Finally I've managed to sort out all the complexities and intricacies of this saga and chalked out most of it. Admiral Ancete is a prequel to Knights of the Old Republic and is my first fic to go way back there. The story involves numerous characters, but is primarily concentrated on Ancete, an Iktochi freelance assassin mostly in the employ of Davik Kang.

I will include a lot of KotOR backstories here and essentially sort out everything in KotOR. The story starts off in the middle of the Mandalorian Wars and goes on through Revan's conquests and finally the beginning of KotOR.

Revan will be portrayed as a male in this fanfic, but I don't think it really affects the storyline if you assume Revan as a female.

And no, no SW-scroll for this one. :D

PART ONE

DARK GRIFFIN

Nice Sabre, looking forward for this one. :)

^^^ Seconded, sounds interesting.

“Warehouse 15N” the Rodian whispered and held out his hand. He was trembling and was frequently glancing behind his back.

The person opposite to him was a rather imposing figure. He was a seven-foot tall humanoid alien. He had blood-red eyes, a hairless body, a well defined and square head and a bald scalp. His skin was tan, like most humans, but had an unusual reddish tinge to it. His most striking feature, however, was the pair of horns that ran parallel to his lower jaw. They were thick in girth and had a very sharp tip. The horns were double the length of his lower jaw and were weathered. He was dressed in daunting battle armour which covered his body below his neck.

“May I leave, Lord?” the rodian whispered, “I… I really need the money, sir. The… the spice. Please, Lord Ancete. Please, the spi…”

“Shut up!” Ancete thundered at him. He placed a few credit chits in the Rodian’s hand. “Don’t waste it, cur.”

The Rodian clenched the money and scampered out of the cantina he had been sitting in. Ancete sipped his glass, watching the nervous Rodian. He looked about the Cantina. Few people were about. The cantina had lost its nightlife, somehow. Ancete took another sip, before feeding the data ‘Warehouse 15N’ into his datapad. He did a planetary search for Warehouse 15N and soon found himself before a map, with a blinking red dot.

Ancete was on Corvinia Prime, a rather anonymous planet on the edge of the mid-rim. It was originally barren, but became a beehive about two centuries earlier, when massive stacks of precious metals and ores were found under the planet’s surface. Everybody from great corporations to lunatics rushed to Corvinia and plundered it, until the Republic imposed a blockade on the planet, following a dozen fatal conflicts over precious metals. The blockade was ineffective, the authority corrupt, and soon, the planet turned into a mafia den. Several crime families colonised the planet once the dust settled. The Republic’s hold on Corvinia faltered and soon slipped, giving way for the illegal to take over.

In an attempt to recapture Corvinia, the Republic built a massive spaceship, almost as large as a moon. It was funded by thousands of worlds and corporations, and when completed was of magnificent scale. The ship, called the Sentinel orbited the planet and almost served as a moon. It was built primarily for detailed surveillance, but it also proved as an excellent battle station, and converted the seemingly docile planet into an important strategic location and one of the Republic’s most critical war positions. After proving its worth in the Sith War, Corvinia Prime fell into disuse and criminal activity went on a rise once again.

Corvinia had now once again become the treasured Republic outpost it was before. The mafia existed simultaneously with the Republic occupation of the planet. The Mandalorian war had stirred up old strategies and the Republic was now intent on guarding Corvinia Prime. But the interplanetary Mafia had refused to give up Corvinia, amidst the war that ensued around it.



Ancete gulped down the last drops of his drink and set it down. He got up briskly and walked away, promptly and gracefully. He put on his hood and his light-amplifier visor, as he strode through a passage that led to the “Ductway” a transport system on board the Sentinel that used a system of elevators and magnetic rails to transport sentients and their luggage from one end of the ship to another in a matter of seconds.

The system was as fast as ever, despite the heavy bombardment The Sentinel had suffered at the hands of the Mandalorians. The latter had attacked Corvinia Prime some seven times by now, and this was their eighth. Ancete would have advised the Mandalorians to surround the system, and continually bombard it, sending in one battery a time. But he had never served in wars of great scale yet. He had an unusual gift of prescience and its use in strategic situations. It was for this very reason that he was preferred by many of his clients as a tactician more than a warrior, or an assassin. But Ancete had his own way of thinking and he was as quick with a weapon as he was with his mind.

The doors of his Ductway carriage opened and made his way to a door that read “Warehouse 15”. He sifted through the doors within the Warehouse 15 Depots Corridor and found the one he wanted – Warehouse 15N. He reached out his hand to open it but he stopped himself. Instead, he backtracked to a depot door that read “Warehouse 15M”. He opened it and faced a floating drone, with a satisfying blue light that suddenly turned red. “Anomaly detected.” It buzzed, as it scanned Ancete.

“Evacuate or face prosecution.” It then announced. With a flick of his wrist, Ancete unleashed a lightsaber blade and struck the drone. The drone blasted into pieces. Ancete jumped into the shadows, as an army of droids marched in. Before they could detect him, however, he was gone.



Red Polly felt his scar as he watched his workers load a large shipment of spice into a Medium Cruiser. Red Polly was the supposed nickname of a low-time smuggler who had made it big by assaulting a large shipment of the Nar Shaddaa Exchange. After a failure spree early in his career, Red turned to the gun and led a bunch of pirates into attacking smuggler ships. His best came when the Nar Shaddaa Exchange boss, a bloated Hutt named Fagga Dur Junngo was smuggling Aquilarisian spice from Aquilaris. Fagga was flabbergasted when his large shipment, worth millions went missing. Red then publicly announced his steal and went on to bigger and bigger heists, both from individual crime lords to syndicates. Many, including Ancete believed that Red was being financed or helped by someone above him, since he still had the brain of a lowly crook.

Red was on the control deck of Warehouse 15N when a serene voice announced, “There has been a security breach in Warehouse 15. All droids have been set on High-Security mode.” The message kept looping and echoing. Red was alarmed at first and he had all security cams directed at his terminal, but realised his hastiness shortly. He chuckled when realised someone has invaded Warehouse 15M. His newfound relief, however, was interrupted when he heard with a sound he was all too familiar with. It was of a high-pitched laser scorching through metal. He turned around and stared in shock. A near circle was being carved on the wall. It was the same wall connected to Warehouse 15M.

“Holy…” he uttered, as the brilliant blade finished carving a golden halo on the wall and the whole metal disc slipped out in a few seconds. On the other side was a tall, striking figure. Red quickly turned around and hit the Security button on his touch screen display. Suddenly he found the High Security button out of his reach. He realised that he was being pulled. He looked back in horror. It was the same figure in the battle armour and the all-covering hood. He scrunched up at the tall humanoid’s feet and looked up. An intuitive feeling in the back of his mind told him he had seen the alien somewhere.

“Do you know me, Red Polly?” the voice within the mandible-horned alien boomed.

“Who… who are you?” Red incoherently uttered.

Ancete took off his hood and stared at Red with his burning eyes and a devilish smile. His horns were warmly lit in the light.

“You owe me.”

“How did you get in here?” Red asked in a shrivelled voice.

“I have my ways. Come. He awaits the full sum.” Ancete said, watching Red get up to his feet.

“But… I…” Red stammered, and his hands fidgeted. Suddenly, his hands were caught by Ancete’s strong fists. Huddling the hands together, Ancete reached inside Red’s pocket and pulled out a personal communicator. He turned it on and brought it to Red’s face.

“Alright, smart guy. Taris.” He spoke.

Red sighed and adjusted the frequency. “Yeah, Icey, uh, send the shipment to Taris, will you? Yeah, Davik’s place. You can’t? Well freakin’ tell Sooto to do it, dammit! Taris, it goes to Taris.”

He turned it off and his panned the height of Ancete.

“Good, now come with me.”

Ancete dragged Red Polly into the Exchange-reserved dock at the Sentinel Dockyard. Ancete’s ship was a simple, yet fast Light Cruiser. It had capacity for two pilots and two passengers, though only one seat would normally be occupied. The narrow ramp opened up as Ancete punched in a few buttons on his remote. He wordlessly settled on the pilot’s chair and hit the start switch, followed by a password system. A large holographic interface lit up around him, bathing him in blue-green light. He made Red sit in one of the passenger seats and secured him with a tight seat belt.

The cruiser slipped out of the private dock and immediately dove into the maelstrom of war that was raging outside. Republic and Mandalorian ships zipped past, shot and blasted each other. Ancete took direct control of the ship with his joystick and slipped in and out of the extremely dynamic battle.

“Who sent you?” Red Polly asked as his face distorted in contempt.

“The Exchange. Taris Division.”

“How much are they paying you?”

“I am not going to be bribed, Red.”

