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The sound that Arris made when she hit the ground was almost benign. Like a sack of weighted tin cans striking uneven durasteel flooring.
Cora began to circle slowly. She couldn't sense a heartbeat, nerve stimuli, bleeding, or any of the things that usually came to her without trying. The cyborg began to spasm and she jumped, accidentally loosing a shot that pinged off of the bloodied stake, now dulled without the luster of the Light.
They weren't just disconnected from the web that wove through everything; the web had vanished. Now they were free-falling, in a sense. Where would they land? Cora's palm was sweating against the blaster's grip.
Shit, she really relied on the Force for so much. Not as much as Arris had, apparently. Was she more droid than human? Enough for this to be the end? Maybe she should nudge the closest cybernetic limb with her foot.
The Force had always given Cora a certain edge. A millisecond to dodge, to react. Those milliseconds added up. The luxury of anger receded sharply in favor of survival.
Cora still recognized the pitched whir of an accelerator heating up. She was out of milliseconds.
Every reticle was assigned to various points along the woman’s body. Her head. Her heart. Major arteries. Anything that might be hit with lethal force.
Right through the treated fabric of her tunic. The Force enhancements couldn't help her here, and Cora stumbled back over the pile of corpses.
She'd let go of the blaster at some point, heedless of the way it clattered to the floor. She couldn't hear much of anything over the ringing in her ears. Only the frantic thrum of her own heartbeat.
"Fuck," Cora wheezed, head pitched back as she wilted over the fallen bodies. "Fu-"
Her ribs lifted sharply and she hacked a spray of blood over her chin. Hands were already moving, rifling haphazardly through the snarl of bloodied bandoleers and packs she'd landed on. Her hands closed around something spherical.
Cora couldn't be bothered to discern what type of grenade it was, not with how her vision started swimming. She prayed it was an EMP, not a frag. Even the brief twist it took to prime felt like a Herculean effort. She rolled it toward Arris, then rolled behind the bodies.
Her fingers started to go numb as she scrambled for a bacta patch, peeled off the film, and pressed it against the entrance wound.
It wouldn't be enough.
She knew that. Her fingers started refusing to work, a second bacta patch slipping from her hands as she choked on her own blood.
Without the Force, Arris lacked the precise control she was used to. The blowback from her own gun snapped a servo in her arm, causing the elbow to hang weakly. She wouldn’t be able to fire it again without breaking it entirely.
The light in the room was disorienting. Static filled her vision. But more than that, she noticed silence. For the first time, her mind wasn’t flooded with the sensations of every machine, every droid, every embedded electronic.
The cyborg stood up - slowly.
Something had to fill that silence, apparently.
Memory. The tangle of Quinn’s fingers in her hair. The realization that what Arris thought she was talking about had been something else all along.
“Fucking idiot,” she muttered quietly. To herself for having misunderstood the Echani.
When her eyes cast across the room, she saw Quinn every which way. In one corner of her eye and the other, in the shadows of the room. A flash of her silhouette every time the crashed light fixture sparked. Superimposed onto the woman on the floor.
‘Jedi.’
But silence wasn’t the only thing she felt bleeding through the intensity of her artificial heart pounding like a cannon.
The anger she felt… The hatred. The rage and fear that had all the unpleasantness of withdrawal… It was gone.
Then there was a bang. The gun slipped from her--
Arris looked down. ‘Oh.’ It hadn’t slipped. Her hand was just blown completely off. The songsteel weapon clattered somewhere amongst the debris. There was blood trickling down her chest, with a massive gap missing from her subdermal armor.
But between the stimulants, the psychosis, and the overactive pain damper, Arris couldn’t feel a thing at all.
She kept walking forward on hobbly legs, like a droid damaged but unable to collapse.
The Jedi’s face kept shifting. Quinn. Rox. Nilira. Kirie. So on, so forth, until she could no longer comprehend who it was.
Still, she kept approaching until she reached the woman and fell to her knees, then her one hand. Arris crawled the last foot.
