Jagged Mirror (ORC Dominion of Alakaha)

[Jorus Merrill]

Spoiler

[member="Joza Perl"] [member="Dax Fyre"] [member="Bryce Bantam"] [member="Kira Vaal"] [member="Sanya Val Swift"] [member="Nate Phantoms"] [member="Elaine Thul"] [member="Ugohr Poof"] [member="Delila Castillon"] [member="Andorreth Vikar"] [member="Charr"]​

In the spirit of Star Trek's mirror universe timeline, you can join this thread as normal, or play as your mirror universe self/evil twin/whatever spin you want to put on things. And with the new Dominion rules, we can just have some fun, bring the story to a close in fifty posts or so if we feel like it, and that's that.​

​

​

In a dusty tavern on Alakaha, mercenaries sat around a table. One especially disreputable man hunkered back in a dark corner. They hung on his occasional words. For example:

"This timeline has issues."

The dark man slugged back another drink and grunted. A Zeltron woman, thin and pale in an unhealthy way, hurried to refill his cup.

"They had the Cularin incident. Then there was a more serious incursion. Neither one of those connected with my timeline like this one has. The foundations of reality are weak in this timeline. Akala, Akala, even more Akala..." He slurped another drink and wiped his mouth. "You sure you've buried this Captain Merrill deep enough?"

A cyborg gentleman nodded anxiously. "Six stun bolts, coma gas in the airpack, twenty feet of dirt over him. He won't be going anywhere for a while, sir."

"That'll do. Last thing I need is him screwing around before this gets sorted out. If it turns out I can just kill him without risking what keeps me here, keeps all of us here, then that's what'll get done. In the meantime, you see any of your own doubles, don't shank'em."

Blue light danced in the dark man's eyes.

"Spread out. Get the lay of the land. Let's figure out who else from our side crossed over, and how we can get off this dustball and get to work."

 

[Miss Blonde]

[media] https://youtu.be/wT9dILJrCSo [/media]​

On a planet like this, one had to look at the wastes and be forced to look internally, often enough to contemplate the duality of their own nature. This was due to the fact that laws and modern society had melted away to reveal the ugly yet frighteningly true sight that all of it was superficial and without the artificial constructs that was civilized society and its rules, people would eat each other with a smile on their face. So what was the duality of someone like Miss Blonde? A famed crime lord responsible for the deaths of what could be a kill count in the thousands through the orders she's given. And that's exactly what that duality was. Violence.

Violence that had been inflicted on her throughout her life, and the violence she had inflicted onto others. All of which that had culminated into making her the person that she is today. Although she struggled with becoming a better person, a woman who didn't murder for money or power, and someone who she could feel good about. But while she was here on this planet, that idea seemed so far away. That trying was pointless, because trying meant she had already failed and was deemed idiotic by the universe that this world represented. This was fact, and part of Miss Blonde wanted to deny it, but no matter how much she wanted to be this better person. When she was here on this horrid world, she needed to fallback on the persona she was most familiar with.

The black formal suited ex-crime lord had all but relapsed within the presence of all the ugly this world had to offer, and in doing so the black and soulless gas mask that was so infamous with her look was strapped to her face as her speeder raced through the wastes. With the top down on her speeder, the woman stared out at the brown decay of the landscape around her and sighed.

The ORC had a job to do on this planet and what exactly that job was, she had no idea. All she knew was that she was on backup today. Her job was to scan the comms and if there was a situation she was on QRF to either pull fast moving ground evac, or provide additional fire support. A boring job to say the least, but with the birth of her son and retirement from the underworld, this was at least something to do.

 

[Joza Perl]

No one knew where they’d come from—they seemed to materialize out of thin air with a friendly yet foreboding presence. The locals were right to be wary when they were approached by a pleasant looking Zeltron woman about sending their daughters off-world for work as hired help. Maids and nannies, she’d said. Maybe even a nursing aide if they passed the proper training. They’d be able to earn money to send home and gain experience they wouldn’t elsewhere.

