Location: LZ Ashfall, Oricon
Entorage: -
House Vossan Guard x 8
Tags:
Tiber Fel
|
Captain Charles
|
Orinn Darge
|
Rasha Popova
|
R'ayne Asara
|
Ronhar Tane
|
Isolde Malthera
The warning reached Kaelya through two channels almost simultaneously. First came the harsh override across the Imperial battle net, Lieutenant Darge’s voice cutting through the static with none of the hesitation that usually accompanied danger-close fire.
Then came Captain Krail.
“Vossan Actual, this is Talon One. Heavy orbital strike inbound. We are taking cover west of the engagement zone. Hold your position.”
Kaelya’s eyes lifted toward the copper-colored clouds. Around LZ Ashfall, the reaction was immediate. Officers shouted fresh orders. Stormtroopers abandoned exposed positions and pressed themselves behind landed transports, basalt barricades, and anything else substantial enough to offer the illusion of protection. Engineers left half-assembled equipment where it stood. The House Vossan guards did not wait for Kaelya to repeat the warning. Their formation contracted around her, two moving toward the armored flank of the shuttle while the others scanned the landing zone for the nearest depression in the terrain.
One of them gestured sharply.
“My lady. There.” A fractured shelf of basalt rose beside the shuttle’s landing strut, its reverse slope dropping into a shallow trench carved by some ancient eruption. Kaelya moved without haste, though she did not mistake composure for invulnerability. She descended into the cut with the guards close behind her, armor scraping stone as they compressed themselves beneath the overhang.
The first beam struck before the last guard had fully lowered himself. Oricon ceased to possess a horizon. White-green light tore through the cloud layer, followed by a force that seemed to lift the world from beneath them. The ground bucked violently. Kaelya planted one hand against the stone as the guards braced around her, shoulders locked against the shaking walls. A second impact landed close enough to split the basalt shelf overhead. Molten fragments rained across their armor, hissing as they struck black plating and rolled into the trench. Then came another. And another.
The bombardment did not resemble artillery. Artillery still allowed the mind to understand distance, trajectory, and survival. This was judgment rendered through machinery. Each strike broke open the volcanic plain, vaporizing positions that had endured centuries of weather and hours of war. Ash was pulled upward in towering columns. The air itself became pressure and heat.
Kaelya closed her eyes. Not in fear. She stretched her awareness outward through the Force and immediately regretted the breadth of what answered. Lives vanished in clusters. Shock became agony, agony became silence, and silence was replaced by the terrified awareness of those left behind. Jedi discipline broke beneath sudden death. Cult fervor collapsed into animal panic. Thousands of thoughts flared and disappeared before they could become prayers. Beneath it all, something within the ruins remained. Still. Watching. The final impact rolled across the landing zone like a receding tide. For several seconds, no one moved.
Kaelya opened her eyes.
“Report.” The guards checked one another with practiced efficiency. Armor integrity. Weapons. Communications. One had taken a sharp length of basalt against the shoulder plate, leaving a pale gouge through the House Vossan markings, but his arm still moved freely.
“Guard detail intact,” the senior man answered.
“No casualties.”
Kaelya keyed her private channel.
“Talon One.” Static answered her. She waited.
“Talon One, report.”
A strained voice finally broke through the interference.
“Still here, my lady.” Krail sounded as though he were speaking with his jaw clenched. Kaelya heard someone breathing heavily behind him, followed by the scrape of armor against loose stone.
“Condition?”
“Minor injuries. Saren was thrown against the trench wall. Bruised ribs, perhaps fractured. He remains mobile.”
Another voice cut faintly across Krail’s channel.
“I remain annoyed, Captain.”
Krail ignored it.
“The strike erased most of the central line. We are moving to reassess.”
“Do not rush into the open.”
“Understood.” The communication ended.
Kaelya climbed from the trench as the House Vossan guards emerged around her. What had been visible of the Central Engagement Zone was gone behind a moving wall of ash. The earth continued to groan beneath their boots. In the distance, secondary explosions rolled through positions struck by the fleet, and shattered stone descended from the clouds like black rain.
Then the artillery began. The Mahporeemian batteries added their fire to the ruins of the battlefield, shells and missiles cutting through the haze to punish anything still moving. Kaelya watched the barrage continue without comment. It was excessive only if one assumed the purpose was victory rather than demonstration.
