Invasion The Bacta War | Sith Order Invasion of High Republic Thyferra Chapter 2

[Petra Noll]

WRENCH

ROGUE SQUADRON // FLIGHT OPERATIONS

PETRA NOLL

LIEUTENANT // ROGUE THIRTEEN // BB-7K "PATCH"

♫ EXCLUSION ZONE

LOCATION: COCKPIT, T-91 VIGILANT TIME: VARIES

Petra's eyes scanned the machines that were hooked up to her fellow pilot Rylen Grace before she turned her attention back to him. Her fingers pressed a cool damp cloth to the verdant forehead. She couldn't make heads nor tails of the status readouts, other than the few things that were obvious. Poor kid had a fever. It probably wouldn't kill him. His white counts were elevated as his body fought off whatever infection it was that had him bedridden. He was very clearly ill, and in no fit state to be out of bed, let alone in a cockpit.

Naturally, Petra couldn't leave it at that. They were fighter jocks, after all. They showed their affection by abusive banter. Which is why instead of offering comfort or even simple sympathy she said: "For God's sake, are you going to lie around all day? I've seen people go to great lengths to get out of drill, but this is taking it to a whole other level."

She rolled her eyes. That was made it art.

Petra took the cloth, dipped it back in the cold water, wrung it out and replaced it on Grace's forehead. She was about to say something else mean when her comlink chirped an emergency alert. Mustering orders for immediate deployment. She read the message and then picked up Rylen's hand and lifted it to cover the cloth on his own forehead. "Gotta motor, Grace. Hold this if you think it won't strain your delicate sensibilities."

"You look like hammered bantha shit, by the way," Petra observed conversationally -- almost cheerfully -- as she took her flight jacket from the back of the chair where she'd left it and crossed to the door. Only then did her features and voice soften into something like collegiality. "Hang in there, kid."

◇

The hangar was abuzz with activity as fighters deployed. Small groups congregated around commanding officers to hear orders. Petra looked around, eyes searching for her Rogue brethren, and finally alighted upon Michael Angellus . She jogged across the deck, Patch wheeling along in her wake and dodging, with qualified success, being kicked by other pilots. Coming to a rest beside Angellus, she gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow. Their start had been a rocky one, but there was no need to carry that weight now, not here. "How are we looking, Michael?" she asked. "Got orders we'll be flying cover for the Grace and bacta transports."

Petra directed her droid to begin the preflight on her fighter and turned back to Michael. "Did you get that hydraulic spasm worked out? Happy to take a look before we fly if you need."

FLIGHT RECORD // ACTIVE

INTERACTING WITH

Rylen Grace • Michael Angellus • Tiberius Rath

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

EPISODE – Entry # 01010
Location: – Above Thyferra
Assigned Craft: My X-wing or My Other One Astromech Partner: BRED (BB-30)
Current Mood: Determined
Background Noise: I can’t hear anything over the spherical Diva.

The relationship between Michael Angellus and his astromech, BB-30 (BRED), was complicated at best. The astromech was often a counter spoil to Michael’s often optimistic look on life and vice versa, but there was an unspoken affection between the two of them that came from years of working together as a team. BRED was the first astromech to be assigned to Michael, and he had been with him ever since he had been stationed on the planet of Naboo. BRED had been with Michael for so long that he had forgotten what it was like to have an astromech that wasn’t BRED, and it was because of this that he had decided to keep BRED as his astromech even after he had left the planet of Naboo and had been transferred to the planet of Odessen and eventually back.

More often than not, the two bicker like an old married couple, but in combat? They were a force to be reckoned with, and they had proven that time and time again over the years that they had been partnered together. Even now working on a hydraulic spasm, there is something serious outside there, so they are working to get out into the fight.

Hold on! I got it…right… try it now!

Wooo-beep


That was it, all they needed to say to each other. That was how well they actually gelled when it was time to get down to business, and there was no time like the present to get into the fight. It was just a matter of finding out assignments.

CUTTO SCENE - Michael and BRED are walking around their fighter, looking like they had been through a war.Why do you think we only get along when it counts?

Wooo-beep


Okay wow. That was me extending an olive branch and that was you spitting in my face.

Chitter Chitter Chitter

Almost on cue, Knoll came running up to them, Michael just watched her with a strange look on his face. I swear she could run faster than that if she really wanted to…


Naw, we’re good. How’s Grace? Still faking it? No, Michael didn’t believe the Mirialan was “faking” his medical issues but it was just easier to keep detached that way for the purpose of what was going on right now. They needed to focus on the task at hand and not let personal feelings get in the way of what needed to happen next.

Chitter Chitter Chitter



As BRED rolled off to get loaded into the fighter, Michael looked on. Okay, escort. Do you have a flightline or will the transports provide it? Standard question, mixed in with Michael getting a glint in his eye. He wanted to shoot down some Sith for having the gaul to try and destroy bacta.

TAG: Petra Knoll

CUTTO SCENE - This is where he is speaking in a different setting, as if recapping what he had just seen on a holovid
Wooo-beep

 

[Tiberius Rath]

Viscount-class Mon Calamari Battlecruiser
HRNS GRACE OF THEED
​

A strange sensation crawled along the back of his mind, like the feel of the legs of a centipede he could not see against his skin.

And then...

if they were not sensitive to the Force, all they would feel is a slight shiver down the spine. The faintest brush of her presence upon them, and across the crews of their ship and its accompanying forces.

— Sith battle coordinators have been fielded. We’re being watched. —

"Spyglass."

"Commodore -- "

"Spyglass!" Tiberius repeated, louder.

The word sent a ripple through the bridge crew as the officers of the High Republic frantically scrambled to grab their issued neural bands and don them. Not standard issue across the whole of the Republic's forces, but aboard the vessel containing not only the king but the chancellor of the Republic? Without question.

Everyone had heard the rumors of what Sith could do to a person's mind. Nobody wanted to die screaming, tormented by their own nightmares, or turned upon their comrades in a frenzy of madness.

Tiberius put his own band on and turned toward the king and chancellor.

"Captain Marsanti, escort his majesty to the citadel."

A tremendous beam tore across the void. The shot ripped through the battlespace in a continuous torrent of destructive energy.

Something glowed in out the viewport, like a distant sun going nova. "Commodore!" Verity gasped, pointing out the viewport.

Tiberius' head snapped toward the viewport as he saw the jet of energy shot from an impossible distance. The three thousand meter High Republic ship Grace of Theed shuddered violently underfoot.

This was followed by a chorus of chatter from his officers:

"Shields back and holding at ninety percent!"

"Reporting damage to external hull-"

"Small, strike craft-"

"No casualty estimates-"

"Source of the energy readings..."

The Commodore pointed firmly toward the exit, "Right now, Captain."

The Mirialan Republic marine nodded, flanked by his platoon of Republic special marine commandos. "This way, your highness, chancellor, senator."

