Legends of the Sith by Christopher Beasley - HTML preview

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Memories Die

Darth Iratus sat back in the seat of his ship and closed his eyes.

The Sith Lord often replayed memories from his past; reviewing all the

wrongs he had suffered at the hands of others, finding sparks of anger he

could fan to fuel his rage, and thus his strength.

Iratus" thoughts drifted through cloudy seas of memory, before

settling on his former Master, Darth Vindictive. Vindictive had been in no

hurry to take an apprentice, being a perfectionist, the Devaronian had

gathered quite the collection of potential apprentices. Vindictive had

traveled the galaxy seeking beings powerful in the Force. He had then

proceeded to shield these specimens from the Jedi, as not to lose his

quarry to the Temple. The Devaronian"s holocronic recording of these

potential students would later provide Iratus with Rhaine Panbreedle"s

name.

Vindictive had watched his potential apprentices closely before

settling on Samuel Chechsiemy, the father of the boy that would one

day become Darth Iratus.

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Vindictive had chosen Samuel for his exceptional strength in the

Force. Samuel, however, was from Mas Villeth, a world on the very

fringe of Republic space, a world that abhorred the use of the Force.

Vindictive could never convince Samuel to embrace the dark side.

When Samuel"s young son, Baeltoris, had proven even more powerful

than Samuel had, Vindictive had murdered Samuel and focused his

attentions on the dead man"s son.

Darth Iratus spiraled back in time, back to the day he had

decided to give himself over to the tutelage of Darth Vindictive.

Mas Villeth Interstellar Infantry squad leader Baeltoris Chechsiemy

watched from the muddy trench line as the love of his life disappeared

over the enemy battlements. Baeltoris knew Mairsa would be ok, she was

a Jedi after all, and she had her mission. The young Jedi was to infiltrate

the Kothian lines and destroy the power source for their weather

generator. It was only the endless, miserable, rain drenched weather that

kept the Kothian lines from being bombarded into oblivion from orbit.

For over a month, Mas Villeth forces had been entrenched on the

Kothian home world, slugging it out day to day with the Kothian army. Only

now had the power source for the weather generator been located, barely

a 100 yards from the front lines! Not that the front lines were all that clear.

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From horizon to horizon, the battlefield was a tangled maze of mud,

craters, and trenches. Sometimes the trenches of the opposing armies

were only yards apart; sometimes they even ran together. For all of

modern technology, hyperspace drive, artificial intelligence, holocronic

communication, and so on, war on the ground was the same as it ever

was. Close, brutal, and bloody.

Mairsa Pleutari's mission was to destroy the power source. Squad

Leader Chechsiemy's mission was to lead his squad in a diversionary

attack to draw attention from the Jedi. So far so good. Baeltoris" squad

had advanced, trench to trench, under heavy fire until seemingly their

attack had stalled. This was the plan, as every day this exact same

scenario, minus the Jedi infiltrator, was played out all over the battlefront.

The Mas Villethians would attack, in small teams or in waves. Their attack

would falter and they would hold their ground for the coming Kothian

counter attack, then slowly fall back to their point of origin.

Baeltoris' squad now lay in a rough semi-circle, in trenches and

craters, behind rocks and debris waiting for the Kothian retaliation. They

did not have to wait long. Soon, the air around and above Baeltoris" head

was alive with the buzz and hiss of blaster rounds. Mud splattered into his

face as several blaster shots struck near by, leaving miniature sizzling

craters in the muddy ground.

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Soon thermal artillery rounds started falling, shaking the ground

with their explosions. Fortunately, Kothian artillery was almost never very

accurate. Almost never. A thermal round landed no more than 25 yards

from the squad's position. Concussion shock waves followed by a

deafening roar rattled the squad and rained muddy debris on their position

for long moments. When the air was relatively clear, Baeltoris could see

the Kothian forces steadily advancing.

Baeltoris' well-disciplined squad would hold their fire until the

enemy was well within range. Then the Mas Villethians would unleash a

punishing volley at the Kothians, slaughtering perhaps scores of the

enemy. The Kothians would halt and the two sides would duke it out for a

while before retreating back to their own lines. That was the plan anyway,

but then everything changed. Baeltoris could feel Mairsa's presence in the

Force. She was in danger.

