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She remembered last time. A year ago, nearly to the day. She had held the sith back from even taking the steps of the temple. Last time, she had been only able to summon a simple thunderstorm. Last time, she had only been a knight, holding her own.
This was not last time. This time, she was a Master. Standing at the gates of the Nether alongside others. She remembered the one time she had seen it. The burning abyss of the Nether, staring at her. She swore she'd never see it again. Only the Wellspring would be her final end.
Last time, her swords were simple blades. A sword once forged from scrap and a sword forged out of the temple. This time, her twin swords, Black and White, were held in right and left, were arcing with power. The black blade sparked with electricity, while the white blade shined with the Light.
She felt it. The tug of the dark against her mind. Just as it had a year ago, the Sith wished to turn the battle in their favor. She had reforged the White Blade for that purpose, reinforcing her mind. Her will. Her courage.
The temple steps flashed with every bolt, the darkness of the storm and the pelting of rain upon them all. She watched Caltin Vanagor
charge a pillar of strength, two titans clashing in a show of power. She simply waited. Waited and watched. Her machines of war crashed around her. The fruits of her own labor, the GADF's finest using them as she had designed.
This was not a battle of just Imperials and Jedi. It was a battle of Good vs Evil.
And then the shuttle crashed in front of her.
She saw the troopers flood out, opening fire.
This time as not the same. This was not a simple thunderstorm above her. It was her friend. Her oldest companion. When she was cowering in fear of being hunted by stormtroopers, this was the one hand on her shoulder lulling her to sleep.
This was Lygala.
She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. She had known this friend long enough that it simply knew what she wanted.
A siren rang through the temple. A warning normally set off due to a malfunction in the weather control system of Coruscant. Locals couldn't comprehend what came next. It was unnatural to this world, but so natural to Jonyna's people. The clouds twisting, before finally opening to a crack in the sky. A bolt of energy that reached down, and erased the troopers from where they stood. Each one, gone in an instant, while the sound of the bolt rippled across the battlefield. Only the sith was left untouched. By design, Jonyna asked to leave him standing.
This was not like last time.
This time, The Force was with them. This time, it was not a Knight holding her ground.
It was a Yilvar Zerpa'era showing the enemy what mountain they must climb.
The two troopers entered into the archives, spotting Quinn Varanin
, CT-312
, and Zark San Tekka
accompanied by their forces engaging Koda Fett
, immediately raising their rifles up and pointing it at the bounty hunter. A warbled zap was heard from behind as Tobi had unholstered his trusty weapon and fired a stun round from the hip at one of the troopers, the soldier collapsing to the ground unconscious. The other trooper was about to turn but suddenly found Tobi's cybernetic arm wrapped around their neck and held them down.
Tobi was quick and keen to capitalize on a situation, and upon recognizing the number one bounty hunter, it was clear that they were here for the same reason. "Hey there pardner, reckon for thirty percent, I help you out of this ol' mess and we all walk away alive and 'appy with a nice pile of creds." He held his weapon up to the side, vaguely aimed but not directly at Velis Arden
's direction as they were continuing to attempt their slicing operations. Tobi was off to Koda's flank. "Or I can make it 'arder, choice is yours friend."
The trooper in his arm struggled in his grasp as they grabbed and tried to pull at the arm wrapped around their neck.
The artificial growl of SCAR's modulated voice cracked across the encrypted squadron frequency as his HUD painted the incoming data stream in sickly red and white glyphs. With each heartbeat, predictive firing arcs unfolded before him, the first wave of X-wings split toward the edges of the capital formation. He banked sharply, twin ion drives screaming as the TIE plunged forward. Turbolaser fire streaked past the formation's belly, searing through open space in failed pursuit of more nimble prey.
"Orders from Vexation. Fleet is requesting outer perimeter reinforcement."
SCAR's interceptor pulled a violent corkscrew through the empty void, leading the wing off toward the X-Wings.
"Five, maintain Theta. Confirm visual. Use hull shadows to mask your vector."
His voice was devoid of emotion.
"Squadron, weapons free."
The Vexation came into view, her flak field like a spitting dragon, inelegant, but potent. He shifted with predatory grace that was less pilot, more wrath made flesh. A blink brought his first target into lock, followed by the whine of his internal systems, no witty remarks, no flair. Just a sharp breath… and the tell-tale shriek of his cannons. He didn't need to finish it, his squadron would follow suit unleashing hell upon those X-Wings.
<<Enemy corvette wing attempting ventral dive past outer flank. Tracking but not engaged. Vexation's Escolta screen holding perimeter. No breach confirmed.>>
A pause.
"We break their wings, or we break apart. Once their birds are down, we go carrion on their corvettes."
His TIE howled again into the void, no more words would be said, just death in motion.
She wasn't sure where she had gotten the idea that this would be a quick in-and-out job. Bounty hunting had always been a lucrative way to make credits in this day and age. Still, somehow, she'd convinced herself that stealing a little data, maybe a chair, under the cover of war would be easy.
She had no intention of getting involved in the war itself. It wasn't her fight. She had no desire to make it her business. As much as she despised the Alliance, she was content to let others deal with them.
Now, instead of just navigating a Mandalorian and an albino, even more presences had joined the fray. A floating mask had made its debut, and other subtle Force signatures floated on the edges of her awareness. Quinn struggled to determine where to focus.
That's when she felt her.
It had been some time since the Varanin sisters had stood in the same room. More often than not, one had been absent from family gatherings. Quinn had always been jealous of Ibaris; she had their parents' attention for most of her life, only to have them cast it all aside in the end. Quinn never asked why. She didn't want to disturb the carefully constructed version of the truth she held onto.
As much as she loved Srina, the reality that neither of her parents had invested as much time in her as they had in Noelle or Ibaris—it killed her.
Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she felt her sister reaching for her through the Force. Quinn shoved her back, hard. She didn't want what Ibaris was offering.
Instead, she focused on her sister's Ibaris Varanin
presence just long enough to send a message—stay out.
With her mind locked down, shielded not just from her sister but from the lingering annoyance of Jedi meditation. Quinn turned her attention back to the battlefield. Her eyes tracked past the floating mask just as the Mandalorian grabbed the woman and disappeared down into the archives.
"Chit," she hissed, the curse sounding awkward on her tongue. But she needed to play the part of a savvy, hardened bounty hunter.
Her blaster felt foreign in her hand. She wasn't used to relying on weapons like these. Then came the voice, the one known only as Ashe, issuing orders. For a moment, the arrogance of her station rose like bile. Quinn Varanin didn't take orders.
But she swallowed it down and nodded. This wasn't the time.
The Templar had seemingly given permission to pursue the two that had escaped—or tried to. Without hesitation, Quinn reached out with the Force, gathering crackling air around her free hand. The blaster looked better, more fitting for her disguise, but the sight of that Mandalorian's armor stirred something darker.
The way that armor had reflected fire in her childhood memories. The sound of a modulated voice through a vocoder, distorted and cold. It all burned in her mind.
The bounty didn't matter anymore. She had a new target—them.
It detonated with a burst of electricity—distraction first, force second.
Quinn landed in its wake, the Force cushioning her fall and recycling that energy back into her body in a crackling, elegant surge. She just hoped her use of the Force hadn't revealed her nature to the Jedi nearby.
The tips of the shears pressed into either side of his neck, digging into skin etched with floral tattoos. Absurd laughter bubbled up within him at the irony and he gave a little shudder, lips lopsided in a smirk beneath well-waxed mustache, half-hoping she would just slam the shears closed and cut off his laughter. Leave him gurgling on the ground, thoroughly trimmed.
"No," he said, sobering somewhat - although never truly sober. That would be a horror. "Already tried that at the arena. Didn't seem to take," he shrugged, hands out to either side.
He stepped forward, neck pushing against the shears so hard that if they weren't just dull garden shears there would be blood beading around the tips.
"Not here for Solipsis' psychotic dogs. Call that a happy coincidence, I suppose. Job was never about killing." He shook his head in disgust and looked past her shoulder. All the padawans had left. Distantly in the biodome, he thought he heard the sounds of fighting somewhere out there, lost in the verdant wealth.
