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HRNS Grace of Theed
Location: Security Room
Tags: Open Objective: Diagnostics-Stay Alive-Personal Shenanigans
"Okay....well, that could be a problem." Elian voiced, after running diagnostics and everything seemed to be in place, other than the fact that the power kept cycling after reaching, almost to fifty percent. Nothing to worry about it was an easy fix, especially for him. But why it was happening was the bigger issue. It shouldn't have been. Elian opened the panel and reached inside.
"Elian, how's it looking?"
"I'm getting there, patience is a virtue." Elian responded easily enough. His eyes moved along the wiring, before it reached to the base board."Hmm..." Elian narrowed his eyes, peering closer to the base were the wiring connected. Several fuses were out of sync. Given the location position it would've taken something really hard to knock those about.
Or someone would've done this.
Elian easily pushed them back into place and that was the fix. Power cycling at fifty percen, affected certain aspects of th ship. Though not all over, just a portion. I tt was fixed now, but.....
Elian stood up, closing the panel.
"I need a log of everyone who has worked in this room in the last twenty four hours. And any technicians that have come through here as well."
"Elian, we are in a war?"
Elian laughed as he threw his hands up. "Yes, I realize that! I mean like when you get time, like deal with the pressing stuff first then get to that!"
"Transport Five this is Archdeacon's Mistress. We are taking fire, repeat...we are under attack. Shields holding at 55%. Lord Atria is alive and on board."
Relief should have followed those words. Lancel was alive. But rage answered her instead, blazing in her veins. The yacht had taken fire. It would never make it past the Sith warships, which meant an agonizing trip back to the Silver Blade in the middle of crossfire. Fething Sith. Cal nodded at the pilot then went to strap herself in with the rest of the Guard as the Archdeacon’s Mistress began to change her vector and close the distance.
“Archdeacon’s Mistress, prepare to abandon ship. Standby for evac.”
The yacht’s hangar was small, meant more for pleasure ships and shuttles. The transports had to enter one at a time. Four soldiers exited the ramp, weapons drawn and sweeping the small hangar—just in case. Republic comms had mentioned Sith boarding parties for the bacta freighters. And while Cal doubted they would have gone to board a luxury vessel trapped above the planet, the possibility still existed. She hung back inside the transport but unbuckled and stood all the same.
Things had been tense between her and Lancel lately, putting it mildly. He no longer seemed to enjoy her company as much as he once had, and had spent far more time trying to untangle the mess of a betrothal her late husband had left him. It rankled far more than Cal wanted to admit. Everything she’d done, she’d done for him. She looked out the back of the transport at the group that gathered. Lancel looked as calm and in control as he had back in their days in the Aurodium Guard.
There was an extra passenger that Cal hadn’t quite expected. In hindsight, it made sense, especially if the negotiations had either just ended or were ongoing. They were going to have to split the evacuees into two groups anyways. One more made little difference. Cal shifted to the side, making what little room she could for Lancel to strap in. Her armor didn’t carry her old rank within the Guard, but it also didn’t carry any rank. Lancel would know. She just hoped he didn’t make it awkward.
Half of the crew from the Archdeacon’s Mistress also buckled their harnesses as the rank and file of the Guard held onto handles and straps. The ramp began to close as the pilot revved up the engines, beginning to leave the hangar. Vaguely, she heard someone protesting, crying about the transport leaving and what about him. Beneath her helmet, Cal rolled her eyes. A second transport was standing by to pick the rest up. The yacht’s shield would hold that long.
Hopefully. Experienced crew were expensive to replace.
Cal only glanced at Lancel once as the transport took off, before turning her attention and fury back to the fight outside the viewport. It had gotten them safely to the Archdeacon’s Mistress. It might get them back to the Silver Blade. She bent the Force to her will again, hands clenched into fists as she felt for the minds that saw them and made them look elsewhere.
Bright light suddenly flared from one side of the viewport. Cal’s focus broke as her gaze snapped to the source. The pilot hissed what was probably the full extent of his swear word vocabulary.
“That came from a fighter,” he said under his breath.
The ship rocked as Sith fighters descended on them and their escorts. The world outside spun as the pilot pulled the transport into evasive maneuvers, trying to either shake their tail or get a firing angle on them. Rage burned cold in her veins as the pilot attempted to lose the Sith fighter. Cal tried to redirect the mind that now chased them but felt it resist, her attempts glancing off it like a shield. The transport jolted as incoming fire punched through the shields and hit the ship itself.
“Feth!” the pilot shouted. The transport’s movements became more erratic, either deliberately or as a result of the damage.
Cal growled beneath her helmet. The Dark side roiled and Cal embraced it, sending a psychic bolt at the triumphant mind tailing them. A phantom cry of pain rewarded her and she felt the fighter veer away from them. She leaned her head into the cockpit.
“Status report,” she said, her words clipped. The pilot worked the controls with practiced efficiency but there was an urgency beneath it that Cal didn’t like.
“Lost an engine and we’re hemhorraging fuel. Shield gen’s back online but if we lose power, we’ll just be drifting Marllelo ducks.”
Cal pointed at a Republic ship ahead. “Get us there. They might still have shuttles we can use to get back to the Blade.”
The pilot activated comms as Cal stood back with the rest of the Guard.
“Mayday, mayday. Mutual Liberty, this is Transport Five from the Aurodium Guard requesting emergency landing clearance.”
“Clearance granted. Be advised, hostile forces have boarded and reported in the hangar bay.”
Cal rolled her eyes. It could never just be easy, could it?
The Kainate formation of Axioms held position near the bacta transports, dreadflak cannons and light turbolasers picking off enemy fighters while the swarms of Glaivewings continued to pirouette and dance around them. Enemy pilots struggled to maintain their discipline against the advanced Sith weapons, which not only struck in the material world but hounded them in the metaphysical as well. Visual, acoustic, and sensory hallucinations and stress compounded upon Republic pilots who drifted too close to the Kainate battlecruisers or found themselves under direct fire.
Even the Republic's systems weren't spared, their comms and targeting screens infected with malicious terror as the Axiom's combined fear broadcast projectors worked in perfect synchronization to amplify and widen their collective effects. The enemies of the Sith could hardly trust their eyes, let alone their other senses. Everything beyond the strange and mysterious void surrounding the Grace of Theed was prey to the Sith's incessant psychological warfare.
Squadrons of Glaivewings sped after a half squadron of HRNV N-1 Suncrowns, their bright golden forms doing their best to stay one step ahead of the ravenous swarm at their back. The droid fighters were unrelenting, their powerful prismatic brains pre-calculating every potential maneuver the Suncrown pilots might make before they made them. Further analysis revealed the Suncrown's future flight vectors, and several Glaivewings peeled off pursuit and disappeared.
When they reappeared, it was in front of the fleeing Suncrowns. Several were shot down instantly, blown apart by a volley of laserfire from ahead and behind. Those that survived the initial ambush fared no better, as the Glaivewings latched onto their fighters and fired directly into the cockpits. Pilots died as they were almost atomized by the point-blank laserfire, their now out-of-control Suncrowns careening away and exploding as they crashed into debris and even some stranded freighters.
For every Glaivewing that the enemy shot down, the Axiom cruisers produced new ones. Powerful droid incubators rapidly assembled new Glaivewings in preparation for lost units, the Axiom's controlling prismatic brain and connected Nythraxû overminds analyzing real-time combat metrics from the Glaivewings already deployed. Through them, they analyzed enemy combat patterns and applied what they'd learned not only to the new units, but across the entire prism core network shared between the Axioms and the Glaivewings.
But all of this was prelude to the real fight, one that materialized as soon as the Republic response exited hyperspace. When that happened, the Kainate formation was already moving to engage. Their long-range scanners had detected the oncoming fleet, several of the neighboring hyperlanes seeded with reconnaisance buoys in preparation for the hammerblow at Thyferra. Now that they were here, it was as if the entire swarm of droid fighters moved with one mind, one will.