Returning his attention to the readouts, Tiberius scowled at the source of the energy spike. Apparently it was a strike craft that had fired that shot.

"Where is Rogue Squadron? Eliminate that starfighter."

Then his eyes panned to a Star Destroyer between them and the planet.

Orbit of Thyferra, Eschaton-class Star Destroyer Idirsholas

​

"I want a clear path for our assault craft, concentrate port firepower on that vessel."

The turbolasers of the Grace of Theed thundered in the void, an unrelenting barrage as Tiberius maneuvered the vessel to rake the smaller Idirsholas from bow to stern.

Attacking: Taeli Raaf
Scene Participants: Verity Stuyveris Dominique Vexx Aurelian Veruna CT-312 Petra Noll Vizion Trozky​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Objective II - HRNS Grace of Theed
Tags: Dominique Vexx | Verity Stuyveris | Tiberius Rath | Vizion Trozky | Taeli Raaf | CT-312
Equipment: Check Sig

Consequences were secondary to results. The artifact had been tested, and it worked. To what scale remained to be seen, but it effectively leveled the playing field for those born sensible rather than cursed with mysticism. Amber eyes tracked toward the center of the bridge, where the black device sat secured within the ship's internal power matrix, practically teasing him. High Republic leadership had been present when he seized the artifact from the Jedi. Everyone knew it would be weaponized. It had been explicitly discussed during emergency command briefings when word of this possible attack first reached them. Leaving it idle in the middle of an orbital battle made no sense.

Political debate stalled real action, interrupted only when the crew suddenly reacted to an unseen threat. Verity shoved a crude neural band into his hands.

"No, thank you," Aurelian said, tapping the side of his head with a cool smile. "I am the most protected man in this room."

Two Kinsguards adjusted their positioning around him. Every technological defense and personal safeguard money could buy was woven into his attire, investments made after his last grueling encounter with the Sith.

Hesitation was the fatal flaw of this Republic. They waited until circumstances forced their hand, usually far too late. Aurelian operated differently. He had acted to thwart his father's assassination against Sibylla. He had acted to remove his father's influence from the throne entirely. He had stepped up personally when he knew no one would be able to make these tough decisions for Naboo. Someone capable of fighting back.

A heavy pull seemed to draw his gaze back to the central console. The obsidian surface of the artifact practically hummed, calling to him through the noise of blaring alarms and panicked reports.

Footsteps carried him mindlessly toward the amplifier unit. Observing the sudden shift in intent, the Kinsguard formed an immediate wall of steel behind him, blocking anyone who might attempt to escort him off the bridge. Panels surrounding the container hissed open, pneumatic locks disengaging to reveal the smooth, light-absorbing sphere within.

Aurelian reached out, his bare palm settling flush against the cold surface of the stone.

Power surged instantly through the vessel. An invisible, suffocating shockwave rippled outward from the console, tearing the Force away from the immediate space surrounding the HRNS Grace of Theed. The subtle thrum of unseen energy vanished, leaving an unnatural, hollow silence in the air. For the first time, the scales were balanced, and they were no longer simple playthings for the mystics.

​

 

[Pillar of Faith]

ARTIFACT ACTIVATED

The Void artifact is activated on the bridge of HRNS Grace of Theed. The ship is the only thing affected by the artifact. ​

 

[Eira Dyn]

​

Objective: 2 - Cause chaos
Appearance: War
Equipment: Marwolaeth Ddu, Lethal Pursuers, Vibrosword, blaster pistol
Tag: CT-312 | Quinn Varanin

Eira tilted her head, thinking on the memory. "Was it a pillar? Huh..." It must have been since she never doubted that CT-312 had a solid memory for first encounters. Especially with the AI that she has with her armour as well. "Well, few can say they survive a fight with him, and most who can are Force Users so you are definitely in a niche group that might linger in his memory than most Jedi." Eira chuckled, she figured that her friend might enjoy the fact that she could be someone who stood out more than she assumed.

Looking around the hangar, there was a lot going on even from here, guards pushing forward. Aiming to spread destruction and chaos within the ship and likely aim to render the vessel either unusable or have it turn on its allies. Eira was sure that the High Republic did not account for the dedication of the Sith and their soldiers. The young Sith noticed that CT-312 was focusing on a pair of droids, she tilted her head. Wondering what her friend had in mind, the soldier was rarely this unconventional in her fighting style. Clearly the incidents with the High Republic left a very bitter taste in CT-312's mouth that she was hell-bent on causing damage and chaos in the biggest of ways.

"Sure." Was the short answer when she was given instructions from her friend. Taking the splicer droids, Eira moved as quietly as she could. The armour was not in the stealthiest variation that she had so it was much harder but the assassin took the challenge as serious as possible. They didn't want the High Republic to suspect that anything had been tampered with these shuttles, that way the damage that could be done would be as brutal as it could be. Each one was unknowingly tapped by Eira as she moved with some limited grace in order to make sure that the droids were in place as CT-312 had wanted.

Heading back to the drop pod, Eira tapped the comms of her helmet, calling out to Quinn. She was unsure if her Master would be able to pick up right away, but Eira wanted to make sure that she could at least drop a voice message. "Mission is still ongoing, got a bit side tracked with some other things but we plan on heading down to where you wanted us to be soon enough. Keep safe and if anything happens, let us know and we'll shift course to you." Eira stated, keeping things vague and simple so that anyone attempting to overhear won't know exactly where her and CT-312 are heading nor would they know what Quinn's mission was for them to do. Eira was never going to expose her Master in that way and knew that vague was the best course of action.

Seeing CT-312 hauling a big hulking Kainite droid and pushing it into the cockpit of a fighter, Eira tilted her head. This was not something that Eira really understood nor did she know the connection between the ship and CT-312. "Stealing keepsakes now?" Eira asked, wondering what was going through the mind of her friend as she looked at the scene.

Moving to one of the shuttles, Eira gripped one of the handles and looked over to CT-312. "What are you doing here? I can't help unless you tell me more of what you are doing." Eira stated firmly, she was not a fan of being in the dark but she was also concerned about CT-312. There was going off assignment to cause a little trouble and then there was ignoring the assignment entirely, the latter did not seem to be something that her friend would really be wanting to do. "Tell me what the cogs in your brain are turning for and perhaps I can help make sure we are being efficient and effective so we can get back to what Quinn wanted us to be doing quickly."

While Eira wasn't keen on the mission assigned to them by Quinn, Eira wasn't really aiming to fail that mission either and the longer things took to do, the more likely too much damage would be done and the pair lose their chance to grab the stuff that Quinn wanted. The shuttle ride over to the new ship was tense but fortunately, commandeering one of the High Republic's vessels was a benefit since they could get close without high risk of being under heavy fire. Would look bad if the High Republic randomly started shooting down their own shuttles.

