Command of Destiny

[Emperor Marix]

Dramatis Personae

Markaro Vos (Kiffar, Male) – 27 years old, Sith Master, Armed Forces Trainee
J'yph Asmodeus (Human, Male) – 64 years old, Dark Lord of the Sith, Supreme Commander
Xander Vos (Human, Male) – 85 years old, Jedi Master, Brother of Markaro Vos
Kadrian Kolar (Zabrak, Male) – 53 years old, Sith Maruader, Brigaider General
Doran Vexen (Human, Male) – 65 years old, Sith Lord, High General
Tarna Lucius Dallow (Human, Male) – 42 years old, Dark Lord of the Sith, Shadow Protector
Magisto (Human, Male) – 36 years old, Sith Master, Commodore

Table of Contents
Chapter One: All By A Design
Chapter Two: The Council's Power
Chapter Three: General Training
Chapter Four: The Duel of Soldiers

Links go to http://www.EternalSithOrder.com where the original is posted.
Will be updated as Chapters are posted.

Discussion

[Emperor Marix]

Chapter One: All By A Design

"The secret of all victory lies in the organization of the non-obvious."
- Ieha Weyx, Supreme Commander under Empress Traya and leader of the single greatest federation of ships in history. Architect of the final push Coreward, a bold move that won the Empire riches beyond imagination.


-72 ABY
--Kuat Drive Yards: Presentation Chamber V


The shimmering model of a ship floated above the floor. Ten pairs of critiquing eyes absorbed every detail, dissected every section view, and ripped apart the specs list on the data pads in front of them. One pair of eyes stared at the ten, watching their movements, waiting for the visible relaxation of their bodies that signaled their readiness to listen. The Kuat Drive Yards Design Board was made up of seven of the most brilliant men and women to ever design war vessels. They were joined by two consulting Admirals and Supreme Commander Acrimonus himself, on an unusual visit to the shipyard’s design presentations.

“The Valiant-Class Star Destroyer is a merger of the Venator-Class Star Destroyer and the Acclamator-Class Assault Ship. The ship serves as a self sufficient planetary assault ship, which unlike the Acclamator, has fighter capabilities. The ventral hangar has been shortened, and the large cumbersome doors replaced by a forward hangar entrance. The forward hangar still provides the excellent fighter coverage and distribution times of the Venator, without the dangerous opening and closing times of the main doors. The extra space has been converted to troop carrying, increasing upon the Venator’s potency as an assault vessel.”

Markaro Vos, a graduate of the Imperial Naval Academy, Imperial Army Academy, and Officer Academy, now presented his first capital level ship design to the KDY Design Board. A fugitive from his own people, Markaro was making a living on his passion, the Military. A Kiffar by species, Markaro was a genetic creation, and the heir to the Sheyfdom of Kiffu. During his training with the Kiffar Military, his aptitude to command and warfare had prompted Commander Koris Vel of the Kiffar Militia to send him to the Empire’s own Military Academies, all of them. Upon his graduation of the Officer Academy, he rebelled against the Sheyf’s wishes and did not return to Kiffu to assume duties as the Sheyf Apparent. Taking his skills and passions, Markaro joined the KDY Design Team, his Military credentials cutting through the red tape of application like butter, and started working on the Valiant designs. One year later, the project was completed and slotted for review by the Board.

“The Valiant retains the fighter strength of the Venator, gains the ground forces of the Acclamator, and maintains its atmospheric capabilities, unlike its larger cousin the Imperial-Class Star Destroyer.”

Karl Brennex, Chairman of the Design Board spoke first. “How is this design better than the Venator’s replacement, the Victory-Class?”

“The Valiant is larger, more powerful, deadlier, holds more fighters and troops than the Victory. Chapter 7 Section II Subsection A of the manual deals with the specific differences between the Valiant and Victory Classes.” Markaro answered.

The Board spent the next hour dissecting the design with their questions, comments, and concerns. In the end, the design passed and was flagged for prototype design. The Board immediately left, having several more designs to review before lunch. Markaro was the lone KDY employee in the room.

