Picking Up The Ashes [Druckenwell Aftermath]

[Tegaea Alcori]

Tegaea smiled. “I think you’ve got everything under control…Countess. I’ll keep the supplies coming and work on getting some aid coming. I might also be able to get some Angelii to help with their elemental abilities, ice ones can put out fires and so on. Just try and keep Eyrecae out of the way of them. I love you too, Sio. Take care.”
With that, the connection was cut.

Tegaea was left alone on Kaeshana. Alone in a figurative sense anyway, as she had millions of employees, Eldorai and droids, but once more separate from her wife.
With a sigh she went to organise the relief she’d promised, and offer her support to @Cira. Even if the two former LPs were not friends as such, they had an understanding to work together.
[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

[member="Tegaea Alcori"]

"Thanks. I'll be back soon...promise," Siobhan managed to speak up just before the connection was cut, stepping up close enough to the holoprojector that they would have been able to touch...if they were not light years apart. Now she felt...guilty again. Mind you, not for anything like failing on the planet and such, those days were behind her. But for charging off, though clearly she had been justified.

She sighed slightly and then quickly headed out. The Firemane personnel that was already in the system was getting busy to organise its share of relief work. Silaqui-class dropships would be converted to delivering medical supplies to the shelters that had been set up in those zones deemed reasonably safe enough, likewise they would aid in bringing out survivors who had been found in the ruins of the burnt-out capital. Gunships would help fly overwatch and along with medics Firemane mercenaries would be dispatched down to the ground to aid in providing security.

After all, people did desperate things during desperate times and, though very unlikely, there was still the chance of Confederate holdouts. Should they be there, Siobhan would be in mood to show mercy. Likewise the warships that had formed part of the Firemane-commanded flotilla of the grand fleet, the Illyria frigates and the Thuella-class cruiser, which were exclusively under the company's control, would aid the Omegan fleet in securing space.

For her part Siobhan took a Firemane shuttle down, following the coordinates the craft which Eyrecae had boarded had taken. Hopefully the space elf had not gotten into another mess.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Leviathan
Hangar

Around him, the hangar was rife with the movement of supplies and the loud coming and going of dropships as they took said goods to the surface and other vessels. The repair vessels especially seemed particularly needy for supplies. The Leviathan itself was helping with tractor beams, he presumed.

Sarge? Well, he was avoiding being of help to anyone. That was abnormal for a man so ready to offer a hand to those in need, but if there was one thing he didn't want to have to do, it was walk upon the surface of another ruined world.

Alderaan had been bad enough - a cratered wasteland, devoid of life except those who'd survived in the caves of the great mountain ranges. Radiation was everywhere in high quantities, and the sky had been a disturbing red for reasons he'd never bothered to have explained to him.

Then came Dathomir. The Nightsisters had glassed that one, too, leaving much of the surface a flat plain of nothing.

And then Donanyd. Then Rhommamool.

He couldn't face Druckenwell. Not now. Maybe not ever. So he wrung his hands together on the hangar deck while still covered in his experimental armor, staring at the floor. How many lives did people have to toy with and how often?

He'd never get his answer. That would keep him up at night.

 

[Feena]

Leviathan, Medical bay


Keter... Keter, if you were here now, if you could see me now, what would you say? I'm so afraid.

Feena was hunched over the body of a girl, only twelve. The last of her family to survive, and now she was...
The healer was pressing on her chest, hard, trying to force her heart to restart. She had to do this by hand. Everything, the instruments that she would normally use were all taken, being used by others for the same thing.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

Keter... I'm failing.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

Keter, how do I walk on? After all of this?

2, 3...

Keter, I'm not what you think. How can I save anyone?

...4, 5, 1...

"Lady Feenarah-! Please, she's gone-!"

3, 4...

Keter, Keter, It's all hopeless, isn't it? Isn't that what you've been trying to tell me?

"Lady Feenarah-"

1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

...Hopeless...

She was grabbed from behind by a nurse and a nurses aid and pulled from the girls body. She couldn't do it. Couldn't do it. Feena looked down at her shaking, bloodied hands. How did she get so much blood on them? She was being pulled away, sat down somewhere with a glass of water. Dehydrated, exhausted they told her.
She watched as the girl was covered and taken away... Now that she was watching from afar, she could see that she truly had the odds stacked against her. She was missing both legs and had lost a good bit of blood. They just didn't have the blood in supply to give her. She wouldn't have made it. But that changed nothing for Feena. She had still failed.
Failed.