Landing on the Mutual Liberty, Eira looked over to CT-312 with some concern but focused back on the present. "There are going to be soldiers outside that aren't Blackguard. So be ready to fight." Eira said as she pulled out her daggers. As the shuttle bay doors opened, Eira zipped forward. Force Scream erupted from her like a hellish banshee as it deafened and disorientated the soldiers around her. Her daggers moved in a flurry, slicing through their armour and body like it was butter. She was a monster in that moment, unleashing the wrath that had been contained for months. Lightning crackled around her forearms. Excitement was overwhelming the apprentice as she moved, the zaps of lightning only increasing her pain and fuelling her drive to kill. Each dead soldier was stabbed numerous times unnecessarily but the laughter from Eira felt like she found it very necessary.

"Oh sister, if only you were here to join the dead." Eira muttered to herself, "perhaps I should return home. Make sure you see the message that I see." A plan forming in her own mind.

As blood dripped from her, from her daggers, Eira breathed in deeply. There was more work that she needed to be doing. More shuttles to tag. Eira moved and tapped the shuttles, the bloodlust had been intoxicating and Eira needed to hunt more. She needed to kill more. Blasting from a distance, sabotage. It wasn't what her body craved. Screams, blood and suffering. That was what fuelled her.

 

[Kaivaan Raaf]

Nearby: Taeli Raaf
Supporting: Quinn Varanin | CT-312 | Eira Dyn | Arris Windrun | Darth Nefaron | Darth Carnifex | Darth Malum of House Marr
Opponents: THR​

The strings answered him now the way they had not, an hour past.

Kai had stopped counting the minds. That had been the mistake at the start, trying to hold each one, as though attention were a thing he could divide a hundred ways and not have it thin to nothing. He understood it differently now. He did not hold them. He held the shape of them, the whole boarding effort as a single tension across the current, and he leaned his will into that shape the way a hand leans into a taut line and feels the whole of it respond.

Somewhere far out along the current he felt his grandmother go, her ethereal self pulling away toward the deep field, toward the new minds gathering at the edge of his awareness, the ones too distant and too bright for him to read. He felt the space where her nearness had been and did not reach after it. That was the lesson, wasn't it. She had given him the near field to hold precisely so that she could range. If he faltered the instant she stepped away, he was no first chair at all; he was a boy who could only play when someone stood at his shoulder.

He did not falter.

He settled deeper instead, and turned his attention back to the decks.

The Quibbler, contested, he could feel the fight for her spread across three levels, his people pushing corridor by corridor toward the cargo holds. Into them he fed what they needed, reading it off them faster than thought now: the trooper whose nerve was fraying got steadiness, a quiet flood of it, and held; the strike-leader three sections ahead got clarity, the noise of the fight narrowing to the single door in front of her; a marine pinned behind a bulkhead, certain in his bones he was about to die there, was given the small unshakable conviction that he was not, and rose, and moved, and lived a little longer for it. Kai felt each one take, felt fear thin into focus down the length of the whole line, and it was

It was like breathing. It was like the meditation crystal on the island, except the island had been silence and this was a symphony, and he was the hand it answered to.

He noticed, distantly, that he had stopped being afraid of the corridors. That the old hold, the small certain terror of it, had gone quiet somewhere beneath the work because he was not in the cage now. He was the thing moving through all of them at once, steadying the frightened, and there was no room left in him for the boy who had once been small and waiting. There was only the instrument, and his hand upon it, and how completely it answered.

He should have examined that, perhaps. How good it felt. How readily a hundred wills bent to a quiet pressure, once you understood where to lean.

He did not. There was a battle on, and his grandmother had given him the orchestra to keep.

So Kai closed his awareness around the near field, steadied the line where the Quibbler's defenders had begun to buckle, and played on, wholly, gladly absorbed in the one thing he had just discovered he was made for.

 

[Teev]

| Location | Thyferra​

| Objective | Waddle​

​

Fusion cutters carved through the hull as Teev concluded their prayer. A soft muffled clap as gloved hands came together and the Jawa stood up, holding their staff upright in one hand. Molten sparks splattered along the floor as a glowing ring was completed before the heavy slab of metal fell forward and the first wave of Sith troopers began to disembark from their boarding pod. They cleared their sectors, only pausing when their gaze fell upon the small Jawa standing with their stick in silence. ​

​

One of the soldiers turned to their sergeant, "Is that a kid?", unsure what to make of the tiny figure at the end of the hall. The sergeant barked at the corporal, "Ignore them and secure the ship," as gestured forward - they had more pressing matters to attend to than dealing with a supposed child playing dress up. The sith troopers moved forward, the only way forward for them being past the Jawa.​

​

Teev lowered their staff, tapping the end of it against the threshold behind them, before pointing it at the incoming group of soldiers. "Foo..." ​

​

The lead trooper attempted to brush past Teev - a mistake as the Jawa grasped their staff in both hands, swinging it with all the force their small form could muster. The end connected with the trooper's armored shin. What followed could only be described as an incomprehensible scene as the soldier immediately dropped their blaster and cried out, "OH @$#! MOTHER @$!&# SON OF A &%#%^" a string of expletives exiting their lips that could have seared a hole through the ship as they clutched at their leg, hopping on their other leg. Teev shifted their grip as the gnarled end hooked around their bouncing ankle before tugging, sending them onto their back. ​

​

The other soldiers immediately turned to take aim at the Jawa, now acknowledging them as a threat. Whether they were happy to shoot at the Jawa or just going by what they were trained to do to engage hostiles, the galaxy may never know. The diminutive Jawa leapt into the air, somersaulting with the grace and poise that was never to be expected of a creature their size, their staff swinging and colliding with the Sith soldiers, and sweeping others off their feet and onto their backs. ​

​

Blaster bolts flooded the hallway, scorching the floors and corridors before falling quiet, the only sound heard being the troopers sprawled all along the floor groaning in pain. Teev stepped on the chest of the unit's sergeant, their staff resting on them like they were planting a flag on top of a hill whilst proudly exclaiming, "Fushigi!" ​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Location: HRNV- The Quibbler
Tags: Arris Windrun

Cora didn’t look startled when Arris rose from the debris, watching how easily those cybernetic limbs took the impact. The motion was smooth, unhurried. Like she’d done it before.

How many times, Cora wondered. How many times had every servos whirred and piston flared?

“So - how do you wanna do this?”

Cora's brow tensed at the question, and her lips parted a moment before the words came.

“Did you…” she gestured toward the heap of twisted metal and broken glass. “…misinterpret that?” Aristocrats were known for their way of talking around things, and Cora was no exception. Usually. War, she'd discovered, was a little more direct.

Tiny splinters of glass from the broken light, near invisible, had landed near her boots. They crunched quietly when she took a single step forward, looking slightly irked.

“I would not like to do this at all, frankly.” Again she gestured almost lazily with her free hand, this time sweeping towards the fallen. “I’d prefer it if you left. Returned to whatever hole you crawled out of and leave us be.”

