A Sullen Decree and a Steel Reply

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igtGvZr4MwA

​

Coruscant was lost, taken by force by the Galactic Alliance. Hundreds of Sith had died on the planet itself, alongside countless soldiers and stromtroopers, the iron fist of the empire. The Navy had suffered as well. At Dulvoyinn, almost the entirety of Azure Hammer Command had been destroyed, and all semblance of order was shattered when Fleet Admiral Varhoik went down aboard the Immortal Titan.

Coruscant had been no better. Grand Admiral Myth Worgemuth was missing in action following the destruction of the Orbital GHQ. As the station had disintegrated under the repeated barrage of a hundred Javelin Cannons, Fleet Admiral Lkiras had fought a delaying action to allow the remnants of Shadow Hand command to escape. His flagship, the Star Destroyer Desolator had not made it out. It had been the last combat effective Sith ship in the Coruscant system, facing down the veteran crews of Omega Pyre battleships who had bided their time and honed their skills for years the shadows.

It hadn't been an uneven contest, Alliance losses had been equally severe. But the Alliance had not been fighting a grueling war of conquest for years now, instead they had been preparing for this, their master stroke. Now, whatever the cost, their gamble had succeeded. The Sith could no longer expect to outnumber their opponent, whether on land or in space.

Overall command fell, unwanted and unasked for, to the harch Grand Admiral Chysa'sk. Rallying what forces she could, she prepared for a counteroffensive across the long Alliance salient. In a stark departure from the typical grand show of force, she split the remaining Sector Fleets into smaller strike groups and launched a series of hit and run strikes. Weaving a web of deceit, with every attack preceded by numerous feints and false maneuvers, she threw the warships of the One Sith at their opponents with renewed vigor.

Rumors among the enlisted spoke of a grand project known as the 'Ascension,' that would turn the tide of the war. But equally ominous was the fact that Iron Lance Command, headed by Fleet Admiral Cyrus Tregessar, appeared to be entirely uninvolved in the offensive.

'Ascension,' it was such a Sith way to talk of a purge in such terms. A cleasning, if you will, a change of the guard mandated by force and paved with blood. That Chysa'sk would kowtow the dark side masters so willingly was a bit disappointing, but not at all unexpected.

They all had their part to play, after all. Though perhaps, not all the acts were quite yet written. There was yet room for one with enough will to alter the course, and take some of what would be left behind for themselves.

OOC

Spoiler

This thread is largely going to be Cyrus' IC defection from the One Sith. It is however, totally open to anybody who wants to participate, so feel free to jump in if you're so inclined. Opposition will be largely NPC's, unless someone wants to fight it out for the One Sith. PM me for questions, or just let it ride and enjoy the story.

 

[Subject 37]

Blood. His people had paid enough for centuries to come. The Sith had taken Togorian, they had bloodied it, broken it, and attempted to eradicate it's people.

They had failed.

Thousands had died, millions. Sprawling camps of death, pits filled with bodies, unspeakable horrors. Aryn had seen them all under the Sith, he'd watched and witnessed, experienced it all. He had worked within the camps, slaved away within the Pits. Day after day, week after week, month after month. He'd felt the sting of their whips, the scorching pain of their tasers, every hurt that could have been inflicted, every harm and agony that could have been pressed, everything had been given to him.

Yet he'd survived.

He'd been one of the few.

He'd escaped. He'd pulled himself from the pits of the Sith created hell. He'd murdered and maimed on his way out, consuming flesh for the first time in months and wetting his claws with blood. It had been a sweet victory, but a Pyrrhic one. He had crawled for miles within the wastelands that had become Togoria, dug through the dirt, eaten scraps of what he could. He'd thought himself dead, sacrificed, and then had come his savior.

The Mandalorians of Clan Spar, his new family. They had found him within the wasteland, they saved him, took him from the edge of death's door and delivered him back into strength. They fed him, trained him, and took him in as one of their won. Slowly Aryn became more then what he had been, he became a murderer, a killer, a Mandalorian. He was raised from a kit again, blessed with strength and speed. He took the mantle of Alor upon himself, and from there...he walked towards his vengeance.

Now, on this day, he would have it.

Their small shuttle cut through the dark of space, two dozen Mandalorians belonging to Death Watch sitting within the hold. In their center stood Aryn, every muscle in his body taught, every tendon ready to snap. He was ready for this.