Keter... Is this really what I sacrificed for?

 

[Kix Tal'Verda]

​Leviathan, Hanger

Kix Tal'Verda stood before a congregation of his brothers within the forward end of the Leviathan's man hanger. It seemed that it was slowly becoming a rally point for a group of soldiers clad in a menagerie of armors, some bore durasteel versions of traditional Mandalorian design, there were others clad in white Plastoid plates, these where further divided by a mixture of CIS and Omega Protectorate colors and insignia, and some where even clad in age-old Katarn designs whether they were the real deal was up to speculation.

Kix clad in his own Phase IV Clone Armor was on an elevated position without a helmet and was, if you knew him surprisingly, speaking aloud in a deep and impassioned tone. The Dread-Guard needed a moral boost, especially after the fall of one of their old Chieftains and the injury of the other. To a group as tight-knit as the 5,000 strong band of brothers, it was a brutal blow to each and everyone of their hearts.

"Ner'vod! I stand before you to confirm the news that has traveled our ranks. Our mighty Father and Chieftain, Galaar Tal'Verda has indeed fallen in battle today at the hands of our leader Calico Tal'Verda," a mumbling transferred though the ranks assembled below him. "This is neither the fault of the Confederates, nor the fault of the Protectorate but a fault of the cruel realities of war. A war that has bitten deep within our ranks and has pit brother against brother... As tradition calls, I ask you now to follow me as we send our fallen vod our thanks and make sure they remember us!"

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kar'adyc, ni partalyi, gar darasuum..." The gathering of clones then went through a long list of names, a list of every Dread-Guard that had fallen in battle throughout the entire history of the unit, the names of every close friend of the unit, even the name of Galaar himself. They remembered every last name, hundreds of them and uttered them all.

 

[Dicer]

OOC: The tragic lives of all three NPC's i've introduced since the start of Druckenwell are going to be woven together




Day Two

Dicer had heard the group from a distance, leaving Toby behind he’d already scouted close enough to get a good look. He’d quickly returned to the boy, fearing that he may have wondered off into the dust clouds. For a few moments he’d reached a panic, only to realise he was in the wrong place; toby was sat exactly where he had left him. His own son had far more of an aversion to obeying commands.

He carefully approached the crowd of civilians. His pistol was kept holstered and Toby still clung to his left side. His left arm was now wracked with pain from the exertion of carrying the dead weight for so many clicks.

There was a cry of alarm as he approached the group. People started getting to their feet immediately, children were pushed to the rear of the group. There wasn’t a blaster among them, but the men at the front of the crowd did not look friendly.

Curtis carefully slid the boy back to the ground. Toby made a small noise of displeasure, Curtis suspected he was tired and had been planning on taking a nap in his arms.

“Who are you?” asked a ferocious looking man at the front of the crowd.

For the first time in a long while, the soldier decided not to answer that question with ‘Private Charles’, but with: “My name is Curtis, Curtis Charles.”

“Why?” shouted a woman behind the front line. Dicer looked confused.

“Why did you do this?” shouted another.

Curtis was taken aback. “But we didn’t?”

“What? You invaded us, bombed out cities! Who else would do this?”

“The Confederacy blew the shipyards,” Dicer offered. “It went wrong.”

There was a quick flurry of angry shouts from the crowd: “Who’s the boy?” “He has a gun!” “Don’t believe the Omega lies!”

Dicer took a step back from the crowd, Toby went with him grabbing his waist and looking fearfully towards the crowd. That seemed to change their mood. Realising that they were terrifying one of their own children was enough to temporarily quell their animosity.

Curtis held his hands wide, “Look i’m not a soldier now, just a guy. I wanna get out of this mess too...I can help! I have some food.”

The most aggressive of the men took a step forwards. “You can come with us, but you’re not bringing that weapon,”

“Fine!” Dicer replied. He cautiously upholstered the sidearm and removed the charge. He was happy to give up the weapon, but didn’t fancy the idea of a bolt to the back of the head.



===



The group sat around the the fire, sheltering themselves from the encroaching evening chill. Late autumn on Druckenwell could get cold at night. Curtis was glad of the inner suit he still wore, that sheltered him from most conditions. Toby sat close by, still hesitant to leave his side.

