The Hive, Central Intelligence Centre
Sadow Palace, Sepros Jungle, Orian System
Day 173, 31 ABY

Few people in the Orian system knew the Corporation even had a presence on Sepros. Fewer still knew what that presence was. The Special Operations Group was an enigma to everyone outside it. Like alien conspiracy theorists, the stories of what went on in the Seprosian jungles filled many a bar with tales of drunken adventure. Little could they begin to fathom the truth.

The door to the Hive slid aside.

Night had no meaning for the Central Intelligence Centre. Teams of technicians sat or stood monitoring streams of data as it flowed across their consoles. This was the hub of the Orian system. The central nexus. Headquarters to the highest echelons of Special Operations.

Krag Muyel stepped inside.

The Yuuzhan Vong drew no attention. His face was too familiar. A couple of junior grade officers gestured respectfully but quickly returned to their work. He grinned as he glanced at the banks of machines and their blue glowing screens. This would be all too easy.

He held out his hand and clenched his fist.

A rush of asphyxiated gasps filled his ears.

The gagging coughs continued for several seconds, and some of them stumbled out of their seats, crawling towards him on all fours, their eyes bulging, spasming facial muscles asking what their mouths could not: why?

The duty officer hunched himself over on his desk and reached for the alarm—

Krag flashed his hand in the man’s direction and hurled him into the terminal. The glass shattered and the duty officer was promptly electrocuted.

A chorus of heavy thuds followed as one by one the choking officers finally collapsed.

Krag crossed over to the central listening station and sat down in one of the chairs. He keyed in the frequencies for Vega Mine outside Seng Karash and the Navy HQ on Tarthos. A second later the faces of Fiula and Khalee flickered to life, each slightly distorted from static.

Both immediately bowed their heads and greeted the warleader in unison.

‘The wait is over,’ Krag said. ‘I have received word from the mistress.’

The Klatooinian and Caamasi each nodded, then the channels went dead.

Krag keyed up the defence networks. It was not hard. He had no need to hack in.

He typed in the same authorisation code he had used for years.

A warning flashed up on the screen:

Do you wish to disable all systems?

When he hit Confirm the lights went black and the star system was plunged into darkness.

Kor Chokk Grand Cruiser Yammka’s Sword
Orian Pipeline, Orian Space, Outer Rim Territories

From his throne the Warmaster surveyed the blaze bugs as they circled and weaved throughout the ordinary crew beneath his raised dais. The insects’ buzz was music to his ears. They danced in formation, patterning the swarms of coralskippers that swirled outside the mighty Yammka and her battlegroup, as well as the ships of their Peace Brigade allies’ fleet.

To his right stood Tsaak, his closest advisor, his holy counsel, his link to the Gods.

The warrior-seer spoke without turning away from the display. ‘This day would never have happened without you, Fearsome One. Your faith has been rewarded.’

Tsaak was the only priest he still trusted.

He had gone along with the High Priestess’s ceremony only out of sufferance. If, as she said, he was now a channel for Yun-Yuuzhan’s will, then where did that leave the Supreme Overlord? She had all but appointed him in Shimrra’s place. He was surrounded by heretics.

Only Tsaak held true to the Light. This was the difference between the priests and priestesses of the other gods and a priest of Yun-Yammka. Tsaak knew; he understood. This was war. Seef and Taug protested the inter-caste relationship of Tolok Amnan, but what was meant to happen? Were the Children of the Gods supposed to die out? Nas Choka had caused this heresy; it would be he who paid the price for it at the Gateway to the Lands of the Dead.

No, only Tsaak recognised that faith was about more than blind adherence. It was about the gods’ will. And in war that meant the Slayer’s will. So perhaps in that respect the High Priestess was right: it was Varesh’s duty to interpret the will of the Lord of War.

At the front of the deck below, Romm turned to face him; the Supreme Commander’s body was sheathed head to toe in the red, translucent cognition wrapping. The facial section drained of colour so that the Yammka’s captain could speak.

‘Warmaster, we have a transmission from Krag Muyel.’

Muyel. Now there was a name of a true heretic.

Her Jeedai had no place in his armada.

But sacrifice had to be made.

‘Patch . . . it through,’ Varesh said.