“Admiral Densi, give my regards to the family. Admiral Lenco, glad to see you are still among the living.” The Supreme Commander of the Sith Military said as he stood, receiving nods and murmurs in return. “Markaro Vos, I am sure that you know who and what I am. I would love to talk longer, but I am short on time and must cut to the chase. I am a Force User, able to connect to the Force and use its power. And I am not sure how it has remained a secret to us up to now, but so are you. And quite powerful for one untrained.”

“The Sheyf despised the Kiffar Force connection and did not allow any testing to take place. So I was left alone by the Empire in that regard.” Markaro explained his undiscovered talents. “I knew I was different, but never had the time to explore it.”

“Do you want to be a Sith?” Acrimonus blatantly asked.

“Yes.”

“Then come with me.”

[Emperor Marix]

Chapter Two: The Council’s Power

“What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise”
- Tobbi Asmodeus, widely regarded as the Empire’s most celebrated poet, he wrote orations, praises and dirges that were used by big-name officials for every occasion


-72 ABY – One Month Later
--Kuat: Imperial Palace: The Inner Office



“So you found him in the shipyards?” Emperor Shadow asked of the Supreme Commander. “You know you cannot train him. You have trained too many, it is time to guide the Empire, rather than just one Apprentice. Even if what you say about his power is true, he will not be told. He is to feel regular. Then we shall see his true potential.”

“But how could we have missed him? We should have felt him, he should already be a Master on his own by now.” Darth Acrimonus stood facing out the window of the Emperor’s inner office, overlooking the setting sun over the skyline of the capital Kuat.

“The Sheyf did not allow us onto their planet to find Apprentices. I was concerned with other matters at the time and was lenient.” Jeridan Peverell Shesh Dilbrun, Emperor of the Eternal Empire said.

“But we went searching anyway. You know as well as I do that Sith were sent to search anyways, even if it was discretely.” J'yph Asmodeus, Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces replied.

“This Markaro says he is related to the Sheyf, the heir even. Perhaps our Sheyf has some ysalamiri in his palace that kept our spies from finding this potential. But that is not your concern, Supreme Commander. Give him to the Council to be tested and paired with a Master.”

“Consider it done.”

“And J’yph. The next time you begin to train one over the age without consulting the Council, I will not be so forgiving. We have protocols for a reason. When they are that old, we cannot know their experiences. Their experiences mold them into something that we cannot undo. And if those experiences create a deep underlying tie, it can compromise them later in life. And when a Sith of the Empire is compromised, the Empire is compromised. When the Empire is compromised, I am compromised. And that is something I will not tolerate.”


--Kuat: Imperial Palace: High Council Chambers


“Markaro Vos, you are next. Please follow me.” The young orderly said to the Kiffar as he sat waiting for the High Council to review him. Darth Acrimonus, the Supreme Commander, had brought him here after his meeting with the Emperor and then left, disgruntled about some item discussed at that meeting. Standing, he towered over the young female human that was one of many serving the High Council Chambers.

From the brief talks he had with Darth Acrimonus, he was now going to be assessed by the High Council, and then be paired with a suitable Master. This was an irregular procedure, but due to his age Markaro was less moldable and would need a Master more suited to his personality and skills. The younger Dark Adepts were open to any number of potential Masters, due to their innocence, youth, and lack of knowledge. They could be changed, managed, whereas the 20 year old Kiffar Militant was aware of his potential and abilities, and had experience on his side. The Chamber was a large room, with a high ceiling and very little light. Along the back wall was a raised dais, where the Dark Lords and Ladies of the High Council waited to judge Markaro.

Vos was led to the center of the remaining part of the Chamber floor, facing the dais and then left alone. He took a quick look around, his keen eyes plotting escape routes, weak points, and possible defenses. A habit he had been unable to lose since his Military training.

