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"Horizonblade, come around to the far side of my position. You'll see a detached hangar section approximately three hundred meters off my port bow. Match its trajectory, but don't get between it and the recovery ship."
Gravitational tears and the idea of being torn up by them was one thing. But in the chaos of the moment it was difficult to remember nor comprehend the time dilation once encounters when you are this close to a black hole. It affects telemetry, transmissions and other interstellar phenomenon in ways that are difficult to comprehend or anticipate. As Ghostfield's voice begun circulating into her cockpit Eupra gazed up at the intercom as the woman's voices was garbled and distorted. She sounded odd and eerie to the Jedi.
"Can we clear that up?" Eupraxiane asked her astromech while she continued to fly close enough to the Imperial operation without outright interfering with it.
Bee-boop!
As the astromech bleeped another affirmative Eupra continued to monitor the operation from afar.
Jyote Veyr said:
"I'm going to arrest its rotation with the tractor. I need you watching the side I can't see. Debris, structural separation, trajectory changes—anything you don't like, call it."
In an attempt to clear up the bandwidth and telemetry of Ghostfield's transmissions Eupra flew the Horizonblade closer to where the transport was. But this was not the only reason she got closer. Something in the Force told her that the person on the other end needed her help and so guided by her senses Eupra took her ship closer hopeful that the Imperials nearby wouldn't shoot her down like they said they would if she interfered.
Something told her that they wouldn't, however.
"Have you got the transmission cleaned up yet?" Eupra asked again.
DISTORTED TRANSMISSION CLEAN-UP
Horizonblade—
come around—
around the far side—
the far side of my position.
You'll see the hangar section.
Detached.
Approximately three hundred—
three hundred meters—
off my port bow.
Match its trajectory.
Don't—
don't get between it—
the recovery ship—
the recovery— "Horizonblade, come around—"
No.
That isn't right.
The hangar is already— [signal degradation]
—rotating.
I'm going to arrest its rotation with the tractor.
I'm going to—
going to— arrest—
arrest—
I need you watching the side I can't see.
The side I can't—
can't— see.
Debris.
Structural separation.
Trajectory changes.
Anything you don't like—
call it.
Call it.
Call— "Don't be polite about it."
"Don't be polite about it."
"Don't—"
There is something behind the hangar.
Horizonblade, do you—
Do you see—
You should be seeing it.
You were supposed to be watching the side I couldn't see.
I can see it now.
I can see—
I can— [TRANSMISSION DISTORTION]
Horizonblade, come around to the far side of my position.
You'll see a detached hangar section approximately three hundred meters—
three hundred—
three— "And don't be polite about it."
"And don't be—"
"—polite—"
"—about—" "—it."
"They are asking for help," Eupra decided as she tried to understand what was being said.
Adjusting her heading the wily Jedi took the Horizonblade around the Decadent Lord on course for the hangar bay section. While what Ghostfield said was difficult to decipher (given the affects of the black hole) Eupra decided that they were asking for help with making sure that nearby debris or other anomalies wouldn't affect the salvaging. With her hand on the stick Eupra shot scrap down and reversed the speed of her ship to match the spin as they each rotated in the stellar drift hopeful that they all weren't going to be torn up in the gravitational shears that was making the Horizonblade's hull groan under the weight of it.
Jyote Veyr said:
"Horizonblade, Ghostfield. Change of plan.... One of the fighters is pinned. The droids can't safely determine where to cut, so I'm crossing over to free it manually."
"Ugh," Eupra exclaimed while trying to pilot the ship and guard the Imperials. "That is even worse than before. I can't understand a thing they are saying! You gotta clear that up!"
Jyote Veyr said:
"I need you outside. Keep watching the fragment, my transport and the debris field. Once I'm over there, you've got the better picture."
Even though the transmissions were being affected by the black hole Eupra still had her bearings and wit enough to make out what was going on in real time. It helped that she was being guided by her powers in the Force. As she moved the Horizonblade about and shot enough piece of debris that seared completely off a section of the Decadent Lord (before it hit the Imperial ship) Eupra watched in horror as one of the Imperials stood at the end of the airlock. She could make out their figure through the viewing port that led into the Imperial transport.
"They are going to go in..."
Jyote Veyr said:
"If that section starts breaking apart, our trajectory changes, or you see something I can't, call the abort. Don't wait for me to agree."
"Keep trying to clear up their transmissions," Eupra told her droid. "I gotta know what they are saying."
As Ghostfield entered the Decadent Lord to help the droid cut the Sith starfighter free, Eupra continued to guard her ship from the debris field. But with each passing second they were dragged closer to the black hole and if they weren't careful then perhaps they would all find out what really is found on the other side of space's greatest anomaly . . .
CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
UNKNOWN REGIONS
OBJECTIVE: GET THAT SHIP!