“We’re going to need more food,” someone suggested. Tom, Curtis recalled. An accountant who had missed the last shuttle and headed for shelter in the city’s underground network.

“I’m hungry,” someone complained.

“Where should we go?”

Dicer held his hands close to the fire for a moment, he had discarded his gloves a while ago to stop them chafing against Toby as they had travelled. He looked up at the crowd of civilians, realising they had gone quiet. They were looking to him. Why were they looking to him?

Then it dawned on him. These were civilians used to life in a bustling metropolis. When it came to survival he was now the authority. This was new.

“There was a shop with plenty of canned good coupl’a clicks back. That’s where I got most of this. Food isn’t the real problem, we need water. Does anyone know where the river cuts through the border of the city?”

“I do,” a man in a slim fitting suit raised his hand.

“Draw me a map, we need to get there and then follow it to higher ground and away from the city. This dust is mostly from where the debris impacted with duracrete. If we get higher it should get thinner and an evac shuttle might spot us.”

No one argued with him. No one told him he was stupid. No one derided his opinions. He held his head just a touch higher.

“I can’t carry much, my right shoulder is shot. I can lead a group back to the shop before dark now?” he asked. There was a murmur of agreement. “I need someone to look after Toby?” he added.

The man who had murder burning in his eyes when they had first met caught his eye. “I’ll watch him,” he said.

“Alright, Toby I’ll be back soon, stay with…”

“David, David Janes,” the man replied. He stood and offered his hand. Dicer half smiled and offered his left instead.

There was a pained look in that man’s eyes. Curtis couldn’t quite figure it out but his expression changed when he looked at the boy.

“Alright,” he said getting to his feet. It took all his willpower to mask the pain that shot through his body. He’d need medical attention before too long, he knew. The good thing about the compression underglove of the suit was that it did a good job of holding the body together, even with broken bones and dislocations. “Let’s get going!”

 

[Ayden Cater]

Leviathan, Medical Bay
[member="Feena Mason"]

Ayden knew he was getting close to the medical bay from the screams and from the smell. Years past and it might have sickened him. Now he simply shouldered it like he would anything else. He slowly moved is way closer, edging past people as they ran about. No one was going to stop him. After all, how did you really tell a head of state that he couldn't go where he wanted? Of course, he wasn't idly walking around without reason. A small case was held in one hand as he came around the corner and paused while the body of a small child was taken away.

Turning the corner, Ayden found Feena a veritable wreck. It was obvious that she had been at this a long while. Stepping towards her, Ayden put a hand on her shoulder and gently led her to to a corner so they could talk. "I'd ask how you were holding up, but I think that would be understating the situation." He gave a small smile, one that spoke to an understanding of being elbow deep in a bad situation. "We've got more medical cruisers incoming. We're rotating them out as often as we can to make sure we keep up on supplies. You look like you could use a few hours of rest. Why don't you go down to the mess and get something to eat?"

 

[Red Queen]

[member="Ayden Cater"]

Streams of data would play across @Sarge Pottieger’s HUD should he so desire to focus upon it.

Of course, the rather impish giggle from the Red Queen was rather difficult to block out.

She was still going through the various streams of data she’d collected, but without a holonet hook up or any sort of reference since her imprisonment several hundred feet under the Fondor Towers, there wasn’t much she could do with the data.

Luckily enough, she was still updating as much of her current databases with the fragmented data she managed to get a hold of. Mainly, the interesting kill switches. Not normal. Not for a shipyard.

Cur-i-ous.​

 

[Cira]

FONDOR
Office of the Lady Protector


From a high altitude office overlooking the Fondor Shipyards and it’s own beautiful hazy smog covered horizon, Lady Protector Cira would watch the holonews live stream in the comfort of her enormous office.

White knuckle grip would hold her mug of Starcaf close in hand as her gold eyes would flickr a vibrant gold.

This… this act. Horrendous.

She was sure [member="Ayden Cater"] would contact her as soon as he was available. Relief efforts were underway, and she was sure there were dozens of reports coming in . There would be much to discuss. About the future. About Druckenwell. About the fate of the Confederacy and their war crimes.

