Junction Spilled Bacta | SO & HR & SC Junction of Janara III, Teyr, Empty Hex

[Verity Stuyveris]

LOCATION

HRNS GRACE OF THEED

MEDBAY

AFTER

♫ EGO OF A MAN — MIKAYLA GEIER

x

x

I thought you cared about my health, Senator.

He meant it as a weapon, of course, a slash with his little dagger. Verity grew weary of the duel. It would have been easy to roll her eyes and bat it away with a verbal rapier of her own. But the hour was late -- metaphorically. She had no idea what time it was in the real world; space always disoriented her a little that way. So instead of rolling her eyes and calling him a contemptuous little fuckface or asking if his daddy had signed a permission slip for him to be there, she merely tugged the curtain aside, enough to look at him again with frank, pale blue eyes.

"I do."

She could have easily followed it up with a which is why you should be strapped to that bed for the duration of this little misadventure or so you'll understand why I have front row seats for when the medics waterboard you with bacta, she simply let it sit there.

She glanced toward the doorway. Through one of the small viewports she could see one of the CTRLd guards that had hauled Aurelian in here. Her jaw worked and she chewed the inside of her cheek. "A rhetorical question, perhaps, but since you've been through some things today and might not actually remember, you placed your Kinsguard between us. Actually, you placed them between you and everyone else on the bridge, including Republic military officials and the Commander-in-Chief. You might say openly defying the Commander-in-Chief in the middle of a battle has consequences. If it's any consolation, you may come to view what has happened today as a peaceful, tranquil day in the park by the time the Senate Ethics Committee is finished with you."

Verity shook her head, feeling slightly let down by the whole affair. The worst part was that Aurelian only had himself to blame. Naturally, he would find the wherewithal to blame her, because that's what petulant manchildren did. But deep down, she thought he must really understand. If not, she would continue to help him in her gentle way.

She stepped into his side of the partition and again lowered her voice. "Listen. You look like hell. I'm not sure you're in any position to be standing, let alone going to the surface to go after your people. Your people," Verity repeated suspiciously, her mind working. She couldn't think of a single person Aurelian Veruna would risk his life for. Then -- she understood. "Oh. You mean her. Well." Sibylla Abrantes was the Voice of the Houses and, Verity hoped, a potential ally in convincing Aurelian Veruna to behave like a grown-up for once in his worthless little life. A worthy cause indeed. She stepped over to the wall-mounted tissue dispenser, impatiently yanked a few loose, and thrust them at Aurelian. "Here. You're dripping. Frankly, I have placed myself between you and danger enough for one day, and your response each time has left much to be desired. And I know that you typically respond to reasoned explanations of why the thing you're about to do is stupid and reckless with the kind of indignation typically reserved for the Imperial genocide on Ghorman, so if you will insist on this..."

Verity stopped and lifted a hand to her forehead. She thought for several moments, trying to decide whether this gold-plated shit-gibbon was worth the trouble she was about to volunteer to go to. Finally, her chin dropped and she gave a sigh. "I will speak with Dominique -- not summon her down here so you can shout at her. Read the room, for once in your life, my God. But I will... explain your circumstances. And I will ask her to authorize your little field trip."

"In exchange," Verity went on before Aurelian could interrupt her. "You will do the following. First, you will allow yourself to be examined for whatever the hell happened to you upstairs and treated. Second, you will swear to me that if for some reason your plan goes sideways down there -- and listen to me, talking as if you have a plan; if you were capable of rational forethought we wouldn't fucking be here -- but swear that if things go sideways down there, you will not expect the entire Republic evacuation process and military force to throw itself against Sith firepower to rescue you. You will not issue conflicting orders and hope that the forces won't know that as King you don't actually possess the authority to override the Chancellor's orders."

Verity studied him. Her eyes were not reflecting her usual contempt. "What you're proposing to do here is -- well, it's stupid and reckless, but it's also brave. Part of that bravery is understanding that you are one man. She is one woman. There are thousands of soldiers and engineers and pilots and medics and Jedi whose lives are just as valuable as yours, whatever you may think."

She thought about extracting more from the King -- like, for instance, that he keep a civil tongue in his head when he spoke to her -- but that seemed like setting him up for failure. The second demand was, too, probably, but she suspected that if he had Sibylla Abrantes to show off for, he might try to suppress all his natural cowardly instincts and act like a man for once in his life.