If there was a reflexive lecture about hope or the prevailing of the light welling somewhere in her, it was quietly tucked away. Buried beneath years of compounding grief and, ultimately, what mattered more; her little family, the safety of the bacta stores, even proper burials the three fallen guards and one engineer should receive.

“And if you insist on staying, I’d like for you to answer one thing.”

One of the severed wires shuddered, coughing up a pair of sparks before shriveling back to the floor. There was a dulling of the Force, just for a moment - like the pull of a wave as it passed back over sand. The glass shards and fragments of metal scattered around Arris shuddered, and at the command of Cora's clenched fist, fired upward with blistering speed.

“What do you think draws people into your Covenant?”

She really meant one, in particular.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Corazona von Ascania
Down & Out
​

Misinterpret what? Windrun's eyes explored the gestured ruin before falling back on the Jedi.

Arris thought: if she didn't want to do this, then all the woman had to do was abandon ship with the rest of the crew. But she didn't say it. Though she was surprised when the Jedi presented a bargain. A question for her intrusion.

The cyborg remained locked where she was. Quite unresponsive, really, even as tiny shards of glass and metal cut towards her at lethal speed. They scratched her armored shell and lacerated synthetic fiber. There was even a loud bang as it accidentally set off a slug in her belt; thankfully, the leather was quite durable, and the slug ejected onto the floor. Only one hand came up to guard much of her face and head, though there were a few cuts across the synthflesh - which otherwise ceased to exist where her jaw and neck met.

Her hand fell back to her side. There was a slight pause as Arris finished her thought and answered.

"Abuse."

She wouldn't elaborate further.

Rather, the cyborg's expression steeled. Somewhere between haunted and determined. As if there really wasn't any fire in her, but all the same, she wouldn't give up. Arris took a fighter's stance, mirroring the form of a shockboxer. Both revolvers remained holstered at her hips.

All the while, she reached out in the Force, extending herself across their surroundings, infesting the ship with her own Darkness. It wasn't subtle or hidden. Arris could not do so; she could be read in the Force, though attempt to get in her head, and all you'd meet was grating, awful noise. Violence and hatred and fear completely severed from rational thought, suffocating the real woman buried within.

Throughout that reach, she manipulated a nearby vent - funneling reactor exhaust at full blast towards Cora's right side; a wave of very hot gas.

 

[Dominique Vexx]

HRNS Grace of Theed

Dominique looked down as a message came in from Vizion Trozky confirming what they'd suspected. Verity Stuyveris seemed to take to action once that came in, and even sought to reach out to Aurelian Veruna as well. Camaraderie she could appreciate though the code word should have been enough to spring into action on its own. A minor matter not worth addressing at the moment.

Verity then suggested they should vacate the bridge. Not a poor tactical suggestion considering the enemy knew a precision location of where they were. There were other facilities that could furnish their ability to control the situation without inviting an easy decapitation by the enemy. Dominique was inclined to accept the proposal even as Tiberius Rath seemed inclined to escort them promptly from the bridge.

Her hands pressed against the side of the table as the ship rocked from an enemy attack ( CT-312 ). So they'd identified a target, had they? The turn in events had drawn her eyes to a map of the nearby area and fleet deployment. Enough of a distraction not to immediately notice Aurelian stepping away.

An officers voice of uncertainty drew her eyes however. "Aurelian," Dominique snapped. Not near enough to stall his movement, of course.

She stormed across the bridge utterly unconcerned with anything the marines Tiberius Rath had commanded to remove the civilian leadership might have said. Dominique's face was such it could cow a Force Storm. If Aurelian's guards thought to bar her progress they would be the ones getting the scouring glare of her golden eyes above the rims of her glareshades.

"What in Shiraya's name do you think you are doing?" How far had the field spread? What did he think he was doing having his personal Guard seek to bar them from him or the artifact? Without so much as a by-your-leave.

Taeli Raaf​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Nearby: Kaivaan Raaf
Allies: The Sith Order Darth Carnifex Darth Nefaron Arris Windrun Darth Malum of House Marr CT-312 Eira Dyn
Enemies: The High Republic Dominique Vexx Aurelian Veruna Verity Stuyveris Tiberius Rath Corazona von Ascania Vizion Trozky

Location: Orbit of Thyferra, Eschaton-class Star Destroyer Idirsholas
Equipment: Camlann, rest in signature
​

A string shifted, drawing her attention away from CT-312 and Eira. A fuzziness had formed around one of the presences aboard the large Republic ship that arrived, as though their mind had become shielded. Whoever it was had felt her presence more than the others, suggesting to her a latent Force Sensitivity. How interesting, and then she felt that her touch had alerted another, one that was trained. A Jedi aboard the ship, one perhaps watching for any psychic touch or influence. Upon her physical form, a smile would form.

Her presence would shift once more fully to the ship, surrounding the string that was the Jedi watcher. To that Jedi, a voice would whisper into his ear, softly, playfully, "I see you, Jedi." She wondered if this man could do anything to actually hinder her, trained to watch, but trained to engage an unseen foe? Her physical form's head tilted as her ethereal one did... another string to the Senators went fuzzy... then another... and another... ah he had warned them of an intrusion. They didn't feel like true Force Masks, as she could still sense their minds, but they were further away. They would require a stronger effort to influence. Neural band then, more difficult to affect, but not impossible. She could strike a different way though, an assault upon their spirits.

Yes... conjuring phantoms within the ship, reaching out to touch the Force essence of an ensign here, a trooper there... the Jedi. Her presence moving amongst them, her essence gently lingering as she passed, as though she were infecting them with a touch. A few more tweaks, a few more threads binding each other, so the actions to protect themselves would only cause chaos as they accidentally would kill their own comrades to deal with her first attack. Then, she could bring her will down upon and through their protections.

The spell was upon her lips, physically and ethereally, the currents bending to her will and then...

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. A sharp pain danced through her head as she was forced back from the ship, from its crews, her tethers completely severed before they could be brought to life. What? The ship was gone completely from her senses, from the mental image she had of the battlefield beneath her. The turbolasers from the flagship she could see, heading for the Idirsholas, but not the ship that had actually fired the shots. How? The Force, even the currents, were going around and away from there... leaving a void where no Force energies touched or moved through.

Kaivaan was conducting wonderfully as he monitored and bolstered their boarding crews and nudged the enemy into small, but costly, mistakes. He understood that soft touches, not outright domination, could be just as effective. She would leave him to continue playing his lead instrument, her attention fully shifting around the large void that had replaced the Grace of Theed in the Force. A touch here, a diversion of currents to try and flow them back into the void, to re-establish connection.

Nothing.