“They’re after my bleeding money. I did nothing to them, I swear. They’re all just bloody…” Red fell silent. Ancete was busy setting up Hyperspace co-ordinates and various parameters. He thought Red’s abrupt silence was a tad odd, but he ignored it.

“What the hell is that?” Red asked, out of astonished curiosity.

Ancete did not reply.

“Ancete!” Red yelled.

Ancete look up and was gobsmacked himself. He was headed for a heavy cruiser, an unusually designed, of an elongated variety. It had a deathly grey shade and was shaped much like a massive stick. It had appeared out of nowhere and Ancete was heading straight towards it. Ancete was not sure, but he had a feeling that he had seen the ship before. Another ghastly feeling told him he was going to go in it.

Ancete took a sudden dive and made a very aerobatic manoeuvre to evade his course. He turned around 180 degrees and found five rogue starfighters heading for him. They opened fire on him and the ship shuddered violently as it was engulfed in flames and battered with laser bolts. Ancete turned the ship round to follow the starfighters and launched two homing rockets. The rockets chased the ships and drew them away. He pointed his ship away from the Heavy Cruiser and hit the switch to activate the Ion Drives.

He realised he had committed a mistake as a massive blast erupted through the rear of the ship. Ancete was blinded in the scorching white illumination. His ears rung in a high-pitched tinnitus, deafened by the shellshock. When he recovered a few seconds later, he found himself slumped over the controls. His vision was dreary and blurred. He unbuckled and jumped out of the seat. Red Polly was either unconscious or dead – his body lay slouched against the constraining seat belt. Ancete turned around and realised his ship was approaching the Heavy Cruiser’s belly.

He staggered towards the controls and tried the engines. He only heard sputters and blasts. He wheezed and collapsed back down on the seat. He rested his head in his hands and felt his pitted horns. He was locked in a tractor beam, he realised. A sudden feeling of piercing pain overcame him and he dropped onto the controls, writhing in agony. He felt the pain and the fatigue drain his energy. He fainted against his ship’s controls as the ship slowly soared into the docking bay.

Wow, I take out two minutes to sort out my Word problems and post the prologue and everybody's on! Talk about early feedback!

Just read it, and i like so far! Looking forward to seeing more :)

I like this too. I'm looking foward to more Sabre, I've waited about four months for this. Also I thought the SW-scroll wasn't on your other Fic, JK-DQ. I like the look of this. Well done.

Thanks for the feedback! Since my 10th Standard Exams are going to be here this year, you may expect postings to be a little later (but aren't they always? :D). I'll try to write as fast as possible, though.

@Potts: JK-DQ was an absolutely random fanfic I wrote off the top of my head. I didn't even bother with the scroll back then. In my personal opinion, it was completely horrible (though I'll admit, the content was very, very original).
I added the scroll in invisible Hope and VoB, since back in the early days of CEC, there was a fashion of adding those things everywhere...

Real nice prologue, Ancete's a real maniac. What's his lightsaber colour? Also, can't wait to see the next chapters!

Ancete's a real maniac.

Oh, believe me, he's sober right now. Wait till he gets angry. ;) For anyone needing reference, he looks something like this: Saesee Tiin (http://www.starwars.com/databank/character/saeseetiin/?id=eu) Except his head and body is not as blocky and his horns are longer and thinner.

As for his lightsaber, it's teal coloured. Not too green - not too blue. And not too light either.

Cool, thanks. Also, teal, that's like, the middle between Cyan, which is too blue, and Jade, which is too green, right?

cyan
Teal
Jade
--Jae

EDIT: Yup, thanks Jae.

"You're a standup babe." - Nelson Muntz from the Simpsons.

“Rise and shine, Ancete!” a familiar voice called out.

Ancete opened his eyes and found himself in a medical room. He was strapped to a bed and was covered with all sorts of medical and surgical machinery. He tried to move, but was locked down firmly by the magnetic locks. His head was unbound, however and relatively untouched, save of a hunk of machinery sticking out of his medulla. Medic and Surgeon droids buzzed and hovered around the room, assessing analyses on computers, adjusting the variety of gadgets on Ancete and performing other tasks.

Davik Kang, one of the most infamous crime lords in the galaxy was standing opposite to Ancete. He had his trademark sneer across his face, accentuated by a scar above his upper lip. He was now nearing the age of fifty, but he already had a large tuft of salt-and-pepper hair on him. His weathered face had all varieties of scars, pits and wrinkles. He was surrounded by two blank-faced bodyguards, both in armour and carrying massive repeaters.

“Davik? Where am I?” Ancete asked, looking around the room.

“Back home. You’re in our medical quarter on Taris. Good work on that moron, by the way. He’s crying like a baby.” Davik answered, chuckling.

“Who fired on me, and how the hell did you find me?” Ancete asked, his voice getting rough.

“Well, my great Heavy Cruiser, The Wand was heading for the Exchange spot on Kuat. That’s when the Republic announces a lockout on Sectors 17, 18, 22 and 42. So we take a detour to Corvinia and bang, we find you running from a bunch of Mandalorians…”

“Those didn’t look like Mandalorians. They were mercs.” Ancete remarked.

“Mandalorian undercover. They scout for Republic Undercover. Crazy tacticians, if you ask me.”

“What did you get from Red Polly?”

“The shipment you ordered reached us perfectly. We even have his pilot and crew. We’re planning on using them.”

“That’s not right. He must have had a larger shipment. The spice he stole from our Ghard IV base was huge. Look for more. Grill him.”

“Right. You need rest. We’ll get you to work as soon as you’re able.” Davik spoke with a warm grin.

Ancete looked at his own arm. It was enclosed in a metal cast and a droid was inserting blue liquid from a cylinder into the cast. Soon a dizzying sensation overcame Ancete and he fainted.



Lottis Dolomiri was sleeping like a log when the melodious beats of his holocommunication device started ringing. He got up with a start and the beats of the H/C which were normally sweet now sounded like torturous drums. He jumped out of his ornate, sleek bed and dropped himself on a hovering chair in front of the H/C and accepted the call. The H/C prepared to load the image and displayed a friendly “Loading” logo, hovering in the air.

Lottis was the fifty-two year old CEO of the multiplanetary Dolomiri Corporation. He was a moderately stout human, with a well-groomed appearance, which seemed dishevelled in his sleep. He had spent his life in transforming his father’s quaint business into a massive corporation that rivalled the new Czerka Corporation. Lottis’ strength had always been his ability to correctly choose his employees, partners and just about anybody willing to assist the corporation. He himself was horrible at business and management, but had a carefully-selected pool of Dolomiri loyalists who handled the Corporation with great care.

The “Loading” sequence faded and there sputtered a hologram of a man in a black robe. He was covered head to foot by the robe and had a hood that revealed no part of his head. He wore a coat underneath, visible through the open front and always wore leather gloves.

“Hello, Dolomiri.” He spoke in a sinister manner.

“What is it?” Dolomiri asked casually.

“I hope you remember me. We haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“Of course. The great Dark Griffin. We fear you, yada yada yada.”

“Amusing. Now, you do know homeboy’s been caught, don’t you?”

“Red? Who got him?” Dolomiri asked, alarmed.

“Davik Kang, head of the Taris Exchange.”

“By the Force. He’ll spill the beans!”

“He won’t, bub. I’ve spoken with him. I have my contacts, you know.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him to stay down and not speak a word. He should be smart enough to do that, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. And I still don’t know your fee. Or why you’re doing this.” Dolomiri spoke with ascending agitation.

“I will reveal my fee and my purpose at the appropriate time. And this is not the appropriate time. You got your shipment?”

“Yeah, I redirected it from Luften 9 to Coruscant. It’s safe in my warehouses. I’ll dispatch it to the distribution rings.”

“Good. You can keep it and sell it later, though. Some organizations will pay a lot of money for that. Most are illegal, but I know a few… friends who might help take your load off.”

“You don’t say…”

“Czerka.”

Dolomiri got up and clasped his fists.

“You want me to ally with Czerka? He’ll murder me!”

“No, Dolomiri. Czerka had a major stock market blunder recently, as one of my sources reports. Czerka is in desperate need for investors, capital, funds, shares and things like that. Maybe if you can…”

“Czerka doesn’t have an underworld branch, you know.”

“Nobody refuses a deal like this.”

Dolomiri sat in his chair, staring vacantly at the floor.

“Do it, Lottis.” Dark Griffin commanded.
Dolomiri nodded and turned off the holocom.



Red Polly was lying in his laser-reinforced cell like a mangled body. He had been severely tortured and there were cuts and bruises all over his body. His face was contorted by the pain he had suffered and he was weeping miserably. He was alone in the chamber, Davik’s Interrogation room, which was sadistically referred to as the “Guest Room”.

