Civilian Cargo Freighter
Enroute to Gethsemane
Day 1 (0230 hours)
The air of the cargo bay was dry and dull. The durasteel container that the Specialist used as chair was uncomfortable. He was used to the spartan accommodations during Spec Ops missions. Antar checked his gear before he secured his sniper rifle and other weapons in a small cargo container with his other supplies. He checked the rocket pack to ensure that his high altitude space-insertion didn’t end with a ‘splat,’ but most importantly he checked the breather in his helmet and his pressure suit. During his time with the Deep Assault Recon Troopers, he saw a breather malfunction during a high altitude space drop. Within 15 seconds the trooper began to convulse as he fell. After 20 seconds the gas in his digestive tract was forcefully expelled, which caused simultaneous projectile vomiting and defecation. Finally the trooper lost consciousness after 35 seconds and froze to death before hitting the ground. So, Antar checked the apparatus again.
The captain’s voice echoed inside the cargo hold, “Gethsemane in T minus 3 minutes and counting.” Antar pulled on his pressure suit and slid his small high impact cargo container to the bay door. “One minute to exiting of hyperspace,” the captain’s voice informed him. The Arconan slipped into the rocket pack and checked the breath helmet one final time before pulling it on. “5…4…,” updates coming every second. “3…2…,” he braced himself. The jolt of dropping from hyperspace jostled him forward. The bay doors opened and he kicked the box out. He jumped into the exosphere of the moon. The Sith crossed his arms and built his speed to terminal velocity. His suit and helmet compensated for the change in pressure and other external conditions as he broke through the exosphere, then the mesosphere, and then the thermosphere. He could feel the heat of entry before his suit and helmet attuned, as flames enveloped him in the troposphere. As the ground rushed closer, he flipped and ignited the rocket packet. His descent slowed.
Suddenly his rocket pack twisted, hard to the left and caused Antar to start to spin out of control. He hit the release for the straps and it shot away. He felt the blast wave and heat from the pack exploding about 15 meters from him. Antar righted himself and glanced at the landscape. He plunged down, picking up speed and quickly assessed the area. He dove towards the ground. Just meters from the ground he sent out a wave of through the Force, pushing him back into the air and flipping himself upright. The Force flowed through the Sith and absorbed the shock to his legs from the landing. He dropped to his knees, panting, and shaking with excitement and fear. He looked up and his eyes widened. Antar rolled out of the way, just as the cargo container slammed into the ground next to him. He shook his head with a smile and hoped that the worst of this mission was over.
Gethsemane Landing Zone
Approximately 20km from unsanctioned military camp
Day 1 (0430 hours)
Antar knelt in front of the container and punched in the security code. With a metallic click, the top popped open. He lifted his gillie suit out of the container, revealing the rest of his weapons, a survival pack, a backpack, a recon pack and a datapad containing a map of the terrain that could track his movements. He set off into the jungle after securing his gear in the backpack and slinging his sniper rifle over his shoulder. The sun peaked over Ereboros on the horizon and the temperature began to slowly rise. As he traveled deeper into the jungle the thicket became denser, impeding his progress towards the camp.
At 0900 hours, Antar stopped and took a knee next to a large tree about 7 kilometers from his objective. He removed the gillie suit, recon pack, and survival pack from the backpack and suited up. He applied camouflage paint that would further conceal him from the enemy. The Arconan slowly made his way towards the camp. He choose his steps wisely ensuring that he wouldn’t make a sound or leave a trail that could be followed.
Gethesmane
Approximately 4.5km from unsanctioned military camp
Day 1 (1030 hours)
His movement slowed even more as he drew closer to the camp. The sound of a dog barking and the footfalls of a patrol caused Antar to assume a prone position. He blended perfectly into his surroundings. The human pulled his sidearm from its holster in case he was discovered. His breathing slowed and he could hear his heart beat pounding in his ears. The patrol stormed closer to his position. Their crude steps and raised boisterous voices gave away their lack of experience and ignorance to his presence. The Arconan knew that a single movement, the slightest twitch or sound would instantly give away his location, even to these novices.