"You going to stay? Get yourself killed guarding a bunch of plants?"
He clucked his tongue. Gardening in the middle of a warzone, really.
Nathan observed the model of St. Thomas Barran
's lightsaber. The salute. The flourish.
Makashi. Style of the woman who had murdered his parents...
Castle Bloodscrawl, Ession, Gulag Era.
Nathan Bloodscrawl, age 14, practiced with a Temple Guard Saberstaff against the spherical blaster drones firing harmless sting beams while defending himself against a MagnaGuard armed with a Electro-Staff alongside his siblings.
Nathan teleported around, trusting the Force in a way he wouldn't after today. With him were his older brother, Samuel, and his slightly younger Sister, Naomi.
They worked as a team. Nathan would try to bury the memories of his siblings after today because what would happen would be the source of almost all his pain
He would bury Samuel and Naomi deep in his mind.
The three deflected the shots, though Nathan was doing the best of any of them, deflecting bolts back at their sources and even scored the finishing blow on the MagnaGuard. Most Jedi use Jedi Training Droids. The Bloodscrawls put their children up against MagnaGuard's at settings just short of trying to kill them, with the children using Live Lightsaber Blades. The Ashlans who came here absolutely didn't know who they were fething with.
Not that it would save them.
Training ended and Nathan shut off his yellow blades along with his siblings.
"Way to go, Nate!" Samuel encouraged, a tall, robust young man of seventeen, in light tan robes. He had a slimmer face with blonde hair much like his mother. "You ain't been hitting the Chamber after hours, have you?"
"No." Nathan answered innocently.
"He's getting better all the time..." Naomi remarked, fair skinned and with the dark hair of her father, with green eyes like Nathan. Nathan adored both siblings, but he was especially attached to his younger sister. It was what would make it so easy for him to accept the Artificial Sisters his future wife would gift him with later in his second life.
"Eh, maybe. Heck, he might just outlive me!" Samuel chuckled.
(Cutaway of J. Jonah Jameson sitting at his desk staring at a bottle of whiskey very morosely)
Just then, their mother, Natalya Bloodscrawl walked in wearing a set of flowing green robes.
"Ah, I see you've finished training..." Natalya remarked with long, flowing blonde hair and fair skin. Even at her age, she was still very beautiful.
"Yeah. Nathan scored the finishing blow as usual!" Naomi chirped.
"Did he now?" Natalya asked with interest.
"Yes, Mother..." Nathan answered respectfully.
"Well done, Nathan. Very well done..." His Mother complimented. She wouldn't say it, but Nathan was the most talented and powerful of her three children. They all knew it, but wouldn't say it, in order to prevent his ego from inflating.
He was meant for so much more than this Castle. That was why it hurt so much knowing that soon a Jedi Knight would arrive to take him for training. Soon, he would go away, far away to Ession 's still functioning capital, Essonia, barely held together by the might of the Grayson Family. They would all be trained by Ashlan Jedi eventually, but Nathan was so incredibly talented he had been hand picked by a celebrated Knight who had been trained by no less than Elaine Tear herself, Alja Rippen, and an old friend of both his father as well as Natalya.
Nathan had met her a few times, and was rather fond of Alja's wisdom, her steady faith in the Jedi Code and the Light. Natalya hoped that they both might eventually help bring peace to Ession. She hoped that all her children would become wise, compassionate Jedi, but she saw the aura of Destiny on Nathan himself.
Besides, if given Nathan to no less than Elaine Tear's apprentice might mollify her during her almost Inquisitor-like intensity in questioning them over The Family's secrets...than it was best to let him go with Alja.
"You three should get cleaned up..." Natalya ordered. "I think we're about to have guests..."
The three teenagers nodded eagerly and headed out of the chamber...
Nathan showered in his simple, utilitarian quarters, a few posters of A-Wing Interceptors (Both his and His Father's favorite Starfighter) hanging on the wall. Nathan's Temple Guard Saberstaff lay on an engraved rest at the foot of his bed. Someday, he hoped to guard one of the Jedi Temples, like his father before him. The ones in Essonia were where he wanted to be, so he could be close to home.
It hurts him deep inside, knowing he would be leaving all of this soon. That he wouldn't be able to see his family as much. But he had always known he wanted to be a Jedi Knight, even if he never ended up becoming a Master.
As soon as he was showered, dressed, and had fetched his saberstaff, he was headed to the lower levels of the Castle, where the ancient, magnificent stone Foyer waited to receive guests. Castle Bloodscrawl had been a silent sentinel on the red grass Nightingale Plains of Ession for what seemed like ages, its tall, obsidian tower a symbol of strength against the utter lawlessness of the Gulag Era. They were proud to help the Grayson's bring peace and stability to their world even if they could not longer do it anywhere else.
Ession WOULD thrive again. Their world would be prosperous once more. Nathan vowed he would live to see it happen.
He spotted Samuel leaning on the wall on one level, in new, dark blue robes.
"Hey, Lil' Bro..." Samuel remarked.
"What's up, Sam?" Nathan asked.
"I think today's the day Master Alja whisks you off to Essonia to begin your official training..." Samuel said.
"I'll try and visit! I swear!'" Nathan said happily.
Samuel chuckled.
"I know, Lil' Bro...so I thought I'd give you something to remember us by...so you don't forget where you came from training in those Fancy Enclaves Master Tear set up.
Samuel went into his pocket and fetched out a blue, spherical lightsaber crystal with an Asterism.
Nathan stared.
"Is that what I think it is?" Nathan asked in fascination.
"Genuine Ankarres..." Samuel said with a smile, placing it in Nathan's hand and hugging him.
"Don't forget us, when you're out there, Nate..."
"I won't, Sam..." Nathan vowed.
The pair headed down to the Foyer, filled with statues of Jedi in full Clone Wars Jedi Armor where their father, Angus (Who resembled very much a grey haired version of what Nathan would look like in the future) in crimson robes.
"Young ones, in a few hours, a delegation by Elaine Tear will arrive. A small thing, nothing serious..." Angus Bloodscrawl said to his wife, children and the security teams of the Bloodscrawl Medical Corporation.
"We are to treat our guests with every courtesy..."
"You mean we gotta endure Elaine's lectures about keeping major secrets from each other..." Samuel groaned."
"Tear doesn't have proof of anything. And as long as we all keep our cool, she won't...no matter 'how much' she grills us." Angus assured, Natalya standing next to him. "Until she arrives, we carry out our usual routines. Relax, everyone."
The Security teams went to carry out their routines in an out of the Castle. The Shield Generator over the castle would undergo daily maintenance...with dwindling resources. The family fortune had been on the down tick for a long time. Angus stayed because it was one of the most defensible places on Ession, and they could still hold up for months under planetary scale orbital bombardment or Sieges.
But the unspoken reason was he'd be damned if he abandoned his family's legacy...
Nathan walked up to his parents.
"Mom? Dad? Can I take a walk on the Castle Grounds before Master Tear shows up?" Nathan asked, anxious suddenly. He needed some air.
"Alright but keep it short, son. Today... today is a big day for you..." Angus trailed sternly, but in the eyes were the concern of a Father.
"I will..." Nathan promised, heading out of the massive front doors as they opened automatically.
Nathan walked the red grasslands of the family castle, prepping himself for today. He was nervous meeting an Ashlan Jedi of such renown as Elaine.
He thought of the happy memories. The tough training. He hoped he would find strength in it.
He walked close to the exterior perimeter, where he saw control terminals to open the glowing blue Ray Shield active at specific points. He stopped as he noticed a blue robed figure and cautiously approached.
"Hello?" he asked.
The figure lowered her hood and Nathan breathed a sigh of relief as Alja Rippen revealed herself, giving a small smile. She was young looking, with fair skin, a sculpted face, and dark hair, with a curvy build. There were rumors she was actually Elaine's daughter, but it had never been confirmed.