The magnetic door opened and in walked a young Twi’Lek, wearing light battle armour. He had an indifferent face and he was tightly clutching a portable holocom in his hand. He stepped in, closed the door and locked it. He then turned off the camera mounted on the wall using a remote and turned off the laser fields. The circular yellow lasers faded, but Red Polly made no movement. He just looked at the Twi’Lek pathetically.

“What do you want?” he shrieked, his voice choked with tears.

“Save it, punk. Take this and blast it once you’re done,” the Twi’Lek instructed, handing over the portable holocom and crouching down, he said, “And don’t try anything. Davik doesn’t know about this, and honestly, he doesn’t need to know. We’ll kill you if you do something.”

He got up and turned the laser fields back on and exited. Red Polly watched him leave and then looked at the holocom device. It was a Dolomiri model and had a bluish light on it. Soon enough, he heard a buzzing in it. He fumbled clumsily and dropped it on the floor. With his very painful hand, he pressed the switch and writhed around the cell, crying out in pain. Once the Loading process was completed, an image popped up.

It was Dark Griffin, the mysterious man who had once delivered Red Polly the opportunity of his lifetime. He was in his usual, obscuring attire and his voice was calm and unconcerned, as usual.

“Hello, Red.” He spoke.

“Space off!” Red cried.

“Easy there. I’m trying to get you out.”

“You got me here, you…”

“Now, now. Save the profanity. I need you to do something. I take it you were interrogated?”

Red sniffed, choked and didn’t say anything.

“Okay, I get you. Look, I want you to reveal everything. Tell them Dolomiri hired you, he wanted a cut, you did it for him, he gave you your missions, et cetera. But, you will not speak of me.”

“Yeah, right. He’ll kill me!”

“He won’t, Red, he won’t. Tell him everything except for me and plead to work for him. Beg, actually, but tell him that you’ll tell him everything. Tell him you’re very resourceful and that you want to work for Davik all along. Get me?”

Red sniffed a “Yes”, with a choked voice.

“Good. Dolomiri and I will figure out a way to bail you out. Tell them about the shipment you sent to Luften 9. I’m ending this now. Blast the holocom.”

The image flickered away and there was nothing left. Red dropped it cried miserably, sprawled in his cell. Dark Griffin’s last words echoed in his head. He picked up the holocom, took a deep breath and smashed it against the laser field. The holocom exploded in a fireball. Red’s hand was blackened and charred and in immense pain. He clutched his arm and rolled around his cage in agony, bawling out loudly.

I liked this first chapter, very original, and doesn't show the way Jedi and such lived, but mercenaries and such. I like it.

I liked this first chapter, very original, and doesn't show the way Jedi and such lived, but mercenaries and such. I like it.

Yeah me too. Keep the good work up Sabre. Just out of curiosity, how many parts are there?

Yeah me too. Keep the good work up Sabre. Just out of curiosity, how many parts are there?

There are four parts to the story. The first which depicts Ancete's life before the War.
The second depicts Revan's life before the Jedi Civil War.
The third shows the rise of the Sith.
The last shows Malak's betrayal.

I have completed the intricate web of the first part, and I will most probably insert certain breaks between the parts to show transitions and such.

There will be frequent flashbacks, by the way. The second chapter will be up today.

And thanks for all the good stuff, guys!

went thru the chapters, and as usual, they just frickin pwn! :thumbsup:
i'm keeping an eye on this for my mid-study break recreation time :D.

Ancete woke up because of the sharp ringing of his personal communicator. He sat up on his bed and groaned. He had a blunt headache, but his body felt as good as new. His hands were augmented with various metal gadgets, all streamlined so as to not look odd. He examined his body and then coming back to reality; hit the Accept button on his communicator. An uncertain voice crackled to life. Ancete knew this voice: it was his faceless informer.

Months ago, an informer had begun working for Davik Kang and had soon taken a liking to Ancete, who always used good intelligence before formulating his plans. The informer never revealed himself, for safety purposes. But his intelligence was flawless. Not once had his knowledge faltered and he had always suggested Ancete on various methods to handle the situations. Ancete had always wanted to meet the Informer, but both the informer himself and Davik stopped him from doing so.

“Hey, Ancete! I’ve got stuff for you, about the newest haul.”

“Red Polly?”

“Yep, him. You secured his shipment?”

“It’s lying with us in Davik’s spice storehouse. We’re scattering it already. We’ll then pack it off to other Exchange spots. Got any stuff?”

“Yeah, I had been into Polly’s records. Turns out, once he had his haul secured, he conveniently segregated it into two parts. The first, which had the top-of-the-line Bakuran Lime Spice, went to Coruscant. The other which had everything else was scheduled for a place called Drofpana or something like that. An outer rim planet, I presume. Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, okay. I have the second shipment. I’ll check if it’s the right one. What about the first one, by the way?”

“It was going to some place on Coruscant. I don’t know. Red Polly deleted the co-ordinates once the ship left. He’s such a shrewd… Say, have you interrogated him?”

“No, but he probably has a luxurious penthouse suite in Davik’s guest room.”

“Okay, I’ll be going now. You want me to do anything else?”

“Tail the Coruscant shipment and give me a record of Polly’s loot. We’re going to squeeze in as much as we can. You’re getting, what, a twenty percent cut?”

“Fifteen.”

“I’m giving you thirty. Go, get my stuff and give me the co-ordinates.”

“Right.”

The informer signed off and Ancete plopped back on the bed. The Coruscant shipment meant that Red Polly was working on a massive scale and in the deepest of minutiae. Coruscant had always been a hub of activity, the lifeline of the galaxy, and the most closely monitored planet in the galaxy. There were dozens upon dozens of levels of Coruscant and the underworld had entwined itself with the rhythm of the planet. Yet, only the most elite crooks were worked on Coruscant. But despite everything, something seemed amiss to Ancete. He knew something was not right.

That would be solved by Red Polly. He got up and read a datacube that lay beside a projection out of the wall beside the door. It was a note from Davik advising him to take a medical test and check with the technical officer before he did anything.



“How much did he pay you?” Davik yelled at Red Polly, his face red with anger.

“I told you, he paid me half the cut!”

“Liar!” Davik yelled as he kicked Red.

He gestured at his repeater-equipped bodyguard. The latter eyed the weapon zealously and bashed Red with it. Red whimpered and screamed, but only suffered repeated hits. Davik laughed callously as he watched Red in agony. He stopped when the door opened and in strode a tall figure. It was Ancete, complete with his helmet: polished and glossy.

He wore a massive cape that covered him up like some sort of a majestic count. It went all around his shoulders and had a cleft in the front. He strode in with a demonic smile on his face as he showed his hands, covered in hands and packed with weaponry.

“Ancete, you look fantastic!” Davik remarked, a proud smile on his face, “Have you gotten used it?”

“I’ve got info. And that means bad news, Red.” Ancete announced, looking at Red Polly. He raised his helmet and handed it to a Duron worker.

Red only stared back in utter horror. He scrunched up together and slithered back.

“Tell me Red, where is the shipment?” Ancete asked.

“What shipment?” Red asked back through chokes.

“The other one? Bakuran Lime? Davik’s Haul? Ring a bell?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Red wailed.

“Oh, okay.” Ancete replied and turned to Davik. Just as Red’s muscles relaxed, Ancete sprung towards him, grabbed him by the collar and rammed him against the metal wall. Davik and the bodyguards shared a unanimous smile.

Ancete incessantly rammed the smuggler into the wall and then dropped him on the ground. He crouched down to face Red Polly.

“Remember anything?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“I sent it to Luften!” Red wailed. His face had gone into a pathetic colour of red and was soaked with tears.

“Where?” Ancete asked quirkily.

“Luf… Luften 9.”

Ancete got up and once again turned away, while he monitored Red through the corner of his eye. Davik had a pleased grin on him. He clutched a communicator in his hand. Ancete raised his hand to stop Davik from using it and then used the same hand to rain a devastating punch into Red’s stomach.
Red screamed and grabbed his stomach, rolling on the floor. Blood had started to curdle into his mouth. He was in intense agony, after suffering a powerful blow from Ancete’s metal fist.

“It’s on Coruscant, you kath hound!” Ancete yelled, picking up Red by his collar.

“I swear… It’s on… on Luften!” Red cried. Ancete had a hostile look in his eyes.

“He told me to!” Red snivelled as his body went limp from fear.

Ancete dropped him. “Who told you to?” Davik asked.

Red only sniffed.

“He’s been telling us of some great boss of his who’s directing him. He’s too much of a wimp to tell us who.” Davik spoke.

Ancete looked down at Red and jerked his foot to scare Red. Red screamed and jumped back.

“Dol… Dolomiri!” he shrieked.

There were confounded looks across the room.

“Dolomiri as in that bleeding CEO?”

“Yes. He paid me. He told me to do the steals. He did everything!”

Ancete picked him up and tossed him towards Davik. Red scrambled to his feet.

