577. The Heist - Raezyr

Raezyr wiped the sweat from his chest and face with a towel as he made his way through the hatch to Trychon's quarters on the Jet Razor. He was excited about the new discovery and couldn't wait to tell his brother the good news.

He knocked on the door, waited a second, then entered anyway. Luckily Trychon was just concentrating on the work he was doing. He sat hunched over at a work table, an unusually long lightsaber hilt lay on the desk and a slight bit of smoke rose as the older Sith soldered a part into place.

"How goes it? You have any questions?" Raezyr asked. He was happy to see his brother's work was nearly complete, but he was more excited about the new holocron.

"It's almost done, Raez," Trychon said, looking up from the desk. "I'm so close I can almost hear it humming now."

"That's great," the younger brother said almost dismissively, "but I've got some important news."

"You got one of the holocrons to open up," Trychon guessed intuitively.

His brother's shoulders slumped just a bit, the excitement suddenly gone. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"I don't know... I just kind of sensed it."

"The thing is, I think it opened because it sensed my talent for the lightsaber. Why it never opened for both of us before, I don't know," Raezyr continued. "I think that you should try the holocrons by yourself as soon as possible."

"That doesn't surprise me," the other Sith replied. "In my studies I've read that sometimes holocrons are keyed to those with certain abilities, or those who have reached a certain level of prowess with the Force. Apparently that one was keyed to open only to someone who has your gift with melee combat," Trychon surmised."

"Did it have anything good to teach you?"

"Trych... I learned so much just in the last couple of hours," Raezyr began. "I didn't realize how little I knew before. My knowledge was just the tip of the iceberg of what there is to know weapons, and even if we can't get it to open up to you or the others, I can pass on what I learn."

"Agreed. Say, you look tired, and I need a break... let's go have an ale," the older of the two suggested.

They didn't say much as they enjoyed their ale. The brief respite was nice, and neither could really remember the last time they had time to just relax and do the things they wanted to do. Sure, they had time in hyperspace, but even then they were traveling to or from somewhere.

Soon enough it would end with the arrival of Anya and Tyr. As soon as their ship emerged from hyperspace, Trych's homing program should kick in and direct the other two to Raezyr and Trychon's location on the fringes of the sector.

From there, they could all travel back to Hoth and fill Dianna in on her part of the plan.

For now though, it was nice to just get in some well needed training time without the worry of other things.

The next morning, Trychon found his brother in the training room going through some of the drills he had learned the day before.

Raezyr looked up as his brother came in. "You ready to try the holocrons?"

"No, I have something else to try first," Trychon said with a grin.

He held out the unusually long lightsaber hilt with both hands, then flicked the switch with his thumb. The black blade sprang forth with a menacing hum. The younger Sith watched in anticipation as his brother reversed his grip, the flicked another switch on the cylinder, igniting the red blade from the other end.

Carefully, he spun the double-bladed lightsaber around and they both watched the red and black blades as they arced in a big circle.

Faster and faster he began to spin the weapon until he nearly lost control and ducked his head just in time.

"Trych, if you cut your own head off with that thing, don't come crying to me," the younger man grinned.

"Who is going to teach me how to use this thing anyway?" Trychon remarked, shutting the blades down.

"I can do that."

"Really?" the older brother remarked, giving Raezyr a skeptical look.

Raezyr sighed then pulled out his own blades. He adjusted the phase out-put of the shorter-bladed blue lightsaber, then lit the both up. He then placed the hilt ends together and twisted. A click echoed just above the humming of the blades as the two lightsabers locked together to create a double-bladed weapon. "Just because I prefer one style, doesn't mean I can't use others. Besides, anything I don't know about using one of these I can learn from Master Vilmax N'vaarq and pass on to you."

Trychon just grinned.

"Now, let's get to those other holocrons," Raezyr said, shutting off his blades and unhooking the hilts.

576. The Heist - Raezyr

On the outer fringes of the Corellian Sector, so far out that the Corellian sun looked like little more than a slightly brighter star, the Jet Razor and the Twilight Stalker drifted, docked together.

On board the two ships the 4 humans and the droid went about their business: the hired hands competently checked ship systems and made repairs where necessary and were assisted by the droid, Trychon worked on his nearly completed dual-bladed lightsaber, and Raezyr sat cross-legged in the center of one of the Stalker's cargo holds.

The hold had been converted to a training room by Delki and Bleetz back on Hoth and this was really the first chance they'd had to put it to good use. In the center of the room the younger Sith sat the row of holocrons and one by one sent Dark Side energies into the information storage devices, trying to unlock their secrets.

