Aquarius

The pair of transport submersibles that carried Archais, his team of a dozen Imperium operatives both Force-sensitive and non, and the two Quarrens at last completed their journey through the spectacular ocean of Mon Calamari and moved to dock with one of the many ports that ringed the large dome that protected Aquarius from the pressures of the planetwide sea. The two companies had traveled separately - Archais with his team, and the Quarren leader Ceophorda, his aide, and Archais's lieutenant Adur accompanying the several cargo containers the operatives had brought with them to the planet. The craft Archais was on rocked gently as the docking clamps took hold of the vehicle, and after a moment of decompression and various other preparations made by the pilots, the team was instructed that they were free to disembark.

The team left quickly, but Archais remained in his seat a moment, deep in his thoughts. His hands were folded in front of his mouth, his elbows on his knees, and his gaze hard at the bulkhead. This was the operation that would revitalize his dying empire. For months, his followers had stagnated and his power had waned as his own indecision over how to dispose of his Neti tormentor had allowed the Second Imperium, sole heir to the legacy of the mighty Empire that he had helped to carve from the corpses of a dozen now-defunct powers, to fall into a limbo that had drained their resources to the breaking point. He had sent out a wave of webspinners, operatives who were instructed to seek out promising leads on avenues through which the Imperium could re-establish its intelligence and operational dominance, and Cephorda represented the best case available. He knew the Quarren would likely betray them.

He would simply need to be smarter, and faster.

One of his operatives looked back and muttered a "sir" that snapped Archais out of his musings. His eyes looked to the agent, and Archais rose to exit the craft. He walked down the gangplank to find his team clustered together, attending the crates that were unloaded from Cephorda's sub. Adur followed the two Quarrens as they left their craft, his normal bone mask covered by a holographically-generated face that offered an unremarkable visage that mirrored hisfacial movements as they truly were. The operative simply nodded to the Sith Lord, and Archais moved to confer with the Quarren leader. Cephorda was already speaking rapidly with one of his species in a uniform that suggested some manner of dock security, and his compatriot bit off his response with a dismissive wave of his hand as he turned to address the Sith Lord in disguise.


"Captain," he began, speaking lowly in his gravelly Basic, "the Aquarius customs will need to re-verify the contents of your crate and will likely question you as to their contents. My people have a few of the higher officials bribed to allow most small-time weapons through, but something along the lines of explosives will still likely trigger an alarm. Are the crates adequately shielded from detection?"

"Yes. You needn't worry. Even a visual inspection of the crate's contents will not yield anything noteworthy."

"Very good."

Archais watched as customs officials began to go over the crates, and he stood with his arms folded, looking the part of the impatient mercenary as he awaited some challenge from the dock workers.

Before leaving the submersible, Kruor made sure to don both the hood of his pitch-black cloak as well as a tight fitting durasteel mask. The mask, adjusted to accommodate Kruor's spiny growths extending from his chin, was forged mostly from the durasteel helmet that his most faithful companion, Mannus, was always seen wearing. The mercenary had grown in rank from simple cannon fodder to the Sith Lord's most trusted bodyguard and occasional adviser. In name, Mannus was his Hand. In spirit, he was a faithful apprentice. In death, he was another lesson to be remembered. The mask also served another important function - Kissai were still a rarity in the galaxy at large, having been driven out of populated space thousands of years ago in a war lost to the ages. The gray steel and darkened visor would give Kruor a reasonably appropriate disguise - the blaster scoring and scorch marks would add to his authenticity as a gun-for-hire.

Satisfied, Kruor followed the rest of his companions as they disembarked, making note of the Quarren and his team ensuring that their shipments were in no danger of being compromised. It wouldn't surprise the Sith if their latest plan was foiled before the ball was rolling - as of late, the Imperium had been succumbing to the bad luck that often comes with stagnation and decline. Upon seeing the fact that they were now entirely underwater, Kruor felt a tinge of claustrophobic fear run through the back of his mind. Forcefully removing these thoughts from his conscious thought, the Sith Lord stepped aside to stand next to the Dazouri, carefully observing Archais disembark the shuttle and confer with the Quarren.

And now, the wait...

