Star Wars: Slave Of Darkness

Hello, everyone. I wanted to let you know that I'll be undergoing surgery tomorrow. Yes, you heard correctly, surgery. 

Unfortunately, this means I won't be able to share any new content until Feb 5th, And as a way of saying sorry, this chapter is an extended one.

======================

For the sixth time since landing on Dromund Fels, Maklan woke up with a splitting headache as sunlight peered through ragged curtains. Bleary eyes futily tried to blink away the pain as the soldier fumbled about for the medical bag that he usually left at his bedside and the miraculous hangover cure it contained.

It was only when his hand met warm flesh that he remembered that he wasn't alone in his bed. His rough touch startled her awake as well, which he brushed off with a vocalization that sounded vaguely like "sorry" as he resumed his search.

Finding the bag at last, Maklan fished out the bottle and swiftly downed some of the contents. After replacing it, he laid back to allow the medicine to do its work.

After a few minutes, the pain started to recede. Seeing his expression begin to smooth out, his partner for the night piped up from beside him, clearly just as hungover as he was, "Can I get some of that?"

"I already paid you." Maklan grunted brusquely.

"Heartless bastard." The prostitute groaned piteously, shielding her eyes from the light as best she could with her bare arm.

Had he been more alert, he would have been more appreciative of what that action did to the rest of her. As it was, still-hungover-Maklan didn't particularly care.

"Greedy harpy." He shot back, though there wasn't any heat to it.

This wasn't the first time those particular insults had been bandied between them and it wasn't the first time that this particular exchange had occurred. So they came to their now-usual arrangement and goods were exchanged.

As Maklan pulled on his clothes, the woman laid back on the bed, one amber eye cracked open to look at him.

"Should I be expecting you tonight as well?"

The officer paused and considered it, mentally counting how many credits he still had. Unbidden, his own eyes wandered to a particularly dark corner of the room. 

Despite the blazing heat already starting to build outside, a slight chill raced across his skin.

He flashed a smirk towards the woman, "Maybe not…but keep an opening for me, will you?"

The prostitute let out a very unladylike snort at the unintentional innuendo but left him to redress in silence.

As he stepped out into the hallway and the door hissed closed behind him, the chill grew in intensity. Maklan's expression quickly turned to a scowl.

"You know I hate it when you do that."

A pair of red orbs appeared in the darkened corner at the end of the hall, followed by the vague black outline of a head emerging from the wall.

'The sorcerer ordered that I remain at your side until ordered otherwise.'

"Tesser also told you to follow my orders as though they were his." The soldier growled back, "And I told you to stay the hell out when I was occupied."

'His orders supersede yours.'

For a creature without a face and an inability to speak in anything but a dull monotone, the shadowy thing still somehow managed to convey amusement.

Unsurprisingly, the Sith abomination was a little shite.

It made Maklan wonder if perhaps the Trials weren't the only reason Tesser had found himself suffering from sleep deprivation.

The creature sank back into the darkness, though its presence could still be felt. At least it was useful for dealing with the heat.

Muttering dark curses under his breath, the soldier descended the stairs to the mostly-empty bar area of the brothel. The first thing his eyes found after the last step was the massive bald man positioned by the exit door.

He was a figurative wall of muscle and scarred dusky skin, his face marred by a crude cybernetic eye and his left arm ending in a clawed mechanical hand.

The two men glanced at each other and exchanged a quick nod. Turning away, the medical officer made his way to the bar, where a second man sat on one of the stools. In opposition to the first, this man was thin and reedy. On both of his hands, several fingers had been replaced with cybernetics.

"Quiet night, Flint?"

The thin man shook his head, "A few got a little too rough with the girls, so we charged them a fee and Obron tossed them out back." A pair of credit chits danced between Flint's metal fingers in a show of dexterity before they vanished again. 

He gestured across the bar, "There's some caf on the burner over there. Fresh brewed, for what it's worth around here."

Maklan nodded his thanks, desperately needing something to remove the taste of barroom floor from his mouth and chase away the last of his hangover. As he poured a cup, he had to admit, this wasn't what he was expecting when he was recruited to work for a Dark Councilor's apprentice.

Running a hand through his scraggly graying-black hair, the soldier quickly amended his own thoughts.

He was exactly where he thought he would be. Six days of drinking and whoring might have been a bit much under normal circumstances, but he had been on Korriban for a long time and a man had needs. He was far from the only former member of the Korriban Regiment to be indulging.

No, what he hadn't been expecting was what Tesser wanted them to do.

Nearly a week ago, they had set up a protection racket, starting with the brothel he was standing in. After that, a barber down the street and a corner store. Then a mechanic beyond that. Men of the former Korriban Regiment in plain-clothes and armed with sidearms loitered in or around the establishments as a show of force.

In exchange for their protection, they didn't charge money, but dealt in deals and discounts and rumors.

In less than a day, Maklan had learned that whores knew more secrets than any spy he had ever met. Also, that they became much more bold when they knew there was a squad of heavily armed soldiers prepared to kick down the door of anyone that so much as sneezed in their direction.

It did not take long to figure out that Tesser was using them as a gang, not an army. That many of the men were old hats at such things was not a surprise, but that a Sith, the apprentice of someone as…distinguished as Darth Rictus, would stoop to such things boggled the mind.

It almost made him want to laugh at the sheer absurdity.

As he finished his caf, Flint slid him a datachip and one of the credit chits. One held recordings of the night's "activities" for intelligence gathering. The other contained the "captain's cut" as they had started calling it, a tribute to the "boss."

They may not be charging their clients, but the credits of thugs dumb enough to challenge their authority were starting to pad out their wallets nicely.