The seeds of love had been planted by war and watered with blood.

Mairsa Pleutari had been assigned to Baeltoris" division at the onset of the Kothian war. At first, Baeltoris had only met the Jedi briefly in passing as she came aboard the Star Carrier Lion, but even then, and Mairsa would

admit as much later, Bael swore the two had shared a meaningful glance.

As the war dragged on, the two ended up working together more and

more often. There was always a sense of forbidden tension in the air

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between them whenever they were in the same room. Once, during some

down time, Baeltoris found Mairsa alone on the observatory platform of

the Lion as the ship lay in a lazy orbit around Daldoran. The two talked for hours and watched the beautiful, famous, Daldoran triple sunrise. Mairsa

could sense the Force ability in Baeltoris, but also knew of the oppressive

anti-Republic/Jedi policies of Mas Villeth, so was little surprised. The two discussed The Force, Jedi, Mas Villeth politics, and every thing in

between.

Mairsa and Bael found they had a lot in common in their views of

how their respective societies, Jedi and Mas Villethian, tended to repress

individualism. The two shared a kiss before leaving the platform.

Afterwards, Mairsa and Bael made every possible excuse to be

alone, stealing kisses, discussing the Force, the war, life in general. In

time, the two were assigned to a scouting mission on the planet Toreth.

After their scout vehicle was damaged behind enemy lines Mairsa and

Bael received orders to hole up and lay low until the Mas Villethian main

body pushed forward in a day or two. Bael and Mairsa made love for the

first time in an abandoned residence they were hiding in, not knowing if

they would live to see the next dawn. From then on, the fires of forbidden

love grew out of control, consuming both warriors.

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Sneaking about dark corridors on Star ships, staying over in

briefing rooms, making every second they could spend together seem as if

it could be their last. For more than two standard years, through battles

and separation and all war could throw at them the two kept their burning

romance, and their secret. Jedi were not allowed to love in this manner,

and for a Mas Villethian soldier to be involved in such a manner with a

representative of the Republic...all these memories of his time with his

beloved Mairsa had flashed through Bael's thoughts when he sensed his

lover was in danger.

Bael found himself shouting orders over the roar of blaster fire, "We

have to move forward! We have to move over the battlements!"

One of Bael's team leaders shot him a concerned glance, "But sir,

the plan is to...”

Bael interrupted, "The plan is to create a diversion for the Jedi, but

the mission is in jeopardy now!"

Another of Bael's men spoke up, "Endangered? How do you

know?"

"Trust me." was Bael's only reply.

Bael's men did trust him. They would follow him down the throat of

a Sarlac and believe that their leader would bring them all out again.

Bael's leadership, his battle instincts and force inspired intuition, though 36

his men didn't know Bael was force sensitive, had built an immense

amount of trust and respect by Bael's squad for their leader. He always

took care of them, had never failed them, so there was no hesitation from

the eight men when Bael hopped up from his position and lead them

straight at the advancing Kothians. Yet, would his men understand the

true reason Bael was leading them to their deaths?

Bael's adrenaline rush mixed with his force ability slowed time to a

crawl. Everything seemed stretched out, pulled thin, even sound. After the

battle Bael could not remember his wild charge at the Kothians, he could

only recall one moment giving the order to advance and the next he was

amongst the enemy soldiers in a muddy trench on Kothia. Bael blasted

away with his Musaar 249 heavy blaster rifle, slaughtering Kothians at

close range, pressing ever on toward the Kothian battlements.

Bael saw his men go down one by one. He could hear their

screams, but it all seemed as if he was watching through a fog from a

great distance. Suddenly, a Kothian soldier stood before him. Never

slowing, Bael smashed the creature in the face with the butt of his blaster.

Ever onward Baeltoris continued, lobbing thermal detonators,

emptying blaster charge cell after blaster charge cell, until his ammunition was expended. Bael smashed several more Kothians as he neared the

battlements, his blaster now only good as a nine pound club, until it

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eventually shattered across the face of an enemy soldier. Bael drew his

vibro blade from his boot sheath and leaped over the Kothian Battlements.

Bael could see Mairsa now, standing only yards from the power

generator of the weather creator. The Jedi held a battle stance,

surrounded by many dead and dying Kothians and even more live ones.