"Contact!", Ronhar cried out as Sal Malloc
unleashed a jet of flame toward the advancing Imperial squad. Ronhar barely had any time to get out of the way, just barely rolling to the right behind an empty tank as the rest of his men responded by opening fire, a hail of blaster bolts now flying throughout the whole room.
The combination of the intense heat from the flames and the stray blaster bolts slamming into the opposite wall had a rather unfortunate, and unintended side effect: the destruction of many of the stasis chambers that lined each side of the laboratory. With a sickening shatter, tank after tank exploded into a million pieces of transparisteel, and anything that had been inside them suddenly came to life, attacking whatever happened to be closet to them when they awoke. Within the span of a few seconds, a massive, bloodthirsty Massassi warrior began charging straight at Ronhar, and he didn't even have time to raise his weapon at it before it came bearing down on top of him.
Ronhar rocket away to his left, turning onto his back as he leveled his Model 216 "Big Game Hunter" at the beast, blasting it with a full load of buckshot and sending it skittering across the floor in several pieces. Lucky for Ronhar, the creature had been unarmed, though he was sure even a glancing blow from the brute would have caused him serious damage. He didn't have time to rest though, as other Massassi warriors began advancing toward him, fighting anything that got in their way or even simply looked at them.
"We need to keep moving!", Ronhar shouted as one of his men went flying across the room toward Sal Malloc
, having been thrown a considerable amount of distance by one of the Massassi. He could see the door on the opposite side of the corridor and the controls need to shut the blast doors behind him. He just needed to somehow get across without getting torn to shreds.
"Alliance?", Ronhar yelled at Sal Malloc
as let loose another round of buckshot at the nearest Massassi, trying to clear out enough of the creatures to make some sort of path forward, his remaining squadmates dwindling rapidly as they were killed one by one by the creatures coming at them...
The restraint had survived several thousand years. Jyote intended to ruin its day. She crouched beside the second Blade, magnetic boots locked firmly against the ancient deck while her scanner painted the twisted mounting assembly in pale light across her visor. What had initially looked like a simple fused clamp was anything but. The deck beneath it had warped upward, twisting the restraint and transferring part of the load into the fighter's forward mounting point. Cut the clamp directly and the entire thing could shift. Possibly into the Blade. Possibly into Jyote. Neither appealed to her.
"Utility Three, line on the forward hardpoint." The droid moved immediately, dragging a recovery cable toward the fighter. "Not there." It stopped. "Other side. Behind the mounting collar."
The droid corrected itself. Jyote watched until the magnetic clamp locked against the ancient hull. "Good. Take up slack. No tension." A mechanical chirp answered. Jyote returned her attention to the warped deck. Her fusion cutter ignited. "Let's see what you're actually holding."
The first cut was nowhere near the restraint. Jyote carved into a twisted structural brace several meters away, removing material a few centimeters at a time. The scanner remained in her other hand, showing the gradual redistribution of stress through the surrounding deck.
The metal shifted. Jyote stopped. Waited. Nothing moved. "Again." She resumed cutting. A vibration passed through her boots as the brace settled. The recovery line tightened. There.
"Utility Three, ten percent tension." The cable pulled gently against the Blade. Jyote watched the scanner. The load moved away from the restraint.
"Twenty." Another shift. The ancient fighter moved perhaps a centimeter. Jyote smiled. "Got you."
Something flashed beyond the shattered hangar. Jyote's head snapped upward. A chunk of debris had been tumbling toward the recovery transport. Had been. Red light crossed the darkness, and the debris vanished into a cloud of glowing fragments that scattered harmlessly around the ship.
The Horizonblade swept through the space beyond. Jyote watched it for half a second. "Good enough, indeed." Back to work.
The restraint was no longer carrying the fighter's weight. Now she could cut it. The fusion cutter bit into ancient metal. It resisted. Jyote adjusted the angle and kept going. "Come on..." The metal glowed. Then separated. The Blade shifted against its recovery line.
Jyote immediately stepped backward. Nothing collapsed. Nothing exploded. Nothing fell on her. She considered all three successes. "That's encouraging." A confirmation appeared across her visor from Utility Three. The fighter was free.
Jyote straightened. "Recovery, Two is loose. Keep tension on the line. Don't pull until I'm clear." Static answered. Jyote frowned. "Recovery, acknowledge." This time she received something that might once have been a voice. Might also have been several voices. One syllable repeated itself three times before disappearing beneath a burst of interference. Jyote stared at the comm indicator. "...That's new."
She changed channels. "Horizonblade, Ghostfield. Two is free. Beginning extraction." The response arrived immediately. Or part of one did. A distorted sound stretched unnaturally through her helmet before snapping away.
Jyote's expression changed. She tried again. "Horizonblade. Ghostfield. Comms bad. Acknowledge." Static. Then something that sounded vaguely like the beginning of a word. Then silence.
Jyote looked through the broken hangar toward the Horizonblade. The Jedi was exactly where she'd asked her to be. She'd protected the transport. She'd matched their movement. She'd obviously understood enough of the original transmission to know what Jyote needed. But how much?