Though Tesser was in charge of it all, he was currently a distant master that directed with whispers and nudges. He would be occupied with Darth Rictus' training for the foreseeable future. The presence of the shadow creature was the only overt sign of his influence.

To the men on the ground and the people they "protected," Maklan was the boss of Dromund Fel's newest gang.

...

Having been denied access to the garrison at Darth Rictus' estate and receiving a chilled welcome at the local garrison, the soldiers had taken over a run-down warehouse in the poorer section of the capital and converted it into a makeshift barracks. It was hardly comfortable, but few of the men had complained.

After all, they had slept in far worse conditions on a far more hostile world.

Using the remains of old durasteel and plasteel crates, they set up individual rooms, scrapped together shelves into a makeshift armory, and patched up holes in the outer walls. It was still only barely fit for human habitation and had no plumbing.

Of course, the warehouse had not been empty when they had arrived. On Maklan's orders, they had given the collection of vagrants that had taken shelter there two choices: Leave or join.

More than one of them tried to fight back and ate several stun bolts each for their troubles, scrambling what little brains they had left before they were tossed out.

The majority of them left without a struggle, though definitely with a few curses thrown their way.

But a surprising number decided to stay, likely figuring that the new owners couldn't be worse. Whether that was foolish optimism or resignation, Maklan hadn't decided.

As he approached the warehouse, he could see one of his sergeants running the new recruits through drills. Maklan nodded in approval as he passed.

If they were going to take up space in their barracks, they'd earn it like the rest of them. And it helped everyone if they could defend themselves.

The captain paused as he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to look at it, it was gone.

Maklan glanced at his own shadow, catching a glimpse of the demon's red eyes for a moment.

Given that his shadowy annoyance hadn't reacted to it, it likely wasn't an overt threat. But someone seemed pretty intent on keeping tabs on them…

Brushing it off for the moment with a shake of his head, he headed inside and into the "projector room."

Some of the more mechanically-minded members of the Platoon had managed to cobble together a holoprojector from some scrap for use in meetings, though he had heard rumors that they were also using it to pirate new holoflics they had missed.

Completely unsubstantiated rumors, of course.

Cormun was waiting for him at what was generously referred to as a desk. In reality, it was just a box that had one side broken off.

As Maklan was the more experienced officer between the two, he had been put in charge of operations in the field. However, Cormun knew his way around databases he probably shouldn't, so Tesser had tasked him with data collection and collation, as well as combing for certain information.

From what little he had gleaned, their mutual master had been rather intrigued by Dromund Fels native criminal elements, though why, he wasn't quite sure. Crime was crime, so far as he was aware.

There was probably some Sith power thing going on that he didn't understand.

Only a few moments after he arrived, the comm chimed, indicating an incoming call. Both men glanced at each other for a moment before moving to stand at attention in front of the projector.

The jury-rigged projector sputtered to life, projecting a grainy image of the Sith apprentice before them.

On Korriban, Tesser had almost always been dressed in his battered, blackened armor, appearing to all the world as a haggard, walking pile of scrap. Though that had not changed much, it was obvious that he had at least put effort into maintaining his equipment.

Gouges that had threatened to eventually become structural weaknesses had been filled in and it even seemed to have been polished at some point. His robes had likewise been replaced with those of finer make.

With his hands clasped behind his back and a lightsaber clipped to his belt, Tesser now looked the part of a Sith, rather than someone merely claiming to be such.

"Communications are secured on our end, milord." Maklan reported.

"Mine as well…at least as much as I can manage." Tesser grimaced.

"I can disable the cameras and listening devices, but I'm fairly certain that Darth Rictus has some sorcerous means of keeping tabs on me. So assume that he likely knows or will know soon enough. As such…let's keep this short."

Both soldiers nodded their understanding without hesitation. Keeping information from prying eyes had been one thing, but keeping it from the Lord of the Sphere of Mysteries had never been something they had considered feasible.

"Cormun, your work with the historical archives has been useful for providing some context to my plans. Focus your efforts on the changes in the local markets between now and when the Exchange reportedly moved in. I want to know when large amounts of credits or goods are getting moved."

One of the perks that came from working for the apprentice of a Dark Councilor was that not many bureaucrats would say no to a request for information. Or at least, not for long.

Cormun bowed his head slightly, "As you command, milord."

"Maklan…How have things been in our territory? Anybody making trouble?"

"Just the occasional idiot that had too much to drink. So far, nobody affiliated with any significant groups." Maklan reported, though he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what was coming.

Tesser smiled, the cybernetics on his cheek pulling at the edge of his mouth, "Then let's change that. I will leave the actual planning up to you, but I want your men to start picking fights. Not with anyone major, but a group big enough to start getting a reputation."

Maklan gnawed at his lip for a moment as he considered it. They only had a few dozen men available, but that would be more than enough to crush a minor gang. In a fight between a thug and a trained soldier, the soldier would come out on top easily.

"What kind of timetable do we have?" He asked.

"No particular timetable, but I want us to begin establishing a respectable power base before one of the larger gangs notices we exist. The faster that's accomplished, the more difficult they will find it to stomp us down and get in our way."

Maklan raised an eyebrow at his use of plurals when referring to their operation, but he let it go without comment and moved on, "Looking for something, milord? Or are you just out to take over the underworld?"

The Sith's smile widened just a bit more, "Perhaps a bit of both. The gangs are a resource that the Sith woefully underutilize. I intend to take full advantage of that lapse."

====================

The first book of this fanfic has been completed on Patreon, you can look it up in the collection alongside the second book. You can visit Patreon if you want to read in Advance.

 [email protected]/Rage_moon