A minority stayed behind and latched onto the freighter's outer hulls, walking like towering insects over a bloated carcass. The rest reorganized themselves and moved to meet the Republic fighter counter-charge head on, hundreds of mechanical minds perfectly synchronized moving without the delay of Human thought or hesitation. All the while, the wave of psychological torment washed forward as the fear projectors found new vectors to infect enemy minds and enemy equipment with their malevolent siren's song.
Back on the Axioms, internal mechanisms finally began to move within the battlecruiser's superstructures. Reinforced blast shutters slipped open as each Axiom unveiled their sixteen LRHTC-9 Heavy Long-Range Turbolaser Cannons, eight port and eight starboard. Mounted in spherical barbettes, these heavy cannons had no issue angling their long barrels towards the nearest of the Republic's reinforcements. Their prismatic cores instantly calculated the most optimal firing arcs for each cannons, targeting multiple ships simultaneously.
Space itself seemed to distort as they fired, hypercompressed Isotope-5 energy discharging from the end of each starboard cannon. Thirty-two heavy cannons fired at once, half of the formation's full armament, towards the oncoming Republic fleet. The path each blast took would pass through the fighter swarm that the Glaivewings had formed just moments before, as well as the Republic fighters rushing to meet them. However, as each cannon fired, the Glaivewings shifted mid-fight and created gaps through which the Axiom's heavy cannonfire could pass through.
When the cannonfire had passed, the Glaivewings sealed up the gaps, and the cannons themselves recycled for another blast.
Blazing electricity bathed the shimmring barrier, slipping off and away to explode with tumultuous force around the storage room. The Dark Lord pushed forward, armored boots stomping across the slagged floor with ever increasing intensity. The Jedi before Him seemed at first to waver, but soon enough collected herself and began to push back against Him. Darkness rose, and the Light was quick to meet it. Whatever words the Jedi Master heard, the Dark Lord knew nothing of it, all He knew was the crackling of the Dark Side and the power that flowed with it.
The distance between them narrowed, His outstretched hand mere inches from her barrier. Lightning splashed and danced all around them, until the light was almost blinding. Had He continued, He might have ruptured what little space was left between them with a devastating explosion of power as the strain between the barrier and the lightning became too great to contain. Undoubtedly, such an act would have sent both flying, and this might have been what the Dark Lord would allowed.
If it weren't for the void which arose from beyond the ship, beyond the margins of the freighter's walls, emanating from one of the Republic's flagships. He knew not what it was, for He had never known such an emptiness. Not even Ysalamiri or Void stone created such a nothingness. It was at oncer intriguing and concerning, and the Dark Lord did not enjoy such a sensation. So, He decided to leverage more of His great power over the Jedi before Him.
All at once the lightning slipped away, Carnifex wrenching His left hand back as His right suddenly shot forward and made contact with the outer shell of the Jedi's barrier. Encased around the Dark Lord's right hand was a great and powerful Sith artifact, a terrible lidless eye peering out from the gauntlet's dorsum. The moment it touched the barrier, the Dark Side energy of the gauntlet began to attack the underlying composition of the barrier's construction. Without pushback, the gauntlet had the potential to unravel and break the Jedi Master's barrier like glass.
Viscount-class Mon Calamari Battlecruiser
HRNS GRACE OF THEED
The Idirsholas and the Grace of Theed traded blows which might shatter the spine of any corvette as their turbolasers exchanged broadsides, each passing by the other.
The bridge shook as the superstructure of the battlecruiser was battered by minor explosions that managed to get through the shields.
"Heading?" Tiberius called out.
"Idirsholas is maintaining current position."
"Bring us in behind her aft then, we'll pound her engines as we pass."
The Grace maneuvered, bow swinging around so that its port was side faced the Idirsholas' rear as it came around. The rear engines of a star destroyer type design were notoriously poor defended, as was true in most other vessels with the exception of Hapan Battle Dragons. If the Idirsholas did not wish to have its engines smashed to bits, it would have to turn - which would give Tiberius what he wanted and leave his starboard side to the planet below them.
Tiberius felt a headache coming on and pinched the bridge of his nose as the King of Naboo and the Chancellor of the Republic started arguing. This was exactly why he wanted them off the bridge. The crew did not need to see this.
Grinding his teeth, Tiberius squinted at the screens. "What is that?"
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.
"Weapons, target them with our point defense. Wing Commander?"
"One squadron of A-wings directed their way, Commodore."
"Good."
Tiberius leaned against the center console displaying the battlefield, eyes narrowing.
Through the viewport behind him, red beams of light chittered ominously, point defense cannons lighting up the boarding craft attempting to streak from the Idirsholas.
"Grace of Theed, this is Rin Taal with a civilian evacuation column, Tiberius RathTiberius Rath
. If you're receiving, I've got several hundred refugees moving west through the city, with more wounded just added to us. Our designated safe zone has been hit, so I'm rerouting through the utility passages beneath the western avenue." Rin glanced toward the sky, where the rain occasionally illuminated with distant weapons fire, before looking back toward the civilians crowded beneath what shelter the buildings provided. "I'm hearing you've got evacuation ships coming down. If you can give me a landing zone or pickup point your pilots can safely reach, I'll bring these people to them. We're mobile, but I've got children and wounded with me, so I'd rather not keep them on the streets any longer than I have to."
The bulk of Tiberius' fighter screen, which had already been deployed some time ago, stayed tight in and would likely intercept any bombers which drew closer to the battlecruiser, aside from Rogue and the squadron of A-wings busy with the Idirsholas' boarding craft.
Tiberius watched it all unfold before him gravely, his eyes holding all the merriment of the bores of two hypervelocity cannons.
Then... relief arrived. Tiberius let out a breath he did not know he had been holding at the sight of the quick reaction fleet appearing on sensors.
"Open up a holo to the Liberty..." A Bothan's face suddenly filled the screen before him. "Sir, we have this Sith cruiser on the ropes, but another battlecruiser is moving to intercept us, Darr Itah-class. I've also given orders for shuttles to pick up refugees from the surface. Do you want me to belay that?"
"Astrum," her First saluted with a hand to their chest, "the High Republic fleet has been engaged by the Sith. Hostile fleet is categorized as a significant threat, and Republic vessels deploying in support."
Their Admiral regarded the high-fidelity projection of ship distribution and firepower classification of observed and scanned vessels. Deep brown eyes narrowed slightly at the battlefield map. "I want us here," her finger stabbed into the heart of the swarm. "Bring us along side. Have all point-defense turrets operational. Set cannons for dispersion fire. Arm interceptors. Ready squadrons."
Commands and acknowledgements were issued throughout the bridge as Verity Suun stood before her chair in full uniform. The Aether and his crew had reached an accord with the High Republic. Their search of the galaxy had them in this sector, which afforded the Aether the opportunity to earn the Republic's continued good will. Their own sensor data had reduced the need to personally search several star systems for their quarry already.
"Jump!"
The Spear of the Stars flared into existence within the Thyferra system. Its engines burned bright as they slid into position along side the HRNS Grace of Theed but not inside its current firing solution on the destroyer they were engaged with. Turrets tracked in hostile craft painted by the numerous Republic vessels in the area already as data poured in. With battle already joined there would be no warning shots. Anything that was not classified a Republic vessel attempting to attack or board the Grace of Theed would be considered hostile, and treated as such.
"Grace of Theed this is the Aether. We are prepared to provide cover for you and your craft," Astrum Suun broadcast to the other ship ( Tiberius Rath
) to make clear their intentions. The Grace was free to swing around and use the Aether as a physical shield if or when they chose. In the meantime, he would seek to intercept ordinance launched at them and return fire on hostile vessels.
