Consolidation The Defense Upgrade of Syngia Sector

[The Obsidian Court]

Syngia Sector – Orbit above Syngia Prime


The Syngia Sector, once scarred by siege and shadow, now gleamed with renewed purpose. The void above Syngia Prime had become a fortress unto itself—three orbital defense platforms floated in synchronized orbit, each bristling with turbolasers, tractor beams, and ion cannons calibrated with the latest Imperial targeting algorithms. Patrol routes of TIE Phantoms, Interceptors, and heavy escorts stitched a seamless web of protection through the stars.

From the bridge of the Dominion’s Grasp, the command vessel of Sector Lady Perenelle Dee, the view was one of quiet triumph. What had once been a sector in peril was now a bastion of strength.

Beneath the surface, buried deep within the command architecture of Syngia’s new defensive systems, were the hidden hands of the Obsidian Court. Dark algorithms pulsed through the sector’s systems—unseen, untraceable. Routines that observed, analyzed, and, when necessary, quietly corrected “anomalies” in loyalty or behavior.

At the heart of it all, Lady Perenelle Dee stood poised in her usual regalia of crimson and midnight-black. No longer a mere enforcer of the Empire’s will—she was now its guardian and gatekeeper in Syngia, her authority second only to Darth Malvus himself. Her command was absolute, but her methods measured.

Trade lanes hummed with life. Cargo ships, fuel haulers, and passenger liners came and went from Syngia Prime’s orbital ports, never knowing just how close they were to falling into silence. The sector’s economy had stabilized under her hand, reports to Imperial High Command continued as usual, and not a whisper of change was detected from the Core.

As far as the Empire was concerned, Syngia had simply recovered faster than expected. Efficient. Loyal. Imperial.

But beneath the surface, the truth was far more precise: Syngia now belonged to Darth Malvus. And Dee, his appointed Darth Lady, ensured that every structure rebuilt, every satellite launched, and every system restored was no longer just Imperial—it was his.

She stood before a tactical display showing the current status of sector upgrades. The final phase of planetary shielding was underway. Deep relay nodes were being positioned in the asteroid fields to mask hyperspace beacon alterations. Everything was being shaped to survive—and resist—future sieges.

Behind her, a silent group of agents from the Obsidian Court watched, their presence unobtrusive but ever-present.

With her hands folded behind her back, Dee spoke quietly, “Report to High Command: trade has resumed at full capacity. Civilian infrastructure has been restored. No deviation from the Emperor’s directives. Syngia is stable.”

A subtle smile crept across her lips as she turned away from the viewport.

“Let them believe nothing has changed.”

And in a way, it hadn’t.

Not yet.

 

[Myrren Naarah]

To be trusted with overseeing the newly claimed Syngia sector by her masters was nothing short of a great privilege and opportunity to prove herself that Myrren had been craving for so long. The honor once belonged to her greatest rival, Yulvaris, until his recent failures on Malachor. Myrren could not be happier at his failures.

As excited and eager as she was, doubts and worries still gnawed at the back of Myrren's mind. The fear of failure or mistakes that she may not even realize were mistakes at all, much like what had caused Yulvaris's downfall in the eyes of Master Veraxis. Anxiety and fear over failure was enough to keep her up at night sometimes.

Myrren stood upon a raised metal platform that overlooked the hangar bay, her hands resting on the metal railing as she looked down on the workers below, her dark-robed form obscured by the shadow. For the most part, everything was business as usual, it was as if Syngia had never been taken over by the Obsidian Court at all. Myrren opted to be discreet and more subtle in her task, she had already caught a few would-be detractors whom possessed a gut feeling of something being amiss, then being foolish enough to try and act on it.

For the most part, Myrren did as she was told— she oversaw and made sure the operations moved smoothly, and rooted out any weaknesses she could find. Nothing less, she avoided overstepping her boundaries, there was no need to do so, not yet.

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Syngia — Citadel Control Platform

Midday, Clouded Skies Over the Capital Dome


The heavy doors behind Acolyte Myrren Naarah parted with a pneumatic hiss, and the sound of armored boots echoing across the durasteel floor announced the arrival of a commanding presence.