"Do we have an accord?"

x

x

WITH

Aurelian Veruna • Dominique Vexx

 

[Kitt Solo]

Acier Moonbound Lorn Reingard

Kitt was already moving. “Keep her hot, Brakka,” she called back to the teenage Neti. Wrapping the force around the big items in her ship that weren’t bolted down, she lifted them and began sending them out the lowered ramp. Later, she might bemoan losing some of her chit but she didn’t hesitate now.

“Tell Lorn to stop getting his arse kicked. Even nexus only have nine lives.” Kitt quipped. Humor absent from her eyes and tone tight. At least Acier was okay. Well, physically. She knew if that kid got hurt it’d hurt Lorn more than anything else.

“We’re making room.” With a flick of her hand, she unbolted something that didn’t seem that important to the amount of standing room and let it settle into the ashy ground outside. Smoke was heavy in the air. The skies above streaked with fire. Real post apocalyptic. Senses stretched forward, settling briefly on a familiar wolf. Gerwald Lechner .

Someone was gonna get an arse kicking one of these days. Bub.

Attention snapped to the movement swirling the smoke ahead. She sensed them before she saw them. Boots carried her the rest of the way down the ramp. Part all her unloaded chit. That burning chemical smell tickling her nose and making her eyes water as the world burned around them.

“What happened?” Kitt got on Loren’s other side, relieving Acier. “Here I’ve got him. Can you lead the others onboard? Brakka’s in there. Small medbay to the right. We’ve got room now.”

Kitt looked around them at the survivors. “We can fit everyone.” She’d make it work.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Objective: The Long March
Katarine Ryiah
​

“Of course I am with you. Just tell me what you need.”

"Perfect, we don't have much time." The Jedi Knight spoke, bringing up the fields on a holomap, indicating to sectors, Alpha and Charlie that were exposed and trying their best to defend and escape as well. Their plans weren't going as well as they hoped.

"We got a transport waiting to take us to those locasions, Charlie first, then we will break for Alpha." And explosion in the distance rocked the area around them, for a moment.

"Let's go." Aiden said, signifying his forces to saddle up. Moving to the transports and soon on their way. Aiden could sense something amiss with Kat, he wanted to ask, but there would be time for that afterward.

 

[Helix]

​

"Well, we're on the air again with some fascinating developments, ladies and gentlemen. It seems some of the locals are trying to get the civilians, our civilians, offworld. This is a Sith planet now, after all, and that includes all the inhabitants who decided not to leave when we showed up."

"Putting aside the destruction of a good deal of my company property in the doing, this act is an obvious no-no. Kindly show them your displeasure, in the creative ways that only you can. I'll leave the messy details up to you."

The colony couldn't quite finely control every individual cyborg monster down there in the streets, but he could control the thing that controlled them. Every one was a witness in the ongoing after-battle confusion.

For his part, Helix had no great interest in helping them directly, at least aside from demoralizing the remaining resistance. He was having entirely too much fun as it was, and was unlikely to stop anytime in the forseeable future. After all, the only thing he loved more than generating misery was himself, and he'd more than earned the right to relax a little.

"I also see a few of you down there taking my advice already. Glad to know there's at least a few functioning audioreceptors out there. Probably a lot fewer by the time the day's over."

"I'll also remind everyone that there is still an official no-quarter order hanging in the air like a bad joke. This didn't come from me, but from the top, or at least so close to the top that the distinction is probably lost on you. If anybody's showing undesirable character traits like mercy or hesitation, well. Do it in an enclosed alleyway with no sightlines, so I won't have to report you. Or judge you."

"Shame, but them's the rules, and I don't make them, I just enforce them sometimes when it suits me. Today, it suits me."

"In furtherance of that official directive, I have with me here one very, very large gun, fresh from the butchering fields on Abregado and now affixed to the cheap and gaudy roofing here. Good thing this is a solid building in all other respects. Anytime my callers let me know about something that doesn't need to be there, it won't be there for very long, if you catch my meaning."

"This is also a means of enforcing a quarantine zone around my new estate, which I think I'll be keeping, thank you very much. There's no hotter real estate market than this one at the moment, and if some of the local properties should fall into unsavory hands, they might just get handed a nasty letter from the local landowner's association. I hope I don't have to say who runs that now."

"I have to say, I'm liking the initiative on both sides today, though. Much to admire, and it's therefore a shame that the diplomatic process has broken down to this extent. Alas, such is the march of history, and it won't be ending anytime soon. I've been around for ages and ages, and it's always the same old sad cyclical dance of violence and conquest."