Nathan gave a sigh of relief.
"Master Rippen! You're early!" he exclaimed.
"Hello, Nathan. It's good to see you..." Alja said.
"But why are you early? Where's your ship?" Nathan asked.
"Close by. Listen, Nathan, I need to talk to your parents about something...you think you could let me through?"
Nathan hesitated a moment...
"I...I'm not really supposed to do that..." he said, getting a strange feeling of apprehension he couldn't explain.
"It's important. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't..." Alja said firmly.
Nathan thought about it a moment. If he really was going to be her Padawan...
Nathan went to a nearby terminal, punched in a few codes and an aperture parted in the field large enough for her to step through. He shut the aperture a few seconds later...
"Thank you, Nathan."
"I'll take you to them at once..." Nathan said.
"If course..." she agreed. "Thank you for trusting me..."
"If you can't trust a Jedi Knight...who can you trust?" Nathan chuckled good naturedly as they walked together to the Castle front door.
Someone invisible who had followed her through the aperture left tracks in the grass as they left, heading to the control terminal...
Nathan had always had a complicated relationship with Form 2. It hit every trauma button Nathan still had from the fall of Castle Bloodscrawl...it was the style used to decapitate his biological mother and run through his father.
It was the style used to kill him and his wife, Lysandra, the first time around, executed with savage grace by the Sith Identity of Syd Celsius , Darth Phyre.
Everything he truly treasured, Makashi had taken away in some form or another. He detested Makashi despite its usefulness but he had forced himself to master it in this era, simply so that he would not be defeated by it again. He had studied every aspect of it. Read every text he could get his hands on regarding the subject. Used those techniques against a thousand different foes in battles the Jedi might very well never learn about. He had practiced his Soresu against Makashi-Programmed Soldier Biots almost obsessively, determined to never lose to that style ever again.
Nathan's understanding of Soresu was very different from that of most practioners of the style. For most practioners, it was enough to understand the general moves and let time and experience build up their expertise.
Not Nathan. For him, it was not enough to know how to execute its technique creatively. Creativity did play a part but as far as Nathan was concerned, to truly Master Soresu meant you had to master or at least fully understand every other style. Only then would you fully understand Soresu. The same reasoning went for all the forms: only by Mastering or at least fully understanding all of them could you truly Master even one style.
He and Thomas circled each other like Jungle predators, Nathan saying nothing to the Great Khan as he spoke, asking if he wanted to wait for his own buff, didn't shut his lightsaber off when Thomas did, and simply waited. He resisted and rejected the battle meditation buff echoing out from Valery Noble
on Coruscant. He listened to the exchange with the camera droid. So the Biots had proven more of a threat than even he had thought they would to use such a desperation move.
Nathan knew that it would not stop them. Soldier Biots were dangerously clever creatures and learned frighteningly quickly, even by his standards. They were next generation Nuetralizers in all but name.
He didn't give an explanation as to why he rejected the buff out loud. He never would. He was here to fight. He had almost always been alone in the Battlefield. A Buff would make little difference. It might even throw off his judgement as to his own limits.
Besides, there was no honor in doing so.
Thomas technically had the advantage...
But Nathan...
Nathan had the motivation to make it home.
Nathan sensed the Battle Meditation of the Dark Side Elite and resisted any effect on his mind, including the ritual of Ashin Cardé Varanin
. He knew he was responsible for a LOT of dead people, and had long ago accepted responsibility for his kills, regardless of the legitimacy or morality of them.
Just as Thomas finished speaking, Nathan attacked with an upward traveling, heavy circular deflection slash with Force Assisted Speed that protected up to two thirds of Nathan's body from direct retaliatory assault, positioning himself to make it as difficult as possible for Barran to try a retaliatory lunge or slash, though leaving the upper part of Nathan's body vulnerable in a window that was rapidly closing. But it was bait. Nathan wanted Thomas to try it...
Thomas was about to learn just how it was Nathan had killed so many with only Form 3...
Meanwhile...
The Biots led by Moira came across the wreckage blocking their path to the bridge. The structural damage was severe. She got a transmission on comms from the other Biots making their way to the bridge in other sections of the ship that they were cut off.
"Team 2 and 3, redirect your route to alternative sections..." Moira ordered, determined to make it to the bridge through the destroyed route on her end. She studied the structural damage, looking for weaknesses in how it had fallen, and began working out a plan...
"Perhaps it is time to let the Alliance do our work for us..." Moira mused as her sister planted proton charges in the rubble at the specific points she directed, plucking a computer spike off a dead imperial technician she had executed, going to a security terminal, and plugging it in, using it to aid in her quickly establishing bootleg communication through a shadow transmission in the Battlecruiser comm system.
No doubt they will be attempting to stop us elsewhere. Let them contend with HECATE she thought as she opened up a bandwidth just long enough for the super A.I. to travel into the ship through, if it was in range...
The moment stretched thin as she entered Bay 12, gliding through the entrance, boots hitting durasteel in an eerie rhythm; then it stopped. The sound of distant bombardments vibrated from the floor and up to somewhere beneath her ribs. Battle meditation, she later realized. Someone was amplifying the darkness, and she could feel it threading through her nerves. It steadied her, it was a confidence booster. Her cloak fell away without pause, sliding right off her form. Two targets. One priority. Talsin and the girl.
"Feel what?" she responded as she stepped forward. Suddenly there came two flashes -- the light flashing off two silver hilts that seemed to rip themselves from her waist, and telekinetically orbit her body. A woman -- jet-black hair, styled partly down and partly tied up into a high bun, clad in a sleeveless layered black leather, shoulders smoothly shaped, seamlessly transitioning into her upper torso, appeared; She was without arms.
Zantra.
Now the three of them were in a cleared space. She started to step in an arc, circling them with her hilts still in orbit. Then she ignited both blades -- red and white plasma cores flaring to life like a snap of judgment. No warning. No negotiation. Her pace quickened, eyes locked on the Jedi, but she was tracking the other one too -- the girl. Her muscles coiled with efficiency, the hum of the sabers drowning out whatever could be in the distance.
A beat.
With an aggressive growl, she exploded after them, approaching from the middle. As she advanced, she hurled one of her red sabers in a controlled, spinning arc aimed low toward Tansu. Simultaneously, she closes the distance with her second saber drawn (also red), crouched and sprinting at a sharp angle to flank Talsin.
The gunships had returned from their run, Captain Lizza Farresh was awaiting their return, her adjutant, Lt. Jerrec Visto stood beside her she looked upon the horizon, flak and explosions surrounding the temple. Her comrades were out there in the thick of it, yet her CO insisted that she stand-by and act as reserve.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" The lieutenant asked. "You've been standing there for a good ten minutes."
The captain exhaled and turned to Visto. "I'm just angsty lieutenant. Our friends are out there and I can't help but feel useless standing here... But then again, if we were called in then only stars knows what happened to them."
The lieutenant didn't know how to console the captain. Back on Woostri he was the one who needed his nerves checked, and now it was the captain who was in that position. But just as the lieutenant was about to speak, the captain's wrist comm went off. "This is Captain Farresh." She answered eagerly.
"It's time captain, take Anvil and Wingmen in War Witch and Quosit and assist the defense of Monument Plaza, the senate guard are bogged down trying to evacuate civilians."
"Roger that ma'am, Farresh out." She switched channels to speak to her platoon. "Anvil prepare for departure in War Witch. Wingmen in Quosit. We're going to the beat the Imps from the plaza."
Cheers could be heard as the troops of 40 troops excitedly amassed by the gunship and poured into it with helmets on and safeties off. Lizza and Jerrec followed and the gunship was airborne, bound to aid their allies defending the plaza. They whirled through the air had a lightning pace as fast as it could. The kel-dor pilot, Rils Kacha, had his pedal to metal. They kept on a steady approach and the plaza was in view. From the cockpits, they could see the fighting taking place in front of the building.
"I'm seeing a lot of imps swarming the perimeter. We should give the senate guards some breathing room before making our descent."