Jyote remembered her last instructions. If that section starts breaking apart, our trajectory changes, or you see something I can't, call the abort. She stared at the fighter outside. "Oh, that's inconvenient."
A utility droid bumped against her leg. Jyote looked down. It carried a sealed component extracted from Blade Three. Right. One problem at a time. She crossed toward the ruined fighter. The droids had been busy.
Several access panels now hung open across what remained of the Blade. Components had been removed and secured into recovery containers: portions of the ancient avionics system, actuator assemblies, weapon hardware, and what appeared to be a remarkably intact power-management component.
One droid was beginning to cut deeper into the wreck. "No." It stopped. "We're done with Three." The droid chirped a protest. Jyote pointed toward the containers. "Anything already loose comes with us. Anything still attached stays." Another chirp. "I know there's more."
The droid indicated the open compartment. Jyote looked. Something inside did look useful. Very useful. She stared at it for two seconds. Three. "No." She pointed toward the recovery transport. "Pack it up." The droids obeyed.
Jyote turned toward Blade Three one last time. Its decorative hull panel was already among the recovered pieces. Good. Historically significant. Definitely not because she wanted it. A vibration passed through the deck. Jyote stopped.
That one hadn't come from her cutting. She pulled up the local trajectory on her visor. The numbers populated. Her amusement disappeared. "Oh." Their descent rate had increased. Not enormously. Not yet. But enough.
More concerning was the changing differential between the recovery transport and the hangar fragment. The tractor had been compensating continuously while Jyote worked, but gravitational stresses were beginning to pull differently across the irregular mass of the wreck. They had less margin than she'd expected. Considerably less.
Jyote opened the channel. "Recovery. New plan." Static crackled beneath her voice. She kept the transmission short. "One aboard." A pause. "Two hard tow." Another pause. "Droids and recovered components aboard immediately."
She watched the transport. A running light blinked. Once. Then twice. Good. Something was getting through. Jyote looked toward the Horizonblade. "Horizonblade. Extraction." Static. "Extraction now." She didn't know whether Eupraxiane understood. It didn't matter. The Jedi could see what was happening. That would have to be enough.
Utility Three released the second Blade's recovery cable from its temporary anchor and transferred control to the transport. The fighter began moving. Slowly. Carefully. Its ancient crescent-shaped hull lifted away from the deck for perhaps the first time in thousands of years.
Jyote couldn't help herself. She watched. "Beautiful." Then the first Blade moved beyond it, being drawn toward the recovery transport's cargo space. Two. She was getting two. Somewhere beneath the helmet, Jyote was grinning like the scavenger she'd been long before anyone had thought it sensible to put her in charge of Imperial starfighters.
The deck shook again. Harder. "Right. Admire them later." The utility droids began crossing first, maneuvering packs firing as they carried their recovered components toward the transport. Jyote waited. One crossed. Then another. Then the third.
She checked the second Blade's tow. Secure. Checked the first. Nearly aboard. Good enough. Jyote walked toward the shattered edge of the hangar. The recovery transport floated across the gap. Not far. Her suit plotted the crossing. She disengaged her magnetic boots. "Recovery, Ghostfield crossing."
A burst of static answered. Jyote pushed away. For several seconds there was nothing beneath her. No deck. No cockpit. No ship. Just stars. The recovery transport slowly grew larger ahead. Jyote made a small correction with her maneuvering unit. Behind her, the ruined hangar floated silently.
The Horizonblade moved somewhere beyond it. The black hole occupied everything else. Jyote tried very hard not to look at that. Halfway. Another correction. Then her visor screamed. Jyote's eyes dropped toward the warning. TRACTOR LOAD VARIANCE
"What?" The recovery transport moved. Not much. A few meters. But it wasn't supposed to move at all. Jyote twisted in space. The hangar fragment had moved too. In the opposite direction. The tractor beam connecting the two flickered visibly as gravitational stresses pulled the masses onto increasingly different trajectories.
Jyote's eyes widened. "Oh, no." The hangar rotated. Slowly at first. Then faster. The recovery transport's thrusters fired automatically to compensate. That changed Jyote's destination. Her suit recalculated. The projected intercept point jumped sideways.
She fired her maneuvering unit. Too much. Jyote corrected. The transport continued drifting. Behind her came an enormous metallic groan she could feel through the thin contact of her recovery line. She looked back. A fracture raced through the hangar fragment.
The tractor beam flickered again. Jyote was exactly where she had told everyone else not to be. Between two massive objects beginning to disagree about where they were going. "Recovery, cut tractor!" Static. "CUT TRACTOR!"
The beam remained active. Jyote switched channels. "Horizonblade!" Nothing but distortion answered. For one absurd moment, Jyote remembered precisely what she'd told the Jedi. If I argue with you, remind me I said that. She hadn't considered the possibility that neither of them would be able to hear the other.