There was something off about her. The way she held herself, the look in her bright yellow eyes, the lack of a genuine warmth. Her skin crinkled with a stern expression, not smooth with patience and understanding as her counterpart would have (or pretend to have).

Their concern over the redheaded stranger was not misplaced as she bid farewell after their rejection, only to return at nightfall with a group of heavily armed thugs and seize the town. The remaining Alakahans were quickly and efficiently divided by age and sex—girls and young women were highly desired, next came able bodied men skilled in a craft, after that were laborers. Older women would be taken as house slaves while the elderly and infirm were swiftly executed by way of a blaster bolt to the head.

There was no more of a powerful feeling to her than holding someone else’s life in your hand and profiting off of it. Some would call it weak, but to her it was the ultimate form of control. Manic, aggressive control that was fragile in its own way. Long ago the weeping streets lined with despair and death would pull at her heartstrings something fierce, but today they only made her chest swell with a mix of pride and self-gratification.

“Got a runaway ‘ere.” A Trandoshan clad in leather armor held up a sobbing girl, terror written across her face as the scaly man held his pistol to the side of her head. He’d caught her in an uncomfortable hold, arm twisted behind her back. She whimpered in pain almost as much as fear.

The Zeltron pursed her lips, tisking as she cupped the girl’s chin to lift it up, turning it gently from side to side as she inspected her face. Young, maybe about 13 or 14 and naturally pretty. A prime specimen if a bit old, but one that may fetch a small fortune if marketed to the right crowd.

“Now, this won’t do.”

The girl cried out sharply in pain as the butt of the Zeltron’s blaster cracked against her cheek, the Trandoshan letting her drop into the mud with a serpentine hiss of laughter.

“Slash the Achilles tendon in each leg.” She ordered.

The Trandoshan grabbed the girl by the arm, stopping short of yanking her up roughly before he gave a hesitant look to the red haired woman. “But then she won’t be able to walk.”

Sulphuric eyes stared down at the girl in the puddle, making sure to lock onto her gaze. The look of fear as they slowly began to comprehend what was going to happen to them was always an amusing delight to see, but no smile touched the woman’s lips.

“That won’t be much of a concern for her anymore.”

--​

On the other end of the spectrum, a certain Zeltron rolled out of an unknown bed with her head pounding and her stomach heaving. She’d arrived on Alakaha the previous night and had drunk herself into a stupor with some of the locals.

For the moment, she totally forgot what she was supposed to be doing here anyway.

 

[Janick Beauchamp]

"There has been reports of the Zero Sith on Alakaha"

"The Zero Sith? At the number of false leads we have received pertaining to the Zero Sith, I will not tolerate you to pilot MY flagship in Otherspace any longer if there are no traces of the Zero Sith on Alakaha" mirror-Zathura warned Janick. "I get that you would love nothing better than to personally fight the Zero Sith on the surface, or to board 0S ships, but the 0S is not to be taken lightly"

"Reversion in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1..."

Meanwhile, in Otherspace over Alakaha, mirror-Janick was on the mirror-Compellor's bridge, the flagship of the Outer Rim Coalition's Otherspace Command. It was on a patrol route from Eraton to Deleritas, and the Zero Sith, the mirrorverse version of the prime reality's One Sith, began to encroach in that area of space. There was only Wild Space left where the enemies of the despicable Zero Sith would still have anywhere resembling a strong position. But mirror-Janick was a little peculiar as a Jedi: she was only seemingly able to pilot ships at any worthwhile level of ability in Otherspace so, once she reverts to hyperspace and then on to realspace, she has to vacate her station on the bridge as she began to think: What Sith will I rough up today? Unlike most of my fellow Jedi, who only think in terms of roughing up Sith, and likewise, Sith only seem to think in terms of cutting Jedi heads off, but they treat their underlings well. I know that space is a crucial component of warfare, however. With Charon in tow, the Compellor began to make for the orbit of Alakaha, at a slow, lumbering pace, with 12 squadrons of fighters in tow, six of which were A-Wing interceptors with tow cables, and six more were Chiloon fast bombers.