It was a shame they were not yet as close to the enemy as they were the flagship of the Republic, however. The Aether's broadside weaponry was quite effective. His crew would like nothing more than to demonstrate the reason for its battle-focused construction.
"Launch Seven Comets." The squadrons would remain in proximity for defense unless the Republic needed them for escorting transports. With so many hostile vessels in the area, however, they needed small fighters deployed to screen themselves and the Grace.
She could feel it. Even separated from the cockpit the Dûr'ashaarai’s emotions bleed freely across them. Every kill briefly dulled Caligo’s appetite before that satisfaction twisted immediately into the desire for another kill. Its need to pursue to rip and tear. The hunger constantly pushed against her until she could feel it beginning to mingle with the anger she had already been carrying herself.
CT-312 remained quiet at Eira’s comment regarding the newly acquired Mowef. On the captured bacta shuttle continued toward the Mutual Liberty, Eira began to question and demand what exactly CT-312 intended to accomplish with all this.
The plan.
She remained silent and still… Yeah, the plan. The original plan. A mission given to them by Quinn. That was the priority—
BARCA chimed before the realization settled. [ HRNS GRACE OF THEED — LOCK ACQUIRED]
[ AWAITING WEAPON SELECTION ]
CT-312 stared at the prompt. She gave no commands. Eira’s question still lingered between them, while another surge of aggression pushed through the bond. Eager and impatient. The fighter had acquired something worthy of its attention. The emotions struck against CT-312’s own anger and remarkably found little resistance. “Perses.” She spoke quietly enough that only BARCA and the helmet’s internal pickups heard.
Outside the shuttle’s cockpit viewport, the Mutual Liberty continued to grow larger as they approached towards its hangar. Her visor turned towards the Apprentice, finally giving an answer. “What am I thinking— doing?”
Another line appeared across the HUD. [ AWAITING FIRING MODE ]
The command given was barely above a murmur. “Super heavy.”
Her visor looked forward once more, through the cockpit. The words, “Control and choice.” came out slowly first. CT-312’s anger from her tone became harder to conceal through the helmet's modulator. “We’re going to take control over their ships and use them against themselves. The High Republic can figure it out and decide whether they’re willing to fire on their own people to stop us.”
But why… CT-312 knew she had better discipline than this. So why couldn’t she deny the rage that had been building inside of her? Her fingers tightened slightly around the Assault Carbine resting in her hands. Why?
You were made for the mission, but what is it that you want?A question once asked by Lirka Ka
, who had been Imperator at the time.
An image of Quinn’s expression when she realized CT-312 had come for her. Relief softening her features. The small smile afterward… For a moment, the intensity of her emotions settled as she tried to put reason to what she was feeling.
Creatures with numbers are akin to animals… What are the depths of an animal's intelligence? The uncomfortable clarity of words from the Darth Carnifex
.
CT-312 knew that at the end of everything, she was still a number. Standing motionlessly inside the shuttle. The Scout kept trying to make sense of it all. Maybe she was foolish for feeling this way, especially when she still couldn’t understand why? Behind the visor she blinked as realization finally settled into place. Her voice suddenly dropped where the words existed only within the confines of her helmet.
Quinnwas crying “She was crying.”
Another voice surfaced. It begins with a want for more. Recent words from Darth Hydra
.
Something inside CT-312 finally gave way. The anger she had been containing had flooded through every restrained movement instead. Her jaw clenched until it ached. Shoulders became rigid beneath the armor as one gloved finger began tapping slowly against the frame besides the carbine’s trigger. Tap… Tap…
“I want them to face the consequence of their actions.” The shuttle shuddered as its landing gear made contact with the hangar’s deck. CT-312 made her way to the back of the shuttle as Eira prepared herself for the fight that waited for them. She gave the Apprentice a single nod of agreement. “I want them to bleed.”
CT-312 knew of her limitations. That did not mean she would not make the attempt in her own way though. Caligo’s bloodlust surged through their bond again, this time she made no effort to separate herself from it. She raised the carbine against her shoulder. BARCA continued to display the Dûr'ashaarai’s status on the edges of the HUD.
A notificationpinged. [ CHARGE COMPLETE ]
Her eyes snapped forward. The shuttle ramp’s locks disengaged with a violent hiss and the heavy door began descending toward the hangar deck. Click. CT-312’s thumb flicked the selector from burst to full automatic. As the shuttle’s door slid open—
“Fire.”
CT-312 pulled the trigger, shooting before the ramp fully touched the ground. Eira dashed out, the Scout tracked past the Apprentice providing cover fire. Taking out multiple Republic soldiers, snapping the sight to the maintenance worker who tried to reach for the alarm. Bodies began to litter the deck.
Maintenance crews and utility droids scattered from the sudden attack. They fled deeper into the transport. Those soldiers who remained returned fire from cargo loaders and parked shuttles. CT-312 emptied the magazine, dropped it, and drove another into place.
[ WEAPON DISCHARGE COMPLETE ]
A sharp whine rose from the repulsor pack on the Halcyon Armour. Power surged through the system as the faint glow from its vents radiated. CT-312 took a few steps down the ramp, holstering her weapon. Distortion spread across her camouflage plating a moment later. The light bended around her outline until the Scout blurred and vanished from ordinary sight. By the third step, the repulsor pack ignited.
CT-312 launched forward in a violent lunge into the chaos. She swept low across the hangar deck, weapon fire passed through the space she had occupied.
The cool down of Caligo’s ion engines ignited with a sudden intense brightness. Bursting in speed, its wraith-phase cloaking mantle shimmered once, a ghostlike distortion rolling across its hull, before the fighter vanished entirely into stealth. Any sensors or visual confirmation would have found nothing.
Two Republican soldiers had taken cover behind the side of a parked shuttle. They were concentrating their fire towards Eira, unaware of CT-312. The Scout came in low and brutally fast. The repulsor-assisted moment closed the distance until it was only a few arms length that remained. CT-312 snapped her right arm back while still moving, fingers closed into a fist as the energized vibroblade mounted along her forearm armor snapped free. Shhnnk.
She could see the nearest soldier’s eyes widen when the distortion peeled away and CT-312 appeared within striking distance. She could see the fear in his eyes as there was enough to understand that he knew what came next. An energized blade drove forward and through, punching through the chest plating. Before the second soldier could bring his weapon fully around, CT-312 swung her arm towards him. Her vibroblade carved across their armor and body. Thud. Thud.Dropping lifelessly to the ground.
Its cloaking mantle disappeared, Caligo reappeared directly in front of a Republic Starfighter. The distance between them was deliberately cruel. It was close enough that the pilot saw death bearing down on them. The Dûr'ashaarai wanted that moment. The fear and realization. Caligo’s reinforced frame tore through the starfighter leaving a wreckage behind it.
Once more the repulsor pack fired off, surging across another section of the Mutual Liberty’s hangar. Eira was carving through one side while CT-312 was sweeping through hers. The Scout’s used sudden bursts of accelerations to close the space between defenders before they could reposition. She struck down anyone caught between her and the next piece of cover. Steadily driving the survivors toward the interior accessways.
A pain stabbed through CT-312’s skull. It was sharp enough to force her eyes closed for an instant. Her boots struck the deck as she halted abruptly. BARCA filled the corner of the HUD with abnormal output readings from Caligo. Several of the remaining High Republic personnel took advantage of the interruption, scrambling through the nearest bulkhead before the doors slammed shut behind them.
Caligo had acquired another target. A damaged transport struggling ahead of the Dûr'ashaarai. Engines flickering while the fighter closed rapidly from behind without bothering to engage its cloak. Caligo wanted the kill plainly now. It accelerated toward the crippled craft, ready to tear throu—
An invisible jolt tore into whatever passed for the fighter’s awareness, causing systems throughout the cockpit to flare a small warning as the Dûr'ashaarai suddenly peeled away momentarily. Its anger intensified. The Artemis system swept across the transport and isolated something abnormal within it: a Force signature connected to the attack. The predatory attention locked onto the new source.