“Markaro Vos.” Shadow Protector Duff called out. As the most senior of Order Heads, Lord Duff was the unspoken head of the High Council, beneath the Emperor. On his right were the remaining Order heads in order of seniority, Supreme Commander Acrimonus, Supreme Prophet Praxeum, and Grand Inquisitor Prognie. While on his left were the remaining members of the Council, Dark Lady Arden, Dark Lady Ducki, and Dark Lord Divious. The Dark Seven, as the Council members were currently known. “You have been brought to this Chamber to be judged by the High Council. To be assessed, to be watched, to be tried. If you pass you enter into our Empire as a Sith, and will be given a Master to train you in our ways. If you fail, you will never speak of this moment again and you will be returned to your previous occupation with no consequences from your employer. Are you ready?”

Markaro Vos looked straight at the Shadow Protector, right into his eyes showing no fear. He had been trained under the greatest Generals and Admirals of the time, the leaders and winners of the Kroprulu Civil War. “Dark Lord Duff, I am ready.” Acrimonus gave a nod at Markaro’s remembrance of protocol and titles. It had been a brief one month teaching Markaro what he needed to know as the Supreme Commander travelled about the rest of the galaxy viewing several other shipyards and inspecting outposts along the way. But in the end, Markaro was prepared for this moment.

The Lords and Ladies melded their minds together; a powerful orb of the Force hovering above the dais shimmered to life. The consciousness of the entire High Council formed into a physical entity pulsed with the energy of seven of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. Markaro gazed upon the object in awe. If this was the Force, he was willing to go to the edge of the Universe to join. The ball hovered above the ground, moving towards Markaro until it was directly above him. He looked up, stretching his untrained senses towards it, feeling the familiar presence of the Supreme Commander. Then the ball plunged into Markaro, entering his soul, forcing the power of seven beings into the body of one. It was painful.

Markaro’s memories flashed before his eyes as the High Council ran through his life, searching for ties or bonds that would complicate the future as a Sith. Youthful games, lost friends, lost loves, the Sheyf, the Naval Academy, Carida Army Academy, Officer Training, Kuat Drive Yards, all perused by the High Council and seen once again by Markaro. Memories that he would rather not experience were lifted into his consciousness, painful situations relived.

When it was done, Markaro was left sweating on the ground, his limbs limp around him. The Supreme Commander had warned that it would not be a pleasant experience, but even he had neglected the true magnitude of the procedure. The High Council did not experience the pain, so they never knew.

“Markaro Vos.” A chorus of voices spoke in the Force. “We have found no reason to deny you acceptance into the Sith of our Empire. Your Master is to be Brigadier General Matas. He will contact you in ten days time on Kroprulu. You have three days to rest, and then you will be on your way to the old capital."

[Emperor Marix]

Chapter Three: General Training

“Parallel to the training of the body a struggle against the poisoning of the soul must begin”
- Ieha Dyer, author of the controversial “Alien Denial Pact,” a contract between the Pure Blood Houses to never breed with non-Humans, thereby preserving the genetic integrity of the noblest bloodlines.


-72 ABY – Ten Days Later
--Kroprulu: Imperial City: Old Capital District


Darth Matas stood in streets outside of the old Kroprulu Palace waiting for the arrival of the apprentice the High Council had assigned to him. Kadrian Kolar, Brigadier General of the Sith Army was now 46. Not old by today’s standards, but he had spent 20 years of his life in the Army. He was one of the old breed, from before the Darth Dude Conflict. Matas had served proudly in the Kroprulu Civil War as Colonel Matas of the 242nd Legion, and was made a Brigadier General in record timing because of his heroism and performance during the Civil War. The red skinned Zabrak grimaced as he glanced at his chrono. Markaro wasn’t late, Matas was just impatient. He had much to teach and little time to teach it in. And because of the incompetence of the High Council’s aide, he had no information on his new apprentice at all. For all the Sith Lord knew, Markaro was a complete idiot, with no sense of coordination, training, and discipline at all.

Several blocks away, Markaro Vos walked—marched—at a brisk pace down the streets of the old capital planet. It had been years since the Empire had resided here, but the power and corruption had yet to be washed totally clean from the very atmosphere. The 2 meter tall Kiffar towered above the natives and tourists of the historical planet, so it was easy to move about them. The tall presence parted the bustling onslaught of tourist—on the streets during the noontime rush to view the sights—like the bow of an ancient battleship parted the waves of the oceans of Kamino.