Despite the dockworker's near-embarrassment at the regulatory request, Cephorda's Force-presence instantly shone with alarm. He, of course, was unaware of the exact security they'd placed around their smuggled goods in the cages, partially because their time together had been short and partially because he didn't know the true scope of the goods Archais had brought - weapons as had been part of their "deal," yes, but particularly those of a brand that the Quarren likely didn't expect his little troupe to be in command of.

Namely lightsabers, high explosives, and a broken-down Xerrol Nightstinger sniper rifle. Not the kind of weapons that sparked a revolution, but the kind that triggered a martial lockdown and a state of total fear in a city roughly the size of that which they found themselves in. The weapons were all stored in small pieces that fit into the bars of the cages, much too thin to be perceived as weapon-size (as most weapons wouldn't fit into a metal bar roughly the width of a human forearm). The explosives were, quite brilliantly, stashed within the dewbacks themselves, their high nitrogen content naturally masked by the same element existing in the digestive tracts of the animals they rested in. Sure, the animals were in no condition to do any work, but that could be passed of as trauma from the submarine ride, the close quarters, and the very idea of a desert-native work species suddenly being brought under several thousand feet of water. The bars themselves had been coated with sensor-masking material that would register them as simple durasteel, but the most effective barrier against their detection would be evident to the Quarrens in a moment.

"You dare to question my good word after calling yourself a loyal Quarren-" began Cephorda, but Archais cut him off with a hand on the shoulder and an easy smile, interjecting his own acquiescence to the dockworker's diktat.
"Come now, Representative," he said, stealing the moniker from the Quarren that had uttered it, "it's not his fault your personal shuttle required maintenance. Besides, it's not as if we have anything to hide. Please, gentlemen, take your time."

He waved a hand to the four crates, an indication to the soldiers working each one to open the access panels that would expose the animals inside to outside air. Perhaps his most brilliant stroke had been to realize that a species of ocean-dwellers probably had not been party to a wide swath of droppings form land-based life. While Archais had little experience in that department as well, he had recalled one particular hit on a wealthy nerf rancher that had required the assassin to infiltrate the acres-large compound in the middle of the night. The smell had been positively overwhelming, and Archais had taken it a step further by having his men feed the dewbacks a high-nitrogen, high-protein diet that would only exacerbate the smells that four large animals locked in a durasteel box for the past several hours would accumulate.

The doors opened, and the wave of putrid air that spilled out was positively revolting. Archais himself caught the faintest whiff of it before he started breathing through his mouth, letting himself wince a hair to show even his obvious discomfort. His men had various similar reactions, and even knowing the plan beforehand didn't save one of his operators from coughing into his hand and gagging a bit. Cephorda himself blanched, apparently not having been up-to-date on their scheme, and Archais simply held the smile as his free hand indicated the cages ready to be inspected.

"We're in no hurry," he added congenially.

The team arrived at Cephorda's base of operations, a moderately-sized warehouse in an otherwise unremarkable area of the city. A small dormitory was connected to the building, and clearly it had functioned in the past as some manner of manufacturing facility that also housed workers. Curious for an oceanic world, which typically lacked many heavy metal elements in both organic biology and geography, but it would suit their purposes now quite well. Upon their arrival at the facility, Cephorda had given Archais a quick tour while the rest of the team unloaded the dewback crates into the manufacturing floor. Several of the operatives got to work extricating the various weapons they'd brought with from the crate bars, but Archais, with his exceptional knowledge of anatomy bestowed upon him by his years of study as an assassin, had the unique task of isolating the explosive compounds from the ailing dewbacks.

The animals clearly had not taken the supplements well; as soon as one was brought from its cage and strapped down onto the large, flat operating surface, it bayed and moaned in tones that echoed against the far walls and obvious discomfort. Archais took that discomfort, feeling it pour into the Force from the creature's primitive mind, perceiving that entity as little more than a nebulous mass of confusion and animal instinct. He busied himself strapped on a spare surgical mask from one of the facility's old medical kits, and after dawning a pair of disposable gloves he laid a hand on the creature's side to investigate the damage. He closed his eyes, letting his awareness flow into the creature and felt the pain that seared its belly as its biology warred with the invasive compounds that were built into the supplements they'd been fed over the past days.