[member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Miss Blonde"] [member="Bryce Bantam"]

 

[Miss Blonde]

So far it was radio silence. At least nothing that warranted the attention of Miss Blonde. There were of course distress calls on this planet at all hours of the day, a constant cry for help that all too often went unanswered. Today would be no different when it came to the cold and uncaring gaze of Miss Blonde. Reports of a slaving party went over the distress frequencies and since it didn't have anything to do with the ORC, it had nothing to do with her. Was it wrong? Yes, but this wasn't the place where good people tended to live very long. A lifetime of crime, war, and death had taught her that the Jedi or hero who sprung into action almost always found themselves in a shallow grave. So she simply kept moving forward with her speeder, into the uncaring and wicked wastes of this doomed planet.

"Maybe I'll run into a gang of mohawk wearing BDSM enthusiast raiding parties. Wouldn't that be a sight." The robotic twinge of her gas mask modified her voice as she tapped her fingers against the steering wheel.

With the boredom that loomed over her almost palpable. Blonde wasn't exactly happy with the silence. If there was anything she couldn't stand it was being alone, to be left with just her own thoughts that often tracked back into realizing the futility of the task she had burdened herself with. Not to mention how much of an idiot she was to of walk away from a multimillion credit business. But it all ultimately lead back to her biggest fear, which was herself. How if she didn't really know if she'd ever really find herself. Even at the age of forty with four kids, she still wasn't sure who the hell she was.

"Okay Patricia. Distract yourself. I spy with my little eye. Something..." In almost a futile attempt to distract herself, she raised the pitch of her voice as her visor scanned over the horizon.

"Brown." She said in a flat monotone and uninterested voice of the sight of a constant ugly brown landscape.

It looked like Blonde was up for another trip down memory lane and dealing with every bad choice she had ever made in her life. So hurray for that. But it seemed like there might be some small form of hope. Off in the distance approaching her was a color that was completely off putting compared to the brown notes and shades that surrounded her. A red dot in the shape of a person.

Well at least it was something to distract her while waiting to be called out.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Miss Blonde"] [member="Janick Beauchamp"] [member="Joza Perl"]

A handful of local vehicles - treaded, wheeled, a few speeders - skidded across the dune flats and formed a half-circle facing Joza's slaver crew. Windblown dust caked the spacer that emerged from the lead car, twirling a revolver. He didn't so much as glance at the newly taken slaves, or the toughs for that matter. Cold eyes flickered with hyperlight as Lord Admiral Jorus Merrill of the Outrider Brotherhood gave the Zeltron a twice-over.

"Fancy meetin' you here, Perl. This timeline's pretty fething ripe for the taking, innit." He scanned the dusty horizon and refocused on Joza. "There's ships coming down into orbit. If they're yours, I want a ride. If they're not, I want you to lend a hand, snag a few of'em, make some noise."

 

[Janick Beauchamp]

"Zero Sith fleet detected, dead ahead!" the sensor technican warned.

"I suppose you have a plan to defeat the Zero Sith?" mirror-Zathura asked mirror-Janick.

"Even though I'd rather fight the Zero Sith in a boarding action aimed at their flagship, the Ruination, we have to cause them to retreat to Otherspace somehow, where the Charon will be able to make a bloody mess out of them. They have no love for Sith either"

"Prepare your men for boarding action: microjump aft and make for the enemy hyperdrive"