The 20 year old Kiffar took a deep breath as he neared the rendezvous. He had survived the best and worst the Empire’s Military had thrown at him, Navy, Army, Marines, Officer Corp, you name it he had passed it with flying colors. This should be no different. He had been told that his Master was a Brigadier General, the highest rank in Acrimonus’ Army ranks, other than High General, and assumed that they would get along fine. Both being from Military backgrounds and training, Markaro should fall in line with the General quickly.

Markaro quickly stopped, noticing a difference in his surroundings. There was an outlier, like himself, but with blood red skin and horns, and an Army Uniform with stars on the shoulders. This would be his new Master. Markaro stiffened his step and straightened his posture, and then came to a halt next to the General. With a crisp salute, he announced himself. “Markaro Vos, reporting for duty, sir.” And then fell silent, holding the salute until the General deemed him with a response.

The General turned and quickly recovered from the shock his face displayed. He had not been expecting a proper Military greeting from his new apprentice. The Council had left out much. “Cadet Vos, I gather.”

“What branch am I to represent here, sir? I hold officer rank in all three main corps, sir.”
“You do? So you must be the one that the entire Army has been talking about. The one that Acrimonus found in the Drive Yards. Since it would be improper for an officer to be trained as if he were a Private, we will leave your Military rank alone during your private training. You may continue to use rank when in public, just not with me.”

“Sir yes sir.”

“At ease soldier.” Matas said, finally snapping off a return salute. “So you are Sith now. Do you know what that means?” The General asked, as he began to walk down the street, the two giants causing quite a scene with the tourists and their holocams.

“It means that I am a soldier with no equal. A weapon with no countering armor. Sir.”

“You are correct, but not entirely so. By the end of your training, you will know what it means, at its most basic level. One continues to learn as they experience the galaxy.” Matas stopped Markaro at a café. “Look inside. What do you see? You see mortals, insignificants. You will be greater than them, and they will never know until it is too late.”




Brigadier General Matas then began the Sith Apprentice’s path to power, to control of the Force. It began first with small steps, nibbles of knowledge. But Markaro’s appetite and abilities started to present themselves, and they moved onto larger topics at a rate greater than the normal apprentice. By the fifth year of training, Markaro was a fully capable Sith, at levels seen only by Apprentices who have completed their Trials. But Matas still did not promote Markaro. His abilities would be masked by a normal length apprenticeship. The less people knew about Markaro, the greater his power would be, and the safer the beginnings of his service to the Empire.


-79 ABY
--Iridonia


The sleek Corellian-Class Corvette hovered above the atmosphere of the Zabrak’s home planet. Iridonia was a shattered planet, spewing its fiery guts through a vast number of volcanoes and desolate in many areas. The Zabrak were an adapted people and had survived the tomb of a planet, but it had changed them. A fierce culture had emerged, one set on individual survival and dominance. It made the art of warfare and combat sacred. Brigadier General Matas had lived here as a child, and had grown up in the chaos, had trained with his brothers, and had survived to be brought off planet by the Sith. But he had not forgotten the planet.

Sitting in the pilot’s seat was none other than his apprentice, Markaro Vos the owner of the craft. Vos had a relationship with space that could only be described as love. Space turned the Kiffar into a new being. The vacuum had a calming effect on Markaro, and it was here that he meditated. The Corvette was Kiffar in its origin, having been a gift to Markaro when he left for his Military training nine years ago. It had been modified, like every craft owned by Markaro or a capable Sith, to levels greater than the norm. But the ship also now had a bubble canopy in the midsection, the location of Markaro’s meditation chamber. There he meditated, embraced by the vastness of space, its stars, planets, and emptiness. There he became one with the Force and fully opened to the power of the Dark Side. Little by little, he had learned to open himself just as much when not in space. That is not to say that Vos had been weak planet-side, but he had been much stronger in space, with the stars, and still was.