By the time the guns fell silent, LZ Ashfall had resumed breathing. Transports began unloading again. Stormtroopers reformed. Medical teams moved toward the perimeter. Somewhere beyond the haze, blaster fire started anew as Imperial companies advanced to finish what the bombardment had begun.
Kaelya received Krail’s second transmission while checking the seal on Hoshikiba’s left gauntlet.
“My lady, we have a route.”
A tactical projection appeared across the inner edge of her visor. The image was imperfect, distorted by interference and terrain newly reshaped by orbital fire, but Krail had marked their position and traced a narrow line eastward.
“Explain.”
“The main engagement zone is broken,” Krail said.
“Malthera’s forces are moving through the center in strength. Stormtroopers and droids. They are killing survivors and closing the direct approach.” Faint weapons fire sounded behind him.
“We observed Asara moving along the left flank before the bombardment. Her creatures have now entered the central wreckage. They are attacking anything they find.”
“Imperial personnel?”
A pause.
“They have not approached us.” It was not an answer, and both of them knew it. Krail continued.
“Royal 6 has been hit south of our position. Rocket team on an elevated shelf. Their convoy stopped in the flats and dismounted. Rampart has halted on Ridge-76 and is responding.” A new marker appeared on the projection, highlighting the enemy firing position.
“We have transmitted the coordinates to both units. Veyran has eyes on the ridge. He believes he can remove one of the spotters if required.”
“No unnecessary engagement,” Kaelya said.
“Give them the target. Let the formations assigned to the route destroy it.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The display shifted east.
“The bombardment opened an old channel along the northern edge of the left approach. It may have been a drainage trench or service cut beneath the ruins. The entrance was buried before. It is exposed now.”
Krail’s helmet feed flickered briefly onto Kaelya’s visor. She saw a narrow break in the volcanic stone, partially screened by a collapsed basalt column. The trench beyond it descended between steep black walls, scarcely wide enough for two armored soldiers abreast. Ancient masonry protruded through the natural rock farther inside. Cult symbols had been carved into several surfaces, but the markings were weathered and faced away from the main battlefield.
“Destination?”
“Specter drones show the channel terminating beneath the western outer wall of the ruin complex. There is a damaged structure at the end. Possibly a maintenance entrance or lower foundation access. Infantry only. No armor. No clear line for heavy weapons.”
“Enemy presence?”
“Two cultists entered after the strike. One was wounded. Neither returned.”
That interested her more than an empty route would have.
“And the Vharakoth?”
“Operating south of the channel. For now.”
Kaelya studied the projection. The direct eastern path was becoming an Imperial avenue of advance, crowded with stormtroopers, droids, vehicles, and survivors being hunted through the craters. The southern route was contested by the ambush against Royal 6. Rampart would soon continue along the ridge, bringing special operations troops and breaching equipment toward the same objective. The channel was narrow, concealed, and uncertain. It was precisely what she had sent Krail to find.
“Mark the entrance with an encrypted beacon,” Kaelya ordered.
“Leave Veyran overlooking the ambush position until Royal 6 begins moving. He is to observe, not rescue them unless their line collapses.”
“And the rest of us?”
“Enter far enough to confirm the channel is not trapped. No more than fifty meters. Hold there.”
Krail hesitated for only a fraction of a second.
“Yes, my lady.”
Kaelya closed the link and turned toward the guards gathered around her.
“We move.” There were no questions. The House Vossan contingent reorganized at once. Two guards took the forward positions, rifles raised toward the thinning ash beyond the LZ. Another shifted to Kaelya’s left, carrying a compact sensor package in addition to his weapon. The wounded guard remained in formation despite the damaged shoulder plate, refusing even the brief inspection offered by one of his comrades. They departed Ashfall through its eastern perimeter.
The secured landing zone ended abruptly. Beyond its defensive markers, Oricon had become a landscape remade by violence. The ground rose and fell in fresh craters. Basalt had been melted into glossy black sheets that reflected the distant flashes of weapons fire. Bodies lay half-buried beneath ash, their allegiance sometimes impossible to identify until the guards passed close enough to see armor, robes, or ruined lightsaber hilts. Kaelya did not slow for them.
Isolde Malthera’s advance was visible through breaks in the smoke. Stormtroopers moved in disciplined lines across the central wreckage, battle droids pacing between their formations. Blaster fire came in controlled volleys rather than the frantic exchanges that had defined the battlefield before the strike. A wounded cultist rose from behind a crater lip and managed to lift one hand before several bolts struck him together. Farther away, a Jedi attempted to drag another survivor toward cover. A gunship descended through the haze, its weapons turning both figures into silhouettes beneath a storm of crimson fire.