Of late, the avatar of Dark Lord Daxon Var had grown more stand-offish and was less forthcoming with new knowledge and teachings as both of the brothers had grown more powerful. They had come to the conclusion that either he was finding them unsuitable as students, which didn't seem likely considering their quick progress, or more likely, the old Sith hadn't been as powerful as his holocron claimed and he was running out of things to teach them.

Either way, it was getting harder to learn anything from it and soon they would have to stop using it. Considering this, they decided it was time to try in earnest to activate some of the other devices.

They had tried to activate the others several times before, but always together, and always with the knowledge that if they were unsuccessful, they still had Daxon Var. This time, Raezyr was trying by himself and Var was a poor fallback plan.

One by one, he searched the devices, poking and prodding, exploring with tendrils of the Force, trying to get a reaction or any sign that these others were still functional.

He'd already been at it for a few hours when one of them began to radiate a reddish yellow light. Raezyr could feel the power emanating from it and drank in the power like an intoxicating aroma.

Suddenly the holocron's avatar sprang to life and before him stood a reddish-brown Devaronian male wearing a black vest and matching pantaloons. His muscles bulged an his eyes blazed as he drew an ancient-looking lightsaber and activated it's crimson blade.

Instinctively, Raezyr sprung to his feet, his own blades springing to life almost of their own volition. For a moment, he felt a bit stupid, reacting in such a manner to a mere holographic image, then it spoke.

"Good. I see you have the instincts of a warrior, one who is born to fight and to slay his enemies. I am Vilmax N'vaarq. In the time of Ajunta Pall, I was but a boy. I was an apprentice to Karness Muur's apprentice and the first Weapons Master of the Sith. Many enemies died at my hands. To whom am I speaking?" the Devaronian Sith asked.

Raezyr bowed, never taking his eyes off the avatar. "I am Darth Raezyr, one of but a handful of Sith left in the Galaxy. I would learn from you, to return our order to greatness."

"Then, Sith Warrior, show me what you know," said the apparition.

Raezyr grinned and settled into the opening stance of Jar'Kai.

575. The Heist - Raezyr

The Baron's soldiers had responded to the alarms at the detention facility, and after viewing the order signed by their liege, Raezyr and Trychon were released, along with their charge.

Once outside the village, they removed the bonds from Dagus Kolant. "Now I'd like you to answer some questions for me," he said, rubbing his wrists where the shackles had bound them.

"You can ask your questions, but whether we answer them remains to be seen," Raezyr said, stripping away the Jedi disguise. Trychon shot him a glare the younger Sith didn't notice, or if he did, pretended he didn't.

"I'm relatively sure you're not Jedi, since I've had dealings with you in the past, but your performance and expertise with those lightsabers make it hard even for me to believe you're not. What are you?"

Raezyr ignored the question, dropping the cloak and tunic on the ground. It was early fall in this area of Talus and although there was a chill in the evening air, he felt he'd rather endure that be dressed like a Jedi one more minute than he had to.

He ignited his long lightsaber and stuck the tip of the blade into the cloth, holding it there until the garments began burning. Finally he looked up at Dagus. "Let's just say I hate the Jedi and leave it there, shall we?"

"Fair enough," the Zabrak replied. "My next question is why bother to rescue me at all? Don't get me wrong, but most prospective clients would have just found someone else."

Trychon jumped in before Raezyr could continue with his melodramatics. "We did that for a couple of reasons. One, we know you, and we know that you are a being of your word. Second, we hope that our actions are a show of good faith, that you can also trust us in this upcoming endeavor."

"Very well. Let us go somewhere and discuss this 'endeavor' of yours."

They climbed aboard the swoop bikes and made their way through the forests to where they had parked their ship. By the time Kolant's men arrived, the Sith and the mercenary had already gone over the plans several times, worked out any potential kinks, and come to a payment arrangement.

"You understand that timing is everything in this," Trychon said to Kolant as the man climbed into the waiting speeder.

"I understand. I still think it sounds too easy, but you can rest assured that my men and I will be in place at the specified time," the Zabrak reassured his new employers.

Trychon and Raezyr watched as they sped off through the forest. "I have a bad feeling about this plan, Trych," Raezyr said. "It gives me the chills thinking about it."

"No, Raez," Trychon replied. "That's because you're still not wearing a shirt."

"Shut up, Trych."

"I knew you were going to say that."

574. Flight of the Decoy - Raezyr

Anya watched through the viewport in the galley area of the Nefarion Wraith as the planet slid away into the blackness behind them. They were going to have to go pick up the Wasted Rancor and she was not looking forward to it. It wasn't so much the separation from Tyr she cared about but the being alone part.