General Kaela Draal had arrived.

Towering and broad-shouldered, her crimson skin shimmered under the glow of the chamber’s dim lighting. Her black and crimson Sith battle armor—adorned with Obsidian Court insignia and ritual etchings—clinked with every motion, and her twin lekku coiled with practiced poise over her shoulders. Her yellow eyes, sharp and calculating, settled on the acolyte with a quiet intensity as she approached.

The air was thick with the scent of ozone, industrial oil, and the faintest trace of tension.

“You must be Myrren Naarah,” Kaela said, her voice a deep and composed rumble, refined by years of war. “Acolyte of Lord Veraxis.”

She stopped beside her at the observation platform, arms folded behind her back as she glanced over the activity below—workers loading cargo, redirecting atmospheric fuel lines, and assembling newly delivered defense arrays. The work was meticulous. Efficient.

Kaela gave a small nod of approval.

“You were selected to replace the one who failed,” she continued, her tone neutral but unmistakably firm. “Yulvaris has been… reassigned for further correction. Veraxis does not grant second chances lightly. That you stand here now means he believes you may yet be worth something.”

She turned her head toward Myrren, eyes narrowing.

“But belief means nothing if not proven. You understand this?”

Her words were not cruel—just sharpened by pragmatism, shaped by command.

Kaela stepped closer to the railing, her gaze scanning the horizon where defense towers were being fitted with planetary-grade cannons. Obsidian Court technicians worked like ghosts, unseen to most, already rewriting the very fabric of Syngia’s infrastructure.

“The sector is calm… for now. Trade flows continue. Our presence is subtle, cloaked beneath routine and compliance. But that illusion must be maintained. And the cost of failure, as you know, is absolute.”

She finally turned to face Myrren directly, her voice lowering.

“You’re not here to make friends or gain allies. You are here to be the eyes and shadow of Veraxis. Root out defectors. Track inconsistencies. Break any who doubt the new order—quietly. Make them forget they ever questioned it.”

Kaela’s lips curled into something like a grin—feral, dry, brief.

“I’ll see to the infrastructure, the soldiers, and the orbital reinforcements. You’ll see to the whispers, the nerves, the weak minds before they fracture. Keep the Empire’s gaze elsewhere. Let Syngia appear compliant, untouched, and ever loyal.”

She looked back to the workers below.

“And if you do well, Acolyte… you might just live long enough to make Veraxis proud. Or at least… not disappoint him.”

Kaela turned to leave, but paused after a few steps.

“Report to me daily. We will meet again tomorrow at first cycle. If you require assets—inform me. Fail to act when needed, and I’ll remove you myself. Understood?”

The Twi’lek general didn’t wait for an answer. She didn’t need to.

Syngia’s shadow had eyes now—both military and mystical. And Myrren Naarah, for better or worse, had just become part of that web.


Tag: @Myrren Naarah

 

[Myrren Naarah]

Myrren glanced back at the heavy doors opening and watched with cautious curiosity as General Kaela Draal approached and said her piece. She gave no response beyond giving respectful nods of acknowledgement. There was nothing of substance she could say to the General, her words were nothing, but the truth, and they were given commands from a superior. Myrren already knew them, though a firm reminder was not something she opposed, as annoying it may be most of the time.

Once General Kaela finished her piece and Myrren gave her firm nod of acknowledgement, she wanted the twi'lek woman leave. Once the doors closed behind her, Myrren relaxed slightly, taking a deep breath to calm her running nerves and to plan her next move. The few she had caught were the easy targets, their doubts were shown wide in the open rather than kept secret. The hidden defectors, hiding like the roots of a poisonous weeds, were the difficult ones.

After a little while, Myrren turned and left the platform through the heavy doors. There was work to be done after all, perhaps, gaining herself some more proper informants amongst the base's workers would be a good start.

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Location: Caldran City Base, Syngia Sector – Eastern Administrative Wing




The corridors beyond the observation platform were cold and utilitarian, dimly lit by amber emergency strips pulsing gently along the edges of the walls. Myrren’s boots struck the metal floors with sharp, deliberate rhythm, her thoughts still lingering on General Kaela Draal’s parting words. The General’s presence was always like a dark cloud—heavy, commanding, and impossible to ignore.