The hangar rotated farther. The transport's thrusters fired. Jyote's suit flashed another collision warning. She fired her maneuvering unit and watched the transport slide frustratingly sideways across her visor. "Come on..." Another warning. Closer. Her recovery line snapped taut.
Jyote jerked violently backward. She looked down. The other end was still attached to the hangar. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The fragment was pulling her away from the transport. Jyote reached for the release.
Beyond her, the first Blade disappeared safely into the recovery vessel. The second hung beneath it on its tow line. At least the fighters were safe. Probably. Jyote was considerably less certain about herself.
She released the tether. For an instant she was completely free. The transport drifted one way. The shattered hangar drifted another. And Jyote Veyr floated between them. Her maneuvering unit fired. The black hole waited behind everything.
Jyote stared toward the distant Horizonblade. Comms or no comms, the Jedi had a cockpit. She had eyes. Hopefully she had very good ones. Jyote fired her thrusters again. "Any time now, Jedi."
Sal rolled behind a heavy piece of machinery as the laboratory erupted into chaos, the last flames dying across the room while gunfire and roaring filled the air. He glanced over his shoulder and immediately regretted the whole flamethrower idea. One glass tank after another shattered, freeing the massive Massassi Warriors from stasis, and judging by the way they charged through the laboratory, they were none too pleased to find uninvited guests aboard their master's flagship.
Sal couldn't blame them, but he had no intention of becoming someone's afternoon snack. He drew his twin blasters and ducked beneath a massive, clawed fist that nearly tore his horns off. As the creature overextended itself, Sal spun around and unleashed a rapid burst of plasma into its chest, dropping the beast hard against the deck.
Over the roar of the fighting, Junker commander Ronhar Tane
shouted an offer of alliance. Sal glanced toward him, then at the battered squad struggling against the Massassi, before shaking his head. Why get his hands dirty when he could let someone else do the hard work and leave them too exhausted to become a problem later?
"Not today, buddy!" Sal called back. With that, he raised one of his blasters toward the exposed grating of an overhead ventilation shaft and fired his ascension cable. The hook clamped onto the frame, and Sal immediately yanked the line tight before slamming his belt winch. The mechanism pulled him upward in a blur, carrying him out of the melee and into the dark ventilation shaft just as another Massassi lunged for his boots.
Static. A garbled transmission; and on board the Horizonblade a tiny astromech unit was trying to decipher the Imperial communications that were being warped by the powerful anomaly beneath them all which sought to swallow them whole.
As the Horizonblade continued to peel around the Imperial transport (safeguarding it as Ghostfield requested) Eupra watched as the recovery team begun to peel back into the Imperial transport. They carried with them an assortment of items and salvaged equipment that was difficult for the Jedi to see at this distance; and with the nearby anomaly affecting her ships instruments Eupra couldn't even scan to see what they had taken. Not that she would have had the time to think to do such a thing. Which every passing second the Decadent Lord reared closer to oblivion and Ghostfield's unit would join it if they didn't leave that ship soon. All her concentration was on making sure these people survived.
"Ghostfield. This is Horizonblade," Eupra stated into the intercom as she tried to communicate with the Imperials. "It's time to leave. It is too dangerous out here!"
But it was all for nought. Static. An eerie buzz whispered into the Jedi's ears and before her astromech could tell her Eupraxiane was certain that the Imperials couldn't hear her dire warning.
Ghostfield's transmission met the same fate as all the others. But Eupra possessed intuition and the Force. As the Horizonblade cleared more debris (before they could impact the Imperial transport) Eupra could see through her cockpit as the recovery team were retreating back into the transport and at a speed which told the Jedi that they knew about their impending doom. Eupraxiane adjusted the targeting vectors of her starfighter to avoid the extraction zone. Her guns were too large to shoot out of the little, tiny pieces of debris that were undoubtedly floating out there. She couldn't help them to get across except for shooting out the larger chunks that were still coming off the ancient Sith vessel and Eupra trusted in the Force in the hope that they each made it back across safely.
Droids. Men or women in space suits cross the threshold. Salvaged equipment. Eupra couldn't tell who was Ghostfield as the Imperials continued their retreat out of what was left of the Decadent Lord's hangar bay and back into their ship. Communications were still down. Only the Force would guide them now. Raising a hand to one of the buttons above Eupra released the flaps on the back of her ship and reversed the polarity of the Horizonblade's engines so that the starfighter would hover near the Imperial transport while it's crew were working on the extraction out of the larger ancient Sith vessel looming above them.
One solitary individual was last to leave the ship. They had a large object attached and tethered to them as they crossed no-man's land towards the transport. Then something horrific took place and Eupraxiane watched in horror as a series of terrifying events took place in quick succession. The transport buckled and moved out of place away from the person caught in no-mans-land. It's sudden movement put it out of reach of whoever was the last to leave the Decadent Lord and the tractor beam wasn't disengaging either resulting in the transport being stuck with the last of the Imperial recovery team that was put between it and a ship that was being destroyed by the seismic esoteric energy of the powerful anomaly below them.