Ready to taste their blood.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0XseAJ9g8A

Kuat. According to many, the greatest shipyard in all the galaxy. Under the One Sith it maintained its status, producing much of the once vast strength of the Dark Lord's Navy. Even now in the wake of the disaster at Coruscant it retained significance, both for its economic capability and its strategic importance. Along with Bilbringi, the two systems were the lynchpin of the Grand Admiral's counteroffensive, forward resupply bases on a massive scale, able to refit an entire armada in days or weeks.

For a great power, the system would have been a terrific prize, but Fleet Admiral [member="Cyrus"] Tregessar had a slightly more humble goal in mind. Chysa'sk, in her determination to stand with the SIth as they fell, was willing to throw away all that Cyrus had managed to accomplish. Not least among that was the creation of a class of one of the most powerful ships in modern history, the Darr Itah Grand Battlecruisers. Only recently had the initial production run of nine been completed, and the location of each one was a state secret. Four were safe, under lock and key at Bilbringi, guarded by trusted commanders of Battleforce Iron Lance. Two had been launched and were leading the attacks on the Galactic Alliance. The final three were still in the yards at Kuat, undergoing final fitting out, along with an encrypted copy of the complete technical readout and design plans.

Cyrus did not intend to let the Sith squander that prize in the pursuit of some pseudo-religious apocalypse. He would take what was rightfully his.

With a flash, the Dark Blade-class Destroyer Contempt reverted into realspace on the outskirts of Kuat, followed moments after by a small armada. Orders had been given prior to departure, and the formation rapidly broke apart as individual ships and small units began their independent actions. A pack of four Corsair corvettes rocketed off at max acceleration towards the command hub of the Kuat Drive Yard Ring, while the bulk of the fleet in a loose wedge made a cautious approach to the intimidating Golan IV Defense Station closest to them.

To Cyrus' surprise, there appeared to be almost no defense fleet whatsoever. Assuming it wasn't a trap, that made things easier, but only slightly. While he would have liked to simply sit back and bombard the station into rubble from range, he simply didn't have time for a siege, sooner or later someone would figure out what was up and sound the alarm, and the Sith's lapdogs would come running seeking blood to prove their worth to their uncaring masters.

"Alright," Cyrus said quietly, his voice all the timbre of steel, "Execute, phase one. Keep shields on standby, feed fire control data to weapons but no targeting, no power. Track and Probe, get a fix on the prizes. Prep all strike teams for immediate launch once we enter phase two. Make all standard reports, every indication should be that we're returning from a regular patrol."

The routine hail pulsed out from the station, and was followed by a prompt reply from the captain of the Contempt. Not further communications followed. So far, so good.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Cyrus' reputation was his main advantage right now. Known for both his rigid enforcement of proper procedures on underlings and general disregard for them in his own action, it presented a conundrum for the crew of the Golan IV. Clearly the movement of the four Corsair corvettes was absolutely non-standard, but with the rest of the fleet behaving regularly it became a 50/50 chance of calling down the wrath of the Fleet Admiral or simply turning away and hoping that was the right answer.

It probably helped that he'd once helped orchestrate a purge of the Navy. Getting on Cyrus' bad side could have significantly more immediate consequences than simply a bad mark in your service record.

The operation was relatively simple in concept, but difficult in execution. The main fleet would make their way to docked Darr Itah's, land prize crews, and get the ships underway and into hyperspace as calmly and quietly as possible. If everything went well, there would no interference, with everyone assuming this was all according to some higher-up's plan.

Fake it till you make it could get you pretty far in a military organization used to unquestioning subservience towards their superiors.

The force of corvettes was heading for the central hub, to secure station control. If something was going to go wrong, it would start there. Cyrus wasn't sure who was in command of KDY anymore, but they were sure to object to several companies of Marines marching in. Sure there were fabricated orders and all the necessary paperwork, but if the man or woman in charge had any sort of steel behind them there would be trouble.

A strike team of Helldivers was in each ship, and Captain Vayrrel herself was leading things. If things came to force they'd have that advantage.

The third part of the plan involved a second launch of several shuttles to hit the R&D facilities, and take the plans for the Darr Itah. Those were classified and controlled at the highest possible level, and it was almost certain that there would be hostilities. The shuttles were half marines and half helldivers, each one of whom had their loyalty assured.