“What did I say about being distracted.”CT-312’s growl carried quietly through the helmet and across BARCA’s remote connection. Caligo’s protest battered against her mind. There were still instructions and even predators had objectives. Shhnnk.CT-312 retracted the vibroblade into its housing and began making her way toward Eira.
The Scout only paused long enough to place a slicer droid on each passed craft. A touch against the hull and one disappeared beneath an access panel. Transferring the slicer droids this time to the landing strut of a handful of fighters. It only took a few moments for the slicer to find its way, BARCA quietly added each compromised vessel to the growing network under its control.
A notification Pingwent off inside CT-312’s helmet. New information from the Idirsholas (Taeli Raaf
) began pouring across the HUD as she was crossing the bloodied hangar. BARCA highlighted the important and priority updates while approaching Eira. “They found something.” CT-312 unholstered the carbine. “The Sith fleets are engaging more aggressively now. Some vessels have begun moving towards that something.” Another series of packets arrived. “We also have reinforcements inbound from the Idirsholas to support us here.” BARCA isolated the words:
[ HRNS BANNER OF LIBERTY ]
CT-312’s helmet lifted slightly. “A Republic fleet just entered the system. Banner of Liberty. One of our own has already moved to engage it.” She checked the magazine seated in her rifle before looking toward the sealed routes leading farther into the vessel. “Things are about to be considerably more complicated. We should move quickly, secure the command bridge.” CT-312’s head tilted to the side, looking past Eira and to the carnage she left in her wake "It's been a while since we had a combat mission together. Nice to see you haven’t lost your touch.”
Caligo responded reluctantly. Rage and frustration surged through the bond. To be denied something interesting just as the hunt had begun. The transport slipped farther behind with every second. It wanted to turn back and pursue. BARCA did not allow it, forcing the fighter onto its assigned course.
The Mowef inside the cockpit vibrated beneath the sudden acceleration while the distant silhouette of the HRNS Grace of Theed finally emerged clearly against the chaos surrounding it. At this distance, the battlecruiser no longer existed merely as coordinates. Caligo narrowed towards it. Its systems continued cycling after the earlier discharge.
[ PERSES OFFLINE ]
A warning tone suddenly cut through the cockpit. The Artemis targeting system registered several rapidly increasing heat signatures ahead. Turbolasers fire erupted from the direction of the Republic formation, specifically from the HRNS Grace of Theed. Caligo rolled back in the opposite direction, doing the same thing again. Evading the turbolasers that were fired.
Between incoming volleys, Artemis attempted to reacquire the Force user signature it had previously detected aboard the Republic vessel. The sensor package swept across the battlecruiser, narrowing upon the region where the presence should have remained. Nothing.
[ E R R O R ]
[ PREVIOUS FORCE TARGET — NOT DETECTED ]
[ SIGNATURE LOST ]
Calgio’s attention lingered on the absence. The anomaly stirred some suspicion and irritation through the fighter. A new series of beeps interrupted. Additional heat signatures appeared behind the fighter. Heavy counter fire was pouring from the direction of Idirsholas. Caligo evaded the shots exchanged.
More system alarms went off. [ CAUTION ] [ MULTIPLE HYPERSPACE REVERSIONS DETECTED ]
A battlecruiser with its fighters had suddenly jumped in and was placed alongside the HRNS Grace of Theeds. BARCA calculated the formations and battlespace. Once more data was being received. TIE-H Hunter-class Starfighters and Kzaevas-class Bombers were enroute to its location.
CT-312 received the same information through her HUD. “Send out an SOS. Request immediate support.” Caligo’s sensors began compiling everything it could observe: visual confirmation of the HRNS Grace of Theed. Its coordinates and the sudden concentration of Republic vessels around it, the newly arrived battlecruiser with sudden defensive fighters scrambling, and the inexplicable disappearance of the Force signature previously detected aboard the ship.
”Set Red Alert. When Perses is back online, fully engage the Grace of Theed. Until then maintain surveillance and keep the updates coming. Apply pressure wheneever an opening presents itself.”
Sith fleets and forces would receive an SOS with visual confirmation, location, and reports of suspicious activity with High Republican Forces converging and reinforcing on the HRNS Grace of Theeds. Caligo continued advancing HRNS Grace of Theed, alert and ready for possible interception. It’s eagerness renewed at what’s to come. weaving through distant fire while Artemis watched the approaching contacts.
Sees the HRNS Grace of Theed - Visual confirmation
Evades oncoming attacks from HRNS Grace Of Theed and heavy counter fire from Idirsholas
"Artemis" targeting system lost and receiving error on the force signature it was locked into on the HRNS Grace Of Theed
Turbo laser remains offline.
Multiple Hyperspace Jumps were detected.
Relays SOS to Sith Fleets and Forces throughout spacebattle. Visual confirmation, location, and reports of sudden suspicious activity with High Republican Forces converging and reinforcing on the HRNS Grace of Theeds.
Continuing its course to intercept HRNS Grace Of Theed, on red alert.
Fixing grammar and spelling is the bane of my existence.
Lancel stepped into the troop transport, his eyes tracking immediately to Cal. Her face visibly hardened by the crisis. He offered a tight, formal nod. "Good to see you're still breathing."
Before she could answer, a violent jolt shook the deck. Outside, the space battle escalated. Inside Lancel's mind, a different conflict raged. He wanted to apologise, to explain his recent distance, but this was not the place nor the time.
Instead, his military instincts flared. He had been trained by the Aurodium Guard to command and lead. His fingers twitched, desperate to take control of the evacuation. Yet, as he moved to step toward the cockpit, two armoured Guardsmen smoothly but firmly intercepted him.
"My Lord, please remain in the back," one said, gesturing with absolute deference to his noble title but leaving no room for argument. "For your safety. We have the cockpit."
Being pushed aside stung worse than the Sith fire. He was being treated like fragile cargo, an aristocratic afterthought, while active-duty Guards ran the show.
The feeling vanished when the transport screeched into the Mutual Liberty's hangar bay. The ramp slammed down, exposing a slaughterhouse.
Republic bodies littered the deck, but they weren't alone. A lingering Sith boarding party, stragglers from the initial blitz, snapped their weapons toward the smoking transport. Blaster fire erupted, red bolts hammering the ramp.
"Cover!" Lancel barked. Dropping his noble decorum, he dove behind a heavy cargo loader. He drew his sidearm, leveled it with practiced precision, and squeezed the trigger. Three quick shots flashed through the smoke, dropping an advancing Sith trooper. He was in the middle of it all now, but at least he was fighting.
The meditation was not the same. She could calm her mind, rid herself of distractions and desires, but there was not even a hint of the Force.
She could feel the wind, but no longer the gentle ebb and flow of the strings that tied everything together. Beforehand, she had played those strings like a master harpist. Now, she fumbled to find the music in the first place. The Force was dead to her. And with its absence, she felt her soul had lost its vital half.
Days bled into weeks, then months. Almost a year had passed, and there seemed no hope that this new form she had been so violently thrust into would ever reconnect to the Force. When she spoke with her Master, the answers were always the same. Ala Quin, in the body to which her consciousness had been transferred, was a dead spot in the Force.
Yet, despite what should have been another trauma, Ala had begun learning to appreciate the quietness that came from being disconnected. She had not realised how much she had previously been forced to shut out just to find a moment of peace. When everything was connected, you heard everything.
The solitude had become therapeutic as she recovered from the trauma of her untimely death. But she hoped it would not be forever. There was still so much she wanted to do as a Jedi.