“I’ll do anything! I’ll work for you! I’ll tell you all my secrets! Anything, please don’t hurt me.” Red screamed.

“Dolomiri has a vendetta against the Exchange, doesn’t he?” Ancete asked Davik.

“Yeah, and this idiot might just be the key to blasting that bloated fool.”

“We’re using him?”

“Hell yeah.” Davik looked at the pathetic Red.

“Red Polly, you’ve just got a job.” He said.

Davik smiled and left the room with his bodyguard, while the prison droids tortured Red back to his cell and activated the laser fields. Something told Ancete that this wasn’t such a good idea. That something big was going to happen in the future. Ancete felt uncertain, but he ignored it all. He picked up his helmet from the hands of the Duron worker and left the room.

Another good Chapter Sabretooth. This Fic seems to remind me of GTA Vice City :lol:, because of the discussions between Davik Kang and Red Polly. I'm looking foward to more.

LOL, I've never played GTA, ironically. I would have even inserted swear words, to be honest, if it weren't for the whole PG-13 thing our mods have...


“Profanity is the crutch of a conversational cripple.” —Jay Alexander
We want to keep things family friendly so that the younger folks here don't get excluded. There's not many times where an expletive is better than another choice. :) --Jae

I wouldn't. I don't really swear on the Forums or in real life. Looking foward to Chapter III though.

Good chapter, the discussion was pure genius. This has a nice future.

excellent chapter, Sabre. its good to see a story about the nice common mercs rather than the jedi all the time. very nice! :)

“Profanity is the crutch of a conversational cripple.” —Jay Alexander
We want to keep things family friendly so that the younger folks here don't get excluded. There's not many times where an expletive is better than another choice. :) --Jae

I understand, Jae. ;)

I wanted to portray the Galactic Underworld as grim, realistic and dark as possible. Every character you see here is a shade of grey. Everybody is a double-crosser and throat-slitter.

Besides, there is the audience's imagination to fill in the rest... ;)

Jarros Czerka was not in a good mood. He sat alone in his plush board room. The long, irregular hexagonal table lay before him, all of its displays and holo-messages disabled. Jarros’ head was in his hands. He had messed up at this board meeting. Jarros had never been particularly good at conducting business, but being the son of a luxuriously affluent father meant that some things came without choice.

Jarros never dreamt of becoming a successful businessman. His father had strived from the depths of adversity and made his way up the commercial ladder to be the rich owner of Czerka Corporations, one of the most triumphant multiplanetary corporations in years. Jarros had lived a life of opulence, of the finest education, of the fine things in life and of everything his father could never afford when he was Jarros’ age.

Jarros’ father was Kyvsa Czerka. Also known as the Senior Czerka, Kyvsa was many things to many people. Once he had been a hopeless labourer in the lower city of Taris. Once he had hauled spice loads from Coruscant. He had gambled with the best of pazaak players in his century and had lived a life of great risk, adventure and adversity. Kyvsa’s parents belonged to a radical human community migrated to Taris. Because of their unusual, almost alien customs, they had been banished from the Upper City and were forced to live in dirt.

The iron-fisted CEO of the Czerka Corporation, Kyvsa Czerka was out on a meeting on the rolling plains of Alderaan. He had given his responsibilities to his son, whom he believed to be suitably capable in the work. The recent stock blunder Jarros had created was making waves already. Czerka had already lost a large sum when one of their biggest and richest projects had been ambushed by the Mandalorians. Czerka Corporation had been dwarfed by this incidence. More losses from Jarros only meant Czerka was impoverished further.

The board meeting that was held recently proved the young Czerka’s arrogance and incapability. He had blown it all and had been charged responsible for the dive the company had taken in the past week. Jarros needed a messiah to liberate him from this mess.

His holocommunication device rang. Jarros hit it impulsively. It was his personal secretary, Ferrnia Turee. Ferrnia was aged and had served as Kyvsa’s secretary for years upon years.

“Hello, Jarros. I heard about the meeting. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care, Ferrnia. I really don’t.” he spoke, “But I want to bring it back. I want to bring back Czerka’s prestige. I want to… recover my losses.”

“Very ambitious, Jarros. And very admirable. But how will you do that?”

“My father… You said my father had ties with criminals?”

Ferrnia fell silent and stared into Jarros.

“You’re not…”

“You heard right. I want to enter that world. I want to take back my world – the way my father built it.”

Ferrnia didn’t speak. She sat on her desk, shifting files and managing her computer.

“You helped him, Ferrnia.”

“Boy, this doesn’t go as you think it does. There are complications, considerations. You are not your father, Jarros.”

“Enough, Ferrnia!” Jarros exploded, “I’ve had enough of comparisons between me and my father! All those freaked executives were doing, is bloody shout at me for not being my father!”

Ferrnia was alarmed at the outburst. She had never seen Jarros so frustrated, so angry before. Even through the blue holocom, she could sense a tinge of red in his face. His eyes were ghastly red.

“Calm down, son. That’s not what I meant.” She explained, “What I meant was, that your father, when he started out, was a nobody. He was just another organism on Taris, and that is how he got in. You, son, are the son of a Corporation Giant. You can’t walk on the street. You’ve got bodyguards around you. Things are different, son.”

Jarros dropped back down and threw his head in his hand and shook his head. His mind drifted back to when Ferrnia had first mentioned Czerka’s dealings with the Underworld. Ferrnia had said that Kyvsa had borrowed money from a rich crime lord, whose business was pretty much loaning money. Kyvsa was an adroit businessman and very persuasive. He paid Davik ‘gifts’ as a replacement for his payback. Eventually Davik forgot the loan, while Czerka rose as a business icon.

“Whom did father borrow his initial capital from?” Jarros asked, lifting his head.
“Davik Kang, a crime lord on Taris. Both were young at that time, though I think Davik still operates a large crime organization – The Exchange. Very notorious business.”

A gleam of hope flashed in Jarros’ eyes. He couldn’t explain why.
“And he never repaid the loan?”

“No, never. He maintained good relations with Kang, somehow. He had an influence on him.”

Jarros was about to say something, but he stopped abruptly and combed through his dark blonde hair with his hand.

“You’re not planning on repaying it, are you?” Ferrnia, who knew Jarros’ mannerisms all too well asked.

“It can get me in the league…” he spoke, his face lighting up in an excited smirk.

“No, Jarros, please, don’t…”

“Don’t you understand? This is an opportunity! This is my best opportunity. If I can repay Davik’s loan, I might go off on good relations with him.”

“And what good would that do, other than throw you into bad reputation?”

“A lot, Ferrnia! You don’t get it! Thank you!” he answered hurriedly and turned off the holocom. He jumped to his feet and scrambled out to find his Personal Assistant.



Lottis Dolomiri sat in his deluxe, executive-class shuttle as it scoured the Coruscant landscape. Lottis glimpsed out of his shuttle to see the beautiful plethora of skyscrapers and metal sheets, which substituted soil. The sky had dimmed into a romantic violet hue and Dolomiri wished if only he could step out into the open and smell the fresh air, and feel the brilliant openness of the world. He had that much freedom when he was young, but all that was only a nostalgic fantasy now, as he had become one of the most recognised people in the world.

His holocom device buzzed the special “Urgent” theme and Dolomiri switched it on. He motioned for his bodyguards to leave the room. As he had expected, it was Dark Griffin.

“Hello, Dolomiri.” He spoke.

“What happened? I’m en route to…” Dolomiri spoke, irritated.

“I have bad news. Red Polly defected.”

“What?” Dolomiri asked, alarmed. His forehead scrunched into a frown.
“He swore allegiance to Davik. He even exposed your name. I tried to get him out, but he’s gone too far.”

“I’ll bloody have his butt incinerated! He won’t get of this alive!” Dolomiri shouted.

“Calm down, Lottis. I’ll take him out. The Exchange can’t touch you, you know that. And you can’t touch Red. He’s on hyper-level protection. Davik wants as much as he can from Red.”

“Right, and I wait for the scoundrel to reveal our…”

“He has revealed our smuggling and pirating operations. Davik might take a shot at us. You have the shipment?”

“Yeah, it’s still my warehouse, why?”

“Decided to sell it yet?”

“I don’t know… I’ve sent an executive over to Czerka’s. He’s a very persuasive fellow and wanted to do the work. Weird, ain’t it? He’s even worked at Czerka’s.”

“Do you trust him?” Griffin asked coldly.

“Yeah, sort of.”

“Good, what will you do with the money?”

“What?” Lottis asked, expecting another instruction.

“You will surrender it to me. I will use the money to help you.”

“How frank. How about we stop this plan and I use the money to help myself?”

“You cannot. But that is too much talk. Concentrate on the now.”