The mirror-Ruination being one of those Primeval battlecruisers used by the Zero Sith, whereby the prime-universe Ruination is best known to have served as Kaine Zambrano's flagship. This time around, mirror-Janick while at long range from the Zero Sith fleet. Target: the enemy flagship's hyperdrive. So one Primeval battlecruiser supported by two Victory-IIs and two Boneshatters, for a total of 11 squadrons, against the mirror-Compellor's 12 and the Immobilizer 419-class carrier, the Roadblock, it brings in tow adding in an additional 10 squadrons. With that said, the Roadblock stays behind the Compellor, with four squadrons staying behind while the remaining 18 are joining in on the attack, with 8 squadrons directed at the mirror-Ruination, 3 at each of the Victory-IIs and two at each of the Boneshatters. Poodoo will rain and mirror-Zathura is expecting the Zero Sith to reinforce the enemy fleet in position on due to them being severely outgunned. They might be within long-range turbolaser range of the enemy flagship, but the Roadblock is instead firing at the starboard Victory-II while mirror-Janick is preparing her boarding party and craft, alongside which is the ORC's secret weapon for boarding missions of the internal sabotage variety: the mirror-Thermobaric Bombardiers, all the same as the prime universe-Silver Jedi ones. One platoon of Thermobaric Bombardiers and other marines for boarding the enemy flagship, with the aim of capturing their enemy commanders.

"We'll be eating roasted Sith tonight!" she shouted in an attempt to rouse her men, even though the survivors may not literally be eating Sith.

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

She came from the desert wastes. No one knew from where, for she seemed to have materialised out of thin air. Those foolish enough to question her were smote. Some called her a witch, a daemon. Others bent a knee in submission. Her eyes were hollow, her skin was fair, yet hot to touch. A mane of scarlet cascaded about her armoured shoulders. Perhaps it was just an illusion, but it seemed to glow when she was in rage. There was no warmth to be found in those eyes.


A hot dry wind blew across the land, kicking up a choking dust into the air like a shroud, as she made her way towards what passed for a temple. Her upper lip curled into a sneer as contempt swelled up inside her. She could hear chanting coming from inside the hallowed ground.


"And when the Great Darkness descended, the land was soaked with blood. Brother turned against brother and sickness spread like wild fire. The faithful prostrated themselves before Her and begged forgiveness. Moved to tears by their pleas, the Heavenly Mother interceded, saving the good-hearted." a priest spoke fervently, as the firemane stepped into the congregation. "Even now, she's watching. She's waiting."


"Is that the Goddess you're speaking of?" she asked cockily. "Do you really think she cares about you? That she bothers to step in because people cry?" her bright eyes seemed to gleam.


"She is like a good mother, shielding her children from the storm. Shepherding the good into heaven. She is our candle in the dark."


"Oh, and that's you, right? Truth be told, I don't think she cares," the firemane shrugged nonchalantly. Her eyes swept across the hall as she took in the ranks of the congregation. Men, women and children. "Truly, I don't think she exists and believe me, I've searched. Everywhere."


"Stop right there, stranger. Who are you? You are not from here."


"Oh, that's a fun story. There was this one time when I was whisked away into the Netherworld. What did I find? No heaven, no hell. Just...emptiness," a bright, orange ball of fire manifested inside the open palm of her right hand. The ball morphed, assuming the form of a veritable firebird. It soon grew in size.


"She is a witch!"


"I prefer Phoenix." Two guards came at her, but before they could lay a hand upon the intruder they burst into flames. They cried out in agony as the firebird devoured them and she soaked up their pain, revelling in it. The flames consumed their flesh, charring them to the bone.


A wave of pain pierced the priest's chest like a javelin and he coughed up blood. With each cough, his limbs convulsed and he spasmed. He collapsed into a pool of his own blood. Some, the daring and brave, resisted the Red Witch, drawing primitive slugthrowers and blades.


It availed them little, for they fell. Some were enveloped by the purifying flames, others were reduced to raving lunatics as her psychic onslaught shredded their minds. Trapped inside a maze of horrors, they were being tormented again and again by literal demons. Either way, they fell before an inferno that walked and talked and knew neither compassion nor mercy. Fear, terror and anguish filled the air and she revelled in it.


