The Sleheyron Transmission

Posted on Fri Apr 3rd, 2026 @ 3:31pm by Bomoor Thort & Mentis & Thane & Amare & Reave & Kalen "Rex" Vickers

3,683 words; about a 18 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VIII: Broken Chains
Location: Red Raptor
Timeline: Concurrent with the 'Cracking of Bothawui'

The Red Raptor drifted in a controlled, deliberate arc, her systems settling into a rare and almost deceptive calm. Power flowed evenly through the vessel, the engines held at a low, steady burn that spoke of readiness without urgency. After nearly three months of near-constant movement, raids, and hard transitions between systems, the ship had found a moment to breathe. The quiet that followed was not peace, but the absence of immediate demand.

Inside, the rhythm of the vessel continued as it always did. Air moved softly through the ageing vents, a low mechanical hum threading through the deck plating, punctuated occasionally by the familiar, irregular tick of a cooling line somewhere deep in the frame. Nothing was wrong. Nothing was failing, remarkably. It was the kind of normality that only existed after strain, when everything had been pushed just far enough to settle into a new equilibrium. It had been rare for the ship since it had come into the possession of Thane, Bomoor and their allies nearly two years ago - although they professed it felt longer.

The noise that did appear came not from within, but from the network. It flooded through the Raptor's systems in overlapping layers, unfiltered and relentless. Civilian transmissions dominated, panicked voices colliding over one another as evacuation routes collapsed faster than they could be coordinated. Coordinates were shouted, repeated, lost beneath new waves of distress calls and Judicial demands. Entire population centres seemed to be speaking at once. Beneath that, more structured channels attempted to impose order, Republic relief fleets rerouting in real time, priority signals rising and falling as the situation on Bothawui degraded by the hour. Every update contradicted the last. The planet's mantle was breaking apart faster than projections could stabilise.

But, beneath that, there was a sort of absence for the old freighter's crew.

Damask Hul's network remained active but distant, insulated behind layers of command and political necessity. The same was true of the Centrality and Coalition bloc leaderships at large.

In the strategy room, the holotable cast a low glow that flattened the space into something controlled and deliberate. Thane stood within it, still, his posture composed but not relaxed. The light caught in his eyes, reflecting in molten gold, unnatural in their intensity, and sharp against the pallor of his skin. Faint blue veins traced along his jaw and crept outward from the corners of his eyes, subtle but unmistakable beneath the surface. His gloveless augmented right hand rested lightly against the console, fingers adjusting the flow of incoming data with precise, economical movements.

He did not mute the noise, nor did he reduce it to something manageable. He allowed it to exist in full, pressing at the edge of his awareness, the scale of it acknowledged rather than ignored.

The priority signal, however, had cut through it cleanly, high-security and persistent.

Thane's gaze had shifted, not outward, but inward, as if aligning himself before initially responding. His hand moved across the interface to open the communication - only he was disturbed by an unexpected guest at his periphery. He had not sealed the room.

Rex straightened slightly where he now leaned against the bulkhead, his attention drawn to the shift in the table's output, recognising Thane had noticed him - and not reacted negatively. His cautious expression tightened, not yet alarmed, but wary in the way he had learnt to be around moments like this, and as he often was around the other Human. "That new?" he asked, the question quiet but edged with something more cautious than curiosity.

"It is ongoing," Thane replied, his voice even, controlled, his attention still on the forming projection. A brief pause followed, then, without looking toward him, "Remain."

At the edge of the room, having followed Rex, Reave gave a low, irritated grunt in his own tongue, the sound half-swallowed by the ship's hum. Smoke curled from beneath the brim of his hat as he drew on whatever he had chosen to indulge in, exhaling with visible impatience. One hand adjusted something at his belt, the movement habitual, anticipatory, as though violence was not yet required but might soon be.

The projection resolved slowly, distortion stretching into shape before stabilising into the narrow, severe form of Hesk Scivo. The Muun's features were as composed as ever, long fingers steepled beneath his chin, the gesture held with deliberate control. His eyes moved once across the room, assessing, counting, recalibrating the shape of the conversation in an instant.

"My lord." The title was delivered without deference, but with exactness. His gaze shifted again, noting the others visible within the projection field. "You have broadened the audience." It was not phrased as a question.

"You indicated urgency," Thane said.

"I indicated specificity," Scivo corrected without hesitation. "The distinction matters." A slight pause followed, not uncertainty, but refinement of approach. "However," Scivo continued, lowering his hands to rest lightly before him, "the situation has developed beyond the scope of a private consultation."