Such was the overwhelming nature of the black hole's grasp on all of them that the time distortion wasn't just affecting communications or telemetry. Eupraxiane felt everything becoming slow motion and not in a way that was helpful. Everything seemed blurred between the lights of the Decadent Lord, the Imperial transport and the flaring of engines as they each tried to compensate for the anomalies that were occurring; and between it all was one last member of the Imperial recovery team stuck between both ships as they were being dragged into the black hole itself.
Eupraxiane didn't know it was Ghostfield out there. Nevertheless she endeavoured to try and help as best as she could. A hand slapped forward to surrender the Horizonblade to the controls of her astromech unit and then Eupraxiane surrendered herself to the powerful currents of the Force to help guide the person left behind towards safety. That same hand lifted itself up in front of the Jedi. Her palm and fingers moved in the cabin of the starfighter as if to touch on something that was physical and indivisible at the same time while the Horizonblade struggled to hold it's position to guarrd the Imperial transport. But Eupra remained concentrated on the moment and there she felt the stranded Imperial as they floated out there in space.
An invisible hand grasped Ghostfield by her naval and waist to begin controlling her descent or ascent in space. The sudden twisting and spinning stopped as their position slowed beneath the stars and above the anomaly below. Then with a sudden thrust they were catapulted towards the Imperial transport by the Jedi's guidance. Eupra felt the woman's emotions and although she couldn't read Jyote's mind she felt that they were utilising their suit to adjust their heading towards the mouth of the open transport as it's pilot maneuvered the ship to try and catch Ghostfield.
Then something else horrific happened.
A loud, groaning roar erupted and swallowed the Horizonblade that took Eupraxiane out of her trance. The fate of the left behind Imperial was left to her men and the Force itself. By the time she looked up Eupra watched in horror as the left wing of her starfighter had been sheared clean off, and as it passed her cockpit, the Jedi physically reached a hand to touch upon the transparisteel dome which served as her cockpit cabin while her astromech glided past with it still being attached to the wing itself.
"No!" Eupra shrieked.
As parts of the Horizonblade were caught in the gravitational shears (and were taken towards the anomaly itself) Eupraxiane watched in horror as her astromech disappeared in the debris field. Pistons around the Jedi were jettisoning one-by-one and a loud, whirring alarm pitched or shireked throughout the starfighter as it begun to fall apart. The subsequent hit from one of the debris (which was responsible for destroying the left-wing) had sent the Jedi on a course away from the Decadent Lord, the black hole and the Imperial recovery team on a course for deep space. But Eupra wouldn't live long enough to see that certain black ink canvas or the stars. A soft, hissing sound amid the crisis presented the reality that the life-support systems had also been damaged. CO₂ was filling the compartment and ever so slowly Eupraxiane begun to choke to death. . .
Space wasn't supposed to grab you. Jyote knew that. She also knew exactly what her maneuvering unit was doing, exactly how badly she'd missed the transport's new trajectory, and approximately how many increasingly unpleasant options remained for correcting it.
Then something caught her. Not the tether. Not the tractor. Something wrapped itself around Jyote's middle and arrested her movement so suddenly that she gasped inside her helmet. "What the—"
She stopped tumbling. For one impossible second Jyote simply hung there. Then space threw her. The recovery transport rushed toward her. Jyote's instincts took over. Her maneuvering unit fired once. Twice. She rolled herself around, boots toward the approaching ship, and saw one of her crew waving frantically from the open recovery compartment. "Got it!"
She hit the deck hard. Magnetic boots caught. Momentum didn't. Jyote stumbled, struck one shoulder against the bulkhead and was immediately grabbed by two members of the recovery crew before she could bounce back out through the opening. "Close it!" The hatch slammed shut.
Jyote dropped onto one knee as the compartment repressurized. Her breathing sounded much too loud inside her helmet. For several seconds she simply stared at the deck. Alive. She was alive.
Jyote slowly looked back toward the viewport. There was only one person outside who could have done that. "Horizonblade..." A flash crossed the darkness. Jyote saw the impact. The Horizonblade's left side disappeared in a spray of debris.
"No." Part of the fighter spun away. Something small remained attached to the severed section. The astromech. The crippled starfighter lurched violently away from the wreck, tumbling toward open space.
Jyote was moving before anyone else in the compartment understood what had happened. "Bridge, track Horizonblade!" She tore off her helmet as she hurried forward.
"Ma'am, the hangar—"
"Forget the hangar." A display showed Blade One settling into the recovery vessel. Blade Two remained outside, secured by its tow. Blade Three was still disappearing behind them with the detached wreckage. Jyote pointed toward the display. "One gets locked down. Keep Two on the hard tow. Droids bring whatever they already stripped."
"What about the rest?"
"It stays." That earned a moment of silence. Jyote didn't care.