She ended up awkwardly sitting up on her side. Her hand found the bacta patch slipping from the Jedi’s hand, snatching it…
Post 3: The Valiant has fired the following on the Grace of Theed, having moved into better positioning to make it clear that all weapons are trained and fixated on the Theed and no other vessel (meaning even with cover, all weapons are locked on it). Banners of Liberty targeted by the Centurion, Blackfin and Bashaw. Other vessels engaged in screening and interception. Anti-air (starfighter) engaged. Message from Quinn Varanin
recieved.
Centurion to Banners of Liberty: Longbow III, Maher
Blackfin & Bashaw to Banners of Liberty: Maher, Belenus [Party Favors: Firing all varity of rounds]
Communication disruptions/jamming frequencies are ship to ship only.
Most ships fielding MIMIR Echojamming Suite, in addition to previously mentioned jamming technologies. Raith Scope not currently active.
Rowyna Galeway listened as her analysts informed her of the Ardent and Sovereign's targeting. She thought briefly and watched on the viewport as long-range fire from the... Banners of Liberty all but dissipated into the void. "Report from the fleet," she called out, and the younger officers answered.
"Minimal, shields down to 98, regenerating, Dreadfast, Drauger and Dauntless. Myrmidon, down to 99 and regenerating, Meteor reports the same." The tactical officer stated, and Ro quietly walked toward their station. "What's the report from operations?"
"Emissary-class, ma'am, thing belongs in a museum." The tactical officer responded, "I thought the High Republ-"
Ro gave him a look, "let's focus on the task, report telemetry of their position, converging data from the Oracle and our own vessels. Minefield is behind his ships, correct?"
"Aye ma'am, so the Republic sits between us and the Grace of Theed, so that implies that their mines are also between mines are between them and the Grace of Theed?" The Raith Scope data appeared on the screen, providing a better answer. "Give our fighters the data, let's have the Wolfpacks manuever into interception screen, close to the fleet, Ceti-Alpha-Five."
"Mukhtiars and Daggers, once enemy fighters and bombers are in range, engage in interception screen Talos-Four-One." Ro ordered, hands at the small of her back. The ambient sounds of the Valiant's bridge almost like music to her even if the symphony seemed to work toward a crescendo.
MIMIR Echojam suite worked creating a sensor-spoof feedback loop for enemy ships. With multiple vessels working the same system, enemy targeting distortion was the idea. Ro walked back toward her own console, and dispatched an encrypted message to Captain Zereth. "As you may well be aware, the Sovereign has been targeted. You are hereby weapons free to engage all Republic forces. Once we've been alerted to the Sith's completed objectives. We'll head home, you'll take front on the path toward home. I'll double back to see if any of our Sith allies need a ride to Jutrand."
Message dispatched, Captain Galeway turned to her own crew. "Bring the Valiant to weapons free, all hands red alert, to battlestations." She ordered just as the bridge dimmed into darkness with the faint glow of red illumintating the area. Her voice was even, matter-of-fact, "we've been generous long enough."
"Kyronis, prime the spinal mount. Target the Grace's forward shield array, full charge. Bring the Mahers to bear. Fire Ikaros, Vilestar and Nerys when ready." Her orders continued as the four barrels found their targeting solutions.
Behind that primary barrage, the Valiant's rotary batteries opened up wide. Thunderbolt and Striker HVCs letting their volleys loose down toward the Grace. A communications officer let Ro know of a priority Aurek message from Quinn Varanin. Ro raised her brow, she saw the order, "complete exterminiation."
It seemed that the Sith and the Commonwealth would be in agreement.
Ships moved into their formation weapons continued to screen and intercept what had made it so far across the black abyss toward them, only to be greeted with death from flak and anti-air (starfighter) weaponry.
Director Rennar wanted a war? He'd get more than that.
Ro worked to make sure the other ships in her Task Force would acquire targeting solutions for the Banners of Liberty and its ilk. Whilst targeting solutions were acquired Task Force Valiant moved higher on a vertical axis into position angling toward the Grace and Banner from a higher position.
The Grace pulled back deeper into the Republic formation, angling herself behind the bulk of two escort cruisers, the kind of move that would have meant something against a fleet limited to straight-line fire and fixed positions.
