Those Left Behind

[Subject 37]

Dromund Kaas - Orbit
[member="Yidhra"]

A frown slowly pulled at his lips, his eyes fixed on the world below.

The Empire had fallen into pieces. After their victory on Serenno Lord Niril of the Council had decided the time was ripe for him take over, he'd used his fleets to assault Korriban, attempting to gain the world and declare himself Emperor. The others had seen fit to rebuke him, though half their underlings had risen up either in support or in retribution. Within a matter of hours every world within the Empire itself had revolted, fighting for control of themselves and whatever else they could get. Entire fleets had torn each other apart, and the Empire with them.

Dromund Kaas however had remained stable.

It wasn't out of some righteous philosophy of course, not out of the goodness of anyone's heart, but leverage. The Armada that was stationed over Dromund Kaas was more than enough to cause anyone to second guess, and before his disappearance Lord Nashar had given one final Order.

One that was apparently being respected.

Dromund Kaas was the ancient homeworld of the Sith Empire. Doubtlessly it would fall eventually, either the Jedi would come to take it from the West, the Dominion would conquer it from the North, or the newly formed Sith Empire would swoop in and reclaim it. None of it really mattered to Tyrian, he'd already fulfilled his own commands. A small smile twitched at his lips, and slowly he turned from the viewport.

There was no telling how much longer they would stay here.

His mission had only just begun.

 

[Yidhra]

Nashar had given an order, alright. Yidhra had received it, and sneered at the command like all proper Purebloods would – it was simply an innate instinct, to shake off any yoke that presumed to weigh down their shoulders.

With that out of the way, the sorceress had given the instructions due consideration, however, and found them aligned with her pre-existing goals. Lady Dottash could not rely on violent means of supremacy – thus she built her power upon deceit and sophistry. She didn’t need her clever eyes and the incisive intellect backed by decades of dedicated study to predict an inevitable collapse in the order of the Resurgent Empire.

That same instinct that had bid her bare her fangs at the screen was its downfall. Amidst the fire and vying for scraps, the sorceress had quietly consulted her numerous plans and slithered away to regroup.

But the time for dalliance was over. What hadn’t burned to the ground had been taken over by the most blood-thirsty among the Purebloods. The survivors were now looking over the walls of their ruined castles, greedy yellow eyes set on new territories still.

In other words, it was time to get the Nether out of dodge.

Not without some insurance policy, though.

A massive shadow had fallen over Dromund Kaas in the midst of the infighting, and terror swept forth from its heart. Gurrhat had gripped the railing of the bridge with a manic smile and gave his best attempt at an evil laugh yet.

The fleet over Kaas had wilted somewhat at the sight of the Udraitor uncertain if they could match the firepower of the Death ship. Yidhra had sing-songed her reassurances, abducted what remained of the standing army, and melted back into the darkness of the Stygian caldera.

It was in the vast hangars of the command ship that the sorceress stood now, before rows and rows of haggard soldiers. Everyone on board was tired of the civil war – this ride was en route to greener pastures.

“Whoever holds the highest rank among you, step forward,” she addressed the lot, voice carrying across the vaulted chamber.


[member="Tyrian"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Yidhra"]

Technically, it was him.

He held no true rank, though most of those around him Lieutenant. The true problem of the situation was that most of the soldiers here hadn't come from a single unit, rather they were scattered remnants of a dozen different divisions, platoons, and squads. They weren't in their regular command structure, and during the fall they had been split apart a dozen times, joining with friends and people they had fought with rather than those they had trained with. Ordinarily this would have meant death.

Their situation was hardly ordinary however.

The Empire had fallen, the army was scattered and broken, everyone had simply gone wherever they could. Tyrian understood this, he knew why they had done it. For a moment he simply lingered within the lines, waiting for someone, anyone to speak. He glanced around at rank bars and insignia's, his gaze drifting towards a man nearby.

Then, finally, when no one moved Tyrian raised his hand and stepped forward.

He doubted that there wasn't another Lieutenant here, in fact he was almost positive a Colonel or two likely hid within the rank, but right now there was danger in the air. The Sith above them could slaughter them all for one infraction, she could punish and destroy at will. There was no recompense for such things, never had been. Tyrian knew this, but he also remembered the command that he had been given. The soldier couldn't stand here and do nothing, not now.

"Lieutenant Allara, my Lord." He spoke plainly, his voice augmented by the mask on his face. "13th Infantry Legion."

 

[Yidhra]

Yellow eyes focused on the man who dared step up. Tall, built, deferential. Model Resurgent soldier – of course, the Resurgent Empire was no more, so what the feth was that all worth? Jack shet far as Yidhra was concerned. It was a time for the ambitious and the daring – let the rest rot at the wayside.

“Captain Allara, then,” she replied, tipping her chin up to address the chamber at large. “Please join me for a private conference. We’ve many matters to discuss.” Yidhra gestured for [member="Tyrian"] to meet her on the stairs, then spoke again. “The rest of you are dismissed. Enjoy the first day of your new lives.”

With that, the sorceress pivoted on the spot, starting for her chambers. The Zûtadasi stood still silent like statues, lining the corridor ahead.

“You served Nashar personally, did you not? Has he left you with any instructions in his… absence?”

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Yidhra"]

For a second Tyrian said nothing.

There was a fine line in this sort of thing, trust was thin, and...well in all honesty the Sith were next to nothing to him. For a moment more he remained silent, trying to think of an answer that would please the Sith Lord while also saving his life. "Yes, my lord."

The truth, or a piece of it.

"Lord Nashar employed me." It was not something that was well advertised, especially considering that he had been thrust into the middle of the legions and left there. His command had been to turn the military against the sphere of war, gain as much support as he could. It appeared that he had not been fast enough. "My task was to garner loyalty within the military, however..."