One thing was for sure. Those responsible for the razing of Druckenwell would have their comeuppance.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Red Queen"]

Sarge could hear someone being absurdly noisy somewhere along the massive hangar bay, so he simply shut off his audio receptors and enjoyed the silence. Save for that incessant giggling. "What are you giggling about." He asks gruffly.

 

[Feena]

Feenas eyes were still on the girls body as it was rolled away. She sat still, the only thing moving was her shaking hands on the cup of water. She hadn't drank any of it, even though her throat was dry as dust. Was this her own way of punishing herself? Thirst? She didn't look away from the body until a hand touched her shoulder. The healer jumped up to her feet at once, spilling some of the water down the front of her uniform.

Ayden. Feena blinked at him, surprised. She had the urge to apologize for sitting down. After all, she was supposed to be working. But that smile on his face as he led her away told her that he was not upset about her sitting down. So what did he want from her?
When they stopped in a corner, Feena was keeping her eyes on the water in her cup.
He just wanted to tell her to take a break? That actually confused her.

"...With all respect, Sir," she replied after a long moment, "I must decline. If I find a good moment, I can slip into the locker room. I have a ration bar. It will be enough. I just don't have time to take a break right now. The patient in room 103 needs surgery on her right arm, the patient in 43 has a broken foot, and the kid down the hall needs..."

She trailed off, the sheer weight of it all bearing down on her. In another moment, she might snap and burst into tears. She certainly looked like she might. But in another moment, she blinked and was straight faced again, the image of a professional. Supplies were running low. The staff was running ragged. Feena hadn't taken a break in... Had she taken a break yet? Just to change uniform really. That counted, didn't it?

"In any case, I just don't have the time to do it right now."

[member="Ayden Cater"]

 

[Ayden Cater]

[member="Feena Mason"]

Ayden smiled once more, all too familiar with the ravages of being consumed by work. "You're doing what you can, Feena. You do not do yourself, or your patients, any service by running yourself into the ground. I know what it's like to be consumed by the thought of 'I have to do this. If I don't, then who will?'. It's something that has kept me up on more nights than I'm comfortable admitting. But you're not alone in all of this. There are people here who will work just as tirelessly as you to help as many as they can."

He paused and looked down at his case before bringing it up and hugging it to his chest. "I have something here. Something precious that has been in my family for generations. I want you to go rest some and look through it." Popping away the clasps, inside the case, swathed in soft leather, was a holocron glowing in a soft pink light. "It's a holocron made by a Corellian Jedi named Bethany Kismet. It's something that my family has guarded for centuries. If she were alive today, I do not think Master Kismet would look kindly upon me if I were to keep her wisdom from saving more lives."

Letting her take it in hand, Ayden let her take the case as well before taking a step back. "Take some time off. Rest some. You won't save anyone by pushing yourself until collapse. When this is all over, I know you'll be better for it." He trusted that she would return it to him once it was over. After taking the time to emphasize one last time that she needed some time to recuperate, Ayden turned and left the medical wing and returned to his office on the Leviathan.

[member="Maelion Liates"]

When he got there, he found that he had a waiting message. He had never seen the woman before, but she looked as if she had not slept in as long as he had. Listening to her plea, he smiled at the heartfelt sorrow. "Thank you, Miss Comnena. We would certainly appreciate any aid that you could spare for the planet. And please, if there's anything you need to help with this effort I would happily see to it. If you would like, I could see about setting up short-term facilities for Archangel here on Druckenwell. This is not a crisis that will end soon, and it would help tremendeously to shorten supply lines where we can. If Archangel could support their own droids here, as opposed to over a distance, I'm sure we could save many lives."

 

[Maelion Liates]

[member="Ayden Cater"]
It should be noted that since her Protectorate days she had quite literally changed her face. Sadly, this writer has had great problems finding a replacement playby, so OP people not recognising her entirely makes sense.

Maelion smiled. “I will dispatch one of our transports immediately. It is, after all, our goal to help people.”
Dramatic irony was something a deadpan droid was an expert at.

“If there is anything else you require, Protector, please contact me.”