"Sounds good Veki, prepare for strafing run. Beam gunners prepare for strafing run."
Kyran Veki, who was a rookie pilot and a togrutan from Kiros.
As the gunships neared Monument Plaza, the two ziio gunships fired upon the stormtroopers pushing on the positions set up by the senate guards. But as a hail of laser fire and beams rained down on the stormtroopers, they were now given the chance to take their breath. Even a couple scout walkers were taken down before the gunships touched down in the center of the plaza. The Stormpiercers poured out and took place behind the defenses as Cpt. Farresh and Lt. Visto approached the guard captain.
"WHAT'S THE SITUATION?" Farresh yelled over the sound of screams and blaster fire.
"WE HAVE CIVILIANS IN THE PLAZA. WE NEED TO GET THEM OUT OF THE WARZONE." Screamed the captain.
"THEN GET THEM INTO THE GUNSHIPS AND WE CAN TAKE THEM BACK TO OUR LINES! WE'LL HELP YOU HOLD THIS POSITION!"
Civilians were huddled in buildings and instructed not to run out as not to get caught in the crossfire. Orders were given to direct the civilians in orderly fashion to the gunships. With the carrying capacity of the ziio's they could carry 40 civilians at a time. Senate guards formed a line from a museum to the gunships. Men, women, and children. Humans and non-humans all herded onto the gunships. Anvil and Wingmen took their positions on the perimeter to replace the exhausted senate guards, and as the gunships were loaded, they ascended.
"Stormpiercer Actual, this is Quosit. War Witch and I got civvies on board, we're taking them back to the assembly area."
"Roger that, Quosit. Continue to assist with evacuation efforts as needed."
"Solid copy, Actual."
Gunships were now in the air with civvies on board. So far, so good as the convoy soared through the skies. Little time for levity when you had non-combatants in what was essentially a flying death trap. It wasn't long until enemy fighters had intercepted the ziio's. A squad of 5 TIEs were tailing and firing on them.
"Imps will stoop low to target civvies?"
"Doesn't matter now, let's lose 'em." Rils then got on comms to speak to the civilians in the cargo hold. "Everyone hold on tight, this is gonna get a little bumpy."
There was no point trying to engage the TIEs, they just had to try and lose them as they both flew above the skyline. There was no way they would catch them in a dogfight and it wasn't looking good for the two gunships as they did what they could to evade, but there was only so much they could do when they were in beasts such as ziio's.
"Rils! My shields are taking a beating, they're at 38!"
Rils then looked down at this shields and saw 40%. He cursed. They just had to keep going.
But then the temple came into view. He knew the battalion's anti-air capabilities were stationed there. They were their only hope. "Stormpiercer Actual, this is War Witch. Come in!"
"I read you loud and clear, War Witch."
"We got TIEs on our tail! We need the double-A C 5's to take them out!"
"Solid copy. We see you on scanners. Just lure them in so we can get a reading on them."
"Roger that!" Rils then switched to speak to Quosit. ""Kyran, veer towards the temple so our flak can clear the fighters."
"Copy, Rils! My shields are at 29!"
"Hold her steady!"
Rils didn't want to look at the shields or the radar. He would let the instruments define his mood. All he had to do was fly past and wait for his allies to set them home free. Seconds felt like years as they approached the temple from the south, the imps didn't seem to be paying any mind to the ziio at least as they were still looking to take the fight to the ground units. But that didn't stop the TIEs relentless pursuit. The cockpit let off a warning light, shields were depleted. Hull was now taking damage. Rils’s heart was pounding, his fellow pilot was screaming his name.
But in the next 2 seconds, the gunships were home free as anti-air missiles soared into the sky and blasted the TIEs into rubble. Rils sighed in relief.
"YEEEHAWWWW!" Quosit's pilot shouted excitedly. Suffice to say Rils was startled. But it didn't matter. On radar, he noticed that were no one pursuit. They just had to make it back to base.
Meanwhile in the northern courtyard. The Strompiercers were still holding the line, Lt. Cerex was ahead with Scimitar platoon to bolster the hole that was created by the imps that were still pushing. He looked over at Pfc. Kael Dane
and saw the patch. The winged arrow that clears the storm. He smirked but didn't want to bother the kid, he was in the zone.
But the blaster fire started to get heavier, it was almost like for every stormtrooper they blasted, another one would take their place. It soon became clear that the line was beginning to fall as screams could be heard all around. They had to pull back to the next position. But just as the lieutenant was about to order withdrawal, something caught his eye.
Cerex only looked over just a moment to see two Jedi, Rann Thress
and Rikuan
surrounded by the imps. They were holding their own, but they were cut off from the Alliance's lines. "Stormpiercer Actual, this is Razor Hound Charlie! We got two Jedi cut off from our lines. Recommend we redirect fire so we can give them an opening."
"Acknowledged. I'm diverting heavy fire to your location now. But once the jedi have an opening, pull back to secondary position." Ysennia said.
"Roger that!" The lieutenant replied. He returned fire, and it wasn't long until the comms from the tiger walker, Dream House, was coming through.
"Razor Hound Charlie, this is Dream House, we recommend you hold onto your helmets for this one, over.
"Solid copy, Dream House!" Cerex said before shouting orders to his platoon, "DUCK AND COVER NOW!" As ordered, Cerex and his unit buried their heads beneath their cover as the mass driver cannon fired just a few paces in front of them, punching a whole in the empire's line. The ground shook before them with pebbles of debris raining over them. The lieutenant's ears rung as the blast was close as anticipated. Still though he was fine and as he looked around, his troops were still okay. Hopefully the kid was too. But there was no letting up. "Cover the Jedi, now!" Lt. Cerex's men and the walkers, Carrion and Forge would lay down suppressive fire, giving the Jedi an opening to rendezvous with them.
But the empire caught this and were focusing fire on their position. Repeater blasters were laying down fire and an anti-armor rocket flew at the scout walker, Carrion. It hit the left leg, causing it to fall on its side. It was disabled but Cerex knew Cpl. Mozu Zanda, a twi'lek woman was piloting that walker. "Zanda, talk to me!" Cerex desperately shouted.
"I-I'm fine lieutenant... ARGH... I think something's broken."
The lieutenant wasted no time as he directed orders at Kael Dane
"Private, save the corporal! We'll cover you! Jilkins! Go with him!"
"Yes sir!"
Pfc. Silas Jilkins, a human from Montitia was only a couple years older than Pfc. Dane, but he survived Woostri. He lead and laid down fire to give his comrade the room he needed to save Cpl. Zanda from the downed walker. "Break the hatch open! I'll cover!"
While it still felt like each side was still probing in space combat, Mykel experienced a stark escalation of conflict in the Force, finding himself caught between competing tidal forces of wills. An Imp occultist pressed upon his being with a malicious siren call of dread and doubt at his front like a leadstone, while at the same time the Grandmaster uplifted him with visions of hope and resolve at his back like a rising gale.
Mykel did not remain passive in this struggle, as the Consular had come to space not only to war with his machines, but also with his mind. Building off the fortitude instilled in him by Valery, he erected his own personal bulwark of valor, enveloping his unit of fellow Jedi in a dedicated layer of defense and tipping the balance of influence in favor of their Grandmaster.
For the moment, at least within his bubble of protection, the occultist's slimy tendrils of deceit were kept in check at the fringes of his mind.
His focus returned to the material plane, where he was now receiving requests for direct support.
"Captain Halpern, Jedi Dawson, glad to have you two along, my flotilla and squadrons are preparing for a run on that dreadnought. If one or both of you could be so kind as to cover my ass when it retaliates, it'd be much appreciated."
"This is Mobius-1 to Void Lance. Happy to be aboard, but I'm sorry, but we're currently maintaining a defensive posture until we receive directives from Overlord (Supreme Commander). However, we can still support you with standoff capabilities during your approach. Just start painting targets and we'll make them slag."