“Enter the ship in an orbit outside of the atmosphere. We will make landfall in 30 minutes. You have until then to meditate and be ready for today’s lessons.” The General said to his apprentice.

“Yes sir.” Markaro answered. He had yet to fully outgrow his Military mannerisms, and the General was convinced that they would follow Vos for the rest of his life, no matter what his task or Order.

Markaro set the orbital path and left the ship on autopilot, with a watch officer in the bridge just in case. The craft was running with minimum crew, many of the functions and systems automated to give the Sith the most secrecy and stealth possible. He then headed back to the meditation bubble, already calming his body and relaxing. Sitting down in the large chair, which conformed to his large frame immediately, Markaro took a deep breath and looked inside himself.

Time passed slowly, or at least it seemed. What was a minute to Markaro was actually five minutes, but he did not notice. The bubble canopy was pointed away from the planet and the only notice of passing time was the shifting of the stars, almost imperceptible in his meditative state. Almost immediately after entering the state, he was interrupted by the rough battle to enter the atmosphere. Howling winds shook the craft as it passed from vacuum to atmosphere. Markaro quickly returned to the mortal state, and headed to the bridge. The pilot seat was left open for him, the copilot doing the initial entry. Markaro took over the controls and wrestled with Iridonia to safely land the vehicle.

“Corellian Corvette Alpha 2243, this is Iridonia control. State your name and business on Iridonia.” The radio crackled.

“This is the Corellian Corvette Aggressor. Clearance code Alpha Beta Delta Foxtrot Charlie Niner Niner Alpha Charlie.”

“You may continue on with your business.” The control tower replied. The clearance code identified the craft as under the command of a Sith Military Officer, in this case General Matas. Eventually Markaro would receive his own, that identified him as a Sith, which would give him some degree of access to planets. Just not on the level of the high ranking clearance a General received.

Matas had uploaded coordinates for a landing into the NavComp before he headed off to ready himself for being planet-side, an d Markaro eventually brought the craft to that location. It was a barren spot, with a small town to its left and a large building to its right, and almost no flora or fauna.

“This is the Zabraki. That is all it is called. The greatest dojo on the planet. For generations and generations, the greatest of Zabrak warriors have come here to complete their training.” Matas spoke pointing out the cockpit windows to the massive building. “It has been forgotten in recent years, but still holds a spot in our culture and legends. It is here that you will prove whether you are worthy of entering the Trials.”

“Yes sir.” Markaro replied.

“Go prepare yourself and your weapon.”

Markaro nodded and headed to his quarters. He quickly switched from his jumpsuit to his combat clothes. The latter garments were much more protective, being armor and cortosis woven. On top of the armored cloth he placed greaves, gauntlets and a breastplate; gifts from his old Kiffar Commander Koris Vel of the Kiffar Planetary Militia. Feeling properly armored, he picked up his lightsaber from where he had placed it when changing. This was not his first weapon, he had gone through several designs during his training, this being his third and seemingly final design.

The weapon was elongated when compared to normal blades, and rightly so. It was a dual saber, having an emitter on either side of the handle, with a twist literally. With the right application of torque, Markaro could split the saber into two separate weapons, adding to the element of surprise. The casing was made of polished Mandalorian iron, and was heavier than the normal saber but it had yet to affect Markaro’s wielding of the weapon. If anything it added to the security of it, as the extra weight would throw off anyone that tried to use the weapon other than Markaro. To give the weapon some grip, a rough cortosis woven grip was placed around the iron in key areas, keeping the weapon in Markaro’s hand under the sweatiest hand conditions. Each blade contained two crystals, one for the natural blade, and an extra for added effects, whether it be a longer blade, stronger blade, color change, or other special abilities of certain crystals, if he chose to add them. It was a fine saber, one of the best Markaro had the pleasure of knowing, and he had studied many sabers before completing his current weapon. The two weapons, one was Quinlan’s saber and the other Markaro’s own construct, prior to this saber were still with Vos, usually hidden amongst his clothing of personal effects, just in case. Darth Matas knew very little about Markaro’s current blade. It had been constructed in secrecy, so that only the Kiffar Sith knew its true potential and its design.