As Myrren turned a corner, her sharp amber eyes caught the presence of another approaching figure—tall, poised, and unmistakably authoritative. The woman wore a tailored black coat lined with crimson, with the insignia of Lady Dee affixed to her chest. Her sleek silver hair and narrow grey eyes made her look every bit the official operative she was.

“Lady Naarah,” she greeted coolly, a respectful nod accompanying her voice. “Vanya Creed. Senior aide to Lady Dee. I’ve been assigned to assist with your operations here on Syngia and to deliver an update on the current state of affairs.”

Without waiting for a response, Vanya offered a slim datapad with her gloved hand, tapping the screen once as she passed it to Myrren.

“The façade remains intact. Communications are completely secure—any unfiltered messages are either redirected or terminated before they escape the sector. As for trade, shipments continue without disruption. The Court’s influence has embedded itself into the three largest merchant networks. Tren Arlos and Vaxa Benith have been reliable assets. Kyber Nexus, however, remains neutral and guarded. They aren’t openly resisting—but their compliance feels conditional.”

She stepped closer, voice lowering slightly as they entered a quiet alcove near the logistics command.

“Your predecessors rooted out the loud ones. You’re here to unearth the hidden ones. Encrypted on this datapad is a short list of mid-tier functionaries, overseers, and minor port officers—those who have been flagged for abnormal behavior or private communication anomalies. Five are tagged under ‘Priority Gold.’ The other seven are being watched.”

Vanya glanced away, almost contemplatively, before returning her sharp gaze to Myrren.

“Trade flows. The Empire sees nothing. We’ve kept the illusion perfect. But we both know perfection hides fractures. Your discretion in handling these suspects is key—Lady Dee trusts your instincts. Root them out. Co-opt them if they’re useful. Break them if they’re not.”

She turned to leave, her presence lingering like the echo of a vibroblade drawn halfway from its sheath.

“Oh,” she added with a glance over her shoulder, “a word of advice: don’t become complacent with silence. The strongest opposition doesn’t march in the open.”

“Any additional questions?”

And with that, she paused and awaited any questions before she vanished to leave Myrren with the weight of responsibility and the glowing datapad cradled in her palm—a new trail of ghosts to chase.

Tag: @Myrren Naarah

 

[Myrren Naarah]

It did not take long before Myrren was intercepted by someone else— Vanya Creed, an aide of the Lady Perenelle Dee, a newfound ally of the Obsidian Court. She hadn't met the Lady Dee yet, so Myrren had no strong opinions towards the woman, besides being glad at her newfound allegiance towards the Obsidian Court.

Her gaze looked over the contents of the data pad as Vanya spoke, nodding slowly as she took in the information from the screen and Vanya's words. Everything seemed organized and straightforward, they had a few individuals of interest, five under priority gold and several others being monitored. Myrren was confident there is no doubt much more would-be detractors than that, but they'll be unraveled in due time.

“What surveillance protocols are in place for the Priority Gold suspects and the several other individuals under watch?" Myrren looked up at Vanya as she asked, her look curious and serious at the same time. "And what exactly flagged these individuals? behavioral patterns, intercepted messages, or both?”

Tag: @Marcus Aumont

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Vanya Creed stood with her hands neatly folded behind her back, her posture sharp and disciplined as was expected of one who served Lady Perenelle Dee. Clad in sleek, deep-gray intelligence robes marked with the seal of the Obsidian Court, her demeanor was unshaken—composed with the stillness of someone who operated in shadows by choice, not necessity.

She nodded at Myrren’s questions with a faint, approving smile.

“Both,” she replied, her voice even, edged with a quiet professionalism. “Priority Gold suspects were flagged due to anomalous communication patterns—delays in their standard reporting times, encrypted messages traced to neutral or rival sectors, and behavioral irregularities noted during shift rotations. One even requested an unusually high number of leave permits, which in itself wasn’t suspicious… until we correlated it with the disappearances of two junior overseers in the same department.”