The animal would likely survive if administered help soon. Perhaps it could even be useful, though its presence in any hostile situation would clearly indicate the team's involvement - it was unlikely that any other dewbacks had been brought to Aquarius recently, and a quick perusal of the cargo manifests would tie Cephorda's name to whatever mishap was brought about. It was, therefore, more of a liability, and the choice of action was a simple one.

Archais lifted a hand, and one of his operatives tossed him a blaster. He caught it, then calmly pointed it at the ill creature's head and pulled the trigger.

He laid the blaster aside and grabbed the large combat knife he usually used in battle, set there by one of his operatives who'd retrived it from the crates. He sawed the creature's belly open vertically, quickly gaining access to its innards, and isolated the digestive tract after a few moments. He used the knife to excise the tract from the esophagues to the small intestine, and set the organ trail next to the carcass to continue his work.

"Burn the hide," he said to one of his followers, and the corpse was carried to one of the deactivated smelters and tossed in to be incinerated.

He set to work dissecting the digestive tract, cutting each part open vertically as he'd done with the dewbacks belly, and found large amounts of grass in varying stages of digestion. It was about then that Cephorda approached, clearly curious as what the method of hiding their explosives had been. This would be an opportunity to demonstrate the depth of his expertise, perhaps putting a bit of fear into the Quarren, but beyond that, this was one of his few hobbies. He simply, genuinely, enjoyed himself.

"I had assumed the explosives would be intact, Captain," the Quarren said."All I see is filth." Archais answered the statement casually, continuing his dissection on the entrails as he did so with the small scalpel the medkit had contained.
"Then allow me to explain. Over the past several days, we fed the dewbacks their standard diet of grasses that we laced with proteins and nitrogen compounds. The proteins were a key additive, as normal biology systems handle herbivorous diets by quickly expelling the wasted vegetable material - if we'd simply laced the nitrogen, they'd have excreted it within hours. The protein additives triggered the creatures' flatulence response, keeping the material within the digestive track for the length of time we needed. The two combined resulted in the smell that got us through customs.
"Specifically, the nitrogen compound was administered in a liquid form that saturated the grasses. If I were to squeeze a handful of this grass, it would drip a dark liquid that contains a seventy-eight per-cent concentration of dinitrogen tetroxide. A few hundred thousand gallons of that, and we could use it as rocket fuel. In the quantities we'll be able to extract from the four dewbacks we have, it will be sufficient to act as a primer for hot-burning explosives that, if placed strategically, will be able to bring down a building or causeway of your choosing.
"The challenge will be to isolate the compound from the rest of the normal digestive juices - typically gastric acid, and probably a fair amount of simple organic runoff from the grass - with the implements we have available to us in this facility. If you are able to procure a medicinal alembic, the process would be much simpler."

Cephorda stood silently for a moment, clearly having no idea what an alembic was or how it would be useful in the process. Archais simply shook his head and indicated the now completely dissected digestive track.

"This is power, Quarren. Your people have no idea of the destructive potential this gruel contains, and I outsmarted them because knowledge is the greatest power in the universe. Stronger than durasteel, stronger than your planet's famous capital ships, stronger than the Force itself, for without the knowledge upon which to act, all of those are useless in the hands of the ignorant. Proper intelligence, reasoning, and forethought can render even a clump of grass with the destructive potential to change the fate of a planet."

As if in punctuation, he grasped a small bit of the digested gruel between his thumb and forefinger, rolled it into a ball, and tossed it several meters into the air away from the operating table. With speed just slightly augmented by the Force, he grabbed the blaster and fired a bolt into the airborne bit. The blast that resulted, though barely enough to shatter a glass window, was bright and hot enough to elicit a startled gasp from the Quarren.

"Getting me what I need will make the next explosion hot enough to melt through a foot of durasteel."

The Quarren nodded, and turned to see to Archais's request. The Sith Lord turned back to his work with a disgusted shake of his head, inaudible, but the action spoke volumes of the man's sincerity in what he said. Archais mused that it may have been the most sincere thing he'd ever said, then gave a half-smirk in bemused realization as to the strange twists his life had taken that led him down a path where his thirst for destruction and chaos had led to one of the few truths he'd spoken aloud in years.