Rowyna watched it happen and didn't so much as blink.
"She's using the escorts for cover," the tactical officer reported.
"She's using them for cover against where we were." Rowyna was already giving the order. "Reposition, fifteen degrees off our current firing arc. Highmarch, mirror it from your angle, I want two clean lines on her regardless of what she tries to hide behind." A glance at the plot, at the Grace's new position, already obsolete the moment it had chosen it. "Targeting solutions are tracking the Grace specifically, not the space she used to occupy. Confirm lock."
"Lock confirmed, both angles."
"Fire."
The Kyronis fired first. A single, massive lance of hypervelocity plasma crossed the distance in a fraction of a second, and where it landed, the Grace of Theed's forward shields didn't so much fail as simply stop being relevant, a modern capital weapon meeting defenses built for a war that had ended a thousand years before the ship carrying it was ever laid down.
The Maher turbolasers landed a half-second behind it.
Rowyna watched the return fire come in and mostly not arrive at all, the same story it had been telling all engagement, old light chasing modern shielding and losing every time.
Another tactical officer, "targeting solutions acquired for the Banners of Liberty."
Centurion, Blackfin and Bashaw had their long range weapons settled on her.
"Centurion has her," the tactical officer reported. "Clean line, Longbow's charged."
"Fire."
The railgun's shot crossed the gap in a fraction of a second, a single line of hypervelocity plasma finding the Banner's shields at a range her own weapons had likely never been tested to answer. The Maher turbolasers followed a half-beat behind, twin strikes landing in the same quadrant, patient and precise rather than fast.
"Blackfin, Bashaw, add your long batteries to the solution. Maher and Belenus only, hold everything else, this isn't close enough for the rest of what you're carrying." Rowyna's voice didn't change registers between orders.
The Seawolves' own heavy turbolasers joined the pattern, and the Belenus cannons found their overwatch range without needing to close a single meter, precision fire landing on a ship that had built its entire defensive posture around the assumption that nothing out here could reach that far, that accurately, without having to get close first. The Belenus cannons were firing what the Commonwealth called the "party favor" which meant they had loaded whatever rounds they could grab, a mix of SAPHEI, APCR, Incendiary, Ball Bearing and regular rounds.
All other vessels worked with screens or taking pot shots at other Republic vessels. The order from Quinn had been quite clear, and it was one the Commonwealth was to carry out, with perhaps a caveat. Any stray civilian vessel close enough, especially ones carrying bacta would be tractored and taken back with them.
Viscount-class Mon Calamari Battlecruiser
HRNS GRACE OF THEED
"Priority message from Director Rennar, Commodore!" cried a comms officer, pulling Tiberius' attention away from the dueling warships and to the message scrawled out on the screen.
LET THEM COME FOR IT. PULL BACK INTO THE FLEET. LEAVE THEM STRANDED. A pause followed before Damos added the final instruction. KEEP IT ON. The message vanished into the encrypted beam before being dispatched towards the Grace.
Before them the massive hulk of the Idrisholas was starting to fill all they could see, the Grace now effectively separated from the ship by Damos’ own vessel.
The Commodore gritted his teeth. Pull back in his moment of triumph? But orders were orders.
Blast it.
The director had the right of it though and Tiberius saw the stratagem at once, even as the Aether stood guard over them and Director Rennar's personal ship moved to engage the Idirsholas.
"Helm, ahead full, bring us into the center of the relief fleet."
The Grace of Theed lurched forward, ion engines at full burn, and then with a great and horrible shudder tore completely free of the remaining grapples from the Idirsholas. Guarded by the Aether on one side and Rennar's ship on the other, the Grace moved away. The Grace's starfighter complement moved with her and continued to harass starfighters which moved to engage the Grace directly.
"Sir, there's a starfighter that somehow made it through our screen and is harassing our point defense."
Tiberius pointed, "Tractor beam it and then have those A-wings finish it off."
Three tractor beams fixed on the Huxian to seize it and slow it, while a squadron of A-wings descended onto the slowed or stopped starfighter like a swarm of angry hornets.
