Mission Shattered Dawn - Tempo of War Pt. III [LS/GE/HR/BSS]

[Veno]

He chuckled darkly, taking the knife. Some abomination of a weapon with foundations in the tooth or claw of some great beast, since converted into a vibroknife. Veno slashed at the air, once, twice, then sheathed it in his wrist.

"You know," he started, nearly drowned out by the klaxon alarms, "I never saw a name on that tube panel."

Subject 1503

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Even being who he was, Jerec found that life offered few opportunities for unique experience. In search of such a moment, the good ship Infinity's Free touched down on the surface of Project: Stardust. From here he could see winks of light and plumes of firey debris as Jedi tried to raid the place. Rather than engage as he was technically supposed to be doing, Jerec left the bridge in the hands of a cousin and got a space suit on.

Five minutes put his boots on the surface of the Death Star. It seemed flat enough here in gross terms, but the horizon bent away aggressively, reflecting a radius much smaller than most inhabited planets. The artificial gravity of the outermost layers pointed feet-inward rather than feet-south like the sandwiched inner structure and the docking bays. He could stand as normal.

With some ceremony, he went up the ship's ramp and brought down a set of weighted sporting rods along with a case of dimpled spheres. He set up one of the latter in a small disposable cleat, squinted at a faraway heavy turbolaser tower, reared back, and hit the ball very far indeed.

No air resistance on the Death Star.

 

[Mammut]

Bodies packed the trooper lounge of corridor WC3. Largely a contingent of Syndicate thugs, but some stormtroopers too - in grave dereliction of duty.

The air smelled faintly of microwaved fish.

Someone set up a bunch of audio equipment at the far end of the lounge, around which everyone pulled up sofas and couches.

An enormous Chevin clutching a saxophone stood behind the audio equipment.

“On nights like these where there’s nothing but the cold, lonely vacuum of space outside, come with me and find a warm, safe haven in my jatz.”

Then the Chevin put his lips to the sax and let those sweet, smooth, sultry tunes flow out into the trooper lounge aboard Project Stardust.

 

[Subject 1503]

HAD ABADDON, THE DEEP CORE
Aboard the Death Star III

Veno
​

In truth, his 'name', such as it was, had indeed been on the pod - not that Veno could be blamed for overlooking it. '1503' was hardly a suitable name for a being such as him. He had never been truly given a name, save the moniker that he had heard in his dreamless sleep from time to time, the one that had addressed him when he first awoke - Ashwalker. It meant nothing to him, and though it suited those who had used it to address him thus far, it would not do for a true name - something given had no value, whatever name he would go by, he would take it for himself.

That was what he had been taught, after all. Since his creation, he had studied nothing else but the philosophies of the Sith, the propaganda of the Empire. He was not Sith, not truly, not yet - but it was all he had known, the teachings of the Dark Side, of strength. He would have a name when he became Sith in truth, until then, it did not matter. Only his strength did.

"My name is of little consequence. You have referred to me adequately, thus far." Perhaps his answer would frustrate Veno, after all, he doubted that the assassin had much comprehension for who - for what he was. He did not expect this servant of the Empire to have enough comprehension of the ways of the Sith, after all - but he would learn in his service. For now, he needed only listen, and obey.

"The Jedi aboard this station will rely on whatever craft they arrived on in order to escape. We will cut off their exit and trap them here." As he stepped toward the exit of the detention block, he turned his masked gaze back over his shoulder toward Veno before he paused just outside of the doorway, his expectant silence carrying with it the demand he hoped for Veno's sake he would not need to speak aloud. Guide me to my enemies.

​

 

[Veno]

Less of a fool than he made himself out to be, Veno discerned that Sith -- insofar as Veno believed them to be -- did not have a name. A creation, a clone, someone once-wounded, or thrown in some semblance of stasis. Veno did not know, but he hedged his bets all the same. "Let's go, then." He flicked his wrist and pointed a finger forwards, "Lord."

He began to direct the Sith towards the hangar in which the klaxon alarms originated.

Subject 1503

 

[Da'Razel]

DEATH STAR ||| - HAD ABBADON ​

Keys of red, green, and blue, sign a hymn of mechanical tones. Some blare alone, then in discordant union, the frequency a strange, silent symphony across an otherwise lightless chamber.

At its center looms a tank. A cylindrical colossus, forged of thick, transparent glass with a faint sheen, rising like a pillar to the ceiling of the laboratory. Within it churns a viscous, acid-blue fluid, in its depths, the faintest glow seeps outward.

Rhythmically, like drawn breaths, flocks of swollen azure bubbles wobble upward, bursting at the surface with wet sighs.

Hours, days, weeks, time holds little sway here. The chamber is nothing but the endless interplay of fizzy fluid and synthetic tunes.

And yet there are moments, occurrences that break the monotone sequence of events.

The metal door parts. Personnel enter: doctors, scientists, acolytes. Some kneel and chant, reading verses from their sacred texts, others rouse the dormant consoles, and study glowing screens, tweaking inputs, observing results. A few do both.

Whenever such a lonesome figure enters, rarely in pairs or groups. Before the instant in which the entrance closes shut, shadows part within and the tank is struck by a shaft of illumination.

And there, through the glass, submerged in the depths

A shape appears, a silhouette, vaguely human, blurred by liquid distortion. A specter, a gestalt.

An angry swarm of pearl-sized bubbles erupts, racing toward the surface.

 

[Talin Treicolt]

A pair of vagabonds followed on the tail of the Jedi headed for the reactor. Their shuttle's landin' had drawn strange looks as the rogue reinforcements came to offer aid, but no questions were 'bout to be asked in the thick of it. Any help was welcome aboard the insurmountable target. As far as her previous brethren were concerned, her sudden reappearance was not anythin' outta the ordinary. Plenty 'o Jedi came and went on missions here and there, and plenty more had shown when their beacons called all hands on deck. She was just another answerin'.

Talin did not share in their sense of her belongin'. Where once she had felt so wholly connected to this force of light, it was an alien thing now. Gave her some sense of bein' an imposter. One thing was certain, though, she wasn't about to let the Empire get away with doin' what they would with this thing. It's sheer size had shaken her silent when they arrived - a rare thing for a Treicolt. Sudden dread had filled her, not only for the weapon's mere existence, but also for Morrow's presence on the mission. This wasn't no odd job, and he wasn't no Jedi. Maybe she shoulda left without tellin' him, after all. Mighta saved his ass.

"Stay close." She muttered to Morrow under her breath.

If they lost each other here, they were like never to find each other, and somethin' told her imps were waitin' just about the corner. It wasn't long before they made themselves known. Cuttin' down a side corridor, the team focused on their objective until they came up on a wave of death troopers. Talin's blade ignited, but as she stepped forward, one of the knights handed off his belt of charges.

"You go on. We'll catch up to you."

Before the blonde was able to object, two sides were clashing, blaster fire meeting slashes of cerulean and emerald. Grabbin' Morrow promptly by the cloak, Talin dragged him into a side hall and went lookin' for another route.

"Maybe we shoulda charged for this." Talin complained, lacin' the belt over her chest.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Morrow | Aphon ​