"Not that I'm complaining, listeners, quite the contrary. Anyone who knows me knows I won't hesitate to throw a punch with the best of them, or in this case, the worst of them. After all, today I threw one mother of a punch. One that will knock some teeth from the collective mouths of this entire rotten little galaxy soon enough. This was just the opening act."

"In any case, dear listeners, or viewers if you've kept your screens, we'll be back as soon as there's something to report beyond the usual post-war parade of horror and sad little stories about the human cost of conflicts waged by uncaring overlords and disconnected ivory-tower career politicians. More updates as we receive them here at Radio Free Helix."

 

[Elian Abrantes]

HRNS Grace of Theed
Aurelian Veruna Verity Stuyveris
​

"Elian, where have you been?" One of the Kingsguard members asked, as he approached. "I'm sorry, I was busy in Security, we were hacked, dismantled, suffice to say I wasn't quick enough to stop them." Truth his pride hurt with that last statement, while he never fully boasted out in public about his skills, in slicing and cyber warfare they were decent, an area he had to work on. He could build, and create with the best of them, partially because he was one of the best in that regard.

​

"What you're proposing to do here is -- well, it's stupid and reckless, but it's also brave. Part of that bravery is understanding that you are one man. She is one woman. There are thousands of soldiers and engineers and pilots and medics and Jedi whose lives are just as valuable as yours, whatever you may think."

​

"He won't be alone." Elian voiced, as he moved to the doorway, where he caught sight of Verity and a very hurt Aurelian. He felt a ting of embarrasment, not for Aurelian but for himself. There were many people that he let down today. He needed to redeem himself for this, and the fact that his sister was planetside, amongst this chaos. It only fueled his resolve.

"I'm gonna go with him, I'll make sure he comes back in one piece, and alive of course, with my sister."

​

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

"Never Hide Your Heart"
​

Objective: The Long March
Tag: Aiden Porte

Katarine studied the map he had brought up, her deep green eyes tracing the highlighted routes through the devastated sectors. Smoke and interference made some of the readings flicker, but the objective was clear enough. They needed to move through both areas, clearing what resistance they could and helping as many people as possible along the way.

She gave a small nod of understanding. There wasn't much more to say.

Together they set off through the wreckage.

The destruction seemed worse once they were moving through it. Broken duracrete and twisted metal littered the streets, forcing them to pick their way around collapsed structures and the burned-out husks of speeders. Smoke rolled between the buildings in thick gray curtains, carrying with it the acrid scent of scorched machinery and something Katarine tried very hard not to identify. Somewhere in the distance, blasterfire cracked through the haze in uneven bursts, followed occasionally by the deeper concussion of an explosion.

The fighting wasn't over. Not even close.

They passed civilians huddled beneath the remains of an overhang, medics working desperately over the wounded, and soldiers disappearing into smoke-choked intersections toward battles Katarine could hear but not see. Every instinct in her wanted to stop, to help each person they passed, but there were too many. The only thing they could do was keep moving and trust that reaching the sectors ahead would save more lives in the end.

Eventually they reached the transport waiting to carry them toward the first sector.

Katarine had barely stepped toward it when something brushed against her senses.

She stopped.

Her gaze lifted slowly toward the ruined skyline. For a moment, there was nothing obvious, only drifting smoke, distant fires, and the muffled chaos of battle. But the Force felt different. It was subtle at first, little more than a tremor beneath everything else, like the strange stillness before a storm broke. Katarine's expression tightened as she reached outward instinctively, searching through the currents surrounding them.

Something had changed.

She could feel it in the uneasy knot forming deep in her stomach, though she couldn't yet put a name to what it was. She glanced sideways at Aiden. His injuries made her jolt again, but she tried to keep her head clear.

"Were we able to save any of the Bacta supplies?" She knew there would be time for a full chat later, but it felt awkward to walk in silence when the world was so loud around them.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound | Kitt Solo​

"That's a shame," Lorn rasped, the words tumbling past his cracked, bloodied lips.

So it was all for nothing. Every bone broken, every life lost, the world burning down around them, and the poison now pulsing through his face, all sacrificed for a failure. If he could hope for anything, it was that the Sith Empress would remember her own mortality, and that her monster of a guard would remember Lorn would do anything to stop them. A message had been sent today. It was not the victorious statement he had intended, but a line had been drawn regardless.