 

[Feena]

As Ayden retreated, Feena was left looking stunned, with one hand holding a empty case, and the other holding a priceless treasure. The name Bethany Kismet echoed in her mind. She knew it. She knew that healer. She knew her. She knew her name. She knew her history. Feena had studied her, looked up to her! Her final is Galactic history 101 had been an essay about her contributions to the Galaxy! In Feenas dorm on Coruscant when she was a young Jedi Padawan, she had kept a holographic image of the famous healer on her desk for inspiration!
And now, in her hand, Feena was holding her holocron.

So stunned and, frankly, moved by this gesture, Feena was rendered entirely speechless... until it was already too late to blurt out a 'thank you'. She felt quite rude. And she didn't notice that she had left her mouth hanging open until she started getting looks from a few of the nurses. In a moment, she had snapped her jaw shut, let her eyes go back into her skull, and had cleared her throat, carefully placing the holocron into the case. She treated it as the priceless artifact that it was, even more so, really. Because this was not simply a piece of history- this was knowledge, and knowledge was worth more than any treasure.

"I will be taking my break," she told one of the nurses, "Make sure that 103 is taken care of."

And with that, Feena was off to wash off the blood and change out of her uniform. She would be back. She would be back soon. But she was going to eat first, take a quick nap, and then, she would go somewhere quiet and secluded and submerge herself in the holocron.
All the hell that she had been through during this ordeal, the blow to her moral, this was what could possibly pick her up again. She didn't know if anything could ever heal her sense of guilt, but this could be a start to making a better future. She would be better, stronger. Nothing would break her again.

And she was even more determined now.
Feena Mason was going to do just as much as Bethany Kismet. More, if she could manage it.

 

[Vorhi Alestrani]

[member="Anika Od'Manteiv"]

The one guard watching over Vorhi as he sat in the holding cell, quiet, motionless, nodded to the official before him. "He hasn't spoken or eaten in the two days. He goes were hes told, but he does nothing else, Ma'am. I'm not sure if it's some sort of hunger protest, or force meditation, or what. I was hoping you'd be able to at least get a response out of him." He sighed. "According to the other shifts, either he sleeps standing stone still, or he hasn't slept since he was led off the rescue ship either."

Vorhi sat in the cell, still quietly focusing. Grinding his teeth. Miralukians couldn't cry, given their lack of eyes. Their method of "weeping" wen in times of great grief or sadness, was to either grind their teeth or sing. And no notes could convey the broken heart Vorhi had. He had been linked to the planet, using its emotional and energy to empower himself, when it began to die. The psychic shock was still rattling him heavily.

He seemed to nod at Anika's presence. A new person. One with interest. Was that...curiosity? Good. Curiosity. That was something he liked. Maybe he'd help her sort this out. Maybe he was jumping at shadows. hard to say, really. He hadn't been expected to be suckered in this hard. Then again, if his current hunches were right, this may have been way bigger.

 

[HK-36]

Meanwhile, aboard the Dancing Queen

Rabble, rabble, rabble,
HK was pushing his way through a crowd of reporters and journalists, newscasters who have been given coverage of this story and came to speak with the Iron Exarch. He was able to contain the journalists to a more distant section of the ship, where they could set up their stations without being a trouble.
Anyhoo, HK just finished giving them a summarized version of his bigger speech and answering some questions before he begun to make his way towards the exit to go back to attending his duties. It was then, of course, that they swarmed him, trying to get in last questions before he would escape their grasp.

It was a struggle like nothing the droid faced, he fought Sith Lords and Jedi even, giant worms and the Vong, but going through a crowd of journalists wanting a story, that was tough.

Getting out of that warzone HK was able to slither into one of the emptier side-rooms of unknown purpose, an office of one of the officers or something. He would look around first, making sure it was empty before HK muttered out,
"Bloody vultures."
He would lean against the nearby wall, slowly sliding down to the floor with his back against it as he gave out a shuddering metal groan, his hands reaching to press to his photoreceptors with the palms of his hands.

"I cannot do this anymore."
The machine muttered to himself,
"All this death, destruction, I cannot continue doing this when I doubt my own morals, the morals of my commanders."

HK would reach to one of his pouches, taking out a simple Bronzium locket. Opening it up there was a miniature picture of Lady Protector [member="Cira"], smiling at the viewer in mid-dance, a smaller version of the painting that hanged in his office before he burned it in a fit of rage.