The main bank of eyestalks dangling from the ceiling wrapped together into a single large mass. The villip choir affixed to them everted, and their skin moulded into the scarred and tattooed visage of Krag Muyel. A Human, borne of Yuuzhan’tar. He now called himself part of the Chosen Race. He was not fit to grovel at the Gods’ feet.

‘Speak,’ Varesh said coldly.

Krag extended his obeisance to the Warmaster. It was painful to listen to the dark Jeedai’s mutilation of the god’s tongue.

‘The invasion is clear to begin, Fearsome One,’ Krag continued. ‘With the assistance of their inside contacts, Bur’lorr and Ona Amnan have brought down the shields and defences of the main settlements. The system has also been placed in a communications blackout. There will be no reinforcements. They will not even know the other colonies have been hit.’

Varesh sat up in his throne. He was uninterested in the regular death toll. ‘What of the Sseeth base?’

Krag’s eyes widened as he grinned. ‘I have rendered the palace defenceless.’

Varesh was silent for a moment.

After a pause, he clapped his hands together and roared with laughter.

‘Tchurokk izo’pil! Tchurokk Yammka’tchilat! Ai’tanna Shimrra! Ai’tanna khotte Yun’o!’

The bridge exploded with cries. The walls of the Yammka convulsed as if in agreement.

‘DO’RO’IK VONG PRATTE!’

The speckled fabric of space vanished as the fleet launched into darkspace and towards glory.

Sanctum of the Order of the Black Guard
Sadow Palace, Sepros Jungle, Orian System

Krag felt the palace shake as the Warmaster’s flagship bombarded it from orbit. It was anarchy aboveground. Within the first few minutes, masses of moulting tissue had peeled off from the Yammka and fallen out the sky, most rained into the surrounding jungles, but a few burst straight through into the palace’s upper floors, taking the unknowing Sith by surprise.

There had been no chance to mount a resistance. The sky was black with swarms of coralskippers and warrior gunships. In the chaos, some Special Operations teams had got their HLAFs off the ground, only to be burned out the sky seconds later.

While the main Yuuzhan Vong strike team hit Sepros, the Peace Brigade would right then be laying siege to the main colonies, keeping the rest of the darksiders preoccupied. None would realise the palace had been hit until it was too late. Thanks to Krag, the Warmaster had outplayed them. They all expected Yuuzhan Vong to focus on sowing mass destruction, like Varesh had been doing along the Hydian Way the past two years.

Not this time. This was about the Sith.

Few knew of the underground levels. Fewer still knew the layout.

The sublevel was deserted. Every guard had already reported to the surface to battle the assault teams. They would be busy for a while. Most of the warriors had no intention of falling back. They would fight to the death.

But not Krag. He had a different assignment. One not even the Warmaster knew about.

He sensed his target straight up ahead. The presence was like looking into the heart of the Force. The fire burned with such intensity it was almost blinding. He could feel it. He could feel the Truth. His target held the Light of the True Way. The answer to their search.

There was one more presence up ahead, the final guardian, the familiar echo of a man who stood watch over the young heir day and night. The others may all have reported to the battlefield, but this one had stayed to guard the future of their brotherhood at any cost.

That debt was about to be collected.

Krag reached the end of the winding labyrinth. He could no longer hear the crashes aboveground. This deep there was nothing but silence and shadows. Any normal man would have got lost several hundred metres back.

He finally reached the door. In the dark he could not see it, but he knew it was there. It flickered in the Force like a dark shadow. He could sense its anger at his intrusion. He was unwelcome. He laughed.

Krag reached forward and brushed the door with the dark side, pressing against its internal locking mechanisms to stir the gateway to open. The second presence inside pressed back, but Krag just doubled his exertion. His training had given him powers the rest could only wish for. One final surge and the dark iron doors swung open, their crash booming down the hallway.

The chamber inside glowed the orange of the suns from half a dozen lit candles.

At their centre stood the man brandishing a crimson blade.

The yowls of a baby cried out in the background.

‘It was you?’ roared Ashura. ‘Why?!’

Krag laughed as his own twin lightsabers snap-hissed to life.

‘Because I have seen the Light of the True Way. Now give me the child.’

‘Never!’