His AI Hecate interjected over text with a pertinent observation:
:: The enemy has initiated ECM operations. It's a wide-band attack across standard GADF comm frequencies. It's also crude - basic signal flooding. Unlikely to be deployed by a dedicated EWAR platform. ::
Simple noise jamming like this wouldn't affect Silver Wing much, as their craft were outfitted with advanced entanglement based communication systems and also possessed tightbeam and laserline systems as a fallback. More importantly, they were Jedi, with the Force as their ultimate squawk box.
Not every other pilot in their coalition had the same capabilities at hand, however, which Mykel always kept in mind.
"Well let's assist Prael'rs'akinc and Halpern. Analyze enemy jamming waveforms through Haunter and develop a countersignal for negation. Preempt more sophisticated jamming attempts on navigation and targeting sensors with a dedicated algorithm possessing adaptive waveform generation for ECCM operations, and then be sure to transmit that sweet datapacket to all friendly vessels with a nice shiny bow on top."
:: You got it, boss! 〈( ^.^)ノ::
Finally, the Supreme Commander reached out, informing him of incoming reinforcements. Moments later, the 10th Sector Armada blinked into view on his portside, the centerpiece of the impressive formation being the gargantuan Mon Mothma, absolutely dwarfing the other surrounding vessels.
Despite the dire situation, Mykel couldn't help but stare in awe. Not since being a youngling in the Silver Concord had he observed such large powerful warships up close. Its mere presence flooded him with renewed confidence.
Finally, the big guns are here.
As events stood, the current tactical landscape was stacked in favor of the Imps, so he was elated with the idea that the Alliance could finally turn the tide with such heavy hardware.
"This is Vice Admiral Thalu of the Galactic Alliance, all vessels form up on the Mon Mothma - our focus is to provide and hold an escape corridor for civilians to evacute from the conflict zone. Battlegroup Mothma will hold the line with Theselon Squadron supporting. I want Ascendancy Squadron to maintain the corridor while the Obsidian Skirmish Line will provide picket and escort duty for the civilians. All vessels launch your Starfighter Wings and May the Force Be With Us..."
"...copy that. Silver Wing will assist in providing fighter screens for evacuation corridor."
Babysitting, that's what it was. Obviously, he wanted to protect the people of Coruscant, but in the young Knight's mind, the best way to do that was to go on the attack and smash the siege. The longer the wait, the tighter the noose would become. However, he was a team player and would abide by his superior, trusting them to see the bigger picture.
"All squadrons, assume defensive pattern gamma and reposition to-"
Mykel felt goosebumps rise at the back of his head as he experienced a great disturbance, breaking his train of thought. All manner of flashing alarms immediately followed - enemy sensor pings. So many on screen that the interior of his cockpit bled red from the choleric ambiance of oversaturation on his console display.
A great flood of enemy ships surged out from between neat Imperial formations. Ships of all sizes ranging from tiny snub fighters to massive star destroyers. All rushing forward at ludicrous speeds as one great mob. Puck immediately identified the ships by known silhouettes and drive signatures as Mawite-make.
Now what the feth is this?
Up until now, the Second Hyperspace War had been relegated to the annals of recorded history for Mykel, but a big chunk of said history was currently flying right at him.
"Belay the last order, assume defensive pattern delta. Hammer, Spike, Raptor - engage advancing vessels with standoff weapons. Prioritize attack craft. We'll have to leave the rest up to Dawn."
Despite being taken off guard by the gutsy maneuver, the well-disciplined Jedi retained their bearing as they repositioned to engage the swarm. Incoming fighters and bombers would be met with lances of ion torpedoes and rail gun slugs by the Aquilian gunships to render them into inert molten hunks of crumpled metal. Mykel also joined in the frey, his Amphrite similarly armed with long range weaponry that could punch out at just about any Imp vessel on Corusant's nearside in orbit. Meanwhile, the other Jedi starfighters created a roving sphere of interlocking fire with their homing lasers primed to burn anything that got too close to the formation. Nearby starfighters of the Coruscanti Defense Forces whom Silver Wing had originally linked up with also opened fire on the rapidly encroaching vessels.
"Splash one, splash two, splash three…" Mykel reported, picking off fighters in rapid succession with his railguns as he flitted about.
Similar calls of success came from all over Silver Wing. The hits were coming fast and easy. Too easy.
The Mawite fighters didn't really attempt any advanced evasive maneuvers during the prosecution of their assault run. In fact, they just seemed to fire everything while homing in on their targets head on.
Fresh explosions bloomed into giant orbs of searing white plasma fire as he witnessed a flight of X-wings get smashed to bits by Darkshear fighters. Not from laser fire or missiles, but from direct collision. A similar nightmare played out across his viewport in several other instances.
With terrifying clarity, Mykel quickly came to understand the wicked purpose of the insane rush.
"All callsigns," he frantically called out over tightbeam to any friendly vessel within line of sight, including outgoing civilian ships. "Everyone. Evasive maneuvers now! They're all ramships!"
The first task that Mister Dawson had assigned her - generating a countersignal to brute force jamming efforts - was a breeze. All that involved was studying the waveforms for a bit and inverting the pattern in kind for cancellation. A dead simple matter.
The second tasking - developing a self adapting waveform algorithm was trickier. A lack of input from the current iteration of Imperials meant Hecate had to pour through previous battle records containing Imperial and Sith electronic warfare tactics dating all the way back to the Second Hyperspace War. Completing such a compilation would take time, so she was glad that Dawson had requested this particular product before he needed it.
While conducting her analysis, she received a curious message.
It came to her through a nonstandard transmission channel outside the current bandwidth of Imperial jamming efforts. The sender remained mysterious, relaying their message via a non-alliance warship, but one that seemed to be targeting the Imperial vessels. Out of curiosity, she examined the message.
"Perhaps it is time to let the Alliance do our work for us..." Moira mused as her sister planted proton charges in the rubble at the specific points she directed, plucking a computer spike off a dead imperial technician she had executed, going to a security terminal, and plugging it in, using it to aid in her quickly establishing bootleg communication through a shadow transmission in the Battlecruiser comm system.
No doubt they will be attempting to stop us elsewhere. Let them contend with HECATE she thought as she opened up a bandwidth just long enough for the super A.I. to travel into the ship through, if it was in range...
If Hecate had eyes, then they would have grown as big as saucers.
A physical node into the Imperial flagship had just been offered to her on a silver platter?!
Should she take it?
While Mister Dawson hadn't explicitly instructed her to slice into enemy warships and battle nets, she hadn't been explicitly forbidden not to either. It could be her own secret until she found something of use to him.
Hmm.
A very long microsecond of contemplation was undertaken by the precocious AI before settling on a course of action.
After accessing the relay, there came light snooping, operating like a shadow under the cover of the generous permissions afforded by the technician's sanctioned computer spike. No slicing occurred, but small bits of code were quickly loaded onto the control spike itself, ready to inject into the Sepulchre's systems in the event of a sudden hard disconnect. But for now there was only quiet observation.
Velis moved. Good. Datashelves could provide some adequate amount of cover. If not that, conceal her. She was less of a target than a would-be Mandalorian.
Behind Fett, the terminal ticked on with the slicer equipment in the midst of infiltration. In front of him, the lot of them descended. He could stand his ground, fight, win. The storm of blaster cannon fire said otherwise. He inched himself aside with a lean, a spark of flames shot out from behind him and his armoured frame darted across the open space. His former position vaporised, naught but steam and blackened debris remained. Beneath the second floor in between data shelves, the droid would need to shoot into the floor to reach him, or descend, and down here a four meter droid lacked the same freedom of movement.
Separated from Velis was less than ideal.
In this brief moment of reprieve, the voice of the Jedi bridged the distance.
He crept behind the datashelves, teasing something of a smirk beneath the weathered helmet. The Way. An old Mandalorian tenant, the manner in which all those that call themselves Mandalorians ought to live. Fett was Mandalorian once, maybe, but he chafed against constrictions of all natures. Dar'manda now. He neared the edge, stepped out and sent off a hail of slugs from the shattergun towards the Jedi.
"I have my own way."