"One of these days I will leave, Cira, I will leave and never look back."
He would mutter to the miniature painting, hanging his head as he calculated,

You know you won't, tee-hee.
The droid heard from the painting, although it was all in his programming,
"I have paid my debts to you, Cira, I have fulfilled my oaths, you cannot hold me prisoner."
The droid retorted to the imaginary Cira,
You could have left at any time from your own will, you've showed that when you disappeared to look for me, but you still stick around,
"There are things greater than me, the people of Abregado-Rae, the Galaxy, and their future."
Sounds like excuses to me.
"Says the one shutting in at any old queer turn the life makes. You are more antisocial and introvert than an assassin droid."
I'm talking to you now, aren't I?
"Yeah. I guess you are."

HK leaned his head back, knocking it into the metal wall he was sitting against,
"I have a job to do. There is all this mess I need to deal with."
Make me proud, HK.
"I think I will, at least this once."

HK was going to stand up then when locket suddenly said,
I love you.
The droid stopped in his tracks, pausing
".. What?"
He finally stammered out,
I wub you.
Little pendant repeated.
The droid slowly and slightly nodded his head.
"O-okay then."
There were few seconds of awkward moment in the air before locket spoke again in his mind,
Aren't you going to say it back?
The droid calculated rapidly for an excuse,
"Oh, it is getting so late, and I have to go do these things, I willseeyoulaterokaythanksbye."
Wai-
And the droid closed the locket, stowing it away in one of his satchels.

He would look straight ahead silently before finally muttering out,
"Well that was awkward."
HK pushed himself off of the floor then,
"Anyway, making the Protectorate proud."

The machine would step out of the little office he had his moment of craziness in as he messaged his Yeoman,
"What is the status?"
The droid asked as Yeoman back aboard the Siege Tower looked over her console, monitoring any smaller crisis that could pop up among the smaller Abregado fleet,
"Sir, one of your guards aboard the Dancing Queen has filed a report that among the Confederate Force Users we captured is a Kiffu woman, they thought you may want to know that. Ex-Exarch Kerrigan has also forced her way out of the Medical Bay and her Eldorai Companion has commandeered one of our dropships to go down and help the search and rescue efforts."
Yeoman answered and HK shook his head slightly at the usual Kerrigan and Eyrecae hijinks,
"This is not a battleship to them. It is a circus."
He muttered, the Yeoman continued,
"There were reported sightings of B1 battle droids still among the ruins, we suspect a remnant of Confederate army may have fortified somewhere and escaped their destruction. Mandalorians have sent a fleet to aid the Protectorate in search and rescue efforts, one of the Force Sensitive prisoners is being reported as in some trance or meditative state, he is a Miraluka we have rescued among with a Jedi. We believe Protectorate intelligence has already taken interest in him."

HK nodded as he calculated the course of orders and commands,
"Tell the Med-Bay personnel overlooking the Kiffu that I will come to inspect her personally, have one of our soldiers hunt down Kerrigan with a water spray and spray her twice in the face while relaying the following message, 'Bad Kerrigan, bad,' make sure the soldier is a disciplined woman, Kerrigan would be less likely to punch or bed them."
Back aboard the Siege Tower the Yeoman nodded slightly,
"Y-yessir."
She confirmed,
"I need two heavy dropships boarded with our heavy droid walkers and scout parties with snipers to investigate the droid remnant sightings. The rest of the dropships, once they are free and fueled up from evacuations, I want them to go down with medical personnel and scouting parties, aid others in the search and rescue efforts."
The Yeoman once more nodded in confirmation,
"Yessir!"
"And then send in one of the Greycloaks to speak with the said Miraluka, I want him interrogated before Protectorate decides he would be more useful in custody aboard the Leviathan. You got all that?"
"Commands relayed, sir."
"Good, connect me to Leviathan's channel."

The droid, through all the talking and management, has already made his way to the Medical Bay, in his calm pace he was getting closer to the Kiffu's medical tube.


[member="Ayden Cater"],
"Leviathan, this is Exarch Iron Knight from aboard the Dancing Queen, I have a message to Lord Protector. My personnel are telling me one of the Confederate Force Users we have captured during evacuation is a Kiffu, I believe their gift of telemetry could be useful in telling us who it was that ordered for shipyards to be brought down. I will investigate further personally and update you. One of our dropships has also reported spotting B1 battle droids, there may be remnants of Confederate droid army somewhere on Druckenwell, I have ordered for two dropships to be sent for investigations, but our parties on the ground should maintain caution, over."