"Get us away from the wreck and intercept Horizonblade." The recovery transport's engines surged. Behind them, the ancient hangar and what remained of the third Blade continued their descent toward the black hole. Jyote never looked back.
She reached the forward compartment just as the damaged starfighter appeared on the main display. It was tumbling. Badly. One wing was completely gone. The surviving structure didn't look particularly healthy either. "Relative velocity?" The pilot answered. "Match it."
"We've still got Two under tow."
"I know."
"That's going to make this ugly"
"Then fly ugly. Or get out of the chair." The transport rolled after the crippled fighter. Jyote caught herself against the back of the pilot's chair as the deck shifted beneath her boots. Her eyes remained fixed on the Horizonblade.
"Comms?"
"Still garbage."
Jyote keyed the channel herself. "Horizonblade, Ghostfield. Respond." Static. She waited. "Horizonblade. Respond." Nothing. Jyote's jaw tightened. The transport continued closing. "Horizonblade, this is Ghostfield. If you can hear me, give me anything."
For several seconds there was only distortion. Then the interference weakened. The black hole was falling behind them. Static broke apart into fragments of sound. An alarm. A hiss. Something else.
Jyote leaned closer to the console. "Clean that up." The crewman beside her adjusted the receiver. The channel returned. Alarm. Hissing. Breathing. Wrong breathing. Jyote's expression changed immediately. "Life support."
"What?"
"She's lost life support." She keyed the channel again. "Horizonblade, Ghostfield. We're coming to you. Do not attempt to maneuver." No answer.
"Range?"
"Closing."
"Faster."
"Ghostfield—"
"Faster." The engines pushed harder. Jyote watched the tumbling fighter. A moment ago she had been floating helplessly between two pieces of wreckage. Then something had reached across empty space and put her back aboard this ship. Eupraxiane had done that. And whatever had hit the Jedi's fighter had happened while she was helping them. While she was helping Jyote.
"Tractor?"
"Available."
"Low power only. Don't grab what's left of the wing."
"There's not much else to grab."
"Then don't miss."
The recovery transport drew alongside. The Horizonblade rotated across the viewport. Cockpit. Fuselage. Missing wing. Engines. Cockpit again. Jyote studied the rhythm. "Wait." The tractor operator hovered over the control. "Wait." The fighter rotated. "Now."
The tractor engaged. The Horizonblade jerked. Jyote winced. "Easy." Power dropped. The fighter continued rotating, but slower. "Again." Another pulse. Slower. "Again." The third pulse nearly arrested the tumble.
The transport matched the remaining movement. "There." Jyote exhaled. "Hold her."
The operator looked over. "She's stable."
"Good." Jyote was already walking away.
"Where are you going?"
She glanced back. "Airlock."
"Again?"
Jyote continued walking. "She's not answering."
"We have droids."
"The cockpit may be jammed."
"We can send a cutter."
Jyote stopped. She looked at him. Then down at the fusion cutter still clipped to her recovery harness. The crewman followed her gaze. "Oh, come on."
Jyote pulled her helmet back on. "She saved my life."
"That doesn't mean you have to immediately try losing it again."
"No." Jyote sealed the helmet. "It means I'm not sending a droid to find out whether she's dying." She entered the airlock. The inner hatch closed behind her. Jyote checked the cutter. Checked her maneuvering unit. Checked the emergency sealant kit still attached to her belt. Then she looked through the small viewport. The crippled Horizonblade hung beyond it, held alongside the recovery transport by the tractor beam. Somewhere inside that cockpit was the person who had just reached across empty space and pulled Jyote out of the black hole's grasp.
Jyote keyed the channel one more time. "Horizonblade, Ghostfield." Static. Alarm. That same terrible breathing. Jyote rested one hand against the outer hatch. "You came out here to help us." The airlock warning illuminated. Atmosphere began draining from the compartment. "We're bringing you home."
A true Jedi does not fear death. This is one of the primary distinctions between them and their counter-parts in the Sith. It is one of the earliest lessons that an Initiate can learn before they embark on the path towards Knighthood as a Padawan learner. Everything is bound, tied and tethered to the mystical energy that binds it all together. It was the Je'daii who first coined the phrase. They called it the Force: an invisible, indivisible, elusive current that only those that were strong enough could sense it, feel it, and learn how to to control it; and when someone or something alive passes away they return back into that current to re-join it.
Eupraxiane wasn't afraid of death. A Jedi should rejoice at the idea of returning back to the Force. As Ghostfield tried to save her Eupra felt light headed, dazed and out of focus. This was a normal response to any Human when life support vents out of such a small compartment that had been damaged as severely as the Horizonblade had been. But there was something else going on. It was soothing and welcoming. Like Eupraxiane had put on a blanket and was rolled over to enter a long sleep.