Those who were left gave up all hope of a fight and begged for mercy. Their wails were music to her ears. "Now you understand. Say goodbye to fairy tales," she spoke as pulled the terrible power back into herself. Her long red hair was incandescent, as if on fire. Her eyes glowed with a blazing light, yet for all her fire inside she was hollow. "Bow down to me and submit." Briefly she looked up to the roof, as if her eyes were turned to the heaven. Come on, sister. Come out and play.

 

[Mia Monroe]

Sand was everywhere.

It was beyond horrible, coming through to this place...this hell hole. She wasn't even sure how she'd gotten here, all she knew is that her heels were full of sand, her feet were blistered and the wind had kicked sand up into all the places she didn't want them within her dress. Muttering under her breath and cursing everything in sight, she stumbled into a town, leaned against a post and pulled off the her shoes one by one, pouring the sand out of them. Only when she looked up did she realise there was a large group of people in front of her.

Maybe they knew where in hells name they were, or even better...

"Excuse me, do any of you know where a spa might be? Or a good shoe shop?"

Another look over the group she was adressing and the colour drained from her face. That was a lot of firepower....and prisoners.

"On second thoughts, never mind. I'll...um.. I'll just." she edged away with a slight limp, high heels still gripped in her hands.


Somewhere else, Mia was waking up in the middle of the dessert. She sat up and began emptying the sand from her scattergun.

[member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Janick Beauchamp]

And... poodoo was raining for mirror-Janick and mirror-Zathura: the mirror-Zero Sith was bringing in reinforcements under the form of an Exalt-class star destroyer and a few more escorts. So mirror-Janick had to be quick and whatever pilot there was for that boarding party. The AT-AT barge was going to microjump with the aim to find itself right on top of the mirror-Ruination, but with the enemy too busy to engage the Compellor and the Roadblock, Janick was to use the ages-old Trojan horse tactic to attempt boarding the enemy flagship, have the Thermobaric Bombardiers, whose mortars have been replaced by PTL launchers, fire at various areas inside the mirror-Ruination, which was simply backing up as soon as it got hit. Once the barge is outside the Compellor's ventral hangar, the pilot began to jump to hyperspace for a few seconds, as is customary when doing microjumps. Even then, it was just a sublight trip, albeit at relativistic speeds. Once the microjump was completed:

"Open a channel to the enemy bridge"

"Channel open, even though I have my doubts"

"This is barge #2187, we are carrying a surrendered enemy company and a captured shipment of thermobaric charges"

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza took a step to the side, a scowl creasing her features as she looked over the newcomer in kind.

“Merrill.” She returned, tone laced with the smallest amount of venom. “You know that I hate to be interrupted.” The Zeltron held her tongue for now after that, retaining enough control to finish one job before she moved onto the next. “Either way I don’t have enough room for your friends,” She gestured to the array of vehicles he’d come with. “And my cargo. I’m aiming to get off of this dusty fethhole as quickly as I can.”

In a sudden instance of something edgy Joza’s counterpart would do, a young woman made her way into the group, breathless, out of sorts and hurting for a good spa day.

“Bah! Such luxury.” Sneering for a moment, her features smoothed suddenly as she looked the woman over once, then twice.

“Actually, I’ve got a spa on my ship. Will pamper you real good, girl.”

She sent some sort of wrist flicking signal and three thugs would converge on the girl with aim to subdue and bind her.

[member="Mia Monroe"] [member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Miss Blonde"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

"No, its ok, I'm good." Mia replied tittering. Three of them separated from the group, leering at her and advancing. She let out a shriek and started to run back the way she had come, feet sinking in the sand making it impossible to gain any speed. A hand grabbed a hold of her hair, yanking her back with incredible force. She hit the ground hard, air forced out of her lungs. Gulping desperately for air she scrambled back wards, onto to all fours, up to her feet and ran...straight into a fist.

