Private A Cry Out Of Time

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

Equipment: Heavy Chaingun | Modified RSKF-44 | Micro Rockets ​

The SOS beacon echoed outwards into the reaches of space and the void itself, a new breath given to the metallic corpse that ushered itself into the infinity beyond. Panic within had ensued after a miscalculation on the Pirate Captains orders. The Weequay Captain having ordered his crew to send out the SOS beacon from the dead Mandalorian ship into the reaches of space after their ship fried itself resurrecting R-5.

Blaster fire echoed from the various crowded and ruined halls still scarred from a war that happened generations ago. A not relic of the past walks its very ground, armed with a large Chaingun, his blaster fire rained down on the now nearly defenseless pirates.

“Return fire! Suppress him!”

The pirates began setting up a heavy blaster chaingun mounted on a tripod as R-5 moved in closer. Spark spitting from the walls from various blaster bolts deflected by his heavy armor.

“Raytha, I want you to snipe him, there has to be a weak point in that damn armor!”

The Captain spoke into his comms as he returned blaster fire back to the now one machine army slowly approaching.

R-5’s chaingun still firing away mowing blaster fire in a horizontal arch aimed for their waistlines. The chaingun sputtered and started to overheat, causing him to mount it to his shoulder. Metal plates on his thigh opened up with a mechanical whirring sound as a hidden holster offered him the handle of his heavy blaster pistol, modified RSK-44.

He quickly drew it with his off hand, the targeting hud in his visor highlighting critical points into each individuals, headshots, neck shots, knees.

The pistol charged up with a humming sound before it released heavy bolt after heavy bolt, limbs disintegrated along with heads as each bolt hit their mark with brutal and efficient timing.

Raytha sat in the very back cloaked in camouflage tach, the Twilek sniper taking her aim as R-5 moved. She breathed slowly before she squeezed the trigger at the apex of her exhale.

The heavy slug fired off impacting into R-5’s neck, his body stunned for a moment as blaster fire slowly ceased.

“Exellent shot Raytha.”

One of the pirates started chuckling as they slowly drew closer.

R-5 quickly sprung back into action showing no signs of true damage as his pistol raised, the hud highlighting the barrel of fuel behind Raytha, his shot rocketed past her, just burning her cheek before it impacted the barrel with a massive explosion.
During the chaos of the explosion R-5 took a solid stance as his shoulder plates opened up, revealing small launchers of whistling bird micro missiles. They all launched, zig zagging and whirling through the air in unpredictable trails before each one hit their next mark, micro explosions taking care of the now wounded and screaming intruders.

Veyla Krinn
​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't rush forward. The moment she witnessed the scale of him, the way he moved through the pirates with mechanical precision and overwhelming force, she slowed instead, her attention sharpening rather than escalating. This wasn't a battlefield she could simply step into and redirect; this was something older, something built for war in its purest form.

Her blaster remained lowered, not out of trust, but out of a calculated necessity. Her gaze tracked the movements of his weapons and the arcs of fire, noting how targets were selected and eliminated with a brutal, certain efficiency. There was no hesitation in him, and no uncertainty, only directive, and that told her everything she needed to know.

"You're still executing a standing order," she said, her voice carrying clearly through the corridor without rising, cutting across the fading chaos rather than competing with it.

She didn't approach too quickly, making sure every step forward was measured, deliberate, and visible so as not to be interpreted as a threat.

"Enemies identified. Mandalorian assets compromised. Response is justified."

She let the agreement sit for a fraction of a second before offering the correction, her chin lifting as her posture shifted into something unmistakably Mandalorian.

"Situation has changed," she continued, allowing a small pause to anchor the words. "Those hostiles are no longer your objective."

Her hand lifted, not toward a weapon, but toward her pauldron, where the markings of House Kryze sat clear and unmistakable even through the wear of combat.

"You are not alone on this ship. Mandalorian forces have answered your signal."

She didn't tell him to stand down yet. Instead, she offered him something his logic could process.

"Identify current Mand'alor."

The question wasn't rhetorical; it was a deliberate bridge. If he answered, she could guide him, and if he didn't, she would adjust. Her gaze didn't waver as she watched him.

"Until that is established, you risk engaging your own. Reassess targets."