The sniper lay frozen in place, the dog started barking louder as he came to a halt less than a meter from Antar. His grip tightened around the grip of his sidearm. The dog’s handler paused and glanced in his direction. Thankfully, the handler wasn’t as well trained as the dog. Pulling at the leash, the handler yelled to the dog, “Come on, you stupid dog. There’s nothing there.” The patrol moved past without further incident, but the Sniper stayed in place for the next 10 minutes, until he was sure the patrol was gone. Before setting off, Antar grabbed handfuls of dirt and rubbed them into his gillie suit masking his scent from any other dogs.
These weren’t the well-trained rebels of Gethesmane’s past that he expected to encounter. They were clumsy and inept. They lacked the discipline of an organized militia or any formal training. He dragged himself along the landscape meter by meter in the prone position. He encountered two more patrols, but remained undetected by both. The patrols were just as unskilled and inexperienced as the first the Sith had encountered.
Gethesmane
Less than a 1 km from unsanctioned military camp
Day 1 (2330 hours)
The Arconan peered through the electroscope of his sniper rifle. The encampment was clearly in view. The compound had only a small two meter tall wall made of a mixture of wood and metal. It was a makeshift shanty town built around the ruins of a decimated estate. The shelters appeared to be centered around an elaborate shrine, which was a five meter tall black obelisk with a two meter white altar about three meters away from it. There were a few guards posted around the camp with small arms.
He panned the scope around the camp. There were three large tents that could easily hold 200 troopers each along with a medium size tent that had a guard posted outside. A small command tent was guarded by two men wearing identical, well maintained blue armor and were armed with blaster staves. There was a second command tent next to the three larger barracks style tents.
Antar released a small, black disk. It hovered for a moment and then shot towards the camp. It soared silently towards its target, all the while taking video images of the encampment. It landed on the obelisk and activated a cloaking device. The spycam stored the video and audio in its databanks, it could stream audio to Antar’s earpiece.
Gethesmane
Less than a 1 km from unsanctioned military camp
Day 2 (0630 hours)
Antar watched through the scope, as the people exited their tents. The men, women, and children were separated into different tents. He had never seen a militia that would separate families. The was definitely something wrong with this situation. He estimated that there were at least 450 people in the encampment. The Arconan followed the stream of people to the center of the encampment, who all fell to their knees and bowed their heads before the shrine. A man wearing bright white robes exited the command tent flanked by the two guards. He walked up behind the altar and began speaking. Antar wasn’t close enough to hear him, but the earpiece picked up every word.
“Brothers and Sisters,” the robbed man began. “We are on the precipice of a great awakening. The time is drawing near. We will rise and rule over these heathens. Van’kar came to me in a vision, last night while I slept. He told me that our greatness will be remember throughout time.”
The people began to chant, “Van’kar… Van’kar…Van’kar…”
The robed man raised his hand and the crowd fell silent. “The rulers and people of Dajorra are corrupt. They lust for power, credits, and flesh. They are sinners and pretenders. They bow to the Arconans. They worship false gods. Their actions are going to bring the Vong back and Van’kar is the only one that can save us.”
Again the gathering erupted in chants, “Van’kar…Van’kar…Van’kar…”
“We cannot allow this to continue! We will destroy the darkness! We cannot allow them to worship the Arconans! We cannot allow them to bring the Vong back! Death to Arcona!”
The crowd stood yelling, “Death to Arcona!”
Antar had to shield his eyes, as a blinding light flashed from the hand of the robed man. The crowd began to disperse.
The cult leader was approached by one of the guards, “Master Lybrin, you are needed.”