Then came the other one, possessing a handful of Force-made something. Fast, too. He turned his flamethrower on her and with a crackle and roar, a plume of flames shot out in a dense, wet arc. It bathed the room in a new light and the flames clung to whatever it touched, like grasping fingers.
Once that Force ball detonated, first with sparks and then with physical force, it sent Koda back. He collided with the data shelf, dented it, the lights dimming and dying as he slumped down onto his feet with a groan. "Hrn," the vocoder rumbled, rising swiftly as he alternated targets. The blaster pistol turned on the Jedi, the shattergun on whatever she was.
Yet then, what seemed overcrowded welcomed another. Given the circumstances, he could afford to settle.
"Fifteen." He said between shots, "Twenty if you're more than fodder."
Velis hid behind of the rows of holobooks, datasticks and the other modern or ancient storage devices of the Jedi Archives unaware that in the wake of the Dark Empire's fall (following the Galactic Alliance's victory in the CORE WARS) had resulted in the decision to move the hardcopies and other data (which had previously been stored on Coruscant) to the NJO temple founded on Tython as Valery Noble
sought to bring her people back to their ancestral home in an effort to reconnect with the Force and revive the planet in the wake of the Dark-Imperials withdrawal from the Core Worlds.
The strange euphoria and focus gifted (unknowingly) by a dark-sider sorceress (Ibaris Varanin
) had done wonders to soothe the albino's nerves as she found herself caught in the centre of this new galactic war between the resurgent Dark-Imperial forces and Alliance heroes but it couldn't fix everything. Even as she tried to follow the fighting (while she waited for the stolen Jedi access codes to load in the nearby terminal) Velis was finding it difficult to see given the depigmentation in both eyes. They stung and the eye fog was frustrating. So the girl kept blinking furiously to try and keep her vision as she counted the thirty seconds she had given herself to find cover before returning back to the "MAUVE HACK" in the hopes that the stolen access codes she had procured for this job would grant her access to the archives.
Biting her lower lip, as she fought back the thoughts about whether or not it was such a good idea to try and participate in this heist, Velis ducked from behind the rows of shelves and the glowing edifices of artificial light permanenting from them to return to the access terminal. The last thing she saw was the message on screen from Allyson Locke
before everything went to shit.
</uShadow>: <Wanna play a game?>
</uShadow>: <y/n>
Velis reached out to press the "n" key but before she could there was a loud, whirring sound which broke her concentration and distracted her from the hack to look over her shoulder. The distinct sound of mechanical limbs readjusting themselves-- the familiar THUDDING akin to that of transport droids used by the Hutts-- made the Albino look away and back to the fighting.
The last thing she would remember is starring at those big, awful cannons and the face of an AT-XV battle droid before Velis Arden went lights out as it opened fire upon her consequentially destroying the access terminal Koda Fett had brought the slicer too and the many rows found within the archives that the Albino had been using for cover.
"Gah!"
CT-312 said:
Ashe paused. Better yet… "Target the girl too. Doubt she's beskar proof." ( Velis Arden ). In a drier tone. "Whatever is down there. Keep it down there." A low hum rolled out from the AT-XV Battle Droid, [Consider It Done].
THUD.The droid's heavy frame repositioned. THUD.A whirring and air cracked with power could be heard emitting from the armaments. THUD.[Engagement Mode: Hostile Neutralization]
E-Web Blaster Cannons and LJ-Concussion Rifle roared to life as blaster fire and concussive waves tore into the lower chamber. Shredding marble and imploding the stairwell. A 16 foot radius turned into a hellstorm down below. Targeting Koda and the splicer's direction she ran off too.
When the firing stopped there was a large plume of dust (no doubt caused by the destruction of all the marble around them) which was already settling itself upon the motionless body of Fett's partner as she laid half buried in the destruction. The hem of her silhouette was visible via the pair of legs protruding from underneath a half destroyed archive shelf which was littered by janky shards of marble and stone wrought by the battle droid's mission to prevent any further incursion into the data archives of the New Jedi Order.
In a spiral of blue and green light, Ran and Ren pushed their attack on Solipsis. The element of surprise had not been enough. His inner circle mobilized. Ran’s lightsaber blade was intercepted by another, as the color crimson cracked the air. On contact their lightsabers made a noise akin to a scream and when they locked a groan. Ran pushed her saber against the other making the sounds louder, and then a CRACK, not from the lightsaber but from a well hidden punch. It sounded worse than it was. A glancing blow to the face from the enemy bladeswoman to Ran succeeded in robbing her of her balance but only for a moment.
With their Jedi minds melded, Ran and Ren made up for each other’s shortcomings. On some strange level the Imperial defender wasn’t just fighting Ran, She was fighting Ren too. The Amaran Jedi Master’s awareness and everything else extended to Ran, and from Ran everything else to Ren. Ran spun away from her attacker's savage fists as Ren swung his saber at the interceptor on his way to Solipsis.
As Ran regained her footing she couldn’t help but see the woman between her and Solipsis as an Elite Swordsman. No one born short of ignorance would reach their fist into the sphere of a lightsaber wielding enemy unless they knew what they were doing. Either that or they were reckless. With anyone who wasn’t a Jedi, it was a toss up.
Then the dark side came. Like a tidal wave, the sith battle meditation crashed against the forces of the empire and the alliance, and so too did it crash against Ran. She fought the harsh feelings that sought to twist her up and poison her mind. Decades of Sith influence had hardened her against these attacks. The ability would extend to Ren through their link as well. One’s will propping up the other, a closing loop doing its best to shunt the dark feelings away.
And as quickly as the Sith Battle Meditation came it went. The Jedi Battle Meditation, Ran could feel from their Grandmaster, came in like a divine sun’s rays. Washing the stain of the dark side from her mind and the others. There might’ve been a stalemate in the force between the Grandmaster and the Dark Side Agents, but Ran didn’t have time to worry about that. Solipsis was in front of her, and so were his Grand Vizier and Blade of Vengeance.
So locked in battle with the Imperial, Ran went on the offensive. She relied on her instincts, on her reflexes, and on her knowledge of the lightsaber and her own body to break down the Imperial Bladeswoman’s defense. Ran began with a series of prodding slashes and swings against the black armored woman. The longer this dragged out, the more dangerous this engagement was for both sides.
Clothing — GACA‑14 Nemean armor
Inventory — BHSR‑1 Service Rifle; GABB‑15 Talon II Carbine; GAGL‑56 “Snarl” grenade launcher; thermal detonators; smoke grenades;
Theme : N/A “They want to rewrite history in fire. We write ours in blood and grit.”
____________
Kael’s boots tore across the courtyard as the lieutenant’s voice cut through the chaos. His lungs burned, armor scraped and heavy. He didn't even look back. Orders were orders.
"On it!"
Jilkins was ahead of him, already suppressing fire with long, practiced bursts. The downed walker was belching smoke, one leg twisted into the rubble. Kael slid in behind the chassis, ducking low. The hatch was scorched and partly buckled.
He slammed a hand on it. Nothing. He tried again, fingers searching for the release. It didn’t budge.
"Corporal!"
No answer.
Kael set his rifle down and gripped the edge of the hatch with both hands. He pulled, teeth clenched, every muscle straining. The hatch groaned open an inch. Again. A sharp wrench and it finally gave way. Please lord, let me save her.
Inside, the corporal was pale, her leg pinned under a collapsed strut. Her face was smeared with soot, but her eyes were sharp.
"Alright. We’re getting you out, hold tight."
He climbed halfway in, bracing himself against the walker’s frame. The beam was warped, heavy. He shoved with everything he had. It shifted just enough. Dust filled his throat. He reached under her arms.
"Now, ma’am. Pull with me."
She grit her teeth, pushing with her good leg. Together, they got her clear.
Blaster fire cracked too close. Jilkins shouted over his shoulder, still laying down cover.
Kael didn’t think. He threw the corporal’s arm over his shoulder, hoisted her up, and started dragging her back toward the nearest piece of cover, legs slipping on scorched stone.
He didn’t look up. Just kept moving to the nearest cover point.