Besides the Golan IV the only other spaceborne defenses were several packs of frigates and corvettes on patrol, and weapon platforms on the ring itself. Nothing too serious, if the fighting moved to space. On paper everything seemed planned out and account for, but Cyrus couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he overlooked.

That was the sort of nagging thought that could doom a commander, lose a battle, and see an end to a war. He'd be damned if the Tregessar legacy were going to die here.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

At the per-arranged point, a lone Fenris-class frigate broke off and headed for the research center. A routine query pulsed in, wondering about the intentions of the ship, and the commanding officer indicated he was headed towards a berth on the far side of the ring, usually used for loading and unloading of munitions.

It was an interesting thing, to infiltrate your own territory.

The corvettes were making good time, and while two took station targeting the command hub the remaining two pulled up and began docking procedures at auxiliary ports. They weren't responding to any hails at all, trusting confusion to be their main protection right now.

Abruptly a hail came in from the Golan IV. Even before Cyrus saw the tension and fear on the face of the station commander, he knew the game was up.

"Fleet Admiral Tregessar, have your ships heave to and prepare for boarding. You are under arrest by the authority of Grand Admiral Chysa'sk for treasonous actions against the One Sith. You have sixty seconds to comply with this order."

Cyrus just grinned, the white hot Tregessar rage already cooling and condensing down to a molten iron. "What do you figure your chances are, whelp?" Even as he spoke he gave orders wordlessly, gesturing to controlling stations to turn the fleet around and prepare for battle.

The station commander paled visibly. "You’re done, Tregessar. The Grand Admiral saw this coming, and the Sith made preparations. You can either surrender, or Kuat will be your grave."

It was clearly a trap, and given how thoroughly Cyrus had made his sweep of the system before launching the operation, that most likely meant forces on hot standby nearby in deep space. Unless the Sith were so deluded that they thought statics defenses were worth a damn against Cyrus Tregessar.

“Huh, you stand shaking in your boots, a disgrace to the uniform you wear, and tell me to be afraid? What do your crew think of going up against the Iron Duke, I wonder? A pretty little trap, but I made my preparations too. What do you figure the odds are you survive to see your reinforcements arrive?”

It was largely bluffing, although Cyrus had no real doubts about his ability to deal with a single defensive station. But every minute the commander delayed was a minute longer the strike teams had to get into position. Even as silence persisted for a few moments a message appeared on a separate display screen indicating the start of the attempt at breaching the command center. Resistance was, for the moment, light, with most enemy forces putting up only a token fight and quickly standing down.

“Come on commander, no more posturing. What did they promise you to kill me? The next Admiral position, or maybe governorship of a world? How many men are you going to sacrifice to get there?

A second message traced across the secondary display. The assault shuttles had launched from the Fenris and were headed towards the research center. While the station commander was probably still willing to delay things until his backup arrived, Cyrus was rapidly running out of reasons to not start shooting.

His fleet was by now clustered around the spacedock ring itself, at around long range. The Contempt itself, the Wyyrlok-class Turgor, and three Boneshatters made up the long-range firepower. Three more Fenris' and a pair of Razer's rounded things out.

There was still no response from the Golan IV, the commander evidently meant to wait things out. He was probably banking on Cyrus having more urgent tasks to accomplish. He was right. With a muttered curse, Cyrus gave his orders, and the fleet began a slow approach towards the Darr Itah docks, keeping their facing towards the Golan IV, with shields up and weapons ready.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

With the station commanders indecision playing to his benefit, Cyrus' fleet made its way over to the Darr Itah docks unmolested. While he'd initially intended to dock and oversee the launching of the vessels personally, the current situation made that too complicated and risky. Instead shuttles ferried down the necessary technicians, engineers, and crew. A few thousand for each ship, barely enough to get the battlecruisers running, and not nearly enough to make them combat ready.

It would have to do, from that point all that was needed was a straight shot the edge of the gravity well and a long few jumps back to Bilbringi.

One of the ships, the Darth Kryat was running through undocking procedures and the second, Darth Bane was finishing reactor start-up when everything went to hell.

"Cronau radiation detected! Capital ship signature, vector point four nine. It's, uh..." The voice of the bridge crewman trailed off into nothing as the image of the reversion was brought up on the main display. A lone Darr Itah lead a small pack of ships which even now were joining up with the Kuati patrol corvettes.