In another life, his expertise could have led him to be a surgeon, or another menial occupation of salvation. He could have directly saved lives and the blood on his hands could have been that of the savior instead of the murderer. And yet the cold, rational part of his mind knew that all of that would have been for naught if he did not do the work he did now. His planet had been ravaged by the Yuuzhan Vong, and his nightmares were still plagued with the red sky that had darkened everything he had ever known. It was up to him to break the galaxy, and to reforge it into something so strong that the Vong, or any other threat, would be as a fly to be swatted - no, exterminated - in the face of the machine that he would remake this civilization into. He would commit whatever atrocities, become whatever monster the galaxy required. It was his destiny, and he would satisfy it with the blood and tears of trillions if need be.

He snapped back to his work with a start, realizing that he'd moved on autopilot and transferred the mass of grasses, soaked with the explosive compound, onto a metal tray that would then need to be segregated into the purified nitrogen azides and the inert remnants of organic matter. Looking at it, Archais estimated he'd collected nearly a dozen kilograms' worth of the compound from the creature's rather large digestive system. If the other three had similar amounts, that would mean that nearly fifty kilograms' worth of explosive primer would be yielded; perhaps as much as forty thousand times the amount contained in that small bundle he'd detonated in front of Cephorda.

With a smile, he discarded his gloves and started on the second dewback. Oh, this would be fun.

Archais had set the digested material to decant overnight and instructed his team to take a few hours' sleep before the mid-morning demonstration, setting a rotation of teams of two to establish a lookout and ensure that their presence was undetected. He and the rest had awakened to the sun's light, and moved to formulate a strategy for how best to trigger the kind of reaction they needed to set their ultimate plan in motion. There had been some debate, but ultimately it was decided that Archais would take a position in a high building adjacent to the large square where the demonstration would be held, and once the various members of the team were in place neat the highest-ranking members of the police force he would utilize the Nightstinger to terminate a demonstrator, triggering a violent reaction from the assembled crowd and forcing the police to defend themselves. The agents on the ground would then dispatch their targets discreetly, contributing to the unfolding chaos as the crowd control unit's chain of command crumbled wordlessly. Provided it went according to plan, the results would be swift and brutal.

That was an hour ago. Now, Archais stood at the foot of the skyscraper that stood at one end of the mile-wide expanse of duracrete that the demonstration was taking place on. The crowd was beginning to gather, even though the gathering wasn't scheduled to begin for an hour more. In any event, Archais needed to get into position to provide overwatch and to effectively coordinate his team's movements. The Nightstinger was stored within the overcoat he wore, a waist-length brownish thing that bespoke a simple street-dweller, and the rifle was broken into its three main components allowing easy movement. His combat knife was strapped to his back within the jacket, though if he was resourceful he wouldn't need it.he

Checking his chrono one last time to ensure he was on schedule, he nodded to himself before stepping in through the large rotating door of the skyscraper. The colossus belonged to a bacta manufacturer of some sort, and the receiving lobby was quite extensive, and a large, obsidian-black stone fountain greeted him as the main reception counter laid off to one side. He strode past it and the smiling humanoid secretary that awaited there, and the woman frowned before directing her supervisor to the oddly-clad stranger who was making for the elevators - usually off-limits to unregistered visitors.

The supervisor, a Sullustan, approached Archais as he made his way through the lobby, and spoke in his rapid tongue.

"Welcome sir, must register to be guest in our building. Unauthorized visitors not be allowed in the rest of the company space, bad practice to allow visitors unchecked, yes?"
Archais's response was to hold a hand up to quiet him, and motion for the Sullustan to lean close as the Sith in disguise spoke lowly, letting the Force leak into his words as his gesture caught the supervisor's notice.
"Internal audit, supervisor. I am here from headquarters to ensure that our standard operating procedures are being complied with."
"Yes, I remember hearing of an inspector coming to visit today. Your dress is not of an inspector's mettle."
"No, but it is not for the lower rank to know of the inspection. We want to see them working as they normally do, don't we? It's best if you keep my arrival to yourself for now."
"Makes no sense to raise attention to your arrival, keep your arrival to myself. Where would you like to inspect first?"
"Probably best to start at a high level and work my way down. I'd better get myself a security card though, just so I don't have to go and talk to any personnel. Wouldn't want to have to bother any personnel on the job."
"No, bothering bad for productivity and distracting for auditor to inspect. You take my keycard."
Archais plucked the offered card from the inspector's hand.
"Thank you. Lead the way, supervisor."