Vanya handed Myrren another datapad with a simple gesture, her gloved fingers lightly tapping the top corner.

“This holds the deeper psycho-behavioral profiles our team compiled—non-confrontational interrogation data, minor infractions logged by droids, and unsanctioned route deviations within the facility. Subtle movements, but enough to register.”

She stepped closer to the edge of the corridor railing, glancing down at the workers below as Myrren had done not long before.

“As for surveillance protocols: standard audiovisual intercepts in quarters and work zones. Their comm units are monitored via multi-channel sweepers with burst-decryption—difficult to detect, but limited in processing. We’ve embedded two informants among them—one aware, the other… not so much.”

Turning back to Myrren, Vanya offered a knowing look.

“Lady Dee prefers discretion in all matters. Especially now, when the illusion of stability is just as valuable as the stability itself. We don’t want a purge. We want a narrative.”

She took a half-step forward, lowering her voice.

“And that narrative will be whatever you decide it to be, Acolyte Naarah. You are the eyes here. We are simply… polishing the lens.”

With that, Vanya inclined her head with subtle respect, awaiting any further instructions or inquiries.

Tag: @Myrren Naarah

 

[Myrren Naarah]

Myrren nodded as she looked over the brand new data pad handed to her, satisfied with Vanya's explanation. The gears turning in her mind as she thought of her next move.

"If Lady Dee prefers discretion, then we shall have discretion. Narrative wise, everything shall be business as usual. These people of interest shall be questioned and dealt with as any company would do with.... under performing workers. Avoid having them be suspicious of something within management." She stated quietly. It did mean she'd not be running about breaking minds using the force, at least, not openly so.

"The narrative will hold if it’s shaped with precision. Perhaps, start with the Priority Gold, cross-reference behavioral anomalies with access logs and secure storage data. I want a closer, more active monitoring of their movements compiled daily, and whom they interact with. Gossip can spread quite far if left unchecked."

She glanced at the data pad, skimming over the summaries.

"You said two informants. The unaware one— how was the placement done? Passive pattern matching? Or were they selected based on proximity?"

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Vanya Creed — Whisper of the Court



Vanya stood calmly, hands folded at the small of her back, the silver clasp of her high-collared coat catching the light from the datapad’s screen. Myrren’s command was clear—measured, strategic. Just as Lady Dee would prefer.

A faint, knowing smile touched Vanya’s lips.

“Underperforming workers,” she echoed softly, the euphemism curling like smoke on her tongue. “Very well.”

She tapped once on the pad and brought up a secondary file—a layered mesh of cross-referenced logs, movement trails, and passive behavior models.

“The narrative will hold, yes. If anything, your suggestion to anchor it to routine HR protocols will only deepen the illusion of control. People fear chaos… but they fear bureaucracy even more.”

She turned slightly, letting the light shift off the device so Myrren could read more easily.

“Priority Golds are already under biometric surveillance in the upper levels—low visibility, high yield. We’ll now overlay that with daily logs of movement and interaction as you requested. I’ll have Pattern Analysts from the Dee’s auxiliary corps begin constructing sociometric webs by end of cycle.”

Then, the informant.

Vanya’s fingers slid over the screen to open the subreport. She glanced back up.

“The unaware informant—yes. Passive pattern-matching initially identified them due to habitual presence in high-traffic administrative zones. Never questioned. Invisible by sheer frequency.”

A pause. Slightly amused.

“They were selected because they were already there. No proximity planted, no engineered relationships. Sometimes… the most useful eyes are the ones that believe they’re irrelevant.”

Her gaze met Myrren’s again, sharp and glinting like ice under moonlight.

“Shall I initiate behavioral shaping to encourage them toward a deeper circle of trust? It can be subtle. A promotion. A false tip. Enough to shift their shadow… just slightly closer to the fire.”


Tag: @Myrren Naarah

 

[The Obsidian Court]

The Syngia Sector pulsed with quiet industry.