Stars exploded across her eyes as she hit the floor again. She could taste blood in her mouth and her cheek throbbed painfully. She was hauled to her feet, arms bound tightly at her back before walking her back to the group. "Please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone what I saw. I'll do anything! I don't even know how a got here! I was on my way to meet someone, looking at my datapad and the next thing i knew i was in the middle of the dessert. They'll be looking for me!" her voice got shiller the closer she was brought to Joza. "Please! I don't want to be a slave! I'd be terrible at it! I'm a bad investment."

She stopped the instant she was level with [member="Joza Perl"]. Something in the zeltron's eye seemed to suck away her ability to speak. She blinked hard against tears. "Please let me go." she whispered.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Janick Beauchamp]

"Barge #2187, permission granted"

They took the bait, she thought, while the AT-AT barge did, in fact, carry thermobaric charges, mirror-Janick got ready for her approach, getting ready to ignite her lightsaber so as to get ready to deflect blaster bolts to be thrown her way, while the Thermobaric Bombardiers opened fire at corridor spots deep inside the ship, in five different directions, and deep enough to cause only limited damage to the hangar they landed themselves on. Brimstone began to pancake several sections of the inside of the ship, tearing up the starboard reverse thruster, the mess hall, the hellbore cannon, as well as crew quarters respectively. Thus far they didn't hit the hyperdrive, at least not directly. And yet, it doesn't take long for the defenders to show up and attempt to fight the boarding party, even though mirror-Janick knew that a high casualty count caused by thermobaric charges would draw the attention of the Sith onboard to her. Speaking of Sith, one of them stepped forward and spoke in a creepily menacing voice, and ignited its red lightsaber; the Mustafarian Sith Lord was wearing an armor with jagged edges and had an aura of fear around him.

"Little Jedi scum... " the Sith Lord told mirror-Janick, while the machinegunners stood ready to fire at him or any of his support elements.

"The Zero Sith caused countless deaths, well into the billions. You were there on Kaeshana, Asmeru, Barkhesh and Skor, and also on Bespin and Indellian: your trail of death stops here!"

Meanwhile, pieces of the mirror-Ruination's starboard reverse thruster began their descent towards the atmosphere of the desert planet, headed for different areas: one of the pieces would fall according to a trajectory where [member="Elpsis Elaris"] is, another one is headed towards the group comprising [member="Mia Monroe"], [member="Jorus Merrill"], [member="Miss Blonde"] and [member="Joza Perl"] were in, while the other pieces of the starboard reverse thruster would be falling towards different areas of the planet. However, no other component of the mirror-Ruination was sheared off, and they pancaked only onto themselves, with the pancaked areas staying well within the hull of the ship, especially since Janick knew that thermobaric charges were useful in confined spaces, such as the inside of starships.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Joza Perl"] [member="Mia Monroe"] [member="Janick Beauchamp"]

The merc produced a cigarra and lit it. "Lady," he said, and took a long drag, "let me give you a little advice about being a slave. Shut your mouth and your next owner won't decide to shut it for you. Rambling gets annoying, and slaves have died for less."

He returned his focus to Joza. Behind him, half his men and their speeders just...vanished. Pseudomotion, blue hyperlight, a sound of a whipcrack. The others grimaced, shivered, whatever. They already knew they were disposable.

"I'm serious about getting offworld. Now we'll fit in just fine. The feth-?" He spun as a fireball crashed into the nearby sand. "Borreth, Gorge, check it."

"Scanner says metal, boss. Ship wreckage."

"Sounds like orbit's a fight. Time's wasting. Look, Perl, I'll make it worth your while. I've got my duplicate from this timeline doped up and buried alive. You can have him."

 

[Mia Monroe]

Real Mia.

She watched the wreckage tumble out of the sky trailing smoke, the electrobinoculars lowered momentarily from her eyes to check its trajectory behind her. She looked back up to ere it had come from, a slight frown on her face. She hoped someone else was there to deal with it. She returned her attention to the scene that didn't make any sense, to the Jorus that was talking to a slaver... the Jorus she knew would have been doing everything in his power to undo the slavers work, not talk to it.