When she had first arrived on Korriban, there had been a couple other Sith at the academy, but after a few weeks they had left, and she had spent the next several months alone in the giant Sith temple, trying to teach herself the ways of the Sith on her own, and not having much luck. Being alone anywhere reminded her of that and she clung to others to avoid it, although she would never admit that to anyone.

As the disc of Budpock shrank in the blackness, she thought about the numerous worlds she had visited since running away and leaving Corellia. She'd never for get the names of some of them, Korriban, Hoth, Coruscant... while others she already couldn't remember.

How she had longed to travel the stars back when she was stuck on Corellia, and now she was going to be returning. The bitter memories flooded back. Memories that she had blocked for a long time. Memories of the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her parents. The neglect and emotional abuse of her mother and the physical abuse of her father.

Her one hope had been the Jedi. Two had come to test her as a young girl, but they had deemed her to be too weak for the Order. Her parents had blamed her for not being selected and the abuse only became worse. If the Jedi had only accepted her...

After that there was the indentured servitude to the 'escort' service when she was still quite young. The proprietor had taken it upon himself to 'instruct' her personally and she had quickly learned that the better service she provided, the better the clients she was assigned to. In turn, the better clients treated her better and thus she had quickly become one of the proprietor's top girls, becoming whatever each client wanted and playing the role to a tee.

Secretly she had stashed money away until she was able to run away and purchase passage off Corellia and out of the sector. She had sworn that someday she would return and exact revenge on her parents and the owner of the brothel, and she grinned knowing that time was drawing near.

The stars in the viewport elongated and suddenly they were in hyperspace and heading toward the empty expanse of interstellar space where they had left their other ship. Tyr entered the galley a moment later and grabbed an ale from the cooler unit.

"Tyr, don't tell them about us when we meet up with them, alright?"

"Who?" Tyr asked, sitting down and pouring the cold ale into a glass. "Oh, you mean don't tell Trych and Raez... Sure... it's none of their business."

"Good," Anya replied. "They also don't need to know how much stronger we've grown since we left."

"Well, they're going to expect that we've been practicing some. We can't hide all improvement," he said, taking a sip of his beverage. "But why do we want to hide it? Wouldn't it be beneficial to all of us to share what we've learned?"

"Tyr, baby, you know how Raez is. He thinks he's the god's gift to the Sith, and Trychon, while a nice guy, is so naive about the way things work. Our group needs a strong leader, and that should be you," she said matter of factly.

"I'm not sure I'm following you."

"Look, they've been rummaging through old ruins and living with monks this whole time, learning about how to be a Sith while we, on the other hand, have been out being Sith.

"We both know that Raez's big ego is not going to let him subject himself to anyone else, even if they deserve to be the leader, and if we want to succeed in this Galaxy, we need a strong one, and the strong leader is you, Tyr, not Raezyr and certainly not Trychon," she explained.

"If we share everything we've learned with them, it will give them equal footing. Sure, we'll show them a little of what we've picked up, but there is going to come a time when they think they can order us around and we'll have to show them just who is in charge," she told him.

Tyr thought for a few minutes, slowing sipping his ale. "Your right. We'll see what they want, and we may even play along for a while, but when the time is right, we'll step up and take control. Besides money is running low, and it's about time to take over Dianna's operation on Hoth. Force her to work for us."

He got up to get another ale, and Anya watched him. She thought back to her days on Corellia and how she had learned to get men to do the things she wanted. Clay in a scultpor's hands, she thought to herself.

573. Flight of the Decoy - Raezyr

"Where are we again?" Anya asked, slightly perturbed. She was beginning to grow weary of the dives and holes they had been frequenting for months and was beginning to think they may have visited just about every backwater planet in the galaxy, or the inhabited ones, at least.

"Budpock," Tyr replied. "It'll be a good place to lay low for a while and still get a chance to see some action. There are plenty of pirate gangs in this sector." Tyr pulled their speeder up to a decently sized cantina, and even though it was fairly busy for a mid-afternoon they had no problem finding a booth.

"I'll get the drinks, baby," Anya said and gave Tyr a smile that he knew meant she was looking for fun, and when she looked for fun, people could get killed.

He grinned to himself as he watched her walk across the crowded bar, swaying her hips underneath tight fitting leather trousers and the shear, short-cropped tunic she wore left little to the imagination. She's a gundark in nerf's clothing, that one, he thought to himself, but she's MY gundark.

He watched her for a bit, then began following her gaze, trying to see what she was up to. Here and there around the room she was making eye contact with various unsavory looking characters. Inwardly Tyr groaned.

This was one of her favorite games. Anya would catch people's eye, and give them some sort of subtle encouragement. What it was exactly, he hadn't figured out, but soon, she'd have a dozen of them fighting over her.