The connection suddenly died, and Dolomiri didn’t bother resurrecting it. He snapped the device back into his suit and called the bodyguards to come back in. He then continued gazing out the window.

Another good Chapter Sabre. I like the names, Jarros and Kyvsa. I'm looking foward to more.

Yeah, i liked Jarros' bad mood conversation with Fernia, this is very original.

another excellent chapter. the shadows just keep me waiting for more. keep it up! :thumbsup:

“You have a visitor, sir. Private Business?” the secretary informed.

“Who is it?” Al Darpin, the chief executive at Czerka Corporation Corellia asked.

“He is an Ithorian, his name is Chodo Tabba. Comes from Coruscant.” The secretary answered.

Al considered the information. The Corellian branch of Czerka was inferior compared to the Coruscant branch. If the Ithorian had actually travelled from Coruscant to Corellia just to meet Al Darpin; that meant that the business was definitely private. Al was an influential man and was often referred to as Czerka’s right hand man. He had a command over the Corporation’s operations, but he was equally infamous for his underworld ventures.

“Send him in.” Al ordered and prepared himself.

A few seconds later, the door slid open and in marched a modestly-dressed Ithorian. He had keen eyes, pine green back and an aquamarine skin. He walked in with an air of humble dignity, and reticence.

“Good Afternoon, Sir Darpin.” Chodo addressed, “I have a private matter to conduct. Rest assured it will not take much of your time.”

“Yes, of course. Have a seat, please and we may proceed.”

“Forgive my requesting you, but our business cannot be conducted when there are… objects of surveillance in this room.”

Al got the hint. He tapped away at his computer console and Chodo watched as the cameras shunned their gazes and the two security droids stationed by the door went into standby mode. Chodo felt secure now and sat in the chair directly opposite to that of Al Darpin.

“The subject matter of this discussion will be an indignity I have had to suffer, and a terrible misfortune. But do not be alarmed, Sir! The deed I ask of you is quite within your reach.”

Al leaned back with an air of scepticism, but didn’t say anything.

“I have heard that Czerka has suffered a severe setback a few weeks ago, a stock blunder, yes? I have heard that Czerka is in desperate need of capital, of funds.”

“Do you seek to donate?” Al asked in the most formal tone he could muster.
“In a way, yes. But I plead you to hear me out. I have heard you conduct business that is not necessarily approved by Republic Trade Regulations and Laws.”

“Yes, I get your drift.”

“Then I have an offer you might be thoroughly interested in. You see, I am Chodo Tabba, personal assistant of Mozdan Qubat. I trust you have heard of Mr. Qubat?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Ah, not surprising! Mr. Qubat is the owner of the Cubata Company, a local department store chain in Ithor. Our petite company is a modest little family. But lately we have been having some… troubles, you can say. A group of mercenaries have been harassing us, picking on our humble interests!”

“Indeed.”

“They are a group of ugly Trandoshan mercenaries from the vile planet of Nar Shaddaa, or was that a moon? Doesn’t matter! They have been paid for and take much pleasure in seeing our ruin, our despair! They call themselves Red Eclipse, I think.”

“Why don’t you try contacting the authorities?”

“We have a very weak infrastructure at Ithor. The authorities can very easily be bought, especially considering that these mercenaries hail from… Nar Shaddaa. Many Hutts there, very sick business.”

“Go on.”

“These mercenaries, they got involved in a fight with another group of mercenaries. The other group was carrying a ship-load of spice, the intoxicating stuff. The Trandoshans attacked them and stole the spice, then forced us to keep it!"

“And you did?”

“I had no option, Mr. Darpin! I kept it, but soon enough the other group came back for revenge and eliminated the Trandoshans from our vicinity. They didn’t bother looking for the spice, though. I wonder why.”

“Most curious, yes. So what did you do with the spice?”

“That is the reason I have approached you, Mr. Darpin. I seek to… be relieved of my cause of pain.”

“You want to sell me the spice.”

“Yes, if you wish to put it so bluntly. It is a most delicate matter, you must understand! My boss, Mr. Qubat is ill, very, very ill! We cannot afford to pay for his treatment, as that will require doctors from Coruscant, or Telos, or Ossus!”

“Indeed, but I have a question to ask.” Al leaned ahead and stared in an intimidating manner into the eyes of the Ithorian. “My secretary reported that you hail from Coruscant. And now you tell me…”

“I had some very important business on Coruscant. A very private, personal family matter. I trust you will not intrude?”

“No, of course not. So you would like to sell your load of spice to us…”

“Yes, and that way I can procure enough money to heal Mr. Qubat. It is a mutually beneficial deal, Mr. Darpin. Czerka can sell, or distribute this spice to make money!”

“Quite possible, though work regulations prevent me from disclosing marketing strategy.” Darpin replied with a smile.

“So… do we have a deal?”

“How much spice?”

“Enough to fill a CCS-43 Trunk-Class Cargo Ship.”

“I will consider it. I believe you left your contact information with my secretary?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will undoubtedly contact you in the coming days and inform you on my decision. There are a lot of factors involved, you see. Factors that vary in complexity and constituency. Rest assured I will attempt to deliver a positive result of our transaction.”

Al rose and so did the Ithorian. The Ithorian left, glad at having his deal worked out. As soon as he left, Al sat at his computer and brought the local security online. He had a pleased grin on his face, an eccentric smirk that adorned his face every time he had stumbled across a brilliant opportunity. He accessed his security records and watched the entire conversation again, proud at having recently installed his new security system.

The Czerka Class-8 Security Setup Beta had a new feature recently added – Standby Camouflage. The cameras, droids and other devices would appear to be turned off, but they would not cease to work. Al always used this system to maintain a level of calmness and comfort within his clients. Little did they know, however, that they were being perpetually watched.

Once the conversation ended, Al called Kyvsa Czerka on his private line. The line never seemed to connect. He identified a problem with his connection. He instead called Ferrnia Turee and asked her for Kyvsa’s other private line, which was routed through Ferrnia’s terminal. After much suspicion, Ferrnia finally allowed him to connect, but the attempt failed as well. The final shot Al Darpin had, was to connect through Jarros’ terminal. Jarros was in a bad mood in the last board meeting and Al knew it quite well. He had been one of the biggest admonishers.

Jarros was suspicious as well, but he allowed Al to contact his father. He then stole to a maintenance computer in his closet and rerouted his connection through the maintenance terminal. That way, he can listen to the conversation without letting either end know. He watched as a restless Al waited for the connection to go online. It did at last and Al’s face lit up like an ion engine.

“Mr. Czerka! Got fantastic news for you!”

Senior Czerka’s end was hazy and filled with static, but it straightened out eventually.

“What is it? What’s with waking me up in the middle of…”

“Dolomiri is tying to sell us spice!”

“What?” Kyvsa asked, alarmed at the midnight surprise.

“He sent an Ithorian, who cooked up a silly story about some… never mind that. He tried to sell enough spice to fill a Trunk-Class Cargo!”

“What did you do?”

“I told him I’ll consider. I say we report this, I have a video.”

“That won’t be concrete. It’ll take ages to get ‘im. Dolomiri is one slimy…”

“Well, there’s a holovideo and numerous references to us being poor and all.”
“No. But it’s a stalemate.”

“Precisely. Its us or him. If we catch him, we may or may not win. But, if we buy the deal, he gets a shot at us. He’ll report it to the Republic and…”

“And if we don’t do anything?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. If we don’t do anything, he’ll keep pestering us for it. Sometime he will make a mistake.”

Kyvsa considered the statement.

“If we can prove that Dolomiri possesses this stuff…” he uttered.

“We’ll be booked under corporate espionage, trespassing and numerous other stuff. Remember what happened last time?”

“But if we dig out the link to the Mandalorians and Dolomiri… with an external media, and add this news…”

“It’s a bomb.”

“Nice. Send your spies out. Send that girl, Jarros’ girlfriend. She’s used to this stuff.”

“Alright. No blunders like last time.”

After some more formal discussion, Al cut the conversation with a satisfied grin.

Jarros on the other hand, had found yet another idea. His brain was cooking up a remarkable plan to get back at his competitors. To rescue Czerka’s glory. To rescue his glory.

This chapter rocked, like all the others, it shows the way of how the Exchange, Czerka and such, work. I wonder if this fic will have any cameos of sort.

This chapter rocked, like all the others, it shows the way of how the Exchange, Czerka and such, work. I wonder if this fic will have any cameos of sort.

Ooh, there are plenty of cameos, from key players in KotOR to the more obscure characters. This is just the beginning!

Liked the Chapter Sabre. I hope for some cameos from characters like Calo Nord or even Janice Nall. Anyway looking foward to more.

great chapter Sabre! Jarros seems to be the average "i-am-da-best" teen :D very nice, i can't wait to see more.