Weakened beyond measure, his chin sank back down against his chest as the commlink crackled to life with Kitt's voice. They were going to make it out. He felt a complicated mixture of quiet relief and a hollow, lingering disappointment. Dying on the transport out felt like the easy answer, a final escape from an endless war, but deep down he knew he still had work to do and people who needed him to keep breathing.

Chaos erupted around them as they reached the extraction zone, the roar of the ship's engines cutting through the heavy smoke. Acier began handing his dead weight over, and Kitt's hands immediately locked onto his other side.

"Kitt," Lorn murmured, his vision swimming as her familiar presence settled beside him. "Of course you would show up late to the party."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Tags: Verity Stuyveris | Elian Abrantes

"I wouldn't call it openly defying," Aurelian fired back, leaning his head back. "Maybe a little dissension. A difference of perspective is always a healthy thing in politics."

Eyes shifting toward the deck, the royal bravado thinned out. Deep down, he knew he was dead wrong on that point. Dominique had every right to be furious, which fully explained why her heavy-handed CNTRLd guards were standing over him while his own loyal Kinsguard lay dead on the bridge.

A sharp flinch hit him as Verity stepped unnaturally close, leaning over his space with her long ass neck and stern, parental glare. Instinct urged him to shove her straight back onto her cot, but her tone shifted before he could move. The moment she connected the dots and realized exactly who was waiting on the surface, the sharp edge of his gaze softened. He didn't fight her on it. For once, he let the urgency hang in the room, hoping the realization might finally spur her to action.

Snatching the offered tissues from her hand, he pressed them against his bleeding nose, swung his legs up onto the cot, and laid back with a heavy thud against the pillow.

Silence settled over him as he endured her lingering lecture. The lectures on chain of command, the threats about Senate ethics committees, and the grand speeches on bravery washed over him like static. Some small, distant part of his mind appreciated her willing to go to bat with Dominique on his behalf, but her parting line struck a nerve.

"She is not just one woman," he corrected sternly, his eyes locking onto hers.

Holding her gaze, he let the rest of her conditions slide. He had zero intention of commandeering the fleet or barking orders at Republic captains. The battle for Thyferra was already lost, the planet was burning, and the galaxy could burn right along with it for all he cared. He had only one objective left.

"We have an accord," he added. "Plus, I will have him," He said motioning to Elian entering the med bay.

As if summoned by his compliance, a medical team swept past the curtain, immediately surrounding his cot with portable scanners and telemetry leads. Aurelian fought the intrusive hands in petty, subtle ways, tensing his jaw, turning his head away from the optical light, and stubbornly refusing to answer their baseline questions... But he ultimately allowed the sensors to be pressed against his temples.

"You should be thanking me, for the record," he called out to Verity through the haze of chiming diagnostic equipment attached to his skull. "Had I not held that line and done what needed to be done, we would have been swarmed by those Sith."

​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique's burning, golden eyes narrowed at Darth Carnifex 's response. After a calming breath or two, she straightened up from the table. Her left hand rose to check her hair. She'd already done so after they'd all been thrown about the bridge when it was assaulted, but she had to be certain. Then a slight tug at the front of her uniform made certain it fell flat against her chest.

"Ask Darth Carnifex for a private, voice channel, if you please," the Chancellor finally ordered the Communications Officer. Whether he'd oblige -- or the manner in which he did -- only time would tell. Certainly didn't hurt to ask. He was, after all, purporting to be civil as he had been whenever they'd met in person. Of course, both of them knew he was anything but civil in nature, but that didn't mean a voracious predator couldn't don a mask when it suited him to do so.

They'd transfer control of the call to the war table when or if it came through. One never knew when the unexpected might happen and Dominique would need to momentarily mute the channel. Or terminate it with a growl. She cycled another, calming breath to put on her devil-may-care, warm smile.

Darth Carnifex​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Victory had not brought silence to Thyferra. It had merely changed the nature of the screaming.

The great guns of the Kainate had fallen quiet over the refinery district, their work complete for the moment. The surviving processing towers stood beneath a sky the color of old iron, their industrial lights burning through layers of smoke and drifting ash. Beyond them, the Alazhi fields had become a blackened wasteland. Roads disappeared into craters. Entire settlements existed now only as heat signatures beneath cooling rubble. The machinery of bacta production had been preserved with exquisite care, while the civilization that had built it lay broken around its foundations.