It amused her to no end to watch the mindless males fall so quickly for a quick smile, a batted eyelash or a feigned blush. Someone was going to get themselves killed, and she was going to love watching it. Tyr usually sat back and rolled his eyes a bit, and it annoyed her a bit that Tyr was so confident she belonged to him that he didn't feel the need to fight for her. This time she had a plan to get him involved as well, though.

It would probably have surprised Tyr to know that she didn't really care if he made it through the fight alive or not. She'd be thrilled if he did, as her bedchamber toy and chauffeur would still be around, but if not, there were plenty of others to do her bidding with just a glance.

Normally the bartender was quick to fill her order, but today it was a droid serving the refreshments and the machinery was immune to her charms, making her wait in line.

"Can I buy your drink, miss?" said a voice at her elbow. She turned her head just slightly to identify the speaker. It was a human, most likely an ex-Mandalorian judging by the pieces of armor he wore.

"You Mandalorian?" she asked.

"Born and bred," he replied proudly. "I'll make it home someday, but for now I do a bit of mercenary work."

"Do you have friends? My friend just loves Mandalorians. Maybe you and your friends could join us. We've been in space forever it seems like, and haven't been around men in forever," Anya said, working her ploy.

"We could sure do that," the Mandalorian said. "Who's your friend?" he asked, looking around the bar.

"Right over there," Anya said, pointing at Tyr and waving.

Tyr watched the exchange between the two. Most of the time, the Mandalorian couldn't keep his eyes off of Anya's barely concealed chest. When they turned and looked his direction, he instinctively returned Anya's wave, and instantly he regretted it.

The Mandalorian turned back to Anya and shoved his finger in her face, his own turning three different shades of red. That the mercenary was pretty angry about something was obvious.

Tyr got to his feet, still watching the exchange. Everyone was watching it, he noticed. Apparently this guy had a lot of friends here.

Anya said something back to him, and the Mandalorian cocked his arm and threw a punch the blond Sith girl barely dodged. Tyr was sure she could have gotten out of the way sooner, but he didn't bother to think about that.

Instead, he lunged across the room, drawing and igniting his orange laser sword. In one quick motion he attacked and the two halves of the Mandalorian hit the ground with a sickly thud.

Tyr turned to face the rest of the cantina, holding the lightsaber defensively while motioning for Anya to get behind him with his off hand.

Slowly, all around the room, beings of all shapes and sizes began to get to their feet, and the murmur that was growing had ill portends.

The Sith warrior let his senses take over as the Dark Side rushed to fill him. He heard the scrape of metal on leather as several blasters were drawn around the room. The bolts began to fly as he took action, blocking and returning the lasers and slashing though limbs and torsos.

Dimly he was aware of a comm beeping, and Anya answering it, rather than igniting her own lightsaber and giving him a hand.

"Hello?" she asked into the comm, which had rung in on an encrypted frequency.

"Anya? It's Raezyr. Is Tyr there?" came the voice over the comm.

"He's... busy," she said hesitantly. "Can I take a message?"

"Put him on."

Anya rolled her eyes and covered the device with one hand so she couldn't be heard. "Tyr... it's the asshole and he insists on speaking with you."

Why he didn't ignore her, he didn't know, but instead, he grabbed the comm with his off hand, continuing to battle the pirates and mercenaries attacking from all over the cantina, while Anya sipped the drink the droid had set down in front of her just moments before it's head was disintegrated by stray blaster fire.

Through gasps for air, he answered the device. Raezyr's voice issued from it. "Tyr, it's Raez."

"Hey guys! How's things?" Tyr replied as if nothing were going on.

"We're fine, thank you. I'll keep this short... I've been informed you have a full schedule at the moment. You've done a great job so far keeping the Republic off our tails, but they have to be close to figuring out what's going on."

"Yeah... it's been closer scrapes lately... but nothing we're not ready for. What's up?" Tyr replied, pausing briefly to cleave limbs from torsos.

"Time's up for these games. We're done with our missions and we need to regroup. Meet us within a standard week in the Corellian system."

"No problem." He laughed, right as a deflected laser struck a blaster, causing it to explode. "Oop... gotta run! Give Huck my best!" He switched off the comm and tossed it back to Anya.

Within another moment, Tyr was standing alone surrounded by the dead and dying... and Anya.

She slipped up behind him as he shut his lightsaber down and clipped it back on is belt. She ran her fingers through his hair and, standing on the tip of her toes, bit Tyr's ear a bit.

A thrill ran though him.

"What did that nerf-herder want?" She whispered in his ear.

He turned around and slid his hands around her narrow waist. Her chest was heaving with excitement. "We need to meet them in a week in the Corellian system which is alright, especially since we can't stick around here anymore."