She held her ground, balanced perfectly between caution and authority, meeting him not as something to be saved, but as a Mandalorian who simply needed a reason to stop fighting.

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

R-5's back straightened when her voice pierced the veil of combat before him, his body turning around in a fluid motion, his blaster pistol raised and ready to fire, but it didn't.

Almost instantly his finger relaxed on the trigger as his visors HUD revealed information on her as she spoke and drew nearer.

Analyzing…………Subject of Mandalorian descent.

Directive……….Negotiate.

Commandment number two in effect…….​

His blaster slowly lowered.

“Hostiles still pose a threat, hostile still wear Mandalorian Beskar. Retrieval is necessary to Mandalore.”

His voice deep, mechanical yet still….human. It was clear that this was no man in armor, nor was it a battle droid. But something else entirely.

His gaze looked towards the halls of the damaged ship.

“Signal?...I did not send for backup. The threats will soon be neutralized.”

Her next statement caused him to pause, his helmet tilting to the side as his hud scanned her armor and her house symbol.

“Mandalore The Ultimate, The Shadow Father.”

He quickly stepped towards the Mandalorian woman before him.

“We must go to his aid! Our survival hinges on his success.”

His actions though sudden did not contain any hostility towards her, but it did hold a sense of urgency.

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't flinch when he moved. The sudden step and the raw urgency in his voice. That had the weight of something long buried pushing to the surface. It did not pull her off balance. She held her ground, her posture steady and her gaze fixed on him as he spoke of a war that had ended lifetimes ago.

Mandalore the Ultimate.

The name settled between them like a relic pulled from another age. Her expression didn't harden, nor did it soften; it remained measured, firmly grounded in the present rather than the past, where he was still standing.

"That war is over," she said, her voice calm and certain without being dismissive. "Mandalore the Ultimate is gone."

She gave him a moment to process the words, refusing to rush the silence and letting the weight of that truth stand on its own.

"You've been asleep a long time," she continued, her tone quieter now but no less steady. "Long enough for Mandalore to fall and rise again."

Her hand lowered from her pauldron, yet her stance remained unchanged. Open, visible, and firm.

"There is a Mand'alor," she said, the title carrying the weight of an anchor to something real rather than a mere correction. "Mandalore the Iron."

She let that name resonate for a beat before adding, "And your directives still stand. Serve Mandalore. Protect its people. Destroy its enemies."

A small pause followed, just long enough to bridge the shift in his reality.

"Right now, that means adapting."

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the halls where the last of the pirates had fled before returning to him.

"The hostiles here are already breaking, and they are not your war," she said, stepping slightly to the side. She didn't block him but redirected his line of movement, guiding him rather than opposing him.

"You were found drifting, and your signal is what brought us here. That means your mission isn't to finish a battle that ended centuries ago."

Her voice remained even, though a firmer edge settled beneath it now.

"It is to return to Mandalore, and to the Mand'alor who still stands."

She held his gaze, steady and unwavering, offering the finality he needed.

"You don't need to fight alone anymore."

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

His grip tensed over his pistol, the reinforced alloys creaking under his strength.

His voice came out as a deep rumble

“....The war….”

His voice trailed as her words hit him.

“...it's…over?”

His stride stepped back with a heavy metallic thud that shook the foundation.

“And Mandalore fell…”

His heavy blaster pistol dropped from his grasp, landing to the deck with a loud metallic clatter as it bounced across the floor.

“No…We…I was sent to finish the war.”

His fists clenched at his side as his shoulders heaved like he were taking heavy breaths, the human element still showing signs like a muscled reflex.

“And Mandalore the Ultimate…gone…”

His gaze fell to the ship and its degradation of time. The degradation of his mandalorian brothers and sisters.

“Mandalore The Iron…”

His sight then fell to the breaking enemy now running off, wounded cries and groans of agony.

“I wish…”

He paused for a moment, almost as if in hesitation.

“To see home again…”

His visor fell to her, a cold feeling of loss hidden under his helm. A silent mourning flooding through his mind.

“Mandalor The Iron must know of my failure.”

Thoughts of Mandalore flooded his mind, his home, his people.

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't move when the weapon fell. The sound of it striking the deck carried through the corridor, sharp against the quiet that followed, but her focus never left him. She watched the shift in him carefully, recognizing it not as a threat but as something far more fragile than the armor suggested, not weakness, but a profound sense of displacement and loss.