It started to make sense. The lack of military discipline, the separated sexes, and the elaborate religious ceremony lead by a Force-sensitive, all of the factors lead Antar to the conclusion that this was a cult. They were possibly just a bunch of religious crazies in the jungle or an actual threat to Arcona and the Dajorra system. The secretive nature, the weapons, and defensive patrols pointed to the latter.
The Guardian began to draw a rough map of the encampment. He waited patiently, watching the movements of the camp, until he had the cover of darkness to escape the area.
The sun set behind Ereboros and cast darkness over Gethesmane. The sound of insects and small animals filled the night air. Antar made his way back to the landing zone and signaled to the shuttle for pick up. He broke through the bush into the clearing as the shuttle lowered its boarding ramp without landing. The Specialist dashed towards it and jumped into the bay. The shuttle’s thrusters fired, lifting it quickly into air.
Nu-Class Shuttle
Enroute to Selen
Day 3 (0415 hours)
The ex-DART removed his datapad and linked to the secure holonet. He searched for the term Van’kar.
“No results found.”
Antar shook his head and searched for Master Lybrin.
Name: Dacen Lybrin
Homeworld: Hapes
Birth: 8 ABY
Status: MIA
Current Location: Unknown
Affiliation: New Jedi Order
Rank: Jedi Knight
Notes: Missing and presumed dead at the end of Yuuzhan Vong War. Towards the end of the war, JK Lybrin began to believe that the Yuuzhan Vong were demons sent by the Force to punish the universe for its sins. Before he could be removed from duty, his entire unit went missing.
The Arconan put the datapad down and ran his hands through his hair. He walked to the shuttle comm and pressed the button, “Lieutenant. What’s our ETA?”
“One hour, sir.”
“Excellent. Contact Citadel Command when we arrive at Selen. I have important information for the Prelate, inform me when we arrive. Thank you,” Antar said rubbing his eyes. The Guardian hadn’t realized how tired he was until now, he hadn’t slept during the mission.
“Yes, sir.”
Antar sat back down. Within moments his eyes became heavy and he drifted off to sleep.
“Sir, we have arrived. Your appointment with the Prelate is set for 1300 hours, which is in two hours. I took the liberty of reserving you a room, where you can rest and grab a shower,” the pilot said standing over the Guardian.
“Are you suggesting that I smell bad,” the Sith said as a snarl twisted his face.
Terror filled the pilot’s eyes, “I…I didn’t mean to…cause offense…” He began to back away with his hands in front of him, dread in his voice.
Antar laughed and put his hand on the pilot’s shoulder, “I’m only joking, Lieutenant. It is much appreciated.”
“Yes, sir,” relief washed over the pilot.
Antar stepped off the shuttle shaking his head with a smirk.
Estle City, Selen
ACB Contract Offices
Day 3 (1300 hours)
The Specialist felt better after his sonic shower and a quick nap. He approached the door of the Celevon’s Office. Antar pressed the door chime.
“It’s open,” the raspy voice of the Obelisk came from within the office.
Celevon sat behind his desk cigarette in hand. Smoke danced from its tip and settled into the cloud that had formed at the top of the room. Antar fought the instantaneous urge to cough as his eyes began to water a bit. The full ashtray spoke to the pressure that the Prelate was under.
“Sir,” the ex-DART said with a salute, “I have my report.”
He held out a datapad with a map of the encampment and explaining the situation on Gethesmane.
Taking a drag off his cigarette, the Onderonian extended his hand and the datapad flew towards him. Laying the pad on the desk, he glanced back towards the Guardian, “Hit the highlights for me.”
Antar dropped his salute, “They are a cult, sir. In my opinion a dangerous one. They are led by a Jedi Knight who has been missing since the Yuuzhan Vong War, named Dacen Lybrin. He doesn’t seem to be exactly stable. I believe like most cults, if you cut off the head the body will die.”
“Dismissed, Specialist,” Celevon said with a wave of his hand.
Antar performed another salute and with an about-face left the room.