Thane glanced back to Rex, quickly assessing the intimation of the comment. The time had, perhaps come. There had been many changes and developments in recent months. It was important for all to be revealed, and he trusted in Scivo's own calculation.

"Get the others," he stated simply to Rex.

There was a brief moment where the former smuggler looked ready to challenge any command from Thane, but the magnitude of what he had seemingly walked in on, and the tone of the Caanan, killed any conflict before it brewed. He complied and left. Within less than a minute, he had gathered the others.

Mentis arrived with Bomoor, his newly-constructed lightsaber in hand where he had been tinkering with it with the his mentor's guidance. The Rattataki hung back next to Reave who flicked him a look before offering a tiny shrug.

Bomoor came closer, eyes initially glancing at the muted scenes of the continuing collapse on Bothawui on the other display before falling more heavily upon the Muun's holographic head.

Amare was casually leaned back against the wall facing the door, arms folded against her chest, legs crossed at the ankles, toothpick jutting from the corner of her lips, quietly assessing the others. She said nothing, made no moves, waiting for the part in the conversation when Thane was going to speak a destination and order her to get her hands dirty again. The cycle of the Red Raptor's crusade against the Cult was feeling episodic and loathsome. She felt their time would have been better spent picking apart the Third Republic or expanding their underworld influence and resources.

She also felt a deep desire to smoke a cigarra like the one Reave was enjoying, but one smoker in the room was more than enough. The ship's air filters were coming due for replacement soon. No need to degrade them faster than necessary.

"Galactic stability seems to be collapsing before our eyes," Bomoor clenched his broad hands together, leaning in as he spoke, "I doubt I am alone in sensing the turbulence ahead. What further news do you bring us?"

"There is an issue within the facility on Sleheyron." Scivo did not rush once everyone was gathered. Each detail was placed with deliberate clarity. "Synthspice production continues without interruption. Output remains within expected tolerances and distribution chains are intact."

The mention of Sleheyron immediately drew all of Amare's attention. She was particularly proud of what she had accomplished there for the Sith.

Rex shifted, brow furrowing as he processed what was being detailed. He was clearly not wholly surprised at the narcotic angle mentioned, or at least shuffled that back for a subsequent worry.

"Then what's the issue?" Rex almost seemed surprised at himself for asking.

Scivo's eyes flicked toward him, briefly, measuring rather than dismissing. "The product is functioning," he gradually said, placing a faint but unmistakable emphasis on the word. "Consumers are experiencing hallucinations. That, in itself, is not unusual.... But the hallucinations are identical."

Silence settled more heavily than before.

"Not simply similar," Scivo continued, "nor culturally or psychologically aligned. Identical. The same imagery and the same structure." His gaze returned fully to Thane. "We have verified this across multiple systems."

The hum of the ship seemed louder now, or perhaps simply more noticeable.

"In addition," Scivo said, "key personnel within the facility have ceased reporting." He notably did not use the word 'missing'.

"It's him," Mentis' voice softly declared from the back of the room, tension evident in his voice but instilled with a quiet confidence in his assertion, "The cult is there."

Bomoor turned and beckoned Mentis to settle with a wave of his hand before turning back to Scivo.

"A proportion of the remaining workforce exhibits behavioural deviation," Scivo explained. "Delayed responses and prolonged observations. Interruption of tasks, but still able to perform relevant procedures."

"They still working, though?" Rex asked, emboldened by the proximity of Mentis, his curiosity truly piqued.

"Yes," Scivo replied, and for the first time there was something approaching distaste in the word. "They remain functional."

Reave gave a low, dismissive grumble, smoke drifting from his concealed mouth as though the explanation failed to satisfy something more instinctive in the little Jawa.

"And finally," Scivo said, the word settling differently, a small gesture with his hand, almost conversationally, "glyphs."

A brief pause from the Muun as he let that settle. He had been intrinsic to much of the intelligence gathered to work against the Cult of Axion, as well as spearheading separate efforts alongside other underworld figures to castrate the Cult's own illegal networks. He was, therefore, well-versed in the nature of the enclaves, their rituals and iconography.

"They are appearing throughout the facility. Processing floors and the residential sectors, even in the maintenance corridors. They are not applied by any conventional means, nor do they degrade. They do not respond to removal through any conventional means, just as your reports." That hung in the air longer than anything else, but he spoke again before any of them felt invited to speak. "This is the work of the Cult of Axion - and I believe they are luring you in."

There was a brief pause before Bomoor spoke first.

"Assuming Axion knows the link between the facility and ourselves, this is a marked change in behaviour," his dark eyes flitted across the floor as he thought, "He doesn't need that facility but took it anyway, knowing we would follow the trail."