Her lightsaber worked furiously, deflecting blaster fire from all sides. With a sweeping push of the Force, Mairsa leveled a group of soldiers and

turned to face the next approaching group.

Enraged, Bael sprinted the remaining distance to his lover and

leapt upon the back of an enemy soldier, dragging him down into the mud

and blood. A quick slash to the throat of his opponent and Bael was back

up, already lunging at the next nearest Kothian. When Bael's blade

jammed in the ribs of the third Kothian he punched the creature in the face

and ripped the blaster from its grasp. He leveled the muzzle against the

stunned creature"s forehead and squeezed the trigger, the Kothian's head

disintegrating into a red mist.

To Bael, the blaster shot that smashed into his right shin knocking

him to one knee, only felt as if he had been smacked hard by a stick. He

regained his feet and continued to fire into the ranks of Kothian soldiers.

Another blaster bolt deflected off Bael's durasteel chest plate, spinning the man around and singeing his cheek with the heat of the ricochet blast.

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Bael found himself back to back with Mairsa, the pair moving in a circle

defending against the Kothian onslaught. Mairsa Force pulled a nearby

Kothian in close, tugged the pin from a thermal detonator hanging on the

creatures battle vest, and Force pushed him back into the generator.

There was a tremendous explosion as the thermal detonator ignited all the

Kothian's remaining ammunition and the fuel source to the generator. The

blast incinerated the nearest Kothians and knocked Mairsa and Bael to the

ground. The warriors instantly sprang to their feet to engage the remaining

Kothians, but noticed the few creatures left alive had turned from the fight and were fleeing.

Panting, Baeltoris dropped to his knees and, smiling, looked to his

lover. For a moment, perhaps he had only imagined it, a strange look

flashed across Mairsa's face. Was it a look of...disgust? Whatever it was it was gone in a moment and Mairsa dropped down next to Bael and took

him in her arms. The clouds over Kothia were already clearing away as

the couple made their way back to Mas Villethian lines. Soon the orbital

bombardment would pound the Kothian forces into submission and at long

last bring the war to a close.

Later, after the debriefing, and much heroic celebration, the pair

entered Bael's tent. Bael took a seat on his cot, but Mairsa remained

standing by the entrance. Bael could sense that all was not well.

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"What's wrong, my love?" he asked his companion.

Mairsa hesitated for a moment before answering. “News of our

victory has made it back to Coruscant, to the Jedi council. I am being

reassigned to another troubled part of the galaxy. Seems we Jedi are

stretched thin lately."

Bael smiled at his lover. "That's ok darling, we've been separated

before. With the war pretty much over I should get some leave, I'll come

find you, or we'll meet somewhere when your duty allows you."

Mairsa looked to the floor. When she brought her attention back to

Bael her face was a mask of stern resolve. “My duty can not allow this to

continue." Mairsa stated flatly.

Bael, no longer smiling asked as he stood, "What do you mean?

Allow what to continue?" although in his heart the man feared he knew

what was coming next.

"This never should have happened. A Jedi should never love as I

have loved you. It is a distraction from our duties, a duty to the Republic

that far out weighs any personal feelings a Jedi may encounter."

Bael only shook his head, speechless. Mairsa continued, " What we

had was wonderful, but it is forbidden, and for good reason. I let my

emotions get in the way today. I was distracted by my thoughts of you and

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was nearly killed. A Jedi must be focused, love leads to attachments, to

jealousy, to the dark side."

Baeltoris approached his love, attempted to place a reassuring

hand on her cheek, a display of affection they had shared numerous

times. Mairsa pulled away. Bael, feeling tears welling in his eyes,

attempted to reason with Mairsa.

"Yes, you were in danger, but I sensed it, my connection to you...I

came for you, I would have died to save you."

Mairsa took another step away, and in a much harsher voice ended

Bael's attempts at reason. “I sensed great hatred in you when you came

over the battlements! Something I had never felt so strongly. Then to see

you in battle, I could feel the dark side surging through you!"

So, it was a look of disgust. Bael shouted “My hatred was for our

enemies! For those who were trying to kill you! My hatred was only fueled

by my love for you!"