Rath returned his attention to the other task at hand: boarders.
Annoyed that he did not get to finish off the crippled Idirsholas, Tiberius turned his glower on the politicians.
. "Commodore," she called back to Tiberius RathTiberius Rath
, "it would seem we'll be staying with you for a time. If you feel further reinforcements are necessary..."
"Yes, they are, Chancellor. I expect the Sith will come head on straight through the front doors," he pointed at the bridge's entrance. "Security, seal the blast door and activate the rayshields and pop up turrets."
The thick door rated to withstand even a baradium bomb's explosion slammed shut immediately.
The irritation in Tiberius' gaze stuttered for a moment as he eyed the tall, blonde Senator. Tiberius grunted and keyed in a console command. A compartment hissed open revealing a row of blaster carbines. Tiberius snatched one up.
"Find cover and stay behind the guards, Senator. The bulkheads are the thickest and will not be penetrated by blasterfire."
The artifact should have been a beacon to pull all attention to this ship from every Sith Lord and Lady in the system, and yet only she and her forces had actually come.
"There are not enough of them. They will make a rush for the bridge to try to end the effects of the artifact, but they are now cut off from reinforcements and stuck aboard our ship and General Vornak is closing in behind them. Cornered and injured predators fight the hardest and these certainly will and we may say as we like about the Sith, but they have shown bravery and ferocity and for that we must be prepared."
"Energy spike from the Commonwealth warships, sir!"
"Barrage coming straight toward us!"
"Brace," Tiberius roared, gripping the nearest console to steady himself.
The entire superstructure of the Grace of Theed shuddered as a barrage of salvos struck it, overwhelmed the shields, and tore through a series of decks, venting exposed debris and people and oxygen into the void. Another conduit overheated above them. Sparks sprayed through the bridge, showering down. Lights flashed constantly and a half-dozen different alarms were going off.
But then the Grace pulled into the safety of the Republic fleet's starfighter screens and capital ships. Further fire solutions were all obscured by the many ships interposed between the Commonwealth and the Grace.
"Damage assessment!" Tiberius growled as he stood.
"Still working on it, Commodore."
Grimacing, Tiberius checked the powerpack of his blaster and then called out "All hands!" crew turned to look at him amidst the wailing alarms, "Prepare to defend the bridge."
The rebreather sealed over his nose and mouth with a hiss, and Kai took his first breath of the Grace's recycled air, colder than the Idirsholas, tasting of scorched insulation and coolant. Smoke was already gathering along the ceiling of the corridor. Somewhere behind him the breach was still venting. Somewhere ahead, the fight was.
His grandmother had given him a task before the pods launched, and now, without the Force to carry her voice, he carried it himself: the power generators. Cut the deck's grid, blind the sections, choke the Grace's ability to coordinate her own defense. A conductor's instinct, even without the orchestra. find the thing that made the whole work, and stop it.
Automated defenses were met with a heavy wave of firepower from the Sith troops, supplied most likely by the Kainate given his grandmothers' close connection with them.
"With me," Kai said.
He did not raise his voice. He had learned, in the hours of the meld, that certainty travels further than volume and though the Force was gone, the habit of it remained in how he held himself. Squads bearing the Sith sigil peeled from the churn of the breach and formed on him without hesitation. Grenadiers. Heavy flamers, their fuel tanks catching the red emergency light. He took them deliberately; the generators would be defended, and he intended to leave nothing standing that could be defended twice.
Then he moved, and the blade in his hand moved with him.
He was still learning the weight of a real saber, it was not the training hilt from the island, and it answered heavier, hungrier. but the corridor gave him no room to be careful and so he stopped being careful. A defender rose from behind a bulkhead and Kai cut him down before the thought had finished forming, the blade passing through with an ease that would trouble him later, when there was time to be troubled. There was no time now. He marched, and the squads marched with him, and anything that stood between them and the generators did not stand for long.