Vos strapped his main saber to the equipment belt around his waist and headed for the landing ramp. He could only guess at what Matas had in store for him, but he knew better than to go unprepared.

[Emperor Marix]

Chapter Four: The Duel of Soldiers

”Marriage, in life, is like a duel in the midst of a battle.”
- Jaelyn Arbas, Sith Lore Keeper and linguist who first brought the issue of a Sith’ari to public attention, causing a galactic excitement as Families vied to have one of their own be the legendary savior of the Sith.


-79 ABY
--Iridonia: The Zabraki


Brigadier General Matas stood at the end of the landing ramp of the Corvette, breathing in the foul dusty air of his home planet. It was a scent he had not smelled in many years. His duties as a Sith Military Officer had kept him very busy and far away from Iridonia. His last visit that consisted of more than mere hours on the surface had been more than twenty years ago, right after he had completed his Trials. He had come here, to the Zabraki for judgment by his own people, to prove his worth once more. He had gone to show off his newfound skills and power, but most importantly to gain respect and honor for his new name. Kadrian Kolar was cast away that day, and Darth Matas truly rose.

The man once called Kadrian shook his head and left his memories, prodded by the arrival of his apprentice on the ramp. “Ready?” Matas asked Markaro.

“As only a soldier can be, sir.” Vos replied.

“Then follow me.” Matas began the path to the Zabraki, the largest building for klicks around growing larger and larger as they drew nearer and nearer, until it towered over the two. “It used to seat thousands, who would gather to watch the Zabrak boys turn into men. It was the only time our species came together in such large numbers. It is a relic from our past, when Iridonia was more habitable.” Matas lectured as they entered through the large doors. The complex was so old, that it was not constructed of duraplast or steel, but stone quarried from the surrounding landscape millennia ago.

They walked in silence, each enveloped by their own passive meditative state, pondering the rest of the day. Matas wondered about the outcome of the duel, would Vos pass. Markaro wondered about what Matas had in store for him within the Zabraki. The dirt path stretch ahead of them, winding through the foothills till it was engulfed by the building of stone. Matas and Markaro stopped at the entrance, and looked up at the cavernous opening before them.

“Once you pass through, you can never leave as the same person. No matter what happens, you will be changed. Are you ready, Markaro Vos?” Matas’ gruff voice asked.

“Yes General I am, sir.”

“Let us hope so.”

Matas and Vos took the first step together, strides matched perfectly as they passed under the arch that had stood guard over thousands of Zabrak since the dawn of time. Immediately they were engulfed by darkness as they entered the catacombs of the coliseum, heading for the main grounds rather than the audience seats. The main floor was desolate, dry, and hot, baked by the sun above. All around were the remains of battle droids, Zabrak, human, and others, meeting their end within the coliseum of Iridonia, failing to prove their honor and prowess. Instead they contributed to the destiny of others, falling under the blades of warriors that scoured the galaxy.

“Here you will prove yourself, Vos.” Matas said, and then he disappeared from sight, into the shadows that covered the edge of the arena. At once the shuffling of feet could be heard from the warrior entrances as battle droids marched out into the field. “You will defeat them.” Matas’ voice echoed in the Force, and that was it.

The metal feet of the Trade Federation battle droids thundered across the stadium from all directions. The droids were neither brand new nor were they rusting heaps of scrap metal. The droids had been repaired many times by the master Droidsmith of the Zabraki, who kept the stadium stocked with the inanimate combatants for the idea of practicing. The Droidsmith was thought to be as old as the coliseum itself, the Zabrak had never known another, he had performed duties within the Zabraki for as long as any could remember. First sewing the gladiators back together, then fixing weapons, armor, traps, and the stadium itself then when droids replaced the slave gladiators, he taught himself to repair those as well. The Droidsmith, none knew his true name, was indeed powerful, but none had ever seen him fight.