Mairsa, shouting now too, "That is why love is so dangerous! The

kind of love we had, burning at both ends could consume us. It is

unhealthy for anyone, it is not allowed for a Jedi!"

Mairsa cut Bael off before he could voice a retort. "You are lucky

we were able to destroy the generator; your actions will probably earn you

a medal from the Mas Villethian commander."

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"My actions saved your life!" Bael shouted back.

"Then perhaps the Republic will give you a medal!" came Mairsa's

quick reply.

Bael, on the edge of rage, lowered his voice to a snarl. "My men

were slaughtered trying to save you!"

Mairsa, pointing a finger at the distraught man replied, "No, your

men died because you led them to their deaths. Your lack of control over

your personal feelings blinded you. It is a dangerous path we have

walked, Bael. A path that can no longer be mine. I love you, but I

shouldn't. I have lost my focus, but now I see what must be. My allegiance

is to the Republic. I'm sorry."

With that, she turned and walked out of the tent.

Bael stood in the entrance for a moment, watching the love of his

life walk away. His eyes narrowed as a wave of anger surged through him.

He turned to his cot, where his newly acquired replacement blaster lay.

Bael, instinctively reaching out with the Force for the first time, grasped

the blaster and brought it flying into his hands. He lowered the weapon at

Mairsa's silhouette as she continued to walk into the darkness. For a long

time Bael stood there, wavering between running after his lover and

putting a blaster round through the back of her skull. In the end, he did

neither.

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Once Mairsa was out of sight Bael dropped the weapon and

collapsed onto the floor of his tent. Sobbing, Bael knew that something

had just changed forever. It was time to go see Vindictive, and take him up

on his offer.

Darth Iratus shook his head vigorously and wiped the sweat from

his brow. The Sith Lord had not intended to delve so far into the memories

of his past. He knew doing so could be unhealthy, unwise. Still, there

seemed to be something significant about the memories he had

summoned; memories of Vindictive, who Iratus knew now, had been the

Sith Darth Vindictive. Yet the memory of Vindictive, as foul and cruel as

the Devaronian Sith had been, was not nearly as disturbing as the

memories Iratus had rekindled of Mairsa Pleutari. Something about

those painful memories seemed almost…prophetic.

Any further thought on the significance of particular memories

vanished as the blaring of alarms notified Iratus of his ships imminent

departure from hyperspace.

Darth Iratus guided his sleek black ship, the Storm Raven, through

the thick clouds of Bespin. The single seater was a modification of the

scout ships Iratus had flown during the Kothian war. The quick

maneuverable vessels had always served him well before, and with a few

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upgrades the Storm Raven had become quite the formidable starship, and

impressive to behold. Iratus was well pleased with his personal transport.

The Sith Lord pushed forward on the control stick and sent the

Storm Raven into a steep dive toward Cloud City. As cargo platform 5

came into view, Iratus pulled back on the stick and the Raven effortlessly

leveled off and drifted over the platform. Iratus set the ship down next to a rather junky looking transport freighter.

"Some people have no pride." mumbled Iratus. The Sith paused for

a moment to enjoy the soothing hum of the Raven's engines before

reluctantly flipping off the ignition switch and unbuckling his restraint

harness. It truly was a beautiful ship.

Darth Iratus had come to Bespin to meet a long time associate,

Bronius Multar. The tall, gangly Muun was a senior member of the Day

Star Guild and one of the few guild members Iratus could trust. Perhaps

trust was not the right word, Darth Iratus trusted no one. He did; however,

possess quite a great deal of knowledge on Bronius Multar's shady

dealings and that gave him leverage. In the world of smuggling and black

market trade, leverage was as good as trust. Better.

Multar's choice of Bespin as a home address came as no surprise;

the gas-mining planet was notorious for hosting those who wanted to

remain anonymous to the prying eyes of the Republic. The cockpit

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opened with a soft hiss and Iratus climbed down to the cargo platform

deck. As he made his way toward the elevator that would bring him to the

penthouse of Bronius Multar he noticed a pallet of large crates being

loaded onto the junky freighter by several droids. Iratus wondered if the

crates contained his weapons for Cularin.

"If that is my cargo at least it will be traveling inconspicuously."