At a junction he found the deck's power panels set into the wall, humming with the current that fed the section. Kai drove his saber into them to the hilt. Sparks sheeted up his arm; the lights along that stretch of corridor died in a rolling wave, section by section going dark and red as the grid failed under him. He dragged the blade sideways through the grid for good measure, severing what the stab had spared, and felt, distantly, in a way he did not examine, a grim satisfaction at how cleanly a thing could be unmade once you knew where to cut.
A lift stood at the corridor's end. He took it, posting soldiers to hold the doors, directing others down the branching halls to run down whatever resistance still moved. "Clear these decks," he told them. "Nothing coordinates behind us."Kai was giving orders. He noticed it the way one notices a change in weather: he, who could barely order a drink at a beach without disaster, was standing in the guts of an enemy warship telling armed men where to die, and they were going. His grandmother had put a task in his hands and he was, to his own quiet astonishment, equal to it.
The ink on his back burned metaphorically, he could feel it, the deal he struck so long ago during his trials. Today he would prove his worth of the name Raaf, just as the grenadiers and heavy flamers filed into the lift around him. Below, the generators waited the beating heart of the deck, defended, exactly the kind of thing that did not fall to a single blade.
Which was why he had not brought a single blade.
Kai keyed the lift downward, saber still lit and casting its red across the faces of the soldiers he'd chosen, and let the doors close them toward the dark.
Quinn Varanin
's voice cut cleanly across the Sith and Commonwealth frequencies, overriding the steady exchange of tactical reports that had filled the Highmarch's bridge since their arrival. Cyrine looked up from the central plot; the tone alone demanded her attention. Around her, the CIC quieted just enough for every officer present to hear the directive plainly.
"No High Republic forces... Jedi... and anyone associated with their government are to be allowed to leave Thyferra... alive."
Cyrine's expression remained composed as the channel returned to the noise of battle, though there could be no misunderstanding of what had just been ordered. Whatever restraint remained concerning the Republic military had been removed at a level far above her authority, and there was nothing in Quinn's words that invited interpretation. The High Republic fleet was no longer something to defeat and force from the field. Every military vessel remaining at Thyferra was now something that could not be permitted to leave it.
"Log the directive," Cyrine said as her attention returned to the tactical display. "Maintain the civilian corridor. Anything verified civilian gets through. Nothing military follows them."
Several civilian contacts that had previously remained clustered around the Republic relief fleet abruptly changed course, their transponders flashing across the Commonwealth tactical network as freighters, medical transports, and overloaded evacuation ships broke away from the larger formation. Whatever assurances the Republic had offered them, some of their captains had evidently decided that an open corridor was preferable to remaining inside a fleet engagement rapidly becoming more violent by the second.
"Traffic entering the corridor."
"How many?"
"Eleven confirmed civilian contacts. More changing course."
Cyrine expanded that portion of the plot long enough to see them moving toward the opening maintained between the synchronized interdiction fields of Ardent and Sovereign. Their approach was disorganized, some ships accelerating much harder than others as frightened civilian crews sought the shortest route toward safety.
"Flight control, detach escorts."
A group of Commonwealth fighters broke from their holding patterns immediately, moving toward the approaching transports. Their orders populated before Cyrine needed to elaborate: identify the civilian vessels, establish an escort around them, and bring them through the corridor while Sovereign verified each contact before allowing it to pass.
The Republic opened fire before the first group reached them.
Most of the long-range barrage was directed toward Sovereign and the Commonwealth escorts surrounding her, but at that distance the difference between a firing solution and space became enormous. Shots crossed the formation in scattered lines, some passing harmlessly between vessels while others splashed against shields already compensating for their approach.
One of those lines crossed the evacuation traffic.
"Contact lost!"
A civilian transport vanished from the plot. Simultaneously, another began tumbling away from the corridor, its engine signature collapsing as atmosphere and debris streamed from its stern.
"Two civilian vessels hit."
Cyrine's attention snapped toward the display. "Source?"
"Republic trajectory. Fire against Sovereign's screen crossed the evacuation lane."
Whether the Republic had deliberately fired into the civilian traffic or simply failed to account for it was immaterial to the people aboard those ships. "Record the telemetry. Get recovery craft to the damaged transport." Her eyes tracked the remaining civilian contacts. "Fighters tighten around the rest and get them through."