She raised the binoculars again, the crease in her forehead deepening. "What the feth?!" That was her. But that wasn't possible because she was standing here. A shi'do perhaps? but it was an odd form to chose... and why wasn't Jorus stopping the man handling?

Whatever was going on she didn't like it, not only was she vastly outnumbered but she couldn't risk killing Jorus, whether he was real or not. She shoved the eyes back in her rucksack resting in the sand next to where she knelt, looking down into the town below. Maybe he was possessed? Still didn't explain looking at herself. She'd a handful of thermal detonators, a lot of scatter gun rounds, couple of bolter pistols loaded with explosive rounds. She could cause a rukus, that much was certain, but it wasn't worth the risk without knowing more of what was going on.

She had to get closer.

[member="Joza Perl"] [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Janick Beauchamp]

The Mustafarian Sith Lord began by throwing a chain-fired Force-lightning bolt at the machineguns with its off-hand, half-expecting the explosion of the guns to amount to more than a firepower kill. With mirror-Janick deprived of much of her suppressive fire, she would need to be quick in exploiting the distraction afforded by the loss of those machineguns, especially since the lord ignited his lightsaber. So mirror-Janick proceeds to hit the lightsaber with pyrokinesis, causing the Sith's glove to burn, while the Thermobaric Bombardiers are doing a number on the mirror-Ruination, continuing to gut the ship from the inside by firing more thermobaric charges in yet more directions hitherto spared. With the equipment worn by the Sith lord unable to withstand the heat of the searing lightsaber hilt, he left the lightsaber to fall on the ground. Which allowed enough time for any stormies to come out of the woodwork and start engaging the Thermobaric Bombardiers' machinegunners deprived of their heavy weapon. Yet mirror-Janick didn't waste time charging at the Sith lord:

"Fool: you think that, by destroying our ships, you can destroy us!" the Mustafarian taunted the girl in an attempt to inflict fear in her surroundings.

Meanwhile, the loss of the starboard reverse thruster caused the mirror-Ruination to be listing to starboard as it continued to back up with every hit it takes, making it all too easy for the ORC fleet to target it using long-range firepower, due to the battlecruiser presenting an ever-larger target by each passing second while the two Victory-IIs were being targeted by fighters, dropping their heavy ordnance onto weak spots such as the exposed command tower and the ventral hangar. Understandably, every ounce of long-range fire the enemy could throw at the ORC flotilla, was directed at the Compellor, with the enemy not realizing that their escape route depended on the Roadblock still being able to use its gravity field generators.

 

[Joza Perl]

There was little to add in the way of what Jorus said to the mystery woman, so a roll of the eyes sufficed as a response to her tearful pleading. She did find a certain pleasure in it when they begged but now was neither the time nor place to be swept up in the moment.

She grimaced as the down ship crashed in the sand, calling out to her boys as they were busy either herding slaves or ransacking the village. “Hurry it up! We’ve got to move!”

She turned back to Jorus with a hard stare, eyes brightening with interest at the mention of his double. “Why didn’t you say that you had payment, Merrill?” She purred, suddenly sounding much more interested and pleasant. “Where’s the fether?”

As the goons finished taking whatever they deemed valuable from the homes, they started to torch what they could. Partially to obscure the signs pillage, partially out of a sadistic urge to watch these people suffer even more as the witnessed their housing burn to the ground.

[member="Mia Monroe"] [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

Verse Mia

Terrified and tearful eyes granted [member="Jorus Merrill"] a glance as his words cut over her. Shut her mouth? How would they shut her mouth? Her imagination began to run wild, images of her lips sown shut or her jaw broken to prevent her from speaking. She made an odd noise, somewhere between a scream and a sob as she was hauled away with the others. A last ditch attempt to save her own skin made her struggle against them pathetically.

"I make a prettier penny if you hold me ransom!" she shouted. "My man will pay double whatever you think you'll make for me on the slave market. I'll be a good hostage! 'll be quiet and...and..I'll do whatever you need me to do!"