Had the Republic acquired a void stone device to protect their ship? No, this didn't feel like a void stone suppression field. She knew how that felt, her company even developed a material from void stone to allow activation and deactivation of its field. It wasn't ysalamiri either, as she would recognize the touch of their anti-Force bubble from her long studies of the creatures. Besides, they would need a jungles' worth of the lizards to cover the entire ship, and she would have felt that immediately. It had been activated so suddenly, a flip of a metaphorical switch. And nothing...

A true void.

How absolutely interesting!

Her physical form would rise, her ethereal draped behind it invisibly like a cloak. Reports from the turbolaser barrage indicated primary shields had taken a beating, reduced to 75%. Some light damage was being reported, even as orders were given to return fire with their own weapon systems. She placed a hand upon the comms device connected to her fellow Dark Councilors in the field and the Empress.

To Gerwald Lechner , Srina Talon , Quinn Varanin , a message would appear with the highest priority: Republic forces deployed Force suppression field. Flagship obscured completely from senses and the Force itself. Will continue monitoring, but be advised. Additional devices may be in field.

She would turn back to the circle of sorcerers and her grandson, resettling back into her meditation pose. Her physical form would give an order for the Admiral commanding her ship to finally deploy all fighters and bombers from the ship, and they were to move to engage the Viscount-class ship. A path between the fighting navies would need to be made. Forgotten were the bacta transports for her, she had bigger things to contend with now.

---

More drop pods and boarding craft would deploy to engage and capture the transports, some moving to support already compromised ships. Squads of troops to assist with capturing the Quibbler beyond whatever opportunistic pods and shuttles had joined the attack from Arris Windrun, and more troops would shift to assist CT-312 and Eira.

 

[Petra Noll]

WRENCH

ROOK SQUADRON // FLIGHT OPERATIONS

PETRA NOLL

LIEUTENANT // ROOK LEAD // BB-7K "PATCH"

♫ MARCH OF THE RESISTANCE

LOCATION: COCKPIT, T-91 VIGILANT TIME: VARIES

There was a buzz on Petra's comlink and she lifted it, unlocking the screen to glance at the alert, then handed it over to Michael Angellus so he could see. "New orders from the mountaintop," she said as she zipped her flight suit to the top. "We'll take temporary command of different squadrons and go after this ship. Apparently it's behaving very badly and we ought not let it continue."

A deck officer raced up to them as Petra took her comlink back and tucked it away. "Lieutenant Noll?"

"That's me," Petra said, lifting a hand in greeting.

"Rogue Thirteen, huh? Nice. You'll be Rook Lead for this part of the day. Rook Squadron is one of our top clone fighter teams. I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

"Very good. Out of curiosity -- what happened to Rook Lead?"

"Bed rest after a minor skull fracture."

Petra glanced at Michael, eyebrows lifting. "Lot of that going around."

The deck officer turned to Michael, hesitating a moment. Everyone in the hangar glanced around apprehensively as the power seemed to flicker and then surge again. Little did she know, somewhere, Aurelian Veruna had just pushed The Button™. The deck officer cleared his throat and addressed Michael Angellus : "Flight Officer Angellus? You've been assigned -- well, they said they knew you when they arrived to volunteer their services. Does the term Striker Squadron ring any bells?"

The two hashed out the details and Petra observed. When it was settled, the deck officer made to lead Petra over to her ship where Rook Squadron waited. "Good hunting, Michael," she told her fellow Rogue Squadron-mate. "See you after." Petra found herself really hoping it would be true. She nodded a goodbye and then followed after the deck officer. The clone pilots would have made introductions difficult by possessing identical faces, flight suits, helmets, and fighters -- distinguished only by a subtle nameplate. She introduced herself and Patch, then proceeded: "Target -- for now -- is a single hostile fighter making for the Grace of Theed. It's already fired once and command wants it destroyed before it gets another shot. We're not chasing kills and we're not breaking formation to be clever. Stay with your wing, call what you see, and if it gives us an opening, take it."

She surveyed the clones, her eyes hard. "Questions?" There were none. "All right. Let's go." Petra turned and hustled up the ladder, settling into her X-Wing cockpit. A support officer handed her her helmet and checked the seals of her fighter while Petra tucked her hair back and pulled the helmet on. "Comm check," Petra murmured into her helmet microphone, and heard the positive response before giving the support officer a thumbs up sign. "How're we doing, Patch?"

The droid's response scrolled across her screen:
//BB-7K//RESPONSE: STAND BY... ALL SYSTEMS... GREEN. BB-7K WILL INFORM LT. NOLL WHEN ROOK SQUADRON ARE GREEN.
//BB-7K//INTERROGATORY: LT. NOLL, ARE YOU APPREHENSIVE? YOUR HEART RATE IS ELEVATED.

"No more than usual," she answered as she pulled the cockpit canopy down. The seals gave a satisfying hiss as the craft pressurized. "Odd to be flying without the rest of the Flight. But let's stow the interrogatories until we're back here, all right? Got to focus up. This isn't going to be a walk in the park."

//BB-7K//ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: AFFIRMATIVE, LT. NOLL. THE T-91 PLATFORM IS OVERKILL FOR SUCH A TASK.
//BB-7K//REPORT: LT. NOLL, ALL ROOK SQUADRON ARE REPORTING GREEN STATUS. ROOK SQUADRON IS CLEARED TO LAUNCH.

Petra smirked as she entered her commands into the preflight computer. "Rook Squadron, we are a go. Nice and easy, just like you practiced." She activated her repulsors and the T-91 lifted off the deck of the hangar. Moments later she was streaking into open space. "Patch, get me a fix on the target. I want its heading, acceleration, and weapons status -- and if it's lining up another shot, I want to know before it does. Transmit same to Rook Squadron." She opened a channel to Rook Squadron. "Lock S-foils in attack positions. Shields up at maximum. Keep it sharp, keep it tight. Lock onto my target." She lowered the blast visor on her helmet and wrapped her hands more firmly around her control yoke.

"Rooks Two through Six, high cover. Seven through Twelve, with me. Don't follow it into a turn -- make it turn for us. And if it breaks one way, the other element closes. Keep it defensive and do not give it time to line up on the Grace. Acknowledge." A chorus of double-clicked comms sounded and Petra tried to settle into her acceleration seat, forcing herself to loosen her grip once she realized she could feel the screwsheads through her gloves. nervous energy flickering through her.

FLIGHT RECORD // ACTIVE

INTERACTING WITH

Michael Angellus • Tiberius Rath • CT-312

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

EPISODE – Entry # 01010
Location: – Above Thyferra
Assigned Craft: My X-wing or My Other One
Astromech Partner: BRED (BB-30)
Current Mood: Determined
Background Noise: I can’t hear anything over the spherical Diva.

The news could not have come at a better time, it was not about being a squadron leader, frankly he didn’t give a kark about that. It was about flying HIS fighter again. Frankly Michael HATES the T-91 but this was a humility assignment for him and he understood it. The fact that the world below him was burning was bad, but at least he could show the Republic what this model can do. The T-1650 was the perfect fighter for him, it was fast and agile, and it could take a hit and come back for more, not like that fragile T-91 comparatively speaking. It’s not a BAD starfighter, just not for him.