Darth Prazutis stood within the ruins of a commandeered processing hall, surrounded by the living. There were thirty-seven of them. Captured defenders, militia, and those who had been taken while attempting to flee the collapsing perimeter. Some wore the remnants of military uniforms. Others had been stripped of weapons and possessions, their wrists bound behind them with restraint cable. They had been arranged in a broad circle beneath the fractured ceiling, guarded by Blackblade warriors whose towering armor rendered them almost indistinguishable from the black machinery surrounding the chamber.

Right at the center stood the Shadow Hand. Qâzjiin'vraal was ruined in places. White saber burns had cut through its black plate, while punctures from Allyson Locke 's arrows remained visible across His chest, shoulder, and neck. The living armor had begun repairing itself, but the work was incomplete. Beneath its fractured shell, the immense body of Braxus Zambrano carried the consequences of the battle. His movements were measured, the damaged shoulder held with a stiffness that had not existed before Thyferra. Blood had dried across the runes of His warplate and darkened the floor beneath His boots.

That was why the captives were here.

One of them began praying when the Dark Lord of the Sith removed His helm. Another turned away from the sight of the face beneath it. The Dark Lord paid neither reaction any attention. He set Xûl-Karzaan upon a broken industrial console and allowed the silence to settle around Him, listening to the distant reports of particle rifles beyond the walls. Then He raised His hand, and the first captive rose from the floor. A young defender, scarcely more than a boy, strained against his restraints as invisible pressure drew him upward. His boots left the duracrete and his breath caught in his throat. Prazutis regarded him without expression, as though examining a damaged component brought before a physician.

"Do not waste your strength." The words were almost gentle. The boy began to scream, as Prazutis closed His eyes, and the Dark Side of the Force entered. What followed was not a violent eruption but a terrible inward pull. Darkness gathered around the Shadow Hand, bending the loose ash and dust across the chamber toward His enormous frame. The captive's cry faltered. Color drained from his face, then from his hands, as though something essential were being drawn out of him faster than the body could surrender it. His limbs trembled. His eyes widened with the sudden understanding that whatever was happening could not be resisted by muscle, courage, or prayer. A thin current of black-red light emerged from him, entering Prazutis' outstretched hand.

The Dark Lord inhaled, ad the wound beneath His shoulder shifted. Qâzjiin'vraal stirred with renewed hunger, its living sinews tightening around broken plate. Beneath the armor, torn tissue began knitting together with unnatural speed. Blood vessels sealed. Damaged muscle reformed. The cruel ache of Allyson's arrows diminished as stolen vitality flooded through his body. The boy aged before their very eyes. His skin lost its fullness, his hair paled, the strength holding his body upright seemed to vanish all at once, leaving him suspended in the invisible grasp of the Force like something already discarded. Then Prazutis released him.

The body struck the floor and crumbled into a broken heap. The silence that followed was so crippling, the captives stopped breathing. The Dark Lord opened His eyes. "Next." The word broke something in the room. Several captives surged against their restraints. One attempted to crawl beneath a ruined conveyor. Another begged the guards to shoot him. A woman screamed that she had children. The Blackblade Guard didn't answer their pleas. They simply advanced, seized the struggling prisoners, and returned them to their places with the impersonal efficiency of soldiers correcting an administrative error.

Prazutis extended both hands and this time, five captives rose together.

The dark energy spread through them like a shadow passing across a field, their cries overlapped, then weakened, each voice disappearing at a different moment as the darkness drew life from their bodies. The air grew cold then, as frost crept across the edges of nearby machinery, while the crimson runes upon Qâzjiin'vraal brightened in answer. The living warplate moved with renewed purpose, drawing its damaged sections inward as black sinew reached across gaps that had been carved open. The Shadow Hand simply stood motionless. That was what made the sight so obscene. The lives being extinguished around Him were not enemies in the heat of battle, not warriors who had chosen to meet His blade, but human beings reduced to material for His restoration. Their terror was not an accident of the ritual. It was part of its nourishment. Ka'ra'nazat beat against His chest, drinking the fear that filled the chamber and returning it to Him as power.

Beyond the processing hall, the Blackblade Guard continued the occupation.