Chaos and madness erupted all around, the explosive impacts of a strafing TIE fighter's incoming missiles sending duracrete and bodies flying. The well-trained ranks of the imperial troopers pressed forward mercilessly towards the desperately determined GADF defenders.
But Taam's focus was on the knight. Every sense, every instinct, every glimpse offered by the Force to discern the stranger's intent, his next move. The raised greatsword never completed it's initial swing, as a buffet of the Force slammed into Taam, halting his momentum and shoving him back. The songsteel blade was gripped by invisible force, the tip driven into the cracked pavement, forcing Taam to spend precious moments trying to yank it free.
A crimson blade ignited in the imperial's hand, and a savage onslaught was unleashed on the Cathar knight. Kta Dom Lya shifted, but was still embedded in the concrete and had to be abandoned for the moment. Taam's own lightsaber flew into his hand, the violet blade rising to meet the foe's weapon only after a glancing blow left a scorch-mark on the Force-imbued Cathar armor and burnt the leonine jedi's ear. The knight was skilled and relentless with his blade, requiring the Jedi to concetrate more fully on the Force to meet each well-aimed blow of the crimson saber.
When the slightest pause allowed him a breath, Taam's hand shot out, leveling a powerful shove against the dark knight that pushed them several meters apart. Taking up his lightsaber in both hands, Taam fell upon the armored imperial with a flury of aggressive strikes, gauging the enemies defensive strengths after experiencing the skill of his attack.
The Senate building was within sight when Ibaris Varanin
’s Sith Battle Meditation reached her. It struck out of the blue, hitting Katherine like an invisible bolt of lightning, knocking her out of the sky. She could feel a hand reach out and wrap around her heart, trapping it within an icy grip.
Breath stolen, vision blurring, mind slipping away…
Chained to wall, bound to a torture chair. Legs broken, wings severed, body scarred by Force Lightning.
That same helpless feeling threatened to drown Katherine, as she continued to fall. But then she felt it, something pushing through the dark mire that was trying to drag the winged Valkyrie down. Katherine reached out for it, grasping ahold of it and allowed the Light to flow through her.
Valery Noble
‘s own Battle Meditation was like a beacon in the dark. It connected her to not just the Grandmaster, but to all the other Jedi too. Katherine drew it around her like a shield, protecting her against the Sith’s Dark influence.
Senses returned just barely at the last moment. The winged Jedi spun around, unfurling her wings mere inches from her armoured form cratering into the ground. Instead, she soared forwards and launched towards the Senate Rotunda once more. Hidden beneath her armour, the redhead could feel her tattoo/markings burn. The helmet’s visor filled with a radiant golden glow.
There was no hesitation in Katherine as she finally reached the Rotunda and disappeared inside.
Almost immediately, she could feel Solipsis‘ foul power within the Senate Chamber itself. But Katherine was focused on her target, flying within the building’s curved hallways like a bullet. Dipping and diving, tucking her wings in when necessary. As she drew closer to Ellayina’s location, Katherine scooped up a fallen spear.
Found you.
Katherine turned one final corner, slamming into the floor a fair distance behind the blonde woman. A second later she threw the spear like a javelin, the tip of it slamming into the door’s controls before Ellayina could open it.
“L’lerim!” She yelled, hand reaching down to grab her crossguard hilt. “You’re going nowhere.” The helmet modulated Katherine’s voice, but likely not enough to fail in recognizing the redhead’s voice. That and well, what were the odds of being confronted by a winged Jedi again?
Mercy wasn't used to not being the center of attention, but with the way Koda was flying around and carrying that idiot girl she somehow had escaped notice.
They were in the Jedi Archives now. Surrounded by the databanks all around them. While they fought one another, Mercy sighed and slammed her hand into the blue data brick of one of the banks. It should have slammed right through and ruined it. Instead, her hand warped mid-swing, into tendrils that oozed from the Darkside and something... older than that. The tendrils seeped into the hardware, the mechanics that made it work the way it worked and bypassed all the software entirely. Mercy was not a slicer, never had been, never would be. Not smart enough for that. This method would probably corrupt a portion of the data.
That's fine.
If Mauve had an issue with that, she could take it up with Koda. Suddenly the data transfer began to slow as the storage, the very pattern that was within the lattice of the data storage was warped and sucked out.
She yanked her hand back and let the hungry creature she left behind continue its working devouring and absorbing the very structure of the databank. That ought to fetch a pretty credit chit.
Now to save someone's arse.
Velis seemed to be dead. She felt a pang at that. Soft stupid girls had no place here. You needed to be hard. You needed to be a nightmare. A monster that snapped people in half. Not a little meat puppet that broke so easily. She left it behind her. Alongside the army of the dead that surrounded her ever since some Jedi or Sith cretin decided to summon them. Reminders of the slaughter and the sins they committed.
They stood in silence around her. Judging her. Crying. Growling in anger.
She had killed so many and she'd kill many more. Don't you worry, you will have new friends soon enough. Her image blurred and suddenly she snapped back into existence right next to Koda in the thick of it.
Her fist slammed into the floor with all the power of the Force and the Other inside of it. It cracked, it roared, shattering metal and duracrete, a circled wave that would push any opponent back and clear the area for a moment of breathing.
"Don't think I have heard you talk as much as today, tin-can. Ready to go? The girl is dead."
Isar laughed, and Cora's frown deepened. It wasn't the obnoxious chortle of some arrogant darksider who fancied himself the next Vader - it was almost sad.
He stepped forward, and there was a moment where Isar was flanked by ghosts - Horace to his left, and Marcel to his right. Her departed husband and father, respectively. Both had met their end by her hand.
The first out of self preservation. The second out of preservation for her family and her home. She'd taken no joy in their deaths, only relief, but that just made the guilt feel heavier.
When Cora blinked next, and the grim specters had vanished.
"I didn't believe you then, and I was right to," she grumbled. Really? Apologizing and then showing her that?
Only Isar remained, and to her dismay, he was alive. His pulse drifted down the dull blades at his neck, finding the path of least resistance to her. Cora dropped the shears from his throat and tucked them into the folds of her robe, next to the hydra flower.
"I was securing a few last-minute specimens before joining the guard. But if you prefer, I can walk you to a holding cell myself?"
As she spoke, the climbing vines that hugged a tree behind Isar migrated toward the ground. They'd encircle the Zeltron's feet, slithering upwards at a pace that was neither blistering nor serpentine.
The soldier threw back an elbow into Tobi's midsection as the blow caught him off guard, a temporary relax in his grip around the soldier's neck as they immediately leaned forward to launch their head back, their skull colliding with Tobi's face as his head snapped back in response, "Mother fudger done gone n' broke my nose..." The cowboy stumbled backwards as the trooper scrambled for their blaster, Tobi cupping his nose as he got his bearings, leveling his own blaster from the hip. Tobi pulled the trigger, but no round or report went off, Damn it, done gone n' jammed at the worst gotdamn time. Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff... Tobi reached down to tap his blaster to see if it would fix, glancing up to see the trooper having retrieved their rifle and aimed at him, Chit... He thought to himself.
A loud crash rocked the archives as a large sentry droid fired off concussive shots ordered by CT-312
inside in tandem with a wild, blitzing strike from Quinn Varanin
blasting one of the shelves behind the trooper as it collapsed on top of them, leaving Tobi unscathed and without a hole punched through his form as he checked himself to make sure he was still alive. Koda's response came after the aftermath of the carnage. "Sounds like a deal to me, you got yourself 'nother helpin' pair o' 'ands pardner." He said cheerfully, unaware that their slicer friend Velis Arden
was out of the picture beneath rubble.
Figures that Koda Fett
would haggle for a lower percentage, cheap bastard. In all fairness though, fifteen percent was more than enough for his next few mealtickets to work with, so it didn't matter too much to the cowboy as he smirked. Hell, if he managed to find a hard copy of the archives he might just pocket it and get away with the full bounty anyways if he was lucky. "Huh...That coulda gone a lot wors-" Something detonated behind Tobi, a loose detonator that had fallen from his belt that somehow went off as he went launching forward away from the blast as he was slammed against the floor, groaning, "Aww that's gonna hurt something fierce in the morning..." The cowboy went to peel himself from the floor only to get launched backwards once again by the shockwave created by Mercy
as he went sliding backwards, "Gotdamn it, I thought we were all on the same side!"