[member="Seanna Vel"]
The droid would finally enter the medical chamber where Seanna was kept, the medical personnel and guards in the room nodding to him and saluting, he returned the greetings before casually coming over to Seanna's tube and rapping with his fingers on the glass.
Tap-tap,
He tried to wake her up or get her attention,

"I am the Iron Exarch of the Protectorate, you are currently aboard the vessel under my command, the super-carrier Dancing Queen. It was by my order that you were rescued when Confederacy brought down the shipyards around the planet and then fired upon the planet, and upon you."
The droid would slightly lean in closer to the tub,
"Why or who ordered this, I do not know, but I believe that you could help me solve that mystery."


[member="Anika Od'Manteiv"], [member="Vorhi Alestrani"]
Whether Anika took the time to speak with Vorhi herself, or whether it was some other agent, the writer does not know, but when HK picked up that the Protectorate may have interested in one of the prisoners aboard the vessel he commanded, then obviously speaking to that prisoner shot up in priority.

Soon enough a droid in Greycloak would have entered the detention section where Vorhi was kept, it was an HK droid, but it was not HK himself, just one of his copies he used as honor guards.
The droid would nod to those in the section, giving them greetings, before turning to speak to Vorhi,

"Miralukan Prisoner, I am a Greycloak Guard, sent by Iron Exarch, Commander of this vessel. I am here to speak with you on the events of Druckenwell and your participation, it will determine the terms of your containment and possible release."
The droid would brought out a datapad from one of his satchels, he wore an armor over his already metal body, although he did not had a helmet so that his face-plate was uncovered,
"So, how are you today?"
The droid begun


[member="B1-883331"]
The droid scouts could pick up one a couple of Iron Company dropships landing on the outskirts of the ruins, from one of them disembarked squads of lightly-armored troops in camouflaged gear, many of them equipped with the Gados SR-1 for sniping purposes, from the other dropship exited a column of heavy Mobile Weapon Platforms, the heavily armored droids equipped with both Shatter Rotary Cannons for anti-personnel purposes and MD-1 for anti-armor and artillery work.


[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"], [member="Eyrecae Alzari"]
Finally,
Nearby Sio's position an Iron Company shuttle would land, from inside a bunch of medical and emergency personnel would rush out to do their jobs and help in the Search and Rescue missions conducted on the planet.

However, among them was a buxom armored lady with a bottle of water spray,
"Ex-Exarch Kerrigan?"
She begun,
"I have a message from the Exarch Iron Knight."

Pshhh-pshhh
"He says 'Bad, Kerrigan, bad.'"

 

[Seris Vant]

The horrifying reports coming from Druckenwell shocked this old salts heart. The casualty reports were staggering. Not even a real conclusive number but it was in the hundreds of millions. Cypher touched his temple, eyes trailing to the built in comm system in his desktop. What happened he himself nearly caused at the Battle of Dac when the Empire was still around. Not intending to crash the yards into the planet of course, but still. Cypher brushed off the thought. He was a different man back then and changed since. He couldn't be inactive on this. His commanders were just a call away and quickly were on the horn.

The call was picked up by the CO in hand. He knew only one could call on this channel so it meant business. And being quite privy to the current intel as well. "Central Command. Orders sir"?

"We are going DEFCON 2 Commander. Alert all forces to combat readiness and call up reserves". Cypher wrapped his knuckles over the edge of the desk.

"Rodger sir. We'll get it done".

"I also want a relief force of twelve ships and any available bulk freighters to be loaded down with as much supplies as we can muster and be ready to sail to Drucken in twenty four hours. I'll contact back in and hour. Over and out". Cypher disconnected the call and quickly made another one. This one to get a message relayed out to [member="Ayden Cater"]. "Copy this message and send it to The Protectorate military ASAP. Addressed to Lord Protector Ayden Cater". He paused a few seconds to clear for the message. "Lord Protector. Black Sun has been informed to the crisis unfolding at Druckenwell. I, Cypher, Underlord of Black Sun am dispatching twelve warships and a flotilla of supply ships to the system immediately. I will be personally leading them to bring said supplies and will do everything within my power to assist your efforts. The Suns stand shoulder to shoulder with Omega here. And I hope we may meet in person to discuss further concerning the Confederacy".