Mentis straightened up, a frustration in his tone, "I knew it straight away. This is what he does: inserts himself in your life like a quiet thought that convinces you he was always there, that he is inevitable. He'll say he has just allowed us to live for this long - existing at his pleasure and now he has come to take what is his."

"Surely you don't believe that any more?" Bomoor whipped his robe around to his wavering pupil, "After all we have done? After the fragments of his empire you have seen fall before your eyes? You still let him have this power over you?"

"No..." Mentis crossed his arms and slumped back on the wall, "Maybe... I don't know."

The Rattataki's eyes flashed at Rex for a moment, taking something in, before dropping to the floor.

"You know," Amare cut in softly with a condescending intonation, a dark smirk crossed upon her lips, drawing all eyes in the room to her, each with mixed expressions, save for Reave because nobody could ever truly tell with him. "He's still there, Mentis. I can tell. He's right behind your eyes." Her face tipped down a bit as her smirk grew into a mocking smile.

Mentis jerked forward again, this time with heightened frustration, "Oh really, Amare?" he snapped, "And why don't you talk about what you've been sensing since New Alderaan? What you felt on Ord Mantell? Maybe it's not me he wants anymore."

"Your former master is like a big nasty fish," Amare remarked whilst still keeping her cool, finding Mentis' burst of emotional resolve both amusing and fitting for the apprentice of a rebellious ex-Jedi. "He will consume any and all things that he wants. I'm no more special than you are to such a creature. Bringing you back into the fold would be quite the victory, proof of his 'divine' superiority. And to do that, he has chosen to use bait. It's easier to lure than it is to hunt."

Rex exhaled through his nose as the others spoke, tension finally pushing through. "So... it's a trap. That's what we're saying."

"Yes," Scivo replied before the others, flatly. "You are clearly a threat to them. You have been successful."

The background transmissions continued to bleed through the system, unchanged, the crisis of Bothawui still unfolding in real time as though entirely separate from the decision forming in the room.

Thane did not move immediately. The light of the consoles reflected in his eyes again, molten, steady, the faint tracery of blue along his skin lending him something that no longer sat comfortably within the definition of Human, especially with the expression growing on his face. His jaw worked carefully as he thought about the detail and how to respond. A part of him was pleased - they had tipped Axion's hand through their successes, but he was also marginally frustrated at the invasion. And, if nothing else, the implication that the Cult had worked out more than a fleeting association between Thane and his more discreet dealings and identity.

"We will need the full details transmitted to the Raptor," he said.

"Full schematics and access protocols will be transmitted." A slight incline of Scivo's head. "External interference will be minimised."

Reave gave a short, satisfied grunt, already shifting his stance, one hand settling closer to the side arm he needlessly wore inside the ship, as though the outcome had never been in doubt.

Rex looked between them, disbelief cutting through his composure. "You're not actually thinking of just walking into that."

Thane stepped away from the table. The movement was measured, final.

"You should prepare the ship." There was no force behind it, just a quiet impetus, like earlier.

Rex let out a quiet, frustrated breath, but did not argue further, already turning toward the corridor with a shake of his head. He paused and gave one meaningful look to Mentis before he shook his head and continued. "Yeah. Right. 'Course we are."

Reave muttered something sharp and offensive, smoke trailing as he stubbed out the cigarra he plucked from his mouth against the bulkhead, the irritation in his tone matched only by a clear readiness for what was coming, but he dutifully followed his old friend, marching towards the armoury that had become his little kingdom in the preceding year.

Scivo watched them go without comment.

"I will await further contact," he said finally, no emotion or thought on the situation betrayed. "Lord Serus."

The channel collapsed, the projection dissolving back into the holotable and the room returned to its prior stillness, but the noise beyond it had not changed. The calls from Bothawui continued unabated, voices rising and breaking as a world came apart in real time.

Thane remained where he was for a moment longer, unmoving, as the weight of both realities pressed at the edge of the same space, as he turned to regard Bomoor, Amare and Mentis.

Bomoor drew in a slow breath, the weight of Bothawui’s cries and Scivo’s warning settling across his broad shoulders.

"Then it seems we are at a precipice," he said quietly to the room, "While one world breaks apart, so does Axion's grip on the galaxy. But neither will go quietly. Axion will seek to end our interference and gain back the power he has lost, but we cannot turn away from the opportunity this presents us, no matter how hard his whispers try to undermine our confidence."

His gaze moved between Amare and Mentis before returning to Thane.