He trailed off. "Under these new circumstances that seems to be somewhat impossible."

Entirely so.

"He left me with no word before his disappearance." A lie, but a fluid one.

 

[Yidhra]

[member="Tyrian"]

Yidhra said nothing as they walked, but kept her eyes – all three of them – firmly upon the soldier. He was slippery, untenable through the Force. The sorceress didn’t know why or how, but his mind was walled off like a Pureblood’s treasury.

Her lips thinned.

“Very well,” she spoke at length, limping into her cabin with a taut expression. “Have a seat, Captain.”

Settling into her own chair, the Sith relieved the pressure on her leg with a barely concealed sigh. “I assume you already know by now that our course is set for Sith Empire space. The Resurgent may have crumbled, but that’s only a delay in my plans.” She paused, steepling her fingers. “You strike me as a man of incentive, Allara. Of ambition. You are clearly suited to operations of the… subtler sort. I have a mission for you in that vein.”

The sorceress stopped then, retrieving a datapad from her desk and handing it to the soldier.

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Yidhra"]

He perked an eyebrow behind his mask.

Briefly he wondered just how many missions at once he could actually handle. There was a certain amount of pride with the idea that Sith entrusted him with their little missions and jobs, but at a certain point he was only human. Tyrian could only do so much at once before he started to fail. He'd have to be careful. "A mission, my Lord?"

He was careful not to sound too eager.

All too often the Sith had certain things in mind that were just...impossible. He'd seen it more than once. A man followed his ambitions, took on too much from a Sith Lord and then couldn't deliver. A week later they were dead, dragged out of a Temple or some meditation chamber. Tyrian didn't intend on ending up like that. He wanted to live, and he wanted to live well.

"I will do all I can." He stated simply.

 

[Yidhra]

“Yes,” a paper thin smile, “you will.”

“I hold no love for their Empire. They are weak. Human.” Her jaundiced eyes swept over him, hard and endless all at once. “Do true Sith not struggle for power? Certainly, we do. We did – it is why Korriban is now in flames, and Kaas guarded by the last fleet.”

“But we vie so that the best might emerge, Allara. Only power may rule.” She cast a wide gesture to the room. “They uphold each other in their weakness. Given to fondness, to bias, to… comfort.”

Yidhra cast the datapad on the table for [member="Tyrian"] to read.

“I would see them bettered.”

The alternative need not be said to be understood.

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Yidhra"]

He glanced down at the datapad, not touching it, but instead reading its contents from where he sat. A small frown pulled at his lips, though it was slowly replaced by a smile.

It was odd how so many Sith wanted for the same things, so many of them folded towards each other. For a moment Tyrian didn't respond to the SIth Lord, he only mused on what she had said and showed him so far. His fingers netted together, his eyes crossing the table and finally settling on the SIth. The Amusement he showed on his face was hidden behind his mask, something he was rather thankful for. After a moment of silence he spoke again. "What would you have me do?"

He was just a soldier after all.

Tyrian could do much, but he would always be seen as an underling by those who ran the Sith Empire. That was a double edged sword however. Most would think him a fool, others would look at him like a pawn. They saw him as lesser, as a rat plaguing their streets.

Yet rats could often carry the most deadly of diseases.

 

[Yidhra]

[member="Tyrian"]

“I’d have you slither into their ranks, Allara,” she spoke, leaning back in her chair. Her three eyes seemed to burrow into him, and yet she still found nothing. His mind was a solid wall, and even a steadier pressure left but a dent.

Yidhra abandoned the pursuit. Later, perhaps.

“Smile and drink with their soldiers. Defer and bow to their Lords. Fight their wars, celebrate their victories. Gain their trust, Captain…” a pause, a predatory smile, “and when the time is right, slit their throats.”

“People like to to say that Sith climb over piles of corpses to get to the top,” she mused, gaze drifting beyond his mask to something in the infinite distance.

“And for once, the stories got it right.”

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Yidhra"]

All the same.

It was really comical in a way how the Sith fell over themselves doing the same thing over and over again. She had assigned him a task that he had been given before, something that he was well suited for. A small perk of his lips turned into a smirk, and then slowly he allowed himself to lean forward towards the Sith. There would be no questions from him, no demands, nothing. He was sure the Sith in front of him had her own little things to do among the Empire.

"As you say." He bowed his head.

There was no doubt that things wouldn't go exactly as planned, but Tyrian would be able to deal with most things when they came. He would have to start out at the bottom once more, but that wouldn't prove too much of an issue for a man like him.

"Their military." He began. "It's where I will start."

Slowly Tyrian looked around the room. "They will strike soon."

 

[Yidhra]

[member="Tyrian"]

Above steepled fingers, Yidhra offered a minute nod. “Yes. They aim to gut the belly we ripped open. Deal the killing blow to the Dominion.” Her nostrils flared. “How very merciful.”

“Good. I only require monthly reports from you – unless you find something of particular note. I would offer to ward your mind, but you seem to have that issue resolved already.” The sorceress smiled a mirthless grin. “If you require anything else to fulfill your task to your fullest potential, you need only ask. I ask for but one thing in turn, Allara…”

Yidhra leaned forward, voice dropping in pitch. “Do not fail me.”

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Yidhra"]

He stood.

There was really nothing else to say. The Sith Empire was something new in this galaxy, and more importantly it was something that could be exploited. Fledgling governments were always the one scrambling for...well pretty much everything. It would be a good time for him to move in.

"I shan't fail you." He said as he bowed before her. "You may trust in me."

The lie fell from his lips easily.

There was nothing that would really change for him. Things were going to stay the same for him regardless of whom gave him the command. He would do his best, mostly because his life depended on it. Failure was not something that most Sith would, or could accept.