The Empire had entered the execution phase. A roar rolled from somewhere south of Kaelya’s route. It was too deep for machinery. One of the Vossan guards turned his rifle toward the sound. Through the ash, something immense crossed between two broken stone formations with unnatural speed. A second shape followed it, then a third. Kaelya felt their hunger before she saw the first Vharakoth leap into a crater filled with movement. Screams followed.
“Maintain direction,” she ordered.
The guard lowered his aim reluctantly.
“They are not ours to control.”
“No,” Kaelya replied.
“Which is why you will not give them a reason to notice you.”
They continued north of the creatures’ hunting path, using fractured ridges to break line of sight. The sounds remained behind them, mixed with blaster fire and the guttural cries of predators delighted by an abundance of wounded prey.
The encrypted beacon pulsed on Kaelya’s display several minutes later. Krail had concealed it well. To an unaided eye, the entrance appeared to be nothing more than another split in the rock caused by the bombardment. Only when they drew near did one of the guards identify the narrow shadow beneath a fallen column. A single Vossan soldier waited outside.
Veyran’s place had been taken by another member of the reconnaissance team, his armor coated in ash and one side of his helmet scraped nearly clean of its finish.
“My lady.” He lowered his head.
“Captain Krail is inside. Saren remains with him.”
“The ambush?”
“Royal 6 is still engaged. Rampart has overwatch. Veyran transmitted a firing solution and remained in observation as ordered.”
Kaelya stepped past him.
“Fall in.”
The channel swallowed them quickly. Two guards entered first, moving shoulder to shoulder until the trench narrowed and forced them into single file. Kaelya followed, with the remaining Vossan soldiers spaced behind her to avoid presenting one clustered target. Their helmet lamps remained off. Low-light optics painted the trench in muted tones, revealing scorched masonry beneath layers of volcanic residue. The battlefield noise diminished with every step.
Fifty meters inside, they found Krail crouched beside a section of wall covered in ancient carvings. Saren stood nearby with one arm pressed tightly against his side, his breathing shallow but controlled. Another guard had taken position farther forward, rifle trained on a bend in the channel.
Krail rose.
“The passage continues another hundred meters before reaching the foundation,” he reported.
“We found signs of recent movement. Blood. Two sets of prints entering. Four sets leaving.”
Kaelya looked toward the darkness beyond the bend.
“Different prints?”
“Yes. The returning tracks are bare. Too narrow for the cultists we observed entering.”
“Humanoid?”
“Mostly.”
Kaelya moved to the wall. The carvings were old, but the stone around them carried fresher disturbances. Someone had dragged fingers through the accumulated ash. Not randomly. The lines completed part of the ancient pattern, tracing a symbol hidden beneath centuries of neglect.
Hoshirei’s hilt settled naturally into her hand. Behind her, the guards adjusted their formation without instruction. Krail took position at her right. The sensor-bearer knelt and deployed a compact scanner against the floor. Two guards turned back toward the entrance, establishing a rear security position while the remainder prepared to advance.
Kaelya reached through the Force. The ruins answered. Not with the chaotic suffering of the battlefield or the ravenous impulses of R’ayne’s beasts. This presence was quieter. Deliberate. It moved somewhere beyond the stone like a thought traveling through sleeping flesh. And it had noticed them.
She thumbed Hoshirei’s activation switch. The blade came alive with a sharp
snap-hiss, casting the ancient trench in cold light.
“Captain Krail,” Kaelya said, her eyes fixed upon the bend ahead,
“inform Rampart that we have identified a viable approach to the lower foundations. They are to secure the exterior and hold breaching support in reserve.”
Krail began transmitting.
“Saren returns to the entrance,” she continued.
“Two guards with him. No argument.”
The injured man opened his mouth. Kaelya turned her gaze upon him. He closed it again. The selected guards moved to escort him back, leaving the rest to tighten around Kaelya. Rifles settled into firing positions. Kagekiba remained sheathed at her side, ready for the close confines where a lightsaber might prove as dangerous to her own men as to the enemy.
Kaelya lifted Hoshirei toward the dark passage.
“The main army may have the road,” she said.
“We will take what lies beneath it.” Then House Vossan advanced into the ruins.