Across its orbital platforms and surface installations, construction vessels drifted like mechanical wasps, welding new structural supports into place. Automated loaders ferried crates of durasteel, processors, and reactor components to staging zones, where black-armored technicians worked tirelessly under the Obsidian Court’s mandate. Massive data uplinks were being installed, laced with encrypted relay cores to feed intelligence directly to Malvus’ shadow networks.

Atop the mesa ridges of Tal’varin IV, a new command outpost began to take shape—sleek, angular, efficient. Defensive emplacements were reinforced with prototype shielding arrays, while sensor towers hummed to life with eerie, low pulses that scanned for cloaked vessels and long-range anomalies. Farther below, within the industrial warrens of Keta Prime, upgrades to the cybernetics facilities continued under armed guard. Dark-robed overseers watched silently as surgeons modified loyalist operatives with precision augmentations—faster reflexes, neural dampeners, ocular targeting systems.

Meanwhile, the internal security apparatus moved in parallel, subtle but no less effective.

Across Syngia’s various installations, Priority Gold individuals were now under enhanced monitoring. Their names appeared in encrypted updates circulated to inner-circle operatives: engineers who lingered too long near unauthorized data ports, officers whose clearance accesses spiked irregularly, maintenance crew whose patrol paths intersected too often with critical relay nodes.

One, a mid-tier logistics analyst named Kerven Dal, had quietly rerouted supply manifests—minor discrepancies, yet just enough to hint at concealed activity. Another, technician Rehla Vos, was noted for accessing archived communication logs without formal requisition. Their movements, their words, even their micro-expressions—recorded and fed through behavioral AI protocols calibrated for deception markers.

None had been approached. Not yet.

But their patterns were being drawn.

And the Court would be watching.

 

[Myrren Naarah]

Vanya's responses continue to please Myrren. No condescension nor any annoying rebuttals, just understanding, agreement, and suggestions. It certainly aided in Myrren's confidence with the operation.



"Not just the illusion of control, but the illusion of safety as well. It must be kept in mind that many— if not most of these individuals - are here working to be paid. Either for self-survival or sustaining their families, of which they, naturally, would not want to be harmed nor struggling." There a subtle hint in her tone as she spoke. A glint in her eyes as she gazed at Vanya, Myrren knew exactly what she implied by mentioning families. It was more on the extreme side, but it was an option nonetheless.



"Do it. A promotion or otherwise. Something menial but flattering— enough to give them access, but not full authority. We want them near the heat, not in control of the fire itself. "



She paused, pondering briefly.



"As an additional layer of surveillance. I want hidden listening devices to be planted within common lounging areas outside working hours, primarily the mess halls. Not just to monitor the people of note, but to catch any additional suspects and to gauge public opinion. Discontent can lead to ideas of opposition after all."

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Vanya inclined her head in acknowledgment, the flicker of understanding in her eyes subtle but unmistakable. There was no need for verbal reinforcement of what had been implied—only the quiet efficiency with which she absorbed it.

The mention of families, of those external attachments that could be twisted into leverage, did not go unnoticed. In the world Vanya operated within, such pressure points were not cruel—they were practical. And Myrren was correct: illusions were often more powerful than facts. Safety. Control. Progress. Let them believe in all three, while their strings were drawn tighter in silence.

The instructions were already taking form in her mind.

Soft promotions. A title change. Slight pay increase.

Private congratulations. Subtle reassignment to sensitive corridors.

Flattery, not command.

A perfect cage.

“I’ll oversee the adjustments to personnel files myself,” Vanya would later note in the encrypted report. “Let them believe their merits have been noticed. That their loyalty is valued.”

As for the mess halls and lounging spaces, plans were already in motion. Discreet insertion teams had been prepped for precisely these installations—miniature auditory sensors designed to mimic the ambient hum of ceiling fans or the framework of light fixtures. Untraceable. Passive.

Vanya marked the operation under Tier Two Obsidian Intelligence Protocol.

It would yield more than chatter. It would reveal tone. Mood. Intent. Not just those being watched, but those who watched them.

After all, rebellion rarely began with plans. It began with whispers. And Vanya Creed would hear them all.


Tag: @Myrren Naarah