// Now
The absence made the Dark One stutter in his mind for just a moment. It was just enough to draw a wry smile from the diminutive Jedi.
His unease was immediately channeled into a quick, brutal attempt at resolution. The massive gauntlet pressed hard against her shield. Ala staggered instantly, the sheer weight of the artifact's presence vibrating through her arms like an earthquake. The shield would not last. If she gave any more ground, she would be too weak to fight back at all.
It was best to drop it on her own terms.
With a sharp, synchronised snapping motion of her wrists, she deliberately collapsed the barrier from within, violently overloading its remaining energy all at once. The resulting backflash exploded outward in a blinding, concussive snap of blue-white light. The shockwave tore through the deck plates, kicking up a dense wall of pulverised metal dust and smoke right into the Dark Lord's face.
Gripping her satchel, Ala bolted for the far corner of the room toward an open grate leading into the ventilation system. Her hand dipped frantically into the bag, her fingers fumbling for the heavy, metallic cylinder of an explosive - anything - hoping she could drop it into the room behind her the moment she disappeared into the shaft.
It was difficult as to say what drove Atham to do what he did.
He was, after all, a rich man. At any point, he could return to the world of his family's business, become extraordinarily wealthy, marry rich, and commit himself to a life of luxury and business politics. He could doom himself to a life of screens, meetings, mailings, secretaries, and... whatever else there was.
But he chose this path.
He chose the gun.
The 7th Commandos had been spurred into action, activated and placed on duty- and called to retake the Quibbler. Luckily, the Quibbler is where they were stationed nearby, designated to protect. Atham's assault ship, cloaked and black against the void of space, cruised nearby to the Quibbler. Atham checked his seals as the Jumpmaster gave the thumbs up, the light inside going from green to red. Red meant jump- and in a practical sense, green was easier to spot with night vision. The doors opened and the vacuum of space sucked the air out of their airlock, what little there was.
And so, the Commandos filtered out, spreading out, interlocking hands and using small bursts of air to float down to the Quibbler below. Their transport peeled away and took off, to refit and rearm and to rejoin the fight. The pilot was a brave man, a tenacious killer in his own right. But he'd be back for them when they needed it. Atham's eyes lingered on a breach point, then another. The Sith were assaulting the Quibbler en masse.
They'd pay for their transgressions.
The world was on fire, that much he knew down below without even being able to communicate with the quagmire that it was. What was once a beautiful place, now reduced to ruin, ash, scorched earth and pyres of the dead and soon to be. The space above was no different. Atham grit his teeth and checked his weapons as the boarding action was called, and the Commandos utilized a breach-kit to enter the Quibbler.
The enemy rarely expected you to breach the breach that they breached!
Now-
The Commandos were there to retake the Quibbler. They all fanned out in the hallways, securing some quick and sharp kills on Sith. He felt focused. He felt in control. He opened up his commlink on his wrist, cycling through the channels. He returned Master von Ascania's message-
"This is Lieutenant Harek, 7th Commandos. We're here."
He turned to his troops, marching forward, intent on clearing out the breach points of the ship. The two word reply to her message was the focus, the totality of their circumstances at hand. The Commandos were here. They were there to solve the problem. And right now... he had plenty.
For a moment, the barrier danced on the edge of collapsing beneath the withering pressure of His Fist, and then in a flash the barrier erupted. His eyes snapped shut, momentarily blinded by the sudden flash of blue-white light. The deck buckled all around Him, the previously flat, even terrain suddenly pitching as the metal plating bent and cracked. Awash with concussive force, the Dark Lord was forced back and had to steady His footing. Smoke and debris encircled Him like an angry cloud, and His line of sight had been broken.
But He did not need eyes to see her.
He lashed out with the Force, invisible energy whipping through the smoke after her. It missed her by centimeters, the Dark Lord still briefly concussed from the blast. A lesser Sith would have given into rage, but the Dark Lord tempered His fury with the quenching waters of ironclad discipline. He moved to pursue, but the Jedi had another trick up her sleeve. He sensed it this time, slipping into a half-crouch and drawing the full breadth of His armored cloak around Himself like a protective veil. The explosive slipped from the Jedi's hands, clattered across the floor once, twice, and then detonated.
Fire washed over Him, but the Dark Lord held firm. By the time it had subsided, the Jedi was nowhere to be seen. She'd fled into the ventilation shaft, and the Dark Lord could not follow. Rising, He slowly slipped the hilt of His lightsaber back into its retention clasp.. Shapes moved in the smoke at His back, His six Crownguard slowly approaching before falling to one knee as He turned to face them.
"Inform the hunters, we have a Jedi loose onboard."
Outside, the chaotic battle around the bacta freighters grew more pitched as Republic reinforcements raced into the fray. The reinforcement of Thyferra's circumplanetary defenses by exosystemic warships and fresh squadrons of snubfighters was an expected escalation, and the Kainate had already calculated the necessary responses for such an eventuality. As pre-determined, only eighty of the four Axiom's total complement of three-hundred-and-twenty Reaver boarding pods had been launched, the intent being to establish breach-points, disrupt defenses, and gather intelligence.
Now that the freighters were becoming more hotly contested ground, the second wave could begin. Eighty more Reavers were launched from the four Axioms, twenty Reavers apiece. But they were not the only ones, as larger vessels now streamed from the Axiom's lateral and ventral bays. Skarnath landers, heavily armed and heavily armored troop transports, sped through the debris-laden vacuum, thirty-two of the one-hundred-and-twenty-eight stored across all four Axioms, eight from each battlecruiser.. Compared to the two droids and six Blackblades each Reaver carried, each Skarnath fielded one-hundred-and-forty-four Blackblade Guards and twelve Mowhef battle droids to fill the space left after the typical complement of speeders was removed.
More Reavers struck the various freighters, digging in deep and slicing open fresh wounds. The Skarnaths by contrast either sought out existing landing bays, or external airlocks through which they could connect via umbilical. Blackblade Guards moved to reinforce Sith forces across the freighter convoy and engage with any lingering or freshly disembarked Republic soldiers.
Raw, intoxicating power coursed through his palm. Without a drop of Force sensitivity in his blood, Aurelian still felt the sheer, oppressive weight of the device at work. It felt like holding the leash of an invisible monster, a black hole consuming the metaphysical threads of the universe. Gravity seemed heavier, the air colder, and the invisible ties that bound the mystics around him snapped one by one. Digging deeper into the connection, he pressed his weight into the obsidian surface, intent on pushing the void out even further across the fleet.
Dominique's furious voice broke through the thrumming silence, cutting across the bridge as she stormed past his Kinsguard.
Aurelian did not pull his hand away. Slowly, his head turned, a dangerous, unfazed smirk playing across his lips as amber eyes met her golden glare.
"I am doing what must be done, Chancellor," he replied, his tone smooth, devoid of any panic or remorse. "We must act before it is too late."
She felt Kaivaan's brief moment of surprise and panic as he finally felt the void that had formed around the Republic's flagship, felt his reach to her within the Force. She gave him the reassurance he needed, the pride she felt for how he was doing in conducting his first orchestra of war, before returning to the vexing issue of the void surrounding the Grace of Theed. Her ethereal presence was still all around it, probing, gauging, studying, measuring. What could they have possibly developed that would cause or... had they found something long lost and forgotten? She needed to know, and she was beginning to suspect there would be only one way to do so. Still, the Jedi she had sensed that had been watching for psychic interference had been on board the ship walled off within that Void. For the moment, she was unopposed.
