12

It was cold in space. The frigid void swallowed heat, light, or any sense of warmth. Even the atmo systems aboard a ship could never fully purge away the chill. It settled into Bandon's bones and clung to him like a second skin he couldn't shed, no matter how many layers he pulled on. He stared out of the forward viewport taking note of the positions of the two attack cruisers starboard of his ship. They heralded the arrival of the Leviathan, a massive Interdictor-class destroyer, and his Master's personal flagship. It dwarfed nearly every ship within the armada, its vast presence blocking out the sun and sucking away the last bit of warmth.

Bandon shivered and turned, striding away from the viewport and to the lift at the end of the bridge. He took it all the way to the hanger where one of his shuttles awaited, the landing ramp flanked by half a dozen troopers. He breezed past them and sat in the copilot's chair, nodding for the pilot to take off. They slid from the hanger and into the shadow of the Leviathan. It was a short ride past several light-cruisers and a squadron of snub-fighters that guided his shuttle into one of the Leviathan's massive hangers. His ship set down lightly and was immediately swarmed by deck personnel as his landing ramp descended. He stalked from his ship and was instantly flanked by two troopers dressed in the crimson armor of the High Guard, Saul Karath's handpicked soldiers.

He ignored them for the moment. It wouldn't look well if he killed Karath's honor guard, the man personally being one of his Master's favorites. It was a subtle demonstration of power, Karath's way of showing Bandon who truly controlled this ship and those that stepped foot onto it. It angered him that the Admiral was allowed these liberties as no ordinary being should rank next to a true Sith or believe they were above one. One day… one day Karath would slip and fall. And what a long fall it would be. Bandon could only hope he would be there to witness it or be the one to throw the arrogant man down.

He prowled onto the bridge. It was even colder here than on his own personal ship, the very air itself thick like before an impending blizzard. He suppressed a shudder and approached the two men at the end of the bridge standing atop a raised platform. One was dressed in the crimson and black uniform of the highest rank within the Sith military, his hair a pale gray peppered with gold, deep lines running the length of his strong jaw and blue eyes; Saul Karath, Grand Admiral of the Sith Empire formerly of the Republic. The other was his Master, towering over them both, his shoulders were broad, and his body was wrapped in muscle, the lower half of his face hidden behind a heavy metal brace obscuring both mouth and jaw. His skin, what little that could be seen amongst his armor, was pale, but his eyes were two burning coals standing out like flaming torches in a snowstorm; Darth Malak, former apprentice to the late Darth Revan, Lord of all Sith, the Harrowed King subject to none, Destroyer of the Light.

He stopped at the bottom of the raised dais and gave a bow of respect to his Master, who didn't even turn to acknowledge it. Karath turned and offered him the smallest of nods, the barest hint of recognition, and Bandon felt his jaw clench. He wanted nothing more than to reach out with the Force and pluck the man off the ground, to watch him twist and writhe within his invisible grasp, and snap his-.

"Where is the Jedi?"

His Master's voice broke Bandon from his dark fantasies. It was unnatural, like a knife scraping against a whetstone. "I-I haven't been able to locate her, Master. She escaped the Endar Spire and has been hiding on the below planet."

"Perhaps if you had waited for the Leviathan to intercept Knight Shan's cruiser as we had originally planned, then she wouldn't have slipped through your fingers," Saul commented from his place beside Lord Malak. From his place above Bandon.

"There were unforeseen complications; I sensed a great disturbance within the Force." He was unsure why he felt the need to justify himself to Karath; the man was beneath him.

Saul just shook his head in mock disappointment. "Right… a disturbance. And how can you even be sure Knight Shan is still on Taris? She could have left the planet or been rescued by Republic operatives."

"The planet is under a complete blockade. No ship without the proper clearance codes can leave, and any that have tried to escape have been destroyed." He directed this response more to his Master rather than Karath.

"Hmph, seems you did one thing right."

Bandon's hand enclosed around his lightsaber. Who was this man to look down on him? He was Sith, not some feeble Padawan or idiotic grunt. He deserved respect, not to be denigrated by some Force-blind, traitorous bastard. He felt the Force build within his gut, a pressured spring just waiting for him to let snap. He would take the Admiral's head – no! First, his jaw to wipe that smug grin off his face, then his head.

"Bandon."

In an instant, he has been forced to his knees, a weight like that of a planet's gravity well pressed down on his back, forcing him low. He couldn't move, could hardly breathe… why?

"M-master… please…" Please give him one more chance. He would find that Jedi girl and drag her back before his lord, dead or alive.

"We cannot risk her escaping Taris. Destroy the entire planet." The command was as cold as the empty void of space, and it chilled Bandon to his very core. So that was it, his failure was complete, and his Master did not trust him to complete this task. He would perish along with every being below, as was the way of the Sith.

"Th…the entire planet, Lord Malak? But… there are billions of people on Taris!" Saul's face had paled considerably, and he looked almost nauseated. Weak… weak and indecisive, how could Darth Malak stand his presence? "We'd be slaughtering countless innocent civilians. Not to mention our own soldiers still stationed on the surface!"

Lord Malak didn't turn. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the planet below. "Your predecessor once made the mistake of questioning my orders, Admiral. Surely you are not so foolish as to make the same mistake?" He spoke softly and phrased everything as a question like Karath still had the option to continue pestering him.

Any remaining blood has drained from Karath's face. He swallowed hard and gave the Sith lord a firm nod. "Of… of course not, Lord Malak. I will do as you command, but it will take several hours to position our fleet accordingly."

"Then begin immediately, Admiral."

The crushing pressure keeping Bandon on his knees disappeared, and he drew in several grateful gulps of air. He gazed up at his Master, who still hadn't turned to address him. He half expected his emperor to draw his saber and take his head, but he remained indifferent. He would survive this day, after all, despite his failure. Billions would die, all casualties of Darth Malak's ruthlessness, but he… he would be the sole recipient of the dark lord's mercy.

'Thank you, Master.' He bowed low though his lord could not see it, then rose to his feet as Karath passed him.

The Admiral still looked shaken from the order he had received, shoulders drawn tight. "This is madness."

It was said in the barest hint of a whisper for no one else, but Saul's ears, but Bandon heard him and couldn't help but dig Karath's grave a bit deeper. "It is a madness you should be used to, Karath."

He flinched, and Bandon smiled callously. Oh yes, the mighty would fall, Karath, Bastila, and the remaining Jedi Order. And Bandon would be the instrument to orchestrate it all.