Iratus said to himself. "If that hunk of junk can even make it into orbit."

Mairsa Pleutari sped toward Bespin, in route to arrest the arms

dealer Bronius Multar. The string of Jedi deaths in the past month all

seemed to point to a connection with the notorious Day Star Guild and the

Jedi were taking no chances. They intended to round up all known Day

Star members for, at the least some, thorough questioning. That the Jedi

had any real authority on planets like Bespin was debatable, but Mairsa's

excursion was unlikely raise any alarms. She planned to slip in, grab

Multar, and slip out again. If the questioning of Bronius Multar produced

evidence of his crimes, he would be arraigned under Republic law. If not,

he would be released. Mairsa cared little either way. It was whether Multar

could provide information on who was murdering Jedi that was Mairsa's

sole concern.

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Master Yoda, bent with age, walked slowly into the Jedi council

chamber, ever present walking stick in hand. The gathered Masters

remained silent as they watched with awe and reverence as the ancient

Jedi crossed the chamber to his seat. Yoda came to his seat and leaned

his walking stick against the side of the chair but remained standing. He

turned toward the center of the chamber, making eye contact briefly with

each Master before addressing the group.

"While away I was, lost your focus did you?" There was no anger

in the wizened master's voice, but there was no mirth either.

Yoda's question pertained to the events of the last month, how six

Jedi had been killed while Yoda was visiting the Wookiee home world of

Kashyyyk.

Master Dath spoke in response. "Master Yoda, we all feel deeply

the loss of our brethren. It was unclear, at first, the severity of the issue at hand."

Yoda looked at the old human who had become the mouthpiece of

the council in Yoda's absence. "Clear it is now, yes? Your plan it was, Dath, the Day Star associates to bring in?"

The old man nodded, "Yes, Master Yoda, all signs point to Day Star

involvement. Finding those responsible has been like trying to find the

head of a Dagobah fire viper while submerged in swamp water, difficult

46

and dangerous. I have dispatched Master Syndrel to Dantooine to

apprehend Falvarous Taar; Tyru Sall goes to Kato Nemoidia. To Bespin, I

have sent Mairsa Pleutari..."

Yoda's upraised hand cut the Master off mid-sentence. "Sense do I,

great danger for young Pleutari." Yoda picked up his walking stick and

walked toward the door.

Master Dath's eyebrows formed an inquisitive expression on the old

man's face. "Master Yoda, where are you going?" asked Dath.

Yoda turned briefly to address the man, "To Bespin I go, your

viper's head to find."

The whoosh of the sliding doors announced Darth Iratus' arrival.

Two men stood in the center of the room to which Iratus had just stepped

a Muun and a muscular, bald and bearded human, who wore an

assortment of blasters. The tall Muun turned to greet his friend as the Sith Lord entered.

"Ah, Iratus, you've made it!" Bronius Multar said in a soft nasally voice.

"Yes, I"ve made it. Am I late?" questioned Iratus, knowing he was

not.

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"No, no my friend, right on time!" replied Multar. He motioned

toward the human standing next to him. "Allow me to introduce Torm

Adrastos," said Multar. "He will be shuttling your wares to Cularin for you."

A half smile twisted Iratus" face. "So it was your ship I saw down on

the platform?"

Torm responded with a little edge to his voice, "Don't worry, I know

she ain"t much to look at but the Benevolent Dictator's a good ship. She'll

get the job done."

"The Benevolent Dictator? Good name." Iratus replied in all

seriousness.

Multar placed a hand on Torm's shoulder and exaggerated a

whisper to the man. "Iratus here, though he won't admit it, is

knowledgeable in the ways of The Force."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." was Torm"s only response.

"You don't believe in The Force?" questioned Iratus.

Torm looked at the Sith Lord and shrugged his shoulders. "It's not

that I don't believe in it, I've seen it used before. It is just that it doesn"t concern me. I can't use it, or sense it, so I don't care about the Force one way or another. It doesn"t affect me."

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A smiling Multar addressed Iratus, "Torm and I were just discussing

his fee for hauling your wares to Cularin. I'm afraid Torm won't budge on

the amount."

Iratus spoke to Torm in a pleasant voice, giving a small wave of his

and, "I am sure we can negotiate a reasonable price."