When he spoke of failure, something in her expression changed, growing steadier and more anchored rather than softer.

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum."

The words came without hesitation, her voice low but clear as it carried the weight of something older than either of them.

"I'm still alive, you're still fighting, I remember you, so you are eternal."

She let the translation follow naturally, making sure the sentiment landed before her gaze held his once more.

"You didn't fail," she continued with a calm certainty. "You were never deployed. You were taken out of the war before you could finish it, and that isn't failure; that's simply time."

A small, measured step forward allowed her to close just enough distance for her words to feel grounded. Her eyes flicked briefly to the ruined ship around them, taking in the dead and the age etched into every surface before returning to him.

"Mandalore fell," she acknowledged, making no attempt to soften the blow. "It fell more than once, but it never stayed that way. We're still here, the clans, the people, and the fight, and Mandalore the Iron leads us now."

Her tone shifted slightly, becoming more purposeful as she let a brief silence settle between them.

"If you want to see home again, then you cannot stay here chasing the ghosts of a war that has already ended. You go back and you stand for Mandalore as it is now."

She held her position, giving him something solid to step into instead of the void of what he'd lost.

"That's not failure," she said quietly. "That's survival."

R-5 (Rathen Vex)

 

[R-5 (Rathen Vex)]

The use of the mandalorian tongue pulled his attention to her. The words, he remembered those words from back then. To him was just the previous day, but to her were lifetimes ago. Mandalore had not only fallen, it endured, it survived, and its teachings still remained sacred.

This thought had brought relief to the old cyborg. There were still Mandalorians which meant there was still Mandalore and it’s rightful ruler.

His visor stared into hers when she spoke of survival.

“We Mandalorians, are capable of returning from the ashes. We will always survive. We will always endure and as long as that remains, I will always fight for Mandalore.”

He slowly bent down to pick up his blaster, its large frame perfectly fitting his grip as he brought it to his leg, the plates separating with a mechanical whirring as a hidden holster revealed itself. He holstered his pistol, then it disappeared back into the plates.

“I just need one more thing.”

He stepped past her as he made his way back down the hall, towards the command deck. He stopped where the doors were sealed, his HUD highlighting the blastdoor highlighting its weak points.

His hand jammed into the crease, warping the metal with ease. His arms pulled the blast doors open slowly, the metal groaning and straining under his pressure. Blaster fire came at him from the room he tried to open only to bounce off with little to no effect.

With a firm grunt and a firmer shove his arms slammed the doors open warping the doorframe and jamming the mechanism.

In surprising speed and efficiency he pulled his chaingun from his shoulder, the barrels began to spin up before a hail of blaster bolts rained on the only living pirate in the room. The barrels ceased fire, the whirring slowed down to a halt, only when silence fell did he step in.

Veyla Krinn​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't move to stop him. The moment he turned, the shift in his intent was clear. Not reckless or uncontrolled, but purposeful and focused. She recognized it for what it was: a continuation of a duty long interrupted rather than a simple escalation of violence.

She followed at a distance that matched his pace without crowding him, her rifle lowered but ready. Her attention swept the corridor behind and ahead in equal measure while he tore through the blast doors as if they were little more than an inconvenience. The sound of metal groaning and giving way echoed through the ship, followed immediately by the sharp, rhythmic crack of blaster fire.

She didn't flinch when the bolts struck his heavy plating, nor did she raise her weapon to intervene. By the time she stepped through the mangled threshold, the room had already fallen into a heavy, ozone-scented silence.

Her gaze passed over the remains of the pirate only briefly before shifting back to him. She tracked the way he moved through the space, his focus narrowing now that the immediate threat had been neutralized. This wasn't about the fight anymore; it was about something he had come back for across the span of centuries.

Veyla eased a few steps further into the command deck, her posture steady and her presence controlled, though no longer held at the sharp edge of engagement. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the flickering consoles, the structural damage, and the immense age of the systems around them before settling back on the ancient warrior.

"What are you looking for?"

Her tone wasn't demanding or heavy with suspicion. It was grounded and practical, neither questioning his actions nor judging the efficiency of his kill. She was simply aligning herself with his objective, already preparing to help him find whatever ghost he was hunting.

R-5 (Rathen Vex)