She pulled back slightly from the void, once again attending to the orchestra of the battle around them. She felt the new players entering even before they arrived, their presence announced by the ripples within the Currents. Malum arrived first, and his arrival would elicit some interest that he had apparently survived the Dzara and Kainate attacks on the Tsis'Kaar and his subsequent disappearance. She wondered what he learned in that time and how, knowing how such exiles can be, he had changed. Something to be discussed later. His arrival also brought a fair few new lifeforms aboard... her physical form was tilting her head once again in curiosity even before Admiral Gorlois reported a Darr Itah had entered the system. That was a ship class she hadn't seen since the wars between the first Galactic Alliance and the First Order, one of Cyrus' old pet projects. Well, a battlecruiser was a battlecruiser, museum piece that it was and...
She blinked as the threads tugged with a hint of the light, of resolve, as more Republic forces arrived. And... The surprise at what she sensed and saw through the Force actually caused her physical form to laugh out loud. Admiral Gorlois, holding their command datapad, was equally perplexed at what sensors were detecting.
"Is... that an Emissary?" the rugged Admiral asked in disbelief as readouts for the Banner of Liberty joined the holomap of the battle.
"What museum did the Republic raid for their fleet?" another of the bridge commanders asked dumbfounded.
"Gentlemen, we can marvel at the near one thousand-year-old ships later," she responded quietly, pulling both officers back to the business at hand. Her physical form fell silent again as her ethereal presence moved amongst the new arrivals, listening, strings joining the orchestra. Into the Republic's Director of Defense and Intelligence's ear, a voice would whisper in response to his statement, "Bold words. The Imperial Confederation thought the same at Brosi."
To demonstrate, she would raise an ethereal hand as though she were wielding a conductor's baton and pointed it towards the pinpricks of life that were the relief forces the director had brought with him. With an invisible swish and flick, she began weaving her spell within the minds of the pilots and crewmembers of those ships. A distraction in the corner of the eye of a pilot, the phantom blip on a gunner's targeting array, a paranoia within an officer's mind about how the Sith had struck so rapidly, a doubt within the heart of another about if they were too late, or worse, that those leading them had allowed this to happen.
She continued conducting, weaving, Sith magic and sorcery blending, together with Fallanassi illusions... and with a flourish as though she were telling the orchestra to play a note at double forte, she unleashed it. Some minds would be able to resist the onslaught of fear, paranoia, madness, and illusions, but others... oh no, they would turn and fire upon each other, thinking they were the enemy, or fire at something that was merely an illusion and allowed the Sith forces, either the escorts of her own destroyer or the fighters swarming from the Kainate formation, arrayed within the battlespace to strike at their enemies. Some would no doubt strike true targets, but this was only the first act of her spell unless she was stopped.
Even as their Mistress wove her spell of madness and illusions within the Force, the officers aboard the Idirsholas were not idle. Recovering from their surprise at the age of some of the Republic vessels, they immediately turned to the more pressing matter. The Grace of Theed had closed to broadside range, both vessels unleashing withering amounts of turbolaser fire on each other. The shields were still holding, but some decks were reporting strain from their Tsudakyr hivemind stations and damage from hull strikes slipping through the shields.
"They're moving to cut our T from aft," a bridge officer stated. "New contact detected, unknown class of battlecruiser."
"They're trying to get closer to the planet," Admiral Gorlois concluded. "Get between us and the transports still trying to escape, then hold us back with more firepower from that new battlecruiser that joined them. Helm, give them what they want, turn to starboard. Have the Ixion's load Aerospark shells and inform all starboard Ifrit crews to switch to Scatter."
As they swung about, a smidge faster as they were still the smaller vessel, Star Destroyer that they were, the gunnery crews prepared their next broadside as requested.
"Admiral, A-Wing fighter squadrons are chewing through boarding craft."
"Deploy two Banshee squadrons and an Ashwing squadron to intercept and keep them off the boarding craft we deployed," he ordered.
"Shells ready!"
"First volley, fire!"
From its ventral turrets, the Ixion Mass Drivers would fire their volley of shells at the Grace of Theed, each one designed to release small, nearly undetectable shield disruptors that would latch onto a hull once the shell detonated as desired or was intercepted by point defense lasers. Some would no doubt be outright destroyed, but some would inevitably and eventually drift through the shields and latch to form openings for the next volley.
"Scatter Ifrits, fire!"
The turbolasers flared once more from the Idirsholas, but with a completely new configuration in this battle of broadsides. At these close ranges, it was now ideal to fire them in their Scatter-Fire loadout. Much like a scattergun firing in a shotgun pattern, so too had the concept been applied to a turbolaser, immediately increasing the potency of the Idirsholas's broadsides.
"Repeat first and second volleys!"
Even as the slugging match continued, Admiral Gorlois, at the gentle nudging of his Mistress through the Force, sent a standby notification to Admiral Rowyna Galeway
.
Something eased a little in Cora's chest a of Atham's announcement crackled over the commlink in her ear. Maybe it was the fact that reinforcements were now streaming onto the bacta frigate, maybe it was the way his voice faintly stirred the memory of some cacophony around Aurelian.
One corner of her lips twitched, a suggestion of a smile that had gone as quickly as it had come.
The cyborg was circling now. Cora followed Arris with eyes alone. Jakku and Tapani felt like they were supposed to catch on something in her, some rough edge that couldn't be filled away. But they slipped off of her like rain on oil, and Cora wasn't sure if that said more about her or Arris.
"A sword?" She lifted a brow, nearly snorting in aristocratic disbelief. A habit she could never quite shake. "Is that what you think you are?" Swords were elegant, honorable as they were mighty.
Nearly every Sith Cora had interacted with seemed to believe that the Dark was what gave them clarity in purpose. That it made them stronger, faster, more reasonable. Never had ignorance been apart of the pitch.
"You're a-"
The punch came with blinding speed. It connected with Cora's sternum, and she could feel the hairline crack as it scored along bone. "Bludgeon," she wheezed. Crude, devastating, violent.
Her own cybernetic hand had clamped around Arris' wrist a nanosecond after impact and yanked. The lightsaber in her other hand had been swapped for a metallic spike. A thin white glow emanated from the gleaming metal, lending it an eerie sheen.
"All that power and you're still miserable," she muttered as the spike was thrust into Arris' eye socket. She'd seen the woman cover her face to protect it from shards of airborne glass. Her eyes were probably robotic in nature, too - but the vessels around them? The cavity behind them? Her brain?
Cora didn't know. Ever the student, she sought to learn.
"Sir. Blackblade guards pouring in all over the ship. Lots of them. Droids, too." One of his Commandos, Sergeant Vaer said. He seemed unbothered, and rather sounded like he had a plan in motion. The plan also dawned on Atham as well. He gave a nod, and the Commandos relayed silent orders through their HUDs and internal commlinks.
The reavers and the boarding parties were... plentiful. Too plentiful, if you asked Atham. Cramped hallways, too much deployment, droids, the whole bloody nine. It made the Commandos lying in wait in an ambush all the more brutal when they opened up on the Blackblade and their compatriots. It was a veritable slaughter, the Commandos, by the usage of a side hallway and maintenance corridors, an L-shaped ambush on a contingent from the Skarnath that landed that was attempting to seize control from the ship. Landing on an enemy ship was not ever easy, especially one you were not familiar with. The Commandos capitalized on that, the blast doors to the hangar and breach points closing behind them with a hydraulic hiss.
One Commando with a well-placed application of a torch sealed the door. It'd take some effort to open it again. The Commandos on the flanks unfurled from the maintenance shafts and corridors, initiating the ambush with a torrent of grenades. Inside a closed hallway, the explosions reverberated off the walls, the concussive shockwave enough to throw the men into disarray. Advanced sensors in helmets tried to combat it, but the sheer amount of deafening and pain-staking concussive impact would overwhelm even someone who was prepared for it. And the Commandos threw nearly a squad's worth of grenades at their feet at once.
Then, came the fire, oh the terrible volume of fire!