The Commonwealth squadrons closed around the fleeing ships while another element peeled toward the stricken transport, placing themselves between the civilian traffic and the Republic formation. Sovereign's interdiction geometry adjusted around them exactly as intended, opening a controlled path through which each verified civilian vessel could escape toward neutral space before closing behind them again.
Only then did Cyrine return her attention to the Republic fleet.
The incoming fire had accomplished little else. Warden, Warrior, Warhound and Wrath had taken scattered impacts across their shields, while Kestrel and Kite reported similarly minor damage. At this range, the Republic was attempting to hit vessels barely a fraction the size of its own capital ships, and the results showed across the tactical display as Commonwealth shield levels dipped only to begin climbing again.
"Damage report."
"Minimal across the screen. Shields recovering."
Cyrine nodded once. "Maintain formation. Don't maneuver against ineffective fire."
The information available to Highmarch had become immense. Defiant and Daring were feeding passive SIGINT into the Commonwealth network from opposite positions within her own formation, while Fearless and Formidable contributed the same from Task Force Valiant. Oracle correlated those returns against its own sensor picture while Highmarch, Valiant and Centurion added Raith Scope telemetry and the rest of the allied fleet continued contributing whatever their own systems could see.
One ship's observation could be wrong. Four independent baselines agreeing with one another were considerably harder to dismiss.
Cyrine's attention settled on the Grace of Theed.
The Republic ship was withdrawing deeper into its formation, using the enormous bulk of the Aether and the surrounding warships to break the Commonwealth's existing firing lines. Cyrine watched the relationship between them change across the tactical display, then reduced everything else around the two contacts.
"They're putting Aether between us and Grace."
"Grace is obscured from our present firing line."
Cyrine studied it for only a moment. The Aether was enormous, heavily armed, and undoubtedly capable of absorbing punishment that would have destroyed lesser vessels, but none of that changed why the Commonwealth was here.
Rowyna's encrypted transmission arrived almost immediately.
"Reposition, fifteen degrees off our current firing arc. Highmarch, mirror it from your angle, I want two clean lines on her regardless of what she tries to hide behind."
"Highmarch copies. Navigation, take us above the engagement plane and angle down on Grace. Thunderer and Tempest maintain relative position. Sovereign follows and holds the well. Escorts maintain the screen."
Highmarch began to climb, the rest of Task Force Highmarch moving with it. Thunderer and Tempest maintained their spacing as the artillery ships rose, while Sovereign followed more deliberately, preserving the synchronized interdiction geometry it shared with Ardent. The Daggers shifted with the larger vessels, keeping the defensive formation intact throughout the maneuver.
"Kestrel and Kite remain with the civilian traffic until the last ship clears," Cyrine continued. "Then return to the screen."
There was no reason to spend fighters forcing their way through the Republic screen when the capital ships could simply change the angle of the engagement. The Republic formation slid lower across Highmarch's tactical display as the Commonwealth task force climbed above the plane upon which the battle had developed. Aether could continue moving with Grace, but it could not simultaneously place itself between the Republic ship and two Commonwealth formations approaching the problem from different vectors.
"Grace is clear."
Cyrine's eyes remained on the tactical plot as Oracle settled the new geometry and pushed the solution across the fleet. Confirmation followed almost immediately from Valiant's side of the engagement, several independent sensor pictures collapsing onto the same answer.
"Solution firm."
"Send it to Thunderer and Tempest. Grace is priority Aurek."
The targeting solution propagated across Task Force Highmarch, but Cyrine did not order every weapon to fire at once. The Commonwealth arsenal was considerably more useful when employed in the order its designers intended.
"Nerys first. Ikaros immediately behind it."
Highmarch's harmonic arrays opened the attack, their purpose less spectacular than deliberate as they went after the stability of the Grace's defensive envelope. The Ikaros batteries followed into the disruption they created, solarized plasma striking at shield systems already being forced out of their normal harmonics.
Cyrine did not wait for the result before continuing.