BRED! Get OUR fighter ready. Word for the top!

Wooo-beep


That was all it took and his Starfighter from The Hidden Path was being moved from storage. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, but that didn’t matter to him, he would clean that up later, for now he needed to fly, and that’s what he would do, but first he needed to check a few things on the fighter, just to make sure everything was in order, and it was, but that didn’t mean he would not check it again, just to be sure, but first he needed to check the struts. A few minutes later he was ready to go…


… but not before sending a message to Admiral Halpern. ”Thank you so much for trusting me, sir.”

The response was simple. ”You owe me BIG. ;-)”

CUTTO SCENE - Michael and BRED are walking around their fighter, looking like they had been through a war.Why do you think he sent the news?

Wooo-beep


I AM quite cool…

Chitter Chitter Chitter

“Officer Angellus, you are clear to launch!” the control tower said over the comms. Rolling into a better position, which made some pilots jealous, Michael took a deep breath, and pushed the throttle all the way forward, the main engines roared, and the fighter leapt into the air, as if it was shot from a cannon. Right out into the soup.


“There he is!” “Holly”... his old flight mate, now apparently running “2” flight, at least for the time being.


“Boss again!” “Wood” … one of his OTHER old flight mates, running “3” flight, at least for the time being.


TallyHo boys! We’ll catch up later, right now we have work to do!

Chitter Chitter Chitter



The Rooks are tasked with us, feeding you the target now. Let’s do a two pronged attack. We come at the target and split. We know what our ships can do, they don’t. Let’s give the Rooks a better chance at shooting this ship down.

“We’re playing target?”

“You sure?”

If you have a shot, take it. If you’re lined up on a Sith ships turbolasers, light’em up… just saying…

Wooo-beep

TAG: Petra Knoll Tiberius Rath CT-312 (written from my phone because I'm cool like that)

CUTTO SCENE - This is where he is speaking in a different setting, as if recapping what he had just seen on a holovid
Wooo-beep

 

[Kaivaan Raaf]

Nearby: Taeli Raaf
Allies: Darth Carnifex | CT-312 | Eira Dyn | Arris Windrun | Darth Nefaron Darth Malum of House Marr
Opponents: Dominique Vexx | Aurelian Veruna | Verity Stuyveris | Tiberius Rath | Corazona von Ascania | Vizion Trozky

He was playing well. He knew it the way you know a thing in your hands before your mind catches up, the crews answering, the line steady, fear thinning to focus wherever he leaned. For a while there was nothing in the galaxy but the work and how cleanly it came, and Kai had let himself, just slightly, believe he was good at this.

Then a quarter of the battle went silent.

Not quietly. Not the way a mind goes still when its owner falls. This was a wall, a place in the current where the current simply stopped, where his awareness reached toward the flagship's field and found not resistance but absence, a nothing so complete it had edges. He recoiled from it on instinct, the way a hand jerks back from a surface that isn't there when the stair should have been.

The crews wavered. He felt his own attention stutter and felt it travel down the threads, felt the strike-leader on the Quibbler falter half a step because he had faltered, and the small cold understanding arrived that the instrument only played as steady as the hand upon it. His hand had just shaken.

And beneath the discipline, beneath the first-chair composure he was still learning to wear, something much younger moved, and reached.

Grandmother.

He did not mean to. It wasn't strategy; it was the oldest reflex he had, older than sorcery, older than the island, the child in the cargo hold who had learned exactly once that when everything went dark and certain, one presence in all the galaxy came for him.

Like a young boy alone at the market...

Kai reached toward where she had been, toward the vast fixed point he had been orienting against all battle long, half-afraid the void had swallowed her too, that he would grasp around through the nothing, find only more nothing...

...and she was there.

Not where the wall was. Around it. Beyond it. Still in the current, still holding the center of the circle, undimmed, her presence brushing against his reaching mind with something that was almost, beneath all that terrible composure of hers, amused. Interested. As though a hole torn in the Force itself were a fascinating problem and not a catastrophe. She had not been taken. She was simply working, the way she always was, and the wall was only a wall, and he had panicked at a closed door while the house still stood.

Kai breathed. Steadied. Felt his face go hot with a shame he had no time for and set it down with everything else.

Right. She was there. She was always going to be there. He did not have to understand the void, that was hers to unravel, and he could feel her already turning it over. He only had to keep the orchestra from coming apart while she did.

So he took the fear, the real, cold spike of it still ringing through him, and he did the thing he was, apparently, made for. He used it. He poured it down the threads not as panic but as urgency, a sharpened edge into every crew still answering him: move, now, faster, the ground is shifting and we do not have long. The strike-leader who had faltered found her feet and drove forward harder than before. The line firmed. On the decks that were still his, still lit, still within reach of the current, his people pushed with a new and desperate momentum, and Kai held them, shaken, humbled, no longer quite so sure he was good at this, and playing on anyway.

Because she was there. Beyond the wall, at the center of the circle, she was there.

And that had always been enough.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

​

He snapped his gaze open, and the breath passed through his lips. The artificial cool air wafted across his face as he took in another breath through his nostrils. Red eyes gazed out across the viewports in front of him, narrowing at the kaleidoscope of colours before him, the distinct mix of black, blue, and white, and oh, especially white, as they soared past him at speeds that were comprehensible to the human eye. Hyperspace.

That had not been why he narrowed his eyes.

He was not meant to have been here...

...He closed his eyes. He could remember so vividly the details, the darkness of space, giving way to the beauty that was the blue and green world of Thyferra. He remembered the small ship; he remembered how it had passed across the notice of biological detection and navigational sensors. He remembered the bite of a gloved hand pressed against the transparisteel viewports.

The hand was freed and brought to the looming structure before him. That which was the window through which the most beautiful sight the galaxy could ever provide. He allowed the low hiss to pass his lips as the chill crept up his spine. Familiar, yes, but that had not been only what had been...

Lysander.

His eyes widened, his heart beginning to beat noticeably quicker.

"Cousin. You chose another path. Come convince me you were right."
​

The words sung a haunting melody. One which wafted across his ears. Words unspoken, words said, and still… they had never been heard. Lys was...

...It was the grasp of a hand around his shoulder that broke the spell. His gaze snapped towards them, as his captain looked at him with the barest hint of concern, and knowing very well the risk of serving alongside a Sith Lord.

"My lord," He offered with the bow of his head, "We shall arrive at Thyferra momentarily." Thyferra. he had never been to Thyferra, and yet...

He blinked again.

He had been to Thyferra.

Only once, never having set foot onto the world, and yet, he knew the world; at the very least, he knew he had been there.

Yet, here he was.