Machine gun fire, slugthrowers, blaster rifles, more grenades- oh the symphony of destruction! Combined target takedowns of the droids with communication and designation in the HUD as priority targets cut them down, the Blackblades attempting a tactical retreat only to be met with a wall of unmoveable durasteel and who knows what else. The Commandos didn't relent, and cut them down where they stood. The firefight lasted only about a minute, with only a minor casualty on the Commandos side from one of the droids who was able to push through their volume of fire. The ambush was successful on the Quibbler, and more would be coming.
Atham had his Commandos pick off the survivors and wounded, dispatching who remained with little fanfare. They were more or less piled against the doors. The Commandos took the time to pick off ammunition and explosives, larger weapons and a forward-thinking communication Sergeant took some of their commlinks and helmets to try and tap into their communication networks. Atham ordered a withdrawal, not wanting to be a victim of whatever else the Sith were going to throw at them next. They'd no doubt find their massacre, and adapt to their new tactics. The Blackblades were elite, and they just so happened to be caught in an unadvantageous position. Were the roles reversed, they'd do the same. Perhaps they just didn't know the Commandos were onboard, or they were being thrown into a meat grinder for numerical superiority.
The metallic cylinder of the grenade had barely left her fingers before the world went white. Enclosed within the tight, echoing confines of the ventilation duct, the concussive shockwave of her own explosive roared backward like a physical wall. Ala snapped her eyes shut, immediately channeling the ancient warmth within her into a dense Force shield that hugged her skin. The blast hammered against her barrier, the acoustic pressure ringing violently through her teeth, but the shield held.
Coughing against the sudden influx of acrid smoke, Ala scrambled forward. She didn't look back to see if the Dark Lord was following. Guided by the desperate, mechanical thrum of the ship's underbelly, she kicked through a grate and dropped cleanly to the deck plates of a lower level.
She landed in a low crouch, her twin hilts already in her hands. A few scattered Republic bodies lay slumped against the bulkheads, but the primary invasion force had already swept through.
A synchronized, heavy clicking sound echoed from a cross-corridor.
Ala flattened herself into the shadow of a recessed cargo lift just as a pair of Mowhef droids marched into view. Moving with fluid grace, Ala blurred forward to ambush them. Her twin blades ignited, slicing straight through the first unit's neck joint to sever its head. Simultaneously, she threw out her left hand, catching the second droid in a crushing telekinetic hold to keep it pinned back.
She expected the decapitated machine to drop. It didn't.
Instead, the headless chassis stepped forward, its redundancy systems instantly flaring to life in its chest. It swung a massive, shield-armored fist that clipped her shoulder, forcing her to break her concentration. Released from her Force grip, the second Mowhef immediately adjusted its posture. Having analysed her opening strike, its endoskeleton hardened its neck joints to counter her blades.
Ala was forced into a rapid, breathless retreat, parrying blaster shots as she backed down the corridor. She had to adapt.
Dismantling them took a frantic, unorthodox sequence of low-level strikes—burying her blades straight through their central chest cores before their alloy could harden against the heat. By the time both machines finally collapsed into sparks and oil, Ala was breathing heavily. She deactivated her hilts, moving quickly until she reached a hallway junction.
She paused, her chest heaving as she stared at the branching paths. She reached out with the Force, hoping to find direction...a purpose for why the Force brought her here.
Arris could sense that the Jedi was receiving a communication of some sort, but was otherwise ignorant of the fighting that now broke out between Sith and Republic forces across the Quibbler.
Her eyes flicked to meet the Jedi's when she asked if Arris saw herself as a sword, accusing her of being something cruder.
'Oh - I meant the Jedi.'
Before she could say it, the Jedi intercepted and snatched her wrist. Arris was yanked towards her, and not a second later her right-side vision vanished. There wasn't an immediate reaction as Arris ripped her wrist free from the woman's grasp, stumbling back with the weapon lodged deep into her right eye.
"What?"
A frightened whisper.
Arris continued to stumble, smashing into a pair of stacked crates and collapsing to the floor with them. She screamed as impossibly sharp pain burned inside her skull. The stake pierced so near the cyborg's co-processor; the Light disrupted its natural - and necessary - connection to the Dark Side. Suddenly, the Darkness that emanated from Arris across the Quibbler receded with rapidity, and the Sith Lord's connection fled even her own cybernetics; reduced to the ordinary machinery that they ultimately were.
If the Jedi was keen, she might've noted that the Force ultimately arose from not one, but two entities. The first was Arris Windrun herself, but there wasn't much of the organic woman left anymore. A brain, some nervous tissue, and partial guts. The second was the co-processor embedded into the right side of her brain.
She sobbed, or something like it, when her hand wrapped around the spike and thrust it free, tossing the weapon far aside.
Blood and coolant poured from the wound as Arris struggled back to her feet. Even with the stake removed, her body hemorrhaged Darkness in a way that could not be controlled.
When was the last time Arris Windrun had been so threatened?
Cora would catch a glimpse of it, too. Her co-processor was alive. A technobeast. A parasite that fed off Windrun. As she grew stronger in the Force, so did it.
The wires coiled shut, like a creature tucked inside its protective shell.
The Dark Side emanated from her in pulses - a cocktail of primordial passion, feelings as old as the Force itself. She used this energy to strip metal from her own arms, exposing the internal mechanisms, to rapidly repair the hole in her face. It fit against her like a makeshift prosthetic.
Nefaron had been largely silent as he traversed the halls of the doomed vessel, but at last he spoke to save the lives of five survivors of the Corpse Legions' initial assault. The huddled survivors were already covered in injuries and stained with blood, be it their own or that of their fellows, who were foolish enough to mount a defense. The monstrous legionaries, of course, obey'd their master, but it was with noticeable disappointment. The Terror Lord moved to examine his newest captives, dead eyes peering at them from beneath his cloak. When he moved to speak again, it was not directed at the prisoners, but instead at the leader of the raiding party that had boarded before him.
"Is the cargo bay secure?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Good. Begin loading our prize aboard my flagship. If you find any other survivors, you are to bring them to me alive and unspoiled."
"Yes, Lord Nefaron. What about this lot?"
At this, the Corpse Lord simply smiled before slowly sinking to one knee to meet one of the prisoners' gaze. He was the youngest of the bunch and the most terrified, but that only made him all the more useful. Nefaron's withered fingers moved to take the man's jaw so that he might be examined, as if he were little more than a bauble to be bought and sold. When one of the older members of the group attempted to intervene, he was knocked to the ground by one of Nefaron's guardian droids.
"This one is terrified of death. Is this your first time off of Thyferra?"
"Y-yes."
"I see. No need to fear me, child, for you will serve a higher purpose, a purpose that requires that you remain breathing. I may even see to it that you are returned to your homeworld, though it may belong to new masters when this day is done. How does that sound?"
The man did not respond, instead only nodding in the affirmative to the Corpse Lord's remarks. Unfortunately for him, Nefaron was ever the trickster with his words, and his companions would witness firsthand just what he meant when he told the boy he was to serve a higher purpose. With a mere flick of the Sith Lord's wrist, the boy shot off the floor and rose into the air before the group, held in place long enough for Nefaron to rise and direct his droids to take hold of the newest experiment.
"Captain, broadcast this on Republic channels. Let us see if they take the bait; then again I may enjoy the practice after my long recovery."
The twisted servant could only laugh darkly as he called in a hover droid, broadcasting the suffering of a young man for all to see as his companions were forced to watch helplessly. Nefaron would be true to his word, though; his captive would live.
Just not as he was before.
His very flesh would be twisted to serve the Sith.
Eira could tell that there was something different with CT-312, something going on in her mind. Eira wasn't sure what it was since there were numerous possibilities but it was wrong seeing the soldier like this. Out of the pair, Eira was the angry, bloodthirsty one. CT-312 had always been more level-headed. Something to discuss with Quinn. Speaking of which, Eira got a reply from her Master. A short one but it seemed that things were not going according to her Master's plan. Whether or not that was a good sign, Eira could not tell. War was chaotic and some saw opportunity while others saw their doom.