The CCS-43 Trunk-Class Cargo Ship slid into the Dolomiri warehouse hangar, its magnificent wings retracting to fit through the hangar’s diagonal entrance, which connected the wall to the ceiling. The CCS was a sturdy ship, a little larger than a light cruiser. It had hardly any space for crew quarters or other such unnecessary rooms. Most of its space was devoted to cargo and load. The CCS was developed by Dolomiri, who had stolen plans from Czerka and modified them. Dolomiri released the CCS as early as possible, thereby eliminating competition from Czerka, until Czerka came up with the larger Chest-Class ships.

The CCS was fuel-efficient. It worked like a giant hovercraft, with two massive fans on its belly. The fans gave it massive life and manoeuvrability. The downside was that the CCS was not equipped with jets, ion drives or hyperdrives, which meant that it was virtually useless in space. The CCS was used for local transport operations, where harsh or uneven conditions were normal, or where speed was a necessity. The Chest-Class, a much larger version of the CCS-43, included three large ion drives, which gave it functionality in space.

The CCS settled on the ground and its huge fans slowed down to a gradual halt. The hangar workers, an assorted collection of aliens from all across the galaxy surrounded the craft. They began unloading all sorts of goods from the ship, mostly scavenged material from Raxus Prime that would be used as recycle material for Dolomiri products.

That was when one of the Weequay spotted an unusual shape hugging the side of the CCS. The perplexed alien alerted the workers, who all surrounded the shape. It was then that the shape suddenly detached itself from the craft and gracefully landed on the metal floor. Soon enough, one of the more terrified Rodians recognized the demon, clothed in a majestic cape and a sleek helmet. He took a few steps back and nervously dropped his vacuum gun.

“Ancete!” he shrieked.

Ancete surveyed the scene and smiled at the Rodian. It was the same Rodian he had met at the Corvinia Prime. He could recognize him by the blackened mark near the Rodian’s bulbous eye.

“Bad choice for a job.” Ancete remarked.

While most aliens kept their distance, a pair of Devaronians nervously approached him.

“We don’t how you survived a right just embracing the ship… but you should not be here.” One of the Devaronians said.

“Really? Why is that?”

“You’re… out of protocol. Not authorized, I mean. You see, we’re the Junior-level hangar supervisors and…”

“And you’ll what? Book me to Coruscant's authorities? Dolomiri security?”

“Yeah, the security department will deal with you.” The Devaronian answered, as his companion nudged him to shut up.

“Look, I’m not interested. I’ve got stuff to take, and I’m going with it. You got a problem with that?”

The Devaronian didn’t say anything, but he took out his comlink from his uniform and turned it on. Ancete noted the whimpers of his companion to keep it low and let Ancete pass. As soon as the Devaronian was about to hit the switch, a white blade cut through his hand, chopping off his wrist. He jerked back and looked at Ancete, who was flourishing his teal-bladed lightsaber.

Almost instantly, chaos spread through the hangar as the workers dispersed, their screams and voices drowning out all other audible sounds. Ancete walked calmly towards the observation window, opposite to the ship. It jutted out from the ceiling and was connected to the wall as well. Inside, Ancete spotted a puzzled man in Dolomiri uniform, reviewing his console.

Ancete flexed his aggrandized muscles and decided to test his newfound implants. He switched his suit to hyper-movement mode and made a sudden leap towards the window. It was an insanely high jump, and many of the workers watched in amassed wonder. Ancete stuck to the window with his vacuum-powered soles and used his lightsaber to carve a hole in the window. He broke it open and barged in, toppling over the befuddled officer.

“I take it you are the Senior-level hangar supervision authority?” Ancete asked mockingly.

“Yes.” The man answered after a fearful pause.

“Pleased to know you.” Ancete greeted, and in a swift stroke, he beheaded the supervisor with his lightsaber and kicked him away.

He then turned to the console, which had activated a Hangar-Level alarm. Ancete sounded a higher alarm, raising security concerns in nearby hangars as well, so as to make it look like a drill, or a large raid. He tried accessing the primary security console, but the system was absolutely isolated from the primary computer hub.

The Dolomiri warehouses were a pinnacle of the Dolomiri organization process. One Main Control office, occupying the top level of the warehouse controlled a series of Halls. These halls each controlled numerous sub-levels, eventually ending in Arcs and Hangars. There were around two hundred hangars in each of the ten great Dolomiri warehouses on Coruscant.

Ancete then opened the door connecting the office to the “Arc” a semicircular corridor connecting half a dozen hangars. As he had expected, the Arc was teeming with the beefed-up security. Security droids lined the walls and battery of security personnel stood in a strict discipline. As soon as Ancete entered, he was confronted by a mature, well-built human. From his name tag, Ancete identified him as the security officer controlling a number of arcs.

“Alright, weirdo. I have no idea how you breached this hangar without spoiling your night gown, but you’re coming with me.”

“Get out of my way and I won’t hurt you.” Ancete commanded.

“No, you don’t get it, do you? You’re the one trespassing. You’re the one going to prison, punk.”

Ancete surveyed the scene. The security droids and personnel were armed with weaponry and would fire in an instant. It was not a battle to be fought.
“What’re you looking at?” the officer asked.

“I’ll come with you, but tell your men to keep the guns low.”

The officer was suspicious. He motioned his arm to his men to lower their guns and stared Ancete in the eye.

“Who’re you?” he asked.

“A spy. But I can see that Dolomiri is willing to offer more money than my client… Care to make a trade?”

“Bribe, is it?” the officer jeered.

“No, not bribe. Take me to the control officer.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ll try to contact him. Follow me.”

He turned around and marched to the arc door. Ancete noticed that he was surrounded by security. As soon as he was three metres near the door, he jumped suddenly, inviting a torrent of blaster fire from the accurate droids. His cape took the shots, which was one of the reasons he used his cape. The cape functioned like a flexible shield, since laser fire never penetrated beyond an object already hit. The cape seared and blackened, but by the time the security guards realised what was happening, Ancete had passed the door and locked it.

Ancete then manipulated the controls for the door and caused it to malfunction, preventing it from opening even if sliced. He slipped a thermal detonator from his armour and wedged it into a fissure on the door. It was set on safety mode, which meant it would only detonate if damaged. This set-up meant that if the security has a plasma torch, or any other breaching equipment, it would result in a deadly explosion, shrinking the army. Ancete then slapped on his stealth generator and stepped to wall, discarding his cape and lodging it in the door.

After arduously and stealthily escaping gazes of dozens of people, Ancete found a common room and entered it. He entered a closet and disabled his stealth generator. A monotonous beep signified that the batteries had gone down. Ancete locked the closet, just to be safe, although he had spotted no more than a couple of fatigued workers. He dimmed the closet’s lights and turned on his holographic map. In its ethereal blue glow, he traced his location and made his way to his intended Hangar. He accessed the room summary which clearly stated that an unknown freighter was docked in the hangar. His informer was right one more time.



In Hangar DD-876 was docked a large CCS-94 Chest-Class Cargo Cruiser. It resembled the CCS-43 in many ways, but was more than double its size. It had the large, drooping wings of the CCS, as well as the unusually stout fuselage, mini-bridge cockpit, five large fans for planetary travel and three large ion drives for interplanetary travel. It hovered in the air, creating a shallow hurricane on the metal floor of the hangar. The hangar itself was empty, and all sound was inundated by the loud droning of the cargo ship.
Ancete surveyed the ship from a supervision dock above. He turned to the console and disabled the ship’s communications and locked down the hangar. Fortunately for him, the identity and the whereabouts of the ship, as well all activity in the hangar were classified confidential. But confidentiality worked both ways, as Ancete knew all too well. He then sent an aviation assistant droid into the hangar and asked him to signal the ship to extend the loading ramp. The droid did his job and the ship vacillated, before letting down its ramp.

Realising that the lockdown was in effect, Ancete tore through the glass wall of the supervision window and crashed onto the ship. His implants did a good job of absorbing the landing shock. He felt almost like a machine, as if he was a droid. As if he was a cyborg.

He landed on the ramp and charged his way through the passageway, which stuck to the edges of the fuselage, like a vein. He opened the door to the cockpit and locked it as soon as he entered. The cockpit had two seats and a beautiful, 180-degree view. The cockpit was very spacious, too, as if reflecting the ship as a whole.

Both pilots appeared to be salty mercenaries. Ancete stepped up to them and greeted them with a polite and ironic smile.

“Hello, gentlemen. Where might you be heading?”

The pilots eyed Ancete and attempted contacting the supervision in vain. And then they asked Ancete who hew was and how he got here. Ancete always hated it when he was asked such questions. He took it a personal insult that his progress so far and his first impressions weren’t enough to intimidate the other person. He always had a penchant for Calo Nord, who exhibited similar behaviour.