All together there were over one hundred droids surrounding Markaro: no small feat for a soldier, no big task for a Sith. The stadium drew to silence once the droids stopped marching, the whistling of the wind whipping through the empty arena the only intruder upon the quiet. A deep breath, clearing distractions. A stretch, limbering the body. A snap hiss, and Markaro was a whirl of action. A silver blade sliced through the air, parting the metal limb of a battle droid from its torso, and then sliced left, beheading several more. Blaster bolts shot towards the target, with more hitting other droids than coming near Markaro. The lightsaber hummed through the air, deflecting shots back at their origins or sending them flying off at another target. Within minutes, silence was once again over the arena, with an almost inaudible groan from the gates, the only sound the Droidsmith ever made in the presence of others.

A smoldering torso clunked on the ground next to Markaro’s feet, and he placed a foot up on it. The silver blade jumped back into its shroud emitter, and the grip once more hung from the soldier’s belt.

“All without the use of a Force power. Impressive.” Matas’ voice came from within an opening to the catacombs. Dispatch the next group with the Force, your saber is useless for the moment.” And once again the marching feet of a hundred droids could be heard coming from the entrances around Markaro, the droidsmith’s groan lost amongst the thunderous pounding of the ground.

A blur of blackened air replaced Markaro, as he sped himself with the Force, running towards the furthest group of droids. Lightning sparked in the air, shooting from Markaro’s opened palms, jumping to the droids and ruining their circuitry. An open palm, once closed, gained a response of several droids being crushed with the Force. A wave of the hand, and the droids flying through the air, smashing into each other, walls, or the ground. A whirl of action, the Sith Apprentice moved from cluster to cluster of droids, defeating them as he moved.

For the third time, silence gripped the arena broken now only by the zapping of short circuits. Markaro patted away the dust that caked his face, swept into it by the fast pace at which he had been moving, combined with the sweat from the heat and his level of activity. “You have done well, Vos. Heir to the Line of Quinlan. But now you must face me.” Brigadier General Matas appeared from the shadows, his sabers lit and slashing a fury of attacks at Markaro. The Apprentice barely got his sabers ignited in time to block the unanticipated attack, but just barely. The lightsabers locked with a large buzzing noise that faded away into the cluttered background noise as each Sith focused more on the battle at hand. To them, it was not a friendly duel. Practice had to be real, for it to be worth anything.

Markaro knew at once that Matas’ two sabers outclassed his staff saber. That wasn’t to say that a staff was an inferior weapon, but in the hands of Markaro, when compared to Matas, it did leave an unfair advantage. With a staff saber, you can always tell where one blade is by knowing the location of the other. A lesson that Bane had put to good use. With a twist of the wrists, Markaro’s staff saber gave a hiss and split into two separate weapons, each capable of hold its own vector, seemingly unrelated to the other.

The silver blades whirled around Markaro in a Jar’Kai defense pattern, blocking Matas’ own two crimson blades as they tried to penetrate the silvery wall of defense. For each attack, there was a parry. For each thrust, a blocking sideswipe. For each feint, there was a catch. It was an even match as far as either side was concerned. They assumed nothing about their opponent, and only went on what they knew. For assumptions are the mothers of all frack ups.

And then Markaro saw an opening, and seized the moment, stabbing inward with his left saber, while parrying both of Matas’ blades with his right. Matas feel to the ground to escape the heated blade, rolling away. Markaro gained confidence, and kept up the attack, slashing wherever Matas went next. And then he held his saber against Matas’ throat. It was an odd experience, defeating one’s Master, your teacher. But as he looked into Matas’ eyes, he saw not defeat or regret, but an evil smile that came from his black Zabrak soul. A snap-hiss penetrated the quiet humming of Markaro’s blades, anda crimson saber appeared at his own neck.

Matas smiled as he rose, pushing Markaro’s blade aside with his other saber, now reignited. “You must remember to use the Force as your ally. You always forget that.”

A snap-hiss. And a green blade appeared at Matas’ neck. “I did not forget. I merely waited for the opportune moment.” Markaro said calmly, focusing on keeping the green saber hovering near Matas from decapitating his Master. While doing his best to keep his own head attached to his shoulders.