A broken column of refugees had been discovered attempting to reach the eastern service roads, believing the refinery's industrial corridors might offer a route through the Kainate perimeter. They had been wrong. Black-armored giants emerged through the smoke ahead of them, cutting off the road while another squad advanced from behind. The crowd scattered into the ruins, abandoning luggage, carts, and anything that slowed their flight. There was no shouting and no disorder. Their movements were coordinated through helmet displays and encrypted command channels, every avenue of escape assigned to a squad before the fleeing people could reach it. Executioner rifles barked in controlled bursts. The blood-red particle bolts struck walls, pavement, and the bodies of those who failed to outrun them, their explosive impacts briefly illuminating the smoke. Those who fell were left where they lay. Those who continued running were followed. A Guardsman caught a fleeing man by the back of his coat and dragged him from a broken doorway. Another stood over a group attempting to shelter beneath an overturned transport, his rifle lowered toward the opening. Farther along the road, a squad advanced past abandoned vehicles, firing into positions from which desperate defenders still attempted to resist. The pursuit continued through the industrial outskirts until the service roads were littered with discarded belongings and the survivors had been driven into the next containment zone.

Inside the hall, Prazutis lowered His hands and the five captives dropped, He rolled His shoulders smoother then. The five captives fell. He reached to the damaged collar beneath His neck and pressed two fingers against the place where Allyson's final arrow had struck. The flesh beneath had closed over the worst of the injury, though a dark scar remained beneath the repaired plate. He traced it once, remembering the fight and how close He'd drawn the Ghost into the realm of darkness, drowning her in its depths.

Then He let His hand fall, the scar would remain for a time. A Blackblade officer entered the chamber and bowed.

"Supreme Excellency. The eastern sector is secured. Remaining fugitives are being processed." Prazutis regarded the officer.

"Any organized resistance?"

"Scattered cells. Nothing capable of contesting the occupation."

"Then preserve the facilities. Remove the rest." The officer bowed again and departed.

Prazutis turned toward the remaining captives. Only a handful still looked directly at Him. The others stared at the floor, at the bodies, at the ruined ceiling, anywhere except the enormous figure whose wounds were closing with every life taken. One of them whispered, "What are you?" The Dark Lord considered the question, then He stepped forward. "I am what your world was warned would return." His hand opened and all at once the remaining captives rose. The chamber filled with the sound of restraints tightening, boots scraping against empty air, and voices breaking beneath the pressure of the Force. Darkness gathered around them, converging upon the Shadow Hand in slow, deliberate currents. Qâzjiin'vraal awakened fully, its runes burning through the gloom as the living armor repaired itself entirely around the body it had been forged to protect, the ruination from battle erased with the life currents of the butchered. Outside, the Blackblade Guard continued their work securing the approaches, while Shadow Mind technoadepts and engineers landed to analyze the state of industry remaining, to coordinate with Gerwald Lechner , Taeli Raaf and other Sith forces in further securing the battlesphere.

Inside, the Reaper continued His.

Thyferra, the Eternal Rule remained suspended over the conquered world, its vast black hull blotting out the stars while the machinery of a new occupation began to turn. Soon, the remaining vestiges of resistance would be analyzed and the Immortal Legions would be strategically deployed to the battlefields to stamp out resistance. Information would flow through the nexus of the Eternal Rule, and back to the Shadow Hand before he made any decision to deploy further Kainite assets.

Darth Carnifex​

 

[Trextan Voidstalker]

TREXTAN

[ Mayday, mayday! Any vessel receiving, we have wounded aboard- ]

Trextan heard the mayday break apart into static and already knew what the look on her face meant.

"Yeah. I know."

He wiped at the blood on his temple with the heel of his hand, smearing it worse, and leaned over the scopes.

The marker pulsed weakly off their escape line. It was a damaged small ship, if the signal strength was anything to go by. Easy prey if they left it.

"Yeah," he said. "Chit. Looks like a fleeing transport that got caught in the crossfire."

He told himself that if it was a military vessel, he would not have gotten involved. He knew that was a lie too.

He checked the threat overlay again. Sith signatures were climbing from the refinery. A large number of enemy vessels were now holding position facing Republic vessels. The sith forces seemed fragmented. Many different factions assaulting in their own way.

He looked at her properly then. Soot and sweat and that stubborn set of her mouth. She had survived the Alliance wars with him and now they were trying to build something different.

Walking away was not who she was. It wasn't who he was too.

Trextan was already on his feet. He was getting the bigger guns this time: the handcannon and the scatter blaster.

"Still some ships on our tail. Quick as we can."

He was back on the comm.

"Distress call, get everyone to a docking point we can take fifty of we squeeze."