That was when the door behind him opened suddenly, against Ancete’s expectation. He turned around to see a blonde, female human. She was relatively tall, wearing a gadget-enhanced suit of armour, and had a slender frame. She was surrounded by two brusque Gamorreans and a host of mercenaries behind her. Ancete could sense that her intentions conflicted with his. He backflipped, overtaking a pilot and grabbed him. He ignited his lightsaber and positioned it against his neck, motioning the other pilot to lay low.

The blonde mercenary grasped his plan. He meant to kill the pilot if she didn’t back off. She only raised her pistol and aimed at Ancete with both hands.
“The great Ancete resorting to hostage techniques? How very disappointing. I’m not working for Dolomiri, you know.”

“Step away, Selven.” Ancete commanded, a cold look in his eyes reflecting the mercenary.

“Not this time.”

This irritated Ancete. He instantly beheaded the pilot, much to the horror of the other pilot. Selven watched unaffectedly.

“This is my shipment now, Ancete. You won’t survive. This ship is surrounded.”

Ancete glanced out the window. There was almost an army of mercenaries and guns-for-hire around the ship, armed to the teeth with a variety of weapons. As soon as he looked back at Selven, he realised his mistake. A high-power tranquilizer penetrated his forehead and a trickle of blood escaped. Before he could start the toxin-purge systems in his implants, he began to feel dizzy. The feeling was aggravated when several non-lethal grenades exploded around him and he finally fell unconscious, after a devastating strike to the head by a Gamorrean War Axe.

Another good Chapter Sabre. Left on a cliff hangar too. Looking foward to the next Chapter.

Strange, wasn't expecting Selven in this one though. Great chapter with Anceterrific action!

i had a sudden memory flash of JK2: JO when i read about the hangar chase :D
excellently done, Sabre! nice to see all the cameos. is Selven still hawt? :D

Selven is actually a sort of major character in this story... ;)

Oh nice, much more hawtness. That was something missing that RC noticed. :xp:

Jarros played with his food, a strip of noodle-like delicacy from the Corellian Cuisine. He was in an expensive restaurant, alone with Selven in a private room. A wall-spanning window displayed Coruscant’s sun, a few hours away from sunset. Jarros slurped up a strand and looked out of the window. Selven watched him, his handsome face reflecting Coruscant’s sun. He had very boyish looks, a well-groomed appearance and an emerging stubble. His face was well-cut, his eyes blue and his hair dark blonde, which had often made him one of the most envied celebrities on Coruscant.

“How did it go?” Jarros asked, sucking a noodle.

“How did what go?” Selven asked back, not raising her head from her food.
“The warehouse mission?”

Selven didn’t jerk, as Jarros had expected, but he almost spotted a twinkling of surprise in her eyes.

“You know about it?”

“Of course. I tapped the line between Al and my father. And later yours. Al was a fool to contact through me.”

“I thought so.”

“Well, how did it go?”

“Turns out that weirdo Ancete was onto the same shipment. Mafia vendetta? I don’t know. I had him captured.”

This got Jarros’ attention.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“Dolomiri captured him. I escaped. He didn’t suspect a Czerka job, apparently.”

“Apparent, seeing how he willing sold it to us. He flew it to Raxus Prime, then to Corellia, Chandrila, Ithor and finally back here. He doesn’t want anybody watching.”

“What have you done with it?”

“I’m keeping it till my father comes.” Jarros lied. He had another idea up his sleeve.

“Smart. Keep it covert, though. You’ve been tagged.”

“Of course. Dolomiri has an open shot at us. But time will see.”

Jarros’ mind drifted away for a while, but his chain of thoughts eventually came back to his love, Selven. Selven was a mercenary, a high-profile one, who had, in her early years botched up an attempt to capture a disguised black market dealer. At the time, she had been hired by Senior Czerka, and it was Jarros, who ended up bashing the dealer and saving Selven. Selven never argued over whether she would have held out on her own, but she eventually took up a liking for Jarros. The two then began meeting, earlier periodically and then on regular dates.

It had all been fun, till the moment Jarros was passed the responsibility of managing the Czerka Corporation. The responsibility fell like a burden on Jarros’ raw shoulders, and he became frustrated, gloomy and eccentric. His meetings with Selven had turned into boring affairs over fine dining in one of Coruscant’s most expensive restaurants. He always found solace in Selven’s presence and was deeply attracted towards her. He even dreamed of marrying her one day, when he had a great Corporate Empire at his heels. But in his growing depression, he had begun to believe that this is only a broken dream, an ambition that he will never achieve.

Davik Kang was watching the Taris Lower City Swoop Bike Championship on his surround-hologram viewer. The helmet he wore rendered realistic images of swoop bikes zooming by. He grinned as his favourite racer completed his lap. A soft ringing announced the short break to be taken in the game, and Davik disabled his helmet and kept it aside. Scratching his stubble, he eyed the humble Duros worker who stood before him with a mobile holocom. The Duros was weary, and he got to work immediately on the holocom.

Davik impatiently checked the time repeatedly as the holocom loaded and connected to the signal he was receiving. The signal was coming from Coruscant, and Davik judged by the communication’s quality that it was being broadcasted from a high-end holocom. On the other end of the holocom was a youth, handsome and having an affluent form. It took a while for Davik to recognize the youth as Jarros Czerka.

“I trust I have not interrupted you, Mr. Kang.” Jarros began, ratifying his most professional accent.

“I’ll give you half the time it takes to finish a swoop bike game break. Talk, kid.”

Jarros cleared his throat and began. “It fell upon my ears that one of your most elite agents, Ancete has been captured by the Dolomiri Corporation. I believe it is a matter more than some ordinary corporate espionage. I have received a shipment from the Dolomiri Corporation recently, which contains a large amount of, well, spice.”

Davik’s eyebrow rose, a sign that he had taken interest. Yet, Davik was very fraudulent. He could smell out traps from a distance and effectively evade them, though many credited this skill to Ancete.

“Being a corporation of great cachet, Czerka is not interested in dealing with this spice, especially with black market operators. We are planning on revealing this scam to the Republic. I am sure that unauthorized dealing of illegal spices is quite against Republic Trade Regulations.”

“Stop talking in circles, and tell me what you’re planning.”

Afraid of exhibiting his gaucherie, Jarros searched for words.

“Your agent, Ancete will be released, if we reveal this scam. We have plenty of evidence to prove Dolomiri guilty and we can, well, tweak certain sections. But we will do this only with your consent, Mr. Kang.”

Davik smiled and leaned back. He then chuckled dryly and sat lavishly amused at Jarros.

“My consent! You are despicable, you kath hound. Even your father…”

“Mr. Kang, please. This is a mutually beneficial deal. We will vindicate Ancete and destroy Czerka, but we… request your friendship.”

Davik turned serious. He knew that people would ask for his friendship, if they wanted something. And Davik would collect on his friendship, whenever he wanted. This seemingly naпve concept, was actually a grisly and grim affair, which was common in the numerous Godfathers of the galactic underworld. Davik knew that Jarros was seeking an alliance with The Exchange. He wanted to get into the mafia, and he couldn’t decide whether this was a good thing or not.

“Mr. Kang, your swoop bikes are revving up. I want an answer.”

Davik nodded slowly. The deal was tempting, and he could foresee no problems. He wished Ancete had been here to help him with the decision, though. Ancete’s mind was said to accurately work out complications in every deal Davik accepted. Davik decided that his first priority will be to get Ancete back, who can help him get out of any mess he creates.

He finally nodded and accepted the deal.

Good Chapter Sabre, I was wondering where the new Chapter was. Looking foward to more.

Lolz, I was away for three days and pretty bored/busy after that. Lets hope I can get the rest of the chapters up faster. :xp:

Really good chapter, i like where the Selven-Jarros relationship is going.

Ancete had been taken prisoner, for corporate espionage. Dolomiri, whose brushes with the Republic were brief at best, had a special research facility at Corellia, which was often the source of some of their most cutting-edge innovations. The facility, however, was more than a collection of labs. Under the layer of scientist dormitories, labs and recreation hubs was a series of private prisons, where spies, defectors and other such infidels were locked up. The prisons were sanctioned by the Corellian Building Authority as “holding cells”, most likely for “antisocial elements”, “research specimens” and “research equipment”. This idea was not of Dolomiri origin, however. The concept of allowing corporations to deal their own brand of justice goes back to corporations back in the days of the Republic’s expansion. Czerka were an active player in this as well.