"Thunderer, Tempest, Hyperion arrays. Full pulse."
The two artillery ships answered together, their solar ionization arrays adding another layer to the attack. Where Nerys destabilized, and Ikaros exploited, Hyperion drove directly at the systems beneath, broad ionized pulses reaching across the engagement to punish shields, weapons, and electrical systems alike.
"Longbow ready."
"Ares batteries ready."
Now came the hammerblow.
"Fire."
Highmarch's spinal Longbow discharged while Thunderer and Tempest answered with their Ares batteries, six immense five-hundred-and-twelve millimeter mass drivers joining the plasma railgun against the same correlated solution. They were not being asked to batter blindly against an untouched defensive envelope; the weapons preceding them had been intended to make sure they did not have to.
"Bishop batteries have the solution."
Cyrine glanced toward the damage assessment already beginning to populate from Oracle.
"Erosion and Razorlight. Target the superstructure and engineering sections. Fire."
Twelve capital missile systems aboard the two Tempests began feeding guided ordnance into the attack, their own targeting systems inheriting the fleet solution rather than searching independently for the Grace through the Republic's interference.
Only then did Cyrine bring the next weapons into the sequence.
"Vilestar. Mahers follow."
The Highmarch's cascade cannons joined the barrage, corrosive plasma intended to remain where it struck rather than simply expend itself on impact. Wherever the Grace's defenses had opened enough for it to reach the hull, it would continue burning, degrading plating and making damage control progressively more difficult.
The Maher batteries followed into it.
Heavy turbolaser fire struck through the same areas already being punished by the Commonwealth barrage, adding fresh energy to hull sections contaminated by Vilestar's lingering plasma and giving the corrosive residue something else with which to react.
Cyrine watched the returns rather than the spectacle beyond the viewport.
"Keep the sequence cycling. Nerys and Ikaros maintain the opening, Hyperion keeps pressure on their systems, Ares and Longbow exploit it. Bishop chooses whatever the damage assessment gives us next."
Her attention narrowed on the Grace as new telemetry poured in from Oracle, Defiant, Daring and the wider Commonwealth network.
"Vilestar stays on anything that starts venting. Don't let them repair what we've already broken."
The Commonwealth guns continued their work, methodical and precise.
Highmarch, Tempest, and Thunderer climb above the engagement plane to get a clear firing solution on Grace.
Sovereign maintains its synchronized gravity well with Ardent while following the formation.
Daring, Defiant, Oracle, and Valiant's recon assets feed targeting data through the fleet.
Civilian traffic breaks for the Commonwealth safe corridor; fighters detach to escort them through.
Combat fighters remain with the fleet and bombers stay aboard.
Kestrel and Kite cover the civilian evacuation before returning to the defensive screen.
The rest of Task Force Highmarch maintains formation and defensive positions.
Once Grace is exposed, the capital ships open fire with a coordinated, layered weapons barrage.
Dominique looked up from the reports to Verity Stuyveris
as the woman spoke of the realities of the situation. That was the little secret Darth Carnifex
and her had shared in their private meeting. The atrocities never stopped. All the hopes and dreams of peace were easily shattered. Inevitably shattered. There was always someone with an axe to grind or an ago to appease. Always an excuse. Because there was one thing all conflicts had in common, and it was something none of them could change (as evidenced by thousands of years of this bloody cycle never ending): people.
But that didn't mean you gave up. The Chancellor accepted nothing lasted forever, but that also meant neither did the reign of terror. Perhaps, someday, if all the variables lined up perfectly they might find that peace they all sought. It might only last a few years. A generation. Then they'd have to start all over again. But there was no alternative except enslavement and death.
Golden eyes regarded the other woman from behind translucent, lilac glareshades as Verity gently squeezed Dominique's arm. A slight nod followed the kind words. "Then you should get dressed," she replied when Verity realized something was missing in her outfit. Curious time for it, but Dominique trusted the woman had her own plan in mind.
While Verity was away, Dominique circled around the table to put unoccupied stations behind her rather than the bulk of the bridge. It would have been better if this were done in a dedicate room, but circumstances. Her fingers danced over the holographic controls with an ease born only of intimate familiarity.