The pair made for the elevators, and once inside the supervisor keyed the entry pad for the 60th floor - near the top, if Archais's earlier estimation of the number of levels had been accurate. The Sullustan droned on about various stops he would want to make as they made their way through the company building, but Archais simply watched as the number indicator lit denoting higher and higher levels. After a few moments, the doors glided open and the two stepped onto the 60th floor.

Several offices were present on the level, but it was clear this was meant for entertaining guests, lobbyists, investors, the like. Large conference rooms were on either side of the hallways as they walked along, and many glass walls were erected that would make his work complicated. At last, they arrived at the end of the hallway, and to his left Archais spotted a door with a keybar, which the supervisor revealed as the floor's observation deck, a room with a bar and other amenities to entertain VIPs and company officials. Archais had to hold back a smile as he asked to see it, and after swiping the supervisor's card the door opened.

A wide wall of glass was along the wall, and the room was otherwise about fifty feet in length. The window conveniently overlooked the city plaza, and at the angle he would be presented a shot would be difficult, but not impossible. He nodded and turned to the inspector.

"I think I can handle the rest of the inspection on my own, supervisor."
"What? But sir, you really do need an escort even with a security clearance."
Archais frowned and made a flippant gesture with his hand, once again putting the Force behind his words.
"Oh come now, don't you think you deserve the rest of the day off? In fact, take the rest of the afternoon and treat your wife to dinner. You miss her, and this is a task I can easily handle alone. You'll probably forget all about me once you're gone, even."
"Yes, I think I will. Thank you."
The supervisor made his way out of the room like a robot, and Archais grinned as the door slid shut behind him. Archais moved to the door, and put his hand opposite where the keycard's bar had been on the opposite wall. Feeling warmth denoting electornics, he let a surge of Force energy empty into the wall, frying the electronics and rendering the keybar inert. Nothing shortly of ordinance could get through the door as it went into a quiet lockdown, and Archais moved to the window to resume his work.

As he saw, the crowd had grown quite large, and already he could see various speakers assembling on the stage that had been set at the opposite end of the plaza from his perch. The shot would be about a mile's distance, not terribly difficult for a seasoned sniper, and easier still with the Force. The drawback, though, was his weapon - the Nightstinger was made for medium-range shots, and that combined with the need for a precision hit would make this a task requiring concentration and finesse.

He took a prone position on the floor, mimicking where he would lay if he were to fire his weapon, and brought one hand forward. He put his hand to the transparisteel window, and traced a box about a foot square directly in front of him. As he drew the imaginary line, he imagined himself cutting through the glass, seeing his finger as a blade with an edge of infinite sharpness. The Force gathered as commanded, and formed a thin shield over his digit that honed it to a diamond's hardness, cutting the glass as finely as any professional cutter's tool could. After a moment, he could just see the outline he'd carved, and a quick tap popped the pane out to fall to the ground far below. Most would care to keep it at their perch, but at this height, it would shatter too forcefully for anyone to discern where it came from - the bits would be too small to deduce the size of whatever amount had broken, and most would likely find a single shard that they assumed would belong to a broken bottle or some other refuse.

Sitting up, Archais carefully withdrew the parts of his rifle from their places in his jacket, and quickly, and with a practiced hand, assembled them. After a moment, his weapon was ready, and he clicked the safety on before retaking his prone stance, looking through the scope at the crowd below. A speaker now stood at the stage, gesturing wildly and pointing to various people in the group, clearly in the midst of some alluring speech. Archais looked a moment more at the rest of the assembly, then spoke into his throat mic.

"I am in position. Identify targets, move to eliminate. Someone get me ears on the speaker."