"ID is in, that's the Revan, she's supposed to be at the front."

"Obviously not," Cyrus muttered to no one in particular. There wasn't anyone to blame but himself for bad intelligence in this case. Time to remake plans on the fly. "Captain Vayyrel, we are out of time. What is the status of taking control of the command center?"

The voice of Cyrus' flag captain sounded particularly strained. Resistance has picked up significantly. We're making progress but it's slow." Off in the distance by the command hub, Cyrus could see a sudden flash of light, probably weapon emplacements firing on the orbiting Corsairs. "And they've just started shooting my ships."

Pushing harder meant more casualties, but at the current pace he could lose everything. "We need those guns silenced or on our side now. Whatever it takes, Captain."

For several moments there was no response. Finally with an exasperated sigh the zabrak captain replied. "Very well, we'll have it shortly." The comms cut without further ceremony.

Whoever was in charge of the Revan was acting far more decisively than the commander of the Golan IV station. The fleet was already moving in to close engagement range. The plan, already operating on a strict timeline, was in tatters. With a simple gesture, Cyrus gave the order to commence long range fire on the Golan IV, at least he could try and take one threat out of the picture.

The Contempt shuddered and shook as the spinal-mounted HVC began its first volley. Even from a distance the impacts of the rounds on the shields of the station could be seen as brilliant flashes that wrapped fire around the station. The Turgor followed up with its long range turbolasers, etching patterns of destruction across the face of the shields.

The station commander appeared to be panicking. Likely unwilling to hit the station ring with anything serious, the return fire was sporadic and poorly targeted, those shots that did hit were easily absorbed the by the impressive shields of the Dark Blade and Wyyrlok.

Whatever advantage Cyrus had gained the suddenness and severity of his attack would swiftly be nullified by the arrival of the Revan. If he couldn't get underway now, he risked being pincered between a hammer and an anvil, picked apart at the leisure of his enemy.

Not a bad trap, all things considered.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

The display screen flickered, and a comms tech called out that the Revan was attempting to hail the Contempt. The battlecruiser and her escorts were by now right at the edge of weapons range, and as there had been not attempt at a ceasefire, Cyrus gave orders to continue the barrage against the station but also to open communications.

The face that appeared on screen would have been beautiful to most eyes, a falleen woman, perhaps thirty years old, with a piercing gaze and grim smile. But out of those eyes poured only hatred and arrogance. Cyrus just scowled in response.

"I wouldn't have expected you to crawl sniveling at the feet of the Sith, Admiral Sar'theron."

Sar'theron's smile didn't change, but her gaze hardened. "The Grand Admiral made it clear I was to give you a chance to surrender, or else we wouldn't be talking. Your odds don't look good, you can take out one station easily enough but there's no chance you can escape with all those ships."

"Kark off. That's my reply, you can relay it to the spider queen in person."

"I was hoping you'd say that," and without another word the signal went dead.

But the Revan's reply was just as immediate as the massive Mark 74 HVC's began to open fire. The only warning Cyrus got was a tech yelling out 'energy surge!' followed by a sudden lurch as the Contempt was literally rocked by impact.

Alina Sar'theron was not prone to idle boasting, she was perfectly correct that there was simply no time to get all three battlecruisers underway. Not with the shields of the Contempt wilting under a constant barrage.

The Turgor responded as best it could. Battery commanders began pairing, punching shots through weakened parts of the shield in an attempt to disable weapon emplacements on the Golan IV. Destroying the station was an impossibility, but they could render it impotent. Here and there, fire blossomed on the skin of the station, the explosions lashing out against the inside of the shields and flaring across it. If nothing else, it was helping to confuse the enemy sensors.

"Cease recovery efforts on the Vader, have all remaining crews report to the Bane and prepare to breakthrough the enemy force. Captain Vayyrel, report."

The reply was broken up by static and the sound of weapons fire and alarms. Evidently things had gotten considerably more difficult at the command hub. "Casualties are heavy... losing a ship... main objective secured, secondary in seven minutes."

The primary objective had been the magnetic shield for the Driveyard Ring. The now mobile Darth Kryat and soon to be moving Darth Bane would be free to head outbound and spin up their hyperdrives. But both ships had only a skeleton crew, they were totally combat ineffective. The would still have to survive the awesome firepower of the Revan and her escorts.