Real Mia

She cursed under her breath as she kicked up a cloud of sand as she reached the dunes bottom and flung herself behind a building, pausing with baited breath to see if she'd been noticed. When she felt and heard nothing she moved again. Keeping to the shadows of the towns building she moved along its perimeter.

As she drew closer to the centre, the slavers had put out guards for the perimeter. She flattened herself against the wall, the suns angle concealing her in full shadow as one moved towards her between the gap in two buildings. Mia produced a knife from her belt and waited patiently for the thug to step past her, seizing his mouth and yanking him back into the shadow, her knife point slamming into the soft flesh of his neck. She held him fast, till he twitched and was still before laying him gently on the ground. She patted him down, removing a comm-link from his ear, wiping it off and inserting it into her own then helping herself to his weapons.

Wiping her knife clean on his trousers she rose and moved on till she could see not-Jorus from the shadows. Not close enough, she still couldn't hear. eyes glanced upwards. With little effort she climbed up the building, peering over its edge and at the other flat roofs. She counted four overwatch and dropped back to the ground, opting instead to go through the building.

In through the window she went, steeping lightly to avoid creaking boards and flattening herself once more against the wall of the front most window. There voices drifting to her. She peered round the frames edge to watch.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Janick Beauchamp]

[Mirror-Janick]

The crew on the bridge finally realized that something was amiss, not only their starboard reverse thuster was blown under by a thermobaric charge fired at it, they were taking hits on the broadside, and backing up was no longer an option. The ship turned forward, and flying forward while the Compellor began to take hits to its armor, protecting the ship from HVC fire. Mirror-Janick began to wonder what would come next: with marines firing at each other in a furious firefight, a Sith Lord deprived of its lightsaber was forced to use Force-lightning because he realized that Force-fear would take too long to have its effects on their targets. Sure he could kill the hapless machinegunners who used their sidearms to fire at the Mustafarian Sith Lord, mirror-Janick would instead try to dodge the bolts of Force-lightning using well-timed Force-jumps, and hit the Sith's neck with her lightsaber. Even though he would not bleed, Janick would not sever his neck completely, perhaps as a result of botching her jump. But he was placed in a precarious position where another lightsaber slash will kill him without fail. Or another blaster shot. In the distance, yet another thermobaric charge fired by another missile crew finally hit an enemy critical system: the reactor, so the boarding party scored more than just a bunch of firepower or mobility kills.

"Time to evacuate the ship: the ship will blow up at any moment. We'll take the Sith lord prisoner and roast him later"

"Roger, roger"

[Real-Janick]

Meanwhile, the Zero Sith fleet outside was retreating well outside range of the interdictors, with the commanding officer left in a critical condition, while the mirror-Ruination was about to explode onto itself; with its flagship exploding, the enemy took what senior staff they could into the escape pods (the real Primeval-class battlecruisers did not have any) knowing that there were barely enough pods for the command personnel and perhaps a few close crewmembers that served them directly. She thus took down to the surface to look for any enemy stragglers that might have escaped, because the Zero Sith was thrown into disarray. Perhaps that was one Otherspace trip too many, she thought, while diving into the planet's atmosphere to catch up to some TIE fighters that escaped the battle.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Joza Perl"] [member="Mia Monroe"]

"Okay, so maybe I was a little disingenuous," the pirate said. He hawked and spat into the dust. "He WAS buried and sedated. Now he's my little coin purse. Here we go: General Jorus Merrill, bless his heart."

Two mercs unslung a heavily sedated lump from the back of a speeder bike. This timeline's Jorus flopped insensate in the dust.

"I think we've got an accord. As for the whiner here - she ain't wrong. A ransom might bring in more than a straight sale. I'm not one to tell you your business, but it's worth thinking about. Not like she'd be a threat after she got free."

He drifted off.

"Do those look like escape pods to you, Perl? Special delivery?"

[member="Janick Beauchamp"]