Ancete was locked in a room-sized cell, sparsely furnished by four granite ledges, which served as beds, and a small round table. The cell was relatively bright and the door was sealed by a wall of red laser, impenetrable and injurious. Ancete sat on his bed, having nothing more to do. In front of him was a Jedi Knight, wearing an orange-black suit. The Jedi was bald, his face calm, with a hint of rapturous hatred. He was meditating with his legs folded most of the time, or observing the world with his earthy-tinged eyes. The Jedi had introduced himself as Malak when Ancete was first ushered into the cell.
Ancete had heard of Malak. He was supposedly the great Jedi leader Revan’s closest ally and possibly a confidante. Ancete always thought that Revan’s approach to problems was systematic and holistic in nature, where Revan considered every point of the given situation, and pondered over which solution would be the most beneficent in a given situation, and in the future. He had an uncanny ability of sewing up everything he knows, sees and hears into a tapestry of the future. Revan analyzes how his solution would have repercussions on this tapestry and then sews the part in.

Malak’s approach was more brutish and one-minded. Malak was hasty and more time-conscious than Revan. His solutions were influenced and often the solutions themselves were suggested by his subordinates, on whom he depended so very heavily. Malak was a formidable foe, nevertheless. He was strong in the Force and skilled in the lightsaber. He was better off than many of the Jedi in the Order and many even suspected an unusual Force Bong between the two friends.

“Atypical to see such a noted Jedi Knight a victim of petty corporate incarceration.” Ancete said, finally breaking the ice.

The Jedi sat silent for a while, and without opening his eyes his said, “Atypical to see such a great mastermind in the same position.”

“You humble me, master Jedi. I am but lowly scum.” Ancete replied sarcastically.

“I was investigating Mandalorian connections with the Dolomiri Corporation. Revan personally asked me take up his find. He knows that I… might take a while.” Malak’s eyes were wide open by now.

“And what did you find?” Ancete asked.

“Some of the weaponry used in recent Mandalorian battles had IDs with binary data loosely similar to the data of armaments Dolomiri makes. After some undercover work, we realised that we could be going onto something more. But Dolomiri covers his tracks well, and the information we find keeps varying in authenticity. The Republic General, a Jedi suggested that this is a job for a Jedi.”

“My word won’t stand as any valid evidence, but Dolomiri has his hands in too many things. He sometimes gets on my nerves.” Ancete spoke.

“I needed some rest actually, which is why I’m here. Once I’m done with that, an escape is imminent. And you are not coming.”

Ancete did not taunt or defend his position. He could escape if he wanted to and it was not necessary for Malak to know that. Ancete instead stroked his pitted horns.

“I like you, Ancete. You have such a brilliant mind. We could have used you in the war effort. You would have made a great Jedi.”

Ancete did not reply.

“Already you can hear the echoes of the Force within you. The way you can telepathically influence someone, or transmit a message is an ability a Jedi can master. I can also sense that you are physically strong and agile, and mentally sharp. You are also tremendously skilled in weaponry – the Force is obviously with you.”

“The Force is not mastered only by the Jedi, or the Sith. It is an all-pervading power – it is the God that many civilizations accept. It gives you strength, it empowers you, it fills emotion, it restores balance. It brings life. What the Jedi do is, they rupture this Force and use it like a tool, for their own purposes. How foolish is that?”

“As foolish as you meddling in these petty mafia politics that avail to no one save rich crime lords. Think of all the potential you have wasted. The benefit you could have done for the Republic.”

“And what would the Republic have done for me?”

“What hasn’t it? The reason you can travel between planets freely, without the fear of being killed by a savage race, is the Republic. The reason why this galaxy has any unified economy and autonomy whatsoever is the Republic. The reason why technology is so advanced, the corporate sector so prosperous and relations so peaceful.”

“Very peaceful, yes.” Ancete remarked cynically.

“Look, would you fancy a war with the Mandalorians, or a chaotic, endless war between each of the galaxy’s religions, cultures, civilizations, worlds and species?”

“The question is, Malak, would you fancy a war at all?”

Malak took a while to ponder the deviation Ancete made and stared Ancete in the eye. Ancete’s weary red eyes stared back, his long horns pointed straight for Malak.

“You could have been such a great Jedi… but it’s all a waste.” Malak finally remarked.

“Do you believe in destiny, Malak?”

“No.”

“I do. Because I can see it. And I see a dark future for you, Malak. And Revan. I see the death of the Jedi, simply because they called for it. Their hypocrisy, their codes, their Council’s horrible decisions. I give you my word, Malak, the Jedi Order is doomed to fall, sooner or later.”

“I will not betray my heart, Ancete. The reason I am anything today is the Order. I did not agree with their decision to stay out of the war. They are protectors of the Republic. If it is not our duty to protect it, then whose?”

Ancete did not reply. He saw no point in continuing the haphazard conversation anymore. He put his head to the wall and escaped into the freedom in slumber.

Another good Chapter Sabre and their finally coming out quicker. Looking foward to more as always.

Good chapter, as usual. Nice to see Malak tied in so soon, seems not-so-K1-Malak. I like that, a softer side of the jawless Sith Lord.

Speaking of jawless, will you show how Malak lost his jaw? :xp:

Good chapter, as usual. Nice to see Malak tied in so soon, seems not-so-K1-Malak. I like that, a softer side of the jawless Sith Lord.

Speaking of jawless, will you show how Malak lost his jaw? :xp:

Maybe, maybe not. ;)

The animated hologram newsreader finally appeared on the disturbed holocom. Her face was more animated than usual, more excited – a common trait when the news was more important than usual.

“In tonight’s news round-up, we will look at the incident that has rocked the Republic Corporate Sector quite a bit this week. We are talking about, of course, the treason the Dolomiri Corporation has committed and its subsequent dissolution.

The event started when the Republic Trade Regulation Police received a tip-off that the Dolomiri Corporation is dealing with the Mandalorians and dealing in certain illegal materials, specifically spice. As the tip-offs and hints increased in number, the police sent an investigation squad, alongside highly-trained agents, who reported that there has indeed been amicable conversation between the Dolomiri Corporation and the Mandalorians. The Czerka Corporation also surrendered a mysterious stock of spice that had arrived at their warehouse, supposedly from Dolomiri-owned co-ordinates.

The spice held identifications and credentials that loosely matched the Dolomiri Warehouse docking codes. It was obvious, then, that Dolomiri has committed several crimes against the Republic. While many members of the Dolomiri Board of Chairmen and several high-ranking officers surrendered and pleaded guilty, the Dolomiri CEO, Lottis Dolomiri is reported missing. The Republic has also issued an arrest warrant for him and the CEO has become a hot target in many Bounty Hunter circles. Some reports indicate that Dolomiri might have escaped into Mandalorian Company.

The revelation of Dolomiri’s hidden assets has sparked a massive witch-hunt from the Republic to find other such Corporations that are merely fronts for an illegal entity. The Dolomiri Corporation has had to pay up a huge amount as penalty and several high-ranking officers have been arrested. With its leadership crumbling, several low-level workers for the Dolomiri Corporation have resigned from the company, citing many reasons including breach of trust, hurt of religious sentiments and lack of prospects. With its assets dissolving by the minute, the Dolomiri Corporation is spiralling to a rapid destruction.

A standard day ago, the Czerka Corporation announced their grievance for the loss of a great corporation. The CEO of Czerka Corporation, Kyvsa Czerka was cited as claiming that the declining Dolomiri workforce was resulting into an increase in Czerka employment and that the Dolomiri Corporation would be wasted to nothing, sooner or later. In what he claimed was a “cordial gesture”, he offered to buy the Dolomiri Corporation for five billion credits. The Dolomiri Corporation, currently very close to being banned by the Republic agreed.

The Czerka Corporation’s size has more than doubled with this merger, resulting in several new assets for Czerka, including several colonies on planets like Kashyyyk, Tatooine, Delpha, Dill Akkhas and more…”

The newsreader’s voice trailed away as Ancete shut the holocom.

“It is done.” He spoke.

Davik Kang, surrounded by two half-naked Twi’Leks grinned at that.
“Czerka owes us a favour. But from what I know of that crook Dolomiri, he’ll have one more blasted card to play. He’s missing, ya hear? And he’s got bleeding friends.”

“I know some ways to find him.” Ancete said, “But, I feel he has an insider here, in the Exchange.”

“We’ll see. I’m just glad this thing bloody worked, eh?”

“Execute Red Polly. We have no need for him.”

“Hmm. Alright, whatever. You just take a break. I bet the food sucked in there, eh?”

“I didn’t eat.”

“Oh. Well, go do something now. I’ve got time to spend…” Davik spoke, his head turning to one of his Twi’Lek slaves.

Another good Chapter Sabre. Like the Christmas Avatar too. Looking foward to more as always. And about Malak losing his jaw, I read somewhere that Revan had cut it off in a battle, but I'm not sure.

I read that it was actually a, and i quote, "a ghastly lightsaber fight injury". Guess it was on Korriban.

Anyways, i agree, i like the Christmas Avatar and the chapter, although, it have this feeling it was shorter than others.