In reality the young and vulnerable Jedi Knight had surrendered herself to the moment. She trusted in the Force and so Eupra would allow it to guide her. Whether that was onto what came next or into the welcoming grace of the Imperial pilot she had just saved from certain death remained to be seen. The klaxon continued to pitch loudly in the cabin and the atmosphere was leaking out leaving only a few precious minutes until all the oxygen was gone. Such was the damage to the Horizonblade that Eupra's limp body hung in zero-grav suspended only by the latches of her buckles and belts that had previously been securing her to the seat of the Jedi starfighter before the crash. . .
I moved toward the room’s exit as the Dark Side gathered around me like a living mantle, cold tendrils of invisible power curling through my robes and tightening around my limbs.
The air seemed to recoil from my presence.
As I crossed into the ship’s corridor, I passed between my guards, my fingers closing around the hilt of my lightsaber without yet awakening its blade. With my other hand, I reached into the Force, and released it. A silent wave of Dark Side energy erupted down the corridor, striking the pirates like an unseen battering ram.
Bodies staggered and crashed against bulkheads; weapons slipped from trembling hands. Some recovered quickly enough to fight while retreating, firing wildly as they fled backward into the main corridor before scattering into different passageways for cover.
Others were not so fortunate.
Those who failed to regain their balance were cut down beneath the disciplined thunder of my guards’ blaster fire, their deaths reduced to little more than flashes of red light and smoking bodies upon the deck.
I glanced briefly downward at the fallen among my own guards, their regenerative abilities having proven insufficient against the chaos of the encounter. A small, almost amused smile touched my black-painted lips.
“It is always the little distractions that get in your way.” I thumbed the activation stud. My lightsaber came alive with a vicious hiss, its dark mahogany blade emerging from the hilt like a shard of corrupted wood pulled from some ancient, diseased tree.
I regarded the fleeing pirates with something colder than anger. “Best cull the infection now, before it blossoms into rot.” My gaze shifted toward my soldiers. “You five stay back and guard that room. You six take the right and hunt them down. The other four with me.” I began to sprint, my boots striking the deck with measured violence as I pursued the pirates into the ship’s labyrinthine corridors, my guards following behind like the teeth of some Imperial hunting beast. I turned left and caught a fleeting glimpse of my prey; their backs disappearing around another corner as they desperately sought distance between themselves and the thing pursuing them.
Accelerating, I held my lightsaber low at my side, the dark mahogany blade humming with restrained hunger. Yet even as I chased them, I understood the deception hidden beneath the pursuit.
This was a distraction too, one I allowed myself to be drawn into.
Another insignificant obstruction placed between myself and my true objective, another microscopic irritant attempting to contaminate the larger experiment. I would permit neither the pirates nor their interference to remain.
They had wasted enough of my time.
I halted my pursuit without hesitation, watching the pirates vanish beyond the next bend as I turned my gaze toward the four guards behind me. “Continue the hunt,” I ordered coldly, and as they rushed past me into the darkness. I deactivated my lightsaber and returned it to resting position.
No more distractions, I was done with them; and quickly I turned back toward the main corridor, walking alone into the cold metallic silence, already knowing that I would find the holocron myself.
But another distraction fluttered in, what were in those vials back in that room? Could they be worthy enough to give up the hunt for the Sith holocron; or would they be simply useless, just another regretful decision that would forever haunt me?
The outer hatch opened. Jyote pushed away from the recovery transport. This crossing was shorter. She appreciated that. The crippled Horizonblade hung alongside the transport, held in the tractor's careful grip. Without one wing its silhouette looked profoundly wrong, like someone had taken a perfectly good starfighter and simply decided halfway through that symmetry was optional.
Jyote fired her maneuvering unit. A few meters. A correction. Magnetic boots struck hull. "Ghostfield attached." The response from the transport came through clearly. That was something, at least.
Jyote crouched against the fighter and looked through the cockpit. Her stomach dropped. Eupraxiane wasn't moving. She hung against her restraints, body suspended slightly above the seat in the failing atmosphere. "Jedi?" Nothing. Jyote struck the transparisteel with one gloved hand. "Eupraxiane!" No response.
Her eyes dropped to the cockpit controls. Warning lights flashed everywhere. She didn't need to understand the Horizonblade's exact systems to understand what the alarms meant. Atmosphere. Life support. Pressure. All failing. "Recovery, she's unconscious."
"We can bring the entire fighter in."
"Not fast enough." Jyote searched along the cockpit frame. Emergency release. Every starfighter had one. Whether the Jedi had placed theirs somewhere sensible was another matter. She found the access panel. Pulled. Nothing. Pulled harder. Still nothing. "Of course."
Jyote grabbed her fusion cutter. "Recovery, I'm opening the cockpit manually."
"Ghostfield, that fighter's already structurally compromised."
"Then keep it very still." She ignited the cutter. The first sparks scattered into space. Jyote worked around the damaged release assembly rather than through the canopy itself. She wasn't trying to carve the Jedi out. She needed the locking mechanism to stop believing it was still part of a functional starfighter. The cutter burned through one linkage. Then another. Jyote wedged her gloved fingers beneath the emergency panel. Pulled. The mechanism moved. Barely. "Come on." She braced one boot against the fuselage and pulled again. Something snapped.