"If we go to Sleheyron, we go with our eyes open, we go with all our strength and we go with a plan."

"I know the access points into the facility," Amare said as she removed her toothpick, stepped forward and punched in a file retrieval command from the computer. The holotable's display went back to work showing the Undervos Holdings Factory. "I kept these plans just in case our dear friend Scivo ever decided to reneg on our partnership. I've marked the points of entry, one of which is completely flooded. That's how I got in the first time. At least one of us can seize the element of surprise. And before you ask, the underwater struts are heavily reinforced, so we can't simply just detonate the place out from under them with standard explosives."

Bomoor looked over his shoulder at the young woman, "It's possible, but simply destroying the factory may not be a worthwhile trade off for what could be little more than a few of his cultists. Of course, they could have the same plan for us so checking the structure for explosives isn't a bad call if we suspect a trap."

He looked back to Thane, still bathed in the aura of his Serus persona with the scenes of destruction behind him, "I don't know the ins and outs of your investment in this place but I don't want us to hand Axion a win simply by over-reacting and destroying this facility."

Amare held her gaze firmly upon Thane's golden-rimmed eyes. She knew that he knew destruction was out of the question, but to risk the operation to fall under Cult control was a severe vulnerability and could be used as legal leverage against the crew of the Red Raptor in the future if Axion or any of their enemies so chose to do so. Scivo was, of course, certainly not to be fully trusted, but at least his profit motives made him a controllable asset. Axion, on the other hand...

Thane remained where he was, the low amber glow of the holotable catching against his features, flattening the room around him into something more abstract, more controlled. The distant noise of Bothawui’s collapse continued to bleed through the ship’s systems, a constant undercurrent of panic and failure that no one in the room could meaningfully affect. It pressed at the edge of his awareness, but did not distract him.

His gaze moved first to the display Amare had brought up, the schematics of the Sleheyron facility rotating slowly in the air between them. Points of entry, structural supports, submerged access routes. Then, to Bomoor and then Mentis.

He measured them in the same quiet way he had measured the transmission.

When he finally spoke, his voice was even, low, and entirely without hesitation.

"Destruction is not the objective," he agreed. The words settled with a quiet finality that left little room for interpretation.

"If Axion wished this facility destroyed, it would already be gone. If he wished to deny us access, he would have concealed it. He has done neither." His augmented hand shifted slightly at his side, fingers flexing once, a small mechanical adjustment that mirrored the precision in his tone. "He has allowed us to see it. He has ensured we will come."

His molten gaze returned to the schematics, then lifted again, sharper now.

"This is not about the facility. It is not about synthspice. It is not about infrastructure or supply." His eyes settled on Mentis for a fraction longer than the others. "It is about us. We have forced his hand. For nearly two years, he has remained distant, indirect. Operating through proxies, through insinuation, through absence - at best, his acolytes. Now, he chooses to act openly, and to draw us in. That is not a mistake." His gaze shifted briefly toward Bomoor, acknowledging the concern without conceding to it. "It is confirmation that our actions have been effective enough to compel an active response."

He turned slightly then, not pacing, but repositioning, placing himself more squarely within the centre of the room.

"No one else is addressing this," he said, voice growing former. "No one else is eve capable of addressing it. The Republic is occupied with a dying world and the Senate fractures again. The systems that should respond are already failing, so wrapped up in ego, tiny agendas and petty concepts of morality!" The distant cries from Bothawui seemed, for a moment, to underscore the point. "If we step away now, we do not preserve strength - we relinquish initiative."

His eyes returned to Amare, then to Bomoor.

"You are correct, though. Destroying the facility achieves nothing of value. It removes an asset, obscures information, and grants Axion the outcome he has already prepared for. We must not validate his expectations; when we go to Sleheyron, we enter on our terms. We identify the extent of his presence, the nature of the influence, and the structure of whatever he has established there." A slight shift of his head toward Amare’s projected entry points. "We exploit what advantages we retain and we do not allow him to define the nature of this encounter."

There was something colder in that line, something less analytical and more personal, though it remained tightly contained.

"We have succeeded in forcing him into the open." The Caanan's jaw set, subtly. "So we continue... so we end this where he believes he holds control."

Bomoor exhaled slowly, eyes closing as he felt the cries from Bothawui rippling in the Force ever more intensely, "One world breaks apart, while another calls us in."

He opened his eyes and turned his gaze to Amare first, then settled on Mentis with a steadiness meant to anchor rather than question.

"We’ve come too far to let fear or doubt steer us now," he straightened his shoulders, directing them with a quiet resolve, "Sleheyron is waiting and we will answer the call."

TBC

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