We Do What Is Necessary...(Salem)

[Placeholder 0139]

We have tampered with that which should not be touched by organic life. We have deciphered the genetic codes of a thousand different species, looking for the singular race that might be capable of doing what was needed. The intrusion of the Yuuzhan-Vong was, truly, beneficial to our research, and therefore beneficial to the galaxy.

To Vong shape an individual is a heinous crime. To take that creature's very DNA, and brutalize it in such a way, to tear it apart at the deepest semblance of what it is, to force it back together against its body's own will...that is what we have done. Our objective was, and always has been, the preservation of sentient life within our galaxy of origin. To achieve this goal, the laws of nature needed to be bent beyond any moral boundaries.

And now, our creation has been completed....

The Monitor strode past the bacta tanks with a sense of purpose. Dozens of the aquamarine tanks filled the otherwise empty hanger bay. Long tubes ran across the floor and connected to the Ge'hutuun's central life support, in order to keep the test subjects alive and healthy. Those who resided within the tanks could only be seen when they moved their bodies, and even then, the misty blue liquid shrouded them well.

Over three hundred candidates for the second generation of Dreadguard had been retrieved from various battlefields across the galaxy. Fifty-four had survived, and twelve of these were mentally crippled below the point of sentience. They became wild dogs, screaming at the slightest movements, and clawing the walls of their cells until the skin rubbed away from their fingers and their blood painted the small enclosures.

Those that had survived would be perfect. Their bodies were utterly out of the force. They were not apart of it any longer, torn from the very thing that the Jedi had said gave them life. The force would no longer take them when they died.

These soldiers were godless warriors.

The Monitor halted in front of a trio of tanks. He perched high up on his six legs; green photoreceptors blinking as his artificial eyes struggled to see through the mist. These were his life's work. They would be loyal, skilled soldiers. What they were truly created to fight...that was the Monitor's secret; one he has shared with [member="Salem Norongachi"].

The leader of the ASA had been invited here. To see what his new soldiers would be coming from. The doors had been left open, and the Monitor awaited his arrival.

 

[Salem Norongachi]

The shuttle moved in silence, the speckled black the scene of the route it took from The Hand of Fate, holding position in deep space at a preset location while Norongachi made the rest of the journey to the high security area within Authority space that the Architects had been granted to perform their work.

The journey was quick, too quick, considering the thoughts and ramifications of what he was allowing to transpire on Calico Tal'Verda's former ship. The men selected were beyond the aid of conventional medicine, of that he was certain, their wounds sustained on Naboo would have left them dead or without a life worth living. Braindead, paralyzed, mutilated beyond the scope of imagination in Salem's war machine. At least now, he reasoned, they would have a chance at a life they would never have had. They were the vanguard, the thin line in a war that they were sorely unprepared for.

The ship lay in the distance, a growing shape that took form under the guidance of the shuttles ion engines. A hand opened the coms-channel to the ship and its unseen guardians. He knew the Scions were there, waiting, watching, ready to obliterate anything that did not transmit the proper authorization codes. Thankfully, he had them, and received the green light to dock moments later.

The ship felt tiny as it slipped inside the capital ship and lowered itself to the hangar floor. No doubt the mastermind, [member="Monitor"], would be along shortly to give him the tour.