The cockpit seal released. The last remnants of atmosphere erupted past Jyote in a cloud of crystallizing vapor. She held on. Inside, Eupraxiane's body shifted against the restraints. Jyote hauled the canopy open. "Recovery, cockpit open." She clipped her safety line onto the fighter and leaned inside.
Up close, Eupraxiane looked even worse. Limp. Unresponsive. Jyote reached for the harness release. Nothing. Different manufacturer. Different system. Different irritating design philosophy. "Why can't anyone put these things in the same place?"
She found it. The restraints released. Eupraxiane floated forward. Jyote caught her. For one uncomfortable moment the Jedi's helmetless head drifted against Jyote's shoulder. No suit. No independent oxygen. No time. Jyote wrapped one arm firmly around Eupraxiane and attached a recovery tether to the Jedi's clothing and harness. "Recovery, I've got her."
"Bring her across."
Jyote looked toward the transport. The distance suddenly seemed considerably farther while carrying an unconscious person. "Working on it." She pushed away. Her maneuvering unit fired.
The Horizonblade receded behind them. Jyote kept Eupraxiane tucked tightly against herself, one hand controlling the maneuvering unit while the other held the Jedi. Halfway. No impossible invisible hand caught her this time. She didn't need one. The recovery compartment approached. "Easy..." Her boots struck the deck. Someone caught her shoulder. Another crew member grabbed Eupraxiane.
"Close it!" The hatch slammed shut. Jyote dropped immediately beside the Jedi as atmosphere flooded back into the compartment. "Medical kit!" Someone was already bringing it. Jyote pulled off her helmet. The compartment wasn't fully pressurized yet. She didn't care.
"Come on." She checked Eupraxiane. Breathing. Barely. "She's breathing. Get oxygen on her." A mask appeared. Jyote fitted it over Eupraxiane's face herself while another crew member activated the emergency supply. [color=#C97A40"High flow."[/color] The indicator changed. Jyote watched the Jedi's chest. Once. Again. Shallow. But there.
"Medical says move her to the infirmary."
"Then move her." Two crew members carefully lifted Eupraxiane onto a recovery stretcher. Jyote rose with them. For the first time since the Horizonblade had been hit, there was nothing immediate for her hands to do. She hated that.
"Ghostfield?"
Jyote looked toward the speaker. "The Horizonblade?"
"Stable under tractor."
"Bring it with us."
A brief hesitation. "All of it?"
Jyote looked through the viewport. The battered starfighter hung beyond it. Missing a wing. Astromech gone. Half its systems probably destroyed. It looked terrible. "What's left of it."
And the Blades?"
"One secured. Two's tow is holding."
"Then we're clear."
Jyote looked toward the stretcher carrying Eupraxiane away. "No." The crewman frowned. "We still have people aboard the Decadent Lord." Ronhar. The Junktroopers. The other Mahporeem personnel still somewhere inside that dying wreck.
Jyote keyed the Imperial channel. "Ghostfield to all Mahporeem units aboard the Decadent Lord. Recovery is clear of the debris field and standing by for extraction." She glanced toward the black hole. The ancient battlecruiser was still descending toward it. They weren't going to be standing by for long. "Whatever you're doing in there, finish it." Jyote released the channel.
Then she followed the stretcher. She found Eupraxiane in the transport's small medical compartment with oxygen still flowing and the monitors doing whatever they could with a patient who had recently decided breathing was optional. Jyote stopped beside her. For several seconds she said nothing. She'd wanted starfighters. She'd gotten starfighters. Two ancient Sith Blades were coming home with her. Enough salvaged components from the third had been recovered to make restoring the second considerably more realistic. By any reasonable standard, the expedition had been an extraordinary success. And Jyote barely cared about any of it right now.
She looked down at Eupraxiane. "You know..." Jyote pulled over the nearest seat and sat beside the medical bunk. "...when I asked if you were good enough at precision flying, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
No answer. Probably for the best. Jyote leaned back. Her shoulder hurt. Her recovery suit was scorched. Her cap was still somewhere aboard the transport, assuming nobody had sat on it. And there was a Jedi unconscious in her infirmary because that Jedi had decided an Imperial salvager she'd met minutes ago was worth risking her life to save.
Jyote looked at Eupraxiane for another moment. "Hardware is replaceable." A faint smile touched her face. "I did warn you." She reached over and made sure the oxygen mask remained properly seated. "People aren't." Outside, the recovery transport turned back toward the dying Decadent Lord, two ancient fighters and the broken Horizonblade held safely in its care.
Sal Malloc
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R'ayne Asara
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Ronhar Tane
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Makai Dashiell
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Zev Corrin
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Jyote Veyr
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QV-611