Moments like this - the unexplainable, the inexplicable, they were occurring at a frequency that would have made lesser men shudder. There was no rhyme or reason to them, and perhaps the most worrisome element that filled him with dread was the simple fact of perception. Was it his mind playing tricks with him? Or was it reality itself? There was no good answer there, and as it stood, no experiment could be designed that would allow one to test the matter.

It would simply be yet another curse to an already cursed soul.

One who still had his duty to fulfil.

He would not give his captain a reply, only the ghost of a smile that did not reach his lips. Withdrawing his other hand from the viewport as his whole form took a step back.

There was no sound in space, and yet, the crack of a vessel, especially a vessel like this, was impossible to ignore. Long, old, the Darr Itah was a relic of an older time, reflecting all the design philosophy that had haunted the galaxy for ten thousand years. Its mighty cannons loomed across its hull, which rippled in the blue shield that stood ever ready and stalwart. The Darr Itah was no ordinary vessel, even as its once white hue had in places worn away to black, even as dents and scrapes covered all its make, even as its engines hummed in power of a vessel nearer to the end of its life than its beginning.

And yet, it sailed forth still.

Sailing forth, with the backdrop of Thyferra in front of it.

And a battle in front of that.

A veteran of a hundred different battles, a victor of some, the defeated of others, the survivor of all. This was to be merely one more foray into darkness. The mask slipped beneath the cloak and found itself pressed upon his face. The ever-familiar hiss resonated around his head, as the veil attached itself to its connectors.

"Launch the fighters and bombers; it is time for them to make their works." A voice rang as a bare whisper, and yet it seemed to echo all along the bridge, as the command was promptly carried out; 36 TIE-H Hunter-class Starfighters emerged from the colossal hangar bay, escorting 12 Kzaevas-class Bombers.

He tilted his head, the mask turning to look at something, something far off into the distance. The shift in the air was palpable to all those in the bridge, one that emerged from their Lord.

"Turn the ship; we are changing target," He commanded without explanation, as he made with measured steps to the side of the bridge, a closer look at what lay in the distance, "Have the bombers initiate their bombing run." As the crew followed the gaze, his target became all too clear.

A vessel of exact same size.

A vessel of a bygone era too.

The Grand Battlecruiser against a Star Defender.

Yet... the air in the bridge was still misaligned, not in anticipation, not in fear.

In whatever their Lord had discovered, gazing into the great vessel that would soon be their foe.

Allies: Darth Carnifex CT-312 Eira Dyn Arris Windrun Darth Nefaron Taeli Raaf Kaivaan Raaf
Enemies: Dominique Vexx Aurelian Veruna Verity Stuyveris Tiberius Rath Corazona von Ascania Vizion Trozky
Permission for the Darr Itah

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

ATTN: Arris Windrun
CC: Kaivaan Raaf

Abuse. The word echoed in the way that a pond rippled after you tossed a stone into it.

For a moment, Cora's expression flared wide. A sharp, short shock surged through her like hundreds of needles. They all caught on one singular, loud thought; had Lysander been abused? Who? How?

She knew he'd been unhappy. Unfulfilled, lost, uneasy and out of place within the Light. She couldn't fault him for that. For all their tense conversation after his turn, it felt like there was still so much that she didn't know. Trying to keep her family together was like forcing a series of crooked puzzle pieces against one another and hoping that the picture it made was something pretty.

Then came the heat. Pipes groaned from her right, compelling Cora lifted the corner of her robe, head ducked as a blast of high-pressure steam collided with treated cloth. It took the heat well enough to keep her from scalding, but enough of it permeated through to wash over her face in a scorching wave.

Maybe it was the way Arris had said it. Maybe it was the way her expression had firmed, vacant and piercing all at once.

Let yourself feel the heat. You deserve it. Deep down, I think you know that.​

The thoughts arrived as the always did, unbidden. Perhaps the dark helped to guide them to the surface. An old patch of gnarled flesh at her hip flared, an aching reminder of what she'd borne at the hands of tradition.

Why aren't you with her? What if she's scared? Who will tuck her in tonight?

What if she cries for a mother who isn't there?​

Cora took a deep breath. The vent snapped shut. She'd stumbled back several paces, flesh hand braced against the wall, feeling the eerie surge of darkening influence settle through the halls, emboldening Sith forces as the pressed closer to their prize. Her brow knit as she looked to Arris. Her voice was softer. Honest, a little ragged at the edges, and lacked all accusation:

"Does it…hurting others make it all hurt any less?"

Why did the woman with eyes like broken glass affect her so?

Briana Sal-Soren 's valor was still there, hanging before her like a lifeline. Cora grasped onto that thread, rubbed it between metaphysical fingers, and acted as an amplifier. Whatever dark magics were reaching out to them from the stars, Cora's presence was here – solid, real, and tested. It burned bright because it had to. Women did so many things simply because they had to.

As they clashed with the Sith, Republic forces fought with an enhanced vigor. Steadier steps, surer shots. They weren't being guided by Cora's hand or any manifestation of the light, but they weren't alone. And they weren't about to let these interlopers overtake them.

 

[Damos Rennar]

Thyferra had begun to burn. Like so many of the other planets along the Blackwall it had fallen victim to the unanswered assault from the Sith forces, a people who prayed upon those they thought beneath them, of those they did not understand and of those who had the things they craved. Yet it was this eagerness that allowed the ones they did not understand to slip in an unknown to the equation.

For months the borders of High Republic Space had been harassed by the Sith, Pirates and refugee crisis. It had left a bad taste in everyone’s mouths and the senate had been full of debate on the topic. It had pulled enough attention that the cogs had started to move, and while slow at first the answer had soon been formed and implemented with relative pace. That answer had been simple; trigger a system warning and the fleet will arrive. That was the promise and the security council had pushed ship manifests to ensure that there were active relief fleets all over Republic Space. So when the High Republic relief fleet appeared upon the edge of the Thyferra system it was like the answer to a prayer spoken through clenched teeth.

HRNS BANNER OF LIBERTY​

Hyperspace split apart beneath the glare of the system’s star, bleeding warships into the darkness one after another. Cruisers came first, their shields already raised and their batteries awake. Carriers followed, launch apertures opening almost before their hulls had cleared the blue distortion. Medical frigates and evacuation ships emerged among them, armoured flanks marked with the symbols of mercy, yet bristling with enough guns to make clear what kind of mercy the Republic had brought for the Sith that they had been chasing shadows of.

There was nothing disorderly about their arrival, they came in full military formation with the sudden and clear message obvious for the planet, the High Republic came expecting war.

For months, the Sith had struck along the Blackwall and the planets that they deemed theirs. Each time they vanished with the skirmishes before the Republic could truly close its hands around them. It had left fleets to be pulled from one threatened system to another, forever arriving to find wreckage, bodies and the fading wake of vessels already fleeing into hyperspace.