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

On board Flagship Whitenoise
Arriving at Druckenwell
[member="HK-36"] [member="Ayden Cater"] [member="Feena Mason"]

Only when you were in an urgent state to get somewhere did traveling there seem to take forever. Cypher had rallied his soldiers, ships, support personnel, the supplies and freighters they were stuffed into within the given time frame he set himself. That being twenty four hours from the call. It was a mighty impressive feat to do so.

"Cypher sir. Ten minutes from the DZ. Starting procedures to make the jump out". Whitenoise's First mate being as organized as he'd always been about. A clean cut crew on this ship, though mostly green, they were the new generation of Sun Sailors and were quite a change from the old crews. Much less wanton piracy and collateral damage with this lot.

"Very good. Put all hands to general quarters. When we're out I want a line to the OP's military command. They'll be high alert and we don't need them thinking we're some Con'fed retaliatory strike force". Cypher pulled himself up a little straighter in the Captain's chair. He wasn't to worried about any fire exchanges due to shot nerves the Protectorate sailors may have. They were coming in to the system well out from the planet for the very reason. Everything was quite planned out bu they knew very minimal information really. The CIS would be listening to every spec of chatter flying about and even with their fantastic encryption networks Cypher wasn't going to risk letting a scrap of information leak to them he didn't want. he did have to barge through their territory to lessen the travel time, though only through the small northern arm of their space. Better safe than sorry.

"Dropping from hyperspace in ten, nine...". Cypher gripped the armrests a little tighter for the drop. He'd always been used to them being a little rough. But this was no old pirate hip being held together by meshtape and a prayer. The view out from the bridge stopped being streaks of light and turned back to the little twinkle of stars and a smallish blip in the center, Druckenwell. "Comms, get us a link to theirs".

It wasn't to long before he had a signal to the Omega's. A press of a button overtook the link to his personal communicator. "Black Sun hailing The Protectorate. This is Cypher. I've come with the promised supplies and twelve warships to aid however you feel them best used. May I ask what the situation is like at the moment"?

 

[B1-883331]

The droid observation post had taken notice of the Protectorate scouts investigating their location, but didn't engage for now. Several of the B1's were gathered around a table in the camp with a few wounded refugees, casually playing a game of Pazaak. A message was soon transmitted to the Protectorate by Commander Threes from the foundry the droid had claimed as his command center. ''This is a message to all Protectorate on Druckenwell. We wish for an opportunity to speak with an available Protectorate official in discussing the future of this world, whom I will meet with personally in our forward observation post. We wish no unnecessary conflict at this present time. That is all.''

[member="HK-36"]

 

[Red Queen]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

The giggling would continue until the Red Queen’s image would flicker over the right side of his HUD.

[ Things…] she would say with a sideways glance at the corner of her cherry red eyes. Enter another giggle. She’d managed to reconstruct the shipyard schematics with what broken new information she had downloaded and compared against her databases. There were some upgrades yes, but that wouldn’t include such a curious little curio. That kill switch.

Fragmented sections of scheduled maintenance, ship docking logs, and standard operating procedures would label three constant names. Baktoid, Subach, and the Techno Union. Baktoid held the oldest record, while the Techno Union would hold the most recent. Subach was in there in between, but it appeared that under the maintenance logs, it was only for a brief amount of time.

However, the kill switch codes put into play were installed long prior to any notable upgrade. This was carefully hidden under layers of pyrowall, hidden among the file directory of over a million chains of forbs code.

[ … The kill switch is internal. ] she would tell him gleefully, [ 98.15% probability of factory install. Secret. No one wanted to find this… ]

[ Baktoid made --- 95.25% probability of it being Baktoid codes. ]

 

[Aeron Kreelan]

SALVAGE YARDS

If there was any place for a telekinetic specialist to be at to help was in the salvage yards itself. Well, in the areas designated to be cleared out of debris.

In a full chemo suit to prevent any radiation poisoning, Aeron would work tirelessly as she would grip the Force in her hands and hammer her will into lifting heavy debris out of the way.

It was a constant routine. Grab, grunt, grip, lift, move, set down.

Rinse repeat.

It wasn’t a pretty job, and the full suit made the work a sweatshop in a plastic bag.

Just another day, just another dollar.