“You learn quickly.” Matas said with a smile.

“I’ve been told that before.” Markaro returned the smile, and deignited his grandfather’s lightsaber, returning it to his belt. Matas turned off his own saber and the two stood there in silence, just breathing and reconnecting with the outside world. Every soldier had a tiny amount of Battle Meditation within him that he accessed by reflex during a fight, an involuntary survival trick.

And then Matas moved again, his sabers once again ignited, slashing through the air towards Markaro. But the Kiffar was already on the move, diving to the ground and rolling out of harm’s way. As Markaro was igniting his saber to counter the attack, the Brigadier General’s commlink chirped. As one of the few high ranking Sith Generals in Acrimonus’ Army, Matas was involved with almost every battle plan. This was no exception.
"Lord Matas. This is Lieutenant Rawley, Communications Officer. You have received orders to immediately begin transit to a battle planning center that will be disclosed to you securely when you communicate your acknowledgement."

“Confirm. I will be onboard shortly.” The Brigadier General replied to the Communications Officer. Turning to his apprentice his eyes were filled with pride and remorse. “As with everything, the inevitable end has come to our partnership.” After seven years of working together, the Sith Lord no longer viewed Markaro as an apprentice, but as an equal, a Sith in every right. “You are ready to begin your trials, sooner rather than later.”

Markaro nodded and set about recovering his cloak and checking for any damage to his equipment. Satisfied, they both nodded their thanks to the Droidsmith, who replied with a grunt and a nod, and then disappeared once more into his domain.

The two Sith walked in step back the way they had come, the winding path that led back to the ship. For the most part they were in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, of battles, their duel, or just a random moment of complete irrational thought. Just as the ship came back into sight, Darth Matas stopped and turned to Markaro. “You will report to Kuat. Your training with me is over. Your greatest concern now is to gain the title that is rightfully yours. By the time you arrive, I will be in a think tank, planning the invasion of Coruscant. Also by that time, I will have forwarded my agreement for another Sith to conduct your Trials and Knighting in my absence. Your service will be greater as a Sith than as my apprentice.”

“Yes, sir. It was an honor.” Markaro replied in the only way he knew how. The Kiffar had never been a sentimental being, and naming a meeting an honor was the highest thanks he could label something. Honor was everything.

Silence once again filled the air between the two, while the Corvette grew larger and larger before them. It did not take either very long to notice the shuttle that had landed nearby. That would be Matas’ own conveyance off of the planet, to whatever secure location he was needed at. The Brigadier General gave a parting wave before splitting off towards the shuttle, while Markaro headed back to his own craft to return to Kuat.

-79 ABY – Six Hours Later
--Hyper Space

Markaro Vos lay prone in his bunk, his mind travelling through all that had happened during that day while the Kiffar slept. Analyzing, categorizing, and just replaying again and again to fully grasp what had happened and to search for missed items of potential importance. It was a ritual that had started when he was only four or five years old. Beginning an hour before bed, he was taught to meditate and search back through his memories retelling everything important that had happened. His tutor would leave clues , or details for Markaro to remember to stretch his limit. This ritual was now an involuntary act by his mind, ingrained into his being.

In his mind’s eye the Sith Apprentice was standing back on the battlefield watching his Master’s moves. The ghostly body that watched every move was older than Markaro’s actual age. Even though the two were the same age, to differentiate between the two Kiffar, his mind had created a difference.

The lightsabers clashed, sparking as they had just six hours previous. The ghostly Markaro moved in closer to observe his Master’s form, his reaction to an attack. Stepping back again, a voice whispered through his mind."Vos. Who have you become? Why have you abandoned the path of Vos laid out by those before you?" The voice faded in and out, switching from side to side. Then it was as if the voice came from everywhere. "Vos! Be strong! Be wise. Be true." A transparent face appeared before Markaro’s face, almost a mirror image, but aged at least half a century. The face nodded at Markaro, and then its eyes turned away as if looking into the future. "Return to the way of your ancestors." It said. Then as the face faded away, the word "Brother" faded in and out of Markaro’s mind.