to become their headquarters. It was very quaint in the sense that the corpses were being piled up to the side. So much for a heroic last stand.

It appeared Waylon were attempting to get the place up and running again from the power generators scattered about. Partially, at least. Judging from the configuration, their main interest was the mainframe. Strange that they had to come here to try and find a supercomputer sophisticated enough to run his device. It spoke volumes of their current resources. Maleagant scoffed idly and collected the canister containing the Crimson Codex. He examined it for any defects, found none, and promptly left the room.

He would return to this foundry soon enough.

 

[Darth Osano]

FORT AMARANTH

Maleagant’s arrival in Fort Amaranth’s command room was heralded by everyone snapping to attention. There was only one person there who didn’t look nervous, despite having ample reason for it. “Eugene.” Maleagant greeted, red eyes sizing up the Overseer. “I need a status report on the programming project we took from Dynamic Automata.”

“Let’s, ah,” Eugene dropped his salute and returned to his console, attempting to summon the relevant documents. “Let’s see here...”

Several months ago, the Helix Syndicate had gone into something of a war with several corporations. I won’t bore you with the details, because I know you don’t actually care and no one else is reading this. This is just another exercise in futility. Or if you are reading this, you probably read that other thread and know exactly what happened. In the case of the former, you have lost nothing. In the case of the latter, thanks for playing. Suffice to say, the shadow war ended in victory for the Helix Syndicate.

Part of the spoils harvested from that war from Dynamic Automata’s destruction included documents and prototypes. It was for a very specialized suite of modular programming. Dynamic Automata had been plotting to couple traditional programming with flash memory scanning. A risky maneuver, but one that could pay off if done correctly. Unfortunately, Dynamic Automata had been too busy becoming a dumpster fire to finish the project. Maleagant had been considering selling the programming and designs off to another company. However, after seeing that droid foundry on Devon 4, his imagination had started running wild.

Eugene snapped his fingers, locating the relevant documents. “Got it right here, we’ve still been sitting on ‘em. What do we do?”

“Send a copy to myself. I would like to review it.” Maleagant replied.

“It’s, uh, it’s a pretty heavy document. Lots of technical jargon, I could-”

“Eugene.” Maleagant interrupted, giving his Overseer a deadly look. “Send me the copy.”

“Right away.”

It was like no matter how many times they went over this, Maleagant always had to ask twice. It would have been annoying if it had at all caused any problems yet.

 

[Darth Osano]

DEVON 4


Renovations are expensive, time consuming projects. The older the structure, the more it cost. The more extensive the renovations, the more the cost. The bigger the structure, the more the cost. And this droid foundry on Devon 4 was as old and big as they got. And the renovations that needed to be undertaken were equally demanding. But money was no longer an issue for the Helix Syndicate. Not in this regard, anyway. Maleagant wanted an army, He had an army, of course, but he wanted an even bigger army. There was only one way to exact vengeance against the vile sort of family that had slaughtered his own.

And it necessitated an army.

Of course, to his stalwart Overseers and Lieutenants, the real need for all this renovating was power projection. The Helix Syndicate needed to project power in the Pentastar Alignment. Whether they liked it or not, recruitment would eventually stagnate. It was better to invest in manufacturing their own automated droid forces now rather than turn it into a mad scramble when they needed it most. Besides, Maleagant had been thoroughly impressed with the schematics recovered from Dynamic Automata. While he was here overseeing the renovation process, their work would be completed. Maleagant understood the schematics well enough that he could be impressed with them, but he could not tackle a project himself.

He might have been smart enough to masquerade as a Givin. He was not smart enough to masquerade as an expert on droid engineering or programming. For that task he would consult others, namely an Arconan by the name of Felix. Felix had managed to synthesize a prototype, which had been uploaded to Superintendent. Utilizing the data gained from Superintendent’s experience with the programming, they could improve upon it from there.

Though, Felix being an Arconan stuck in his mind for some reason. If most of his other employees weren't human, Maleagant would have said that the alien-to-human ratio in the Syndicate was off the charts. Certainly in the uppermost ranks of the leadership. But Maleagant was not selecting candidates for his inner circle in the name of representation. He was selecting them because he knew what they were doing. It was a rather basic concept.

In any event, while Felix handled the technical details, Maleagant would handle the renovation of this foundry, dubbed Fort Aldmer. He wanted this place to be self sustaining for the most part. Mines would be dug into the mountain to help supply some of the material demands. One of the schematics called for Impervium, however, and so Maleagant would have to send out some feelers to find someone who had an ample supply to kickstart production.

Who he'd find would surprise him. Not in a bad way, fortunately.

 

[Darth Osano]

FORT AMARANTH

Not long after the renovation of Fort Aldmer entered its final stage, Maleagant was called back to Fort Amaranth. This time it was not an abduction, thankfully enough. The Crimson Codex had exited its final testing stage and the mainframe with which to hold it had been completed as well. The main command room of Fort Amaranth was already too filled with equipment to house the mainframe, so the Crimson Codex and its new mainframe were housed in another part of the Fort, its own private wing.

For the grand opening, Maleagant was joined by his overseers. Deglarch and Rahgot were polite enough to pretend they understood what was going on. Eugene understood what was going on and concealed his excitement in accordance to what was expected of grown, adult men. This device, if it worked properly, would take a load of work off his shoulders. Especially when the malware got to infecting some of those more difficult to reach places. Like corporate and government networks, not just some boring holonet devices.

Maleagant carefully slotted the Crimson Codex into the mainframe. He then tightly gripped the power switch and flipped it into position. There was, at first, a gentle whirring. Weak. Maleagant almost thought something had short circuited, but it gradually grew louder as each leg of the mainframe booted up and entered an active state. The large screen in front of him ran through lines and lines of text, documenting the first start up process and activation of the Crimson Codex. The roar of the computers grew louder, but not to the point where it became deafening. Thankfully. The whole room would have had to be redone if that were the case.

Eventually the boot-up text vanished and the menu was displayed for him to see. Eugene edged closer for a better look. Rahgot checked the large chronometer attached to his wrist. Deglarch shut his eyes now that Maleagant's attention was preoccupied. Maleagant typed in a command and the screen shifted to show a map of the Pentastar Alignment. Statistics were displayed in the upper right hand corner, showing the number of devices currently infected. It could be broken down by region if he wished. The map itself indicated in varying shades of red the extent to which the Crimson Horse had taken root in those areas.

The map was laughably not red.

Eugene seemed disappointed as he realized this, but not Maleagant. This was only the beginning. In time, the Crimson Horse would spread further throughout the Alignment. It was all a waiting game. As a Shi'ido with a lifespan of some 500 years, Maleagant intended to live to see the day where this device held the whole Alignment in his hands. But until that day, Eugene was just going to have to work the old fashioned way.

Sucks to sucks, but that's why we roll the credits, baby.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=euAvBWbHdMY​