Michael, Gabriel,Azrael,Sariel,Raphael,Jeremiel,Connel
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
UNDERCITY MAINTENANCE TUNNEL
Dripping pipes. Faint light from fractured grates above. Omega Squad moves fast, but quiet—weapons drawn, every corner cleared twice. They’ve been on the run since the artillery strike. And something is wrong. Too many corridors are open. Too many patrols show up right after they pass through. Too many close calls to be chance.
[We’re being herded.]
Michael, was busy checking his motion scanner: [Vayne’s recon. They’re not chasing us. They’re boxing us in.]
[And they’re watching the exits. Which means we give them something else to see.]
STORMTROOPER MORTUARY ZONE – 14 LEVELS DEEP
A collapsed corridor. Dead troopers everywhere. Blown apart by friendly artillery. Gear half-intact. One of Mordane’s failed misdirections.
Sariel moved first. He stripped two of the corpses, swapping armor plates, cutting ID tags, copying helmet call signs. Michael follows suit. Jeremiel sliced the trooper biosigs and injected Omega ghost protocols into them—making it look like the squad died right here in a last stand.
Then they went one step further.
[We fake a splinter team. Imperial troopers who caught us. Two survivors. We wear the armor. We walk out the front.]
Sariel looked to Connel. [You sure you can act like a Stormtrooper?]
Connel just said flatly. [I’ll channel my inner hammer.]
They moved. In Imperial gear, with fake wounds and clipped voices. Sariel dragging a dummy body wrapped in Omega gear. Michael feigning a leg injury. Raphael grunted and played the mute enforcer, weapon always up. Jeremiel fed clipped comm traffic that mirrored actual Imperial codes.
And Azrael? Azrael was gone. Left behind to shadow Vayne’s recon net and lay remote charges.
The disguised Omega members were waved through a forward checkpoint during a rotation, IDs quickly scanned and accepted by a young officer in a rush. This was one of the Recovery Detachments so they were still in the rear. They passed inside a field of tanks, troopers, and high-level asset routes.
Inside the compound, they vanished.
Split into two units.
Michael and Sariel sneaked into the fire control center. Jeremiel and Raphael planted false distress beacons. Connel? He planted something else—a transmission spike.
EXT. PROMENADE – MOMENTS LATER FLASH. BOOM.
An Imperial tank column exploded from the inside—turrets turning on friendly recon patrols. A false ID tag burst—originating from Mordane’s own command uplink—flags the recon unit as Jedi insurgents using Sunfyre armor.
Within seconds, chaos erupts.
“Friendly fire! Friendly fire!”
“What unit are you? WHAT UNIT ARE YOU?”
“Those aren’t ours! Who let them in!?”
Confusion turned to panic.
A Captain tried to radio for ceasefire—only to be cut down by one of Sariel’s last planted turrets.
In the smoke, Omega Squad disappeared again. They did not take down who they wanted to, but the message was sent. They were wounded and on the run but still dangerous.
ABANDONED MARKET SECTOR – LATER
Rain hits the glassless skylights. The squad regrouped. Sariel tossed the last of the stolen helmets into a fire. Jeremiel smashed the ID chip with a boot. Michael reloaded Gabriel’s rifle.
Connel leaned over the ledge, watching the last of the friendly-fire chaos unfold below.
Imperial medics pulled back dead troopers.
An APC burned on its side.
A recon net node lies shattered—its signal dish folded inward like a broken wing.
Connel to no one in particular: They baited us… and we bit.
But they choked on it. Michael quipped in a low tone.
They still think we’re dead.
Sariel was watching the smoke: Doubt it, but if they do… then let’s haunt them.
BURNING APC – LATER
The Recon units, amid the fire, if they came up on it, would see the ghost team had left a kill counter tagged in the wreckage. Burned into the wall. Two words.”
LOCATION: Coruscant - Near the Temple steps OUTFIT: Tribal Jedi Robes WEAPONS:Lightsaber TAGS: Rann Thress
- OPEN
It seemed his little display didn't scare them off. More troopers poured in, cutting him and Rann apart. That was fine. He trusted Rann could hold his own, his real concern was the Temple. His friends were inside. They needed him.
Rikuan exhaled and focused, anchoring himself to Grandmaster Valery's presence. That calm center in the storm. He was a Jedi, yes. But he was also Makurian. The Three Winds guided his body, mind, and soul - and right now, all three were screaming go.
Red bolts tore through the air. He deflected the first few, then launched himself at the nearest trooper, landing on the man's shoulders just as a stray shot punched through his chestplate.
Before the body dropped, Rikuan was airborne again. He carved through the next soldier mid-leap and hit the ground crouched low, tail coiled for balance. With a snap spin, his saber cut a full circle through the ankles of the squad around him—then he vaulted upward again in a blur of motion and smoke.
Still airborne, Rikuan threw both arms forward. A burst of kinetic Force rippled from his palms; controlled, precise. It slammed into a cluster of Imperials, knocking them off their feet like pins, but not launching anyone into orbit. Just enough.
Landing once again, he was much closer to Rann now but still a small distance away. From the brief flash he caught, it seemed Rann was making good work of the troopers on his end. Neat.
He kept carving through the advancing Imps, deflecting bolts on instinct until he heard Rann call out to him.
"Yeah, Space Hunk?!" he answered back.
He glanced over, catching Rann tapping his shoulder like he was cueing up a wild idea. Rikuan, already batting aside another blaster bolt, caught on quick. Whatever it was, he was so down. With a feral grin and his canines flashing, Rikuan shoved a few troopers back with a burst of Force and vaulted through the air, landing squarely on Rann's shoulders with graceful precision.
"This is either the will of the Force or a concussion waiting to happen... Throw me!"
Rikuan crouched low on Rann's shoulders, tail coiling for balance, his fingers gripping onto the man's armor with barely-contained excitement. This is so stupid. I love it. The Force surged between them, coiled like a spring. Then...
He was gone. The moment Rikuan felt the push, he leaned into it, letting the Force flow through his limbs as he shot forward like a Makurian missile. Wind whipped past his ears, and the battlefield blurred beneath him as he howled with laughter. In the span of heartbeats, he became a blur before crashing down into the Imperial line like a comet.
Rikuan carved through a line of trooper before finally landing himself. The stormtroopers were so stunned by what had just happened, they were barely able to react to Rikuan's follow up attacks. Rikuan picked up a stray blaster rifle with his tail, using it to blast any stragglers behind him.
As the Makurian regrouped from his last attack, the whine of descending gunships and the sound of heavy anti-air batteries cracked through the chaos. A rush of blaster fire screamed overhead... but this time, it wasn't aimed at him. It was cover. The Stormpiercers (Ysennia Lee
) had arrived.
A column of suppressive fire rained down on the Imperials boxing them in, punching gaps into the enemy's ranks. A scout walker toppled just meters away, taking a hit, but the new line held. Rikuan didn't know who ordered the support, but whoever did just cleared their path. This was the moment.
"Rann! We got an opening!" he called out.
Rikuan was only able to take one step before he felt something hit him like a tidal wave. It felt like time had fractured. His muscles tensed, tail coiled like a spring, but the Force stuttered. They were all there. Not Jedi, not friends, not the dead he'd mourned. But the ones he killed. A few, not many... but enough.
Several troopers he had taken out today. No blood. No screams. Just faces.
Whoever this was, it wasn't from Valery's warmth... it was something colder. Older (Ashin Cardé Varanin
)
Caltin Vanagor
charge a pillar of strength, two titans clashing in a show of power. She simply waited. Waited and watched. Her machines of war crashed around her. The fruits of her own labor, the GADF's finest using them as she had designed.