"Quinn replied, side tracked as well but alive and wants us to stay the course, which I think means continue with our mission she assigned us." Eira informed CT-312, tilting her head as she looked at the other woman. "We cannot take over a ship this large CT-312. There are far too many soldiers aboard for the two of us to handle, then there's the fact neither of us know how to fly a ship like this. Yet alone control the guns on it." Eira was shocked that she had to be the air of caution in this moment. She was thrilled to be killing again but the idea that they could take the bridge and turn the ship on their enemies... It was beyond insanity.
Sighing, "saying that we could even do all that. As soon as we shift this ship's focus away from the Sith and onto the High Republic's navy. Everyone we haven't killed on this large ship are going to be charging their way to the bridge. You are talking suicide, CT-312. We are better off planting explosives around this hangar and maybe trying to hit the hyperdrive and engines before escaping. We stand a better chance rendering the ship useless than we do taking it over." Eira pointed out, even if there was some larger threat that they needed to face, it was better to provide their allies with less distraction than to suicide attempt something that would fail.
Eira had done enough failing in the hopes of glory. If it continued then she would risk being seen as too weak and unworthy. Eira couldn't face that, not with the Sith. Not with Quinn.
"We head to the hyperdrive and engine room, take it out and the naval fleet has one less ship to deal with. We could even attempt this method with another ship or two before the High Republic realises it is just us." Eira pointed out, hoping that the explanation of doing bigger damage to the High Republic with her idea would sway CT-312 away from trying to control a massive ship like the Mutual Liberty.
Before they could move to either the bridge or the engines, Eira felt the presence. More were coming and the decision on what to do next wasn't going to be decided yet. Sheathing her daggers, Eira pulled out her pistol, "get ready. Seems Republic reinforcements incoming." The ship was damaged but landed well enough to ensure the soldiers could get out and jump into action. From her gauntlet, first round of whistling birds launched out towards the soldiers and the ship. Hoping the maximise the damage on both fronts for the High Republic soldiers. "Make them think we have an army." Eira challenged CT-312, firing several shots from her pistol afterwards.
She was here to inflict pain, suffering and damage. There was no mercy in her mind.
A target indicator snapped onto Petra's display as Patch found the ship among the mess of contacts surrounding the Grace of Theed, fed with telemetry and historical data from the Grace's sensors. Petra narrowed her eyes and leaned forward a little, until the crash webbing went taut against her shoulders. There was the target.
It was small and fast and, according to the telemetry Patch was pulling through and scrolling across her delay, responsible for the frankly obscene amount of energy that had crossed the battlespace moments ago. "Patch, double-check that. A weapon of that magnitude ought to be too large for a starfighter. Are you sure you've got it right?"
//BB-7K//TARGET CORRELATION: HIGH CONFIDENCE; HOSTILE CONTACT MATCHES PRIOR HEAVY-WEAPON DISCHARGE.
//BB-7K//OBSERVATION: NO COMPARABLE WEAPON-CHARGE SIGNATURE PRESENTLY DETECTED.
Petra grimaced as she examined the data readouts while her thumb brushed at the weapons controls absently. "Presently being the operative term here."
//BB-7K//ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: CORRECT. BB-7K DOES NOT RECOMMEND WAITING TO DETERMINE RECURRENCE INTERVAL.
"Agreed." She opened up the squadron channel. "Rooks, target is painted. My astromech is transmitting the data. Two, Three, and Four -- switch to ion cannons. Five and Six, keep to lasers. Seven through Twelve, hold your fire and watch our flanks. We've got company inbound and I don't want anyone getting any funny ideas about us."
The acknowledgements sounded in a round of double-clicks of the comms. "Chatty bunch," she observed in a dry aside to Patch. The droid didn't scroll a response across the screen, but he made a kind of mechanical equivalent of a cat clicking at a bird out a window, and Petra smirked.
Petra eased the nose of her fighter toward Caligo's position, waiting until the targeting backet settled before taking it in. She chinned back to the squadron channel. "Ion element, spread your fire. I don't need you all hitting the same square meter. If their stealth system comes back online, I want enough coverage to make hiding difficult and uncomfortable."
Patch immediately populated her heads-up display with a series of faint brackets around the target, projected firing solutions spreading outward from its current position.
//BB-7K//TACTICAL PROJECTION: LAST-KNOWN VECTOR TRACKING AVAILABLE IN EVENT OF SENSOR LOSS. ACCURACY WILL DEGRADE RAPIDLY FOLLOWING UNOBSERVED MANEUVER.
Petra's finger settled easily over the trigger. "Rook Leader to all Rooks. Let's give it short, controlled bursts. Don't chase it, don't bunch up, and don't get cute. Our job is to keep that ship busy worrying about us to point that cannon at the Grace or any of the other capital ships again."
She paused and glanced at her range-finder carefully, then, after a steadying breath, she called: "Rooks Two through Six, you are weapons free."
Petra squeezed the trigger, sending her first burst toward the hostile fighter as Rook Squadron began its attack.
//BB-7K//MEDICAL OBSERVATION: LT. NOLL'S HEART RATE HAS INCREASED FURTHER.
"Patch!"
//BB-7K//ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: AFFIRMATIVE, LT. NOLL. DEPRIORITIZING MEDICAL OBSERVATION UNIT.
The deck hadn't stopped shuddering beneath Verity's feet before Tiberius Rath
started responding with the enviable simplicity of a man whose problems could often be solved by shooting at them with a large laser. Verity respected that.
She respected considerably less the King of Naboo deciding that, in the midst of all this sturm und drang, the Chancellor's judgment -- to say nothing of her prerogatives as Commander-in-Chief -- had become ornamental. Verity turned in time to see Aurelian place his hand against the artifact.
"Veruna -- " she snapped, too late.
The sensation was immediate precisely because nothing much happened except a surge of power, the bridge lights flickering before coming back stronger. Otherwise, there was no flash, no concussion, no roar of machinery. Nothing. The exchange between Dominique and Aurelian made fury thunder in the Druckenwell Senator's ears. No, Aurelian Veruna was not doing what must be done. He was doing what he wanted, as he had made clear in her Senate pod. She inhaled sharply through her nose.
"Spare us the self-righteous rationalizations, Your Majesty," Verity said, her contempt fairly dripping. "How dare you have these -- " She wanted to say thugs, but her discretion intervened. " -- private retainers interpose themselves between the Chancellor and a military asset aboard a Republic warship? I admit it is an especially creative flourish, even for someone with all the strategic instincts of a dropped canapé."
Somewhere behind her, Rath was issuing orders: directint fighters, boarding defenses, evacuation routes, and capital fire with increasing urgency. Verity caught fragments rather than substance, but she understood enough to know that the bridge had more pressing matters than a constitutional argument conducted over an ancient weapon. Her gaze returned to Dominique. "Madam Chancellor, I believe your earlier instinct was correct. If the citadel gives you the same command access with less exposure, I would be considerably happier seeing you there. Particularly now that this allegedly sentient, jewel-encrusted liability has decided to announce its presence to every Sith in the system."
"The choice is yours, of course." She paused a beat, her cold gaze going back to Aurelian's eminently punchable face once more. "You should be confined to quarters, you syphilitic Halvek sculpture. It may be the last hours of peace you experience before I have the Senate Ethics Committee crawl so far up your ass you'll be set for colonoscopies until you're sixty." Verity allowed herself to come to a graceful close there, though she did ponder mentioning that Dorian Halvek was all but universally considered the worst sculptor to come out of Druckenwell for the last two millennia. Ultimately she decided that context clues would have to suffice.