The crews gathering beneath Damos Rennar’s command had been forced to endure it. The constant chase, a painful reality that they had been made to wait through. Now however Thyferra burned before them, and the enemy had finally remained long enough to be engaged and in the mind of many of the naval crews; killed.

Damos stood before the tactical display as the system resolved around him. The world itself glowed beneath a great armada of enemy power, black smoke spreading across the atmosphere where the Alazhi fields had been burning since the opening bombardment. Sith warships crowded the orbital lanes, their formations tightening around the Republic’s forces trying desperately to claim control of the situation.

Between them were the bacta transports. Their signals flashed urgently across the display. Engines crippled. Shields failing. Boarding craft still clamped against their hulls. Several were already contested deck by deck, Republic personnel fighting through cargo bays and passageways while Sith forces attempted to probably seize enough bacta to sustain armies through the war they had begun.

His eyes fell on The Quibbler; as it burned brightest among them all. Beyond it sat the greater concentration of Sith ships. The Idirsholas and The Kainate battlecruisers. Clouds of starfighters and boarding craft moving around the trapped transports with the precision of predators who believed their prey had nowhere left to run.

Damos studied the battle in silence, he had never truly considered this theatre his calling, but now the Sith had kicked one bee hive too many.

“Signal every command,” he said. “Begin deployment.” The fleet around him started to break apart with practised precision as the picket closed in around the fight. Fighter screens swept ahead of the carriers, squadrons pouring into the void as they headed fast to release the pressure from the Quibbler. Fast escorts also accelerated towards the bacta transports while the heavier cruisers altered course to face the Sith capital ships. Medical vessels moved behind the developing battle line, ready to receive the wounded as soon as the corridors could be opened.

Every ship carried crews who had watched the Sith raid Republic space and disappear before justice could reach them. Every gunner had waited through another report of another world burning beyond their reach. The ships marked for rescue and evacuation moved with the same eagerness as the warships beside them, weapons tracking towards the enemy while damage-control teams secured their compartments for combat.

They had come to save Thyferra and that meant the first requirement was killing those trying to take it.

“Open a channel to the Grace of Theed.” The command vessel appeared upon the display, holding within the Republic defensive formation. Damos could see the battle unfolding around it, the beleaguered fleet attempting to defend the trapped transports while containing the larger Sith advance.

The channel opened.

“This is Director Damos Rennar aboard the Republic relief command.” His voice carried evenly across the transmission, as would be expected. “Relief forces have entered the system. Inform Chancellor Vexx and Commodore Rath that I am assuming command of the system-wide operation from this moment forward.” His attention remained upon the tactical projection. “Transmit all fleet telemetry, boarding reports and defensive positions. We shall counter attack and board the enemy craft. We shall break them.”

Fresh targeting solutions flooded across the command table. Republic vessels accepted them almost immediately, dividing the Sith formation into sections to be isolated, boarded and destroyed. The escorts would carve paths towards the freighters. The cruisers would engage the enemy capital ships. Fighters would rip open the interdiction envelope and hunt down anything attempting to reinforce the boarding parties.

Damos watched the Republic fleet advance upon the Sith, thousands of lives moving together with the discipline of a blade finally drawn from its sheath.

“Those Bacta transports must be secured,” he continued. “Issue orders to repel boarders and put ourselves in the way.” He looked towards the burning world beneath them. “Establish an orbital corridor to the surface. Thyferra is still Republic territory. We are not evacuating it simply because the Sith have arrived. Send down what clone and droid assets we can spare, alert the populace that now is the time to fight.”

The first elements of the relief fleet passed into weapons range.Across their hulls, turbolaser batteries reached full charge. Fighter engines burned against the darkness as squadrons raced towards the swarms encircling the freighters. Cruisers drove directly into the contested orbital lanes, placing armour and shields between the bacta ships and the vessels attempting to claim them.

For weeks, the Republic had chased shadows along the Blackwall.

At Thyferra, the shadow had finally stopped running.

Damos clasped his hands behind his back. “Remind them that while they hid behind their wall they forgot how to fight.”



TAGS:
Darth Carnifex CT-312 Eira Dyn Arris Windrun Darth Nefaron Taeli Raaf Kaivaan Raaf Darth Malum of House Marr Dominique Vexx Aurelian Veruna Verity Stuyveris Tiberius Rath Corazona von Ascania Vizion Trozky

 

[Ala Quin]

The Dark One stalked like a wild beast in a cage. He was a god. She was most certainly not. This reality was made evident the moment the crackling red arcs of lightning collided with her shield.

Ala pushed back on the attack. A warm, bitter iron taste touched her lips, as a single track of red ran from her nose.

Her knees buckled against the onslaught, mind pushing against not just the physical attack, but the mental weight of his shadow that seemed to claw at her very soul. But the spark within the Master was not so easily dimmed.

Amidst the flashing electricity, the showers of sparks, and the deafening crack of energy scorching the durasteel walls, Ala could hear but a whisper. A small, subtle hint and reminder that she was here. The Dark One, whom she had faced once on Exegol, was not the only god present above Thyferra.

"I know the light that is within you, Ala Quin. And it is not so easily extinguished."

The voice of the sun goddess of Naboo echoed throughout the room, but she could not tell if he would, or even could hear.

Her legs strained, but pushed upwards with renewed vigour. "He is holding back," she muttered to the formless voice.

"So are you."

The shield pushed back. No longer just defending, the barrier expanded with each deliberate half-step forward. The crushing weight of responsibility, the faces, the hopes and dreams of a newborn Order, the divisions that threatened everything...all of it washed away, as the Light burned brighter within. She could not solve every problem. Just fix what is in front of you.

Addendum: Till Death Do Us Part

Darth Carnifex
​

 

[Arris Windrun]

Corazona von Ascania
Down & Out
​

"No," Arris replied.

For a moment there was uncertainty. Memories of Quinn Varanin rushed through her. She couldn't quite shake their conversation, or the lingering impressions of the woman's touch.

'What is want anymore?' She thought. Those were the exact words she said to Quinn, followed by: 'I like what you give me. I feel alive... more alive than I used to.' She ran her lips together, slightly. From Cora's perspective, it might've just looked like an idle tick, rather than Arris remembering the touch of Quinn's thumb.

She looked back at the Jedi. Had it been a second? Maybe two?

"You want to know." Her declaration was calm.

She circled, and circled, with the slow deliberation of a predator.

"But can you?"

She slowed her movement and chuckled dryly. "I mean... Isn't it easier not to know? Like those Jedi on Jakku." She had no idea if this woman was there or not. "I wouldn't blame you... What we did to Tapani. What I did to the Core."

Then, her movement stopped entirely.

"Wouldn't you rather be the sword, Jedi? Sharp, fierce, and ignorant of the intentions of those forces that wield you?"

Arris rushed forward with sudden speed. Pure cybernetic flash. No Force. She threw her right arm into a jab meant to strike the Jedi's chest.