The hostile fleet sought to block ship-to-ship communication. Damos Rennar
seemed eager to thwart that in lancing a message through to the Grace. One Commodore Tiberius Rath
did not much appreciate given his own scowl. It could interfere with her own plans, but then Dominique hadn't come all this way and stood in the middle of a warzone simply to beg the enemy to try and kill her. Not only that. There was a certain message she wished to convey just by being there; one she hoped would translate through the holonet soon. Which was exactly why she directed a targeted message of her own out into the void. Not outside of the system. Somewhere further out than Thyferra, but decidedly local.
How many times would the Sith or their allies to jam communications before a people adapted? The enemy could respond, but that was why Dominique saved it for the moment it had been intended for -- delivering her message to the masses. An array to scatter a message across every frequency, every band, every world and starship that could receive it. If one heard, so too did they all. The galaxy was too interconnected and the Sith were inside of the Republic now.
Verity returned to the bridge and offered her support after the Commodore ordered the bridge sealed. Tiberius provided enough instruction on that front, so Dominique didn't stall her own efforts to add needless commentary.
'Brace' was all the warning one got before the ship lurched violently. Not only from the impact of weaposn fire, but also that of an explosive decompression. Dominique's fingers tightened about the edge of the table as she clenched her teeth, rocked from one side to the next in that moment.
A gaze that could sever souls snapped upward as Tiberius ordered the bridge to brace for a direct assault. So it had come to this.
"My fellow Citizens of the Republic," Dominique held firm to the table, the visage of her leaned over it with the tension of battle and light from the holo table casting angular shadows over her cheeks and eyes. Dressed in the white uniform with a splashes of purple at the shoulders, the Chancellor looked directly into the camera and into the eyes of everyone that viewed the broadcast or recording. Whatever hope they'd had to forestall this day, whatever dream they'd share to find common ground... now was when a brazen and unconscionable attack had finally taken them over the edge.
"We stand today at a defining crossroads in our history. The peace we have cherished, the security we have built, and the values we hold dear face an existential threat. We did not seek this conflict. We exhausted every avenue of diplomacy, extended every hand of peace, and exercised every ounce of patience. But the Sith Order has mistaken our reach for peace as a sign of weakness. They have chosen the path of aggression, and the people of Thyferra are at this very moment forced to bear witness to the travesties that Order seeks to impose upon us all. They have left us with no choice but to respond with the full, unyielding might of our assembled worlds.
"This is not merely a fight for territory or resources. This is a battle for the very survival of our way of life, our freedom, and the future of our children. If we falter now, we compromise everything that generations before us bled to protect. The cost of inaction is far greater than the sacrifice of action.
"To our brave men and women in uniform: you carry the hopes of your world and that the Republic on your shoulders. You are the shield against tyranny and the sword of justice. We promise you right now that you will have the full backing of this government, the unwavering support of our industries, and the daily prayers of every household in this land. We will not send you into harm's way without the tools, the strategy, and the absolute resolve to win.
"To the families at home: I know the heavy burden of anxiety you carry. I know the fear that comes with parting from those you love. But history proves that when our worlds are united, there is no force in this galaxy that can break our spirit. We will come together in our factories, our communities, and our homes. We will out-produce, out-innovate, and out-last anyone that dares to challenge our resolve.
"Our cause is just. Our determination is absolute. We will face the dark days ahead with courage, dignity, and unity. We will endure the hardships, we will overcome the obstacles, and we will emerge from this conflict stronger and more secure than ever before.
"Let our adversaries hear us clearly today: we will not back down, we will not surrender, and we will prevail.
"Thank you, and may Shiraya protect our soldiers and bless this Republic."
They had barely started moving when Cal heard metal screech against metal. Her head snapped up in time to see a panel of the hangar bay’s ceiling come free and fall. There was no time to think. Cal released her pistols and threw her hands up, Pushing it away from them and at their attackers. It clanged against the deck, rolling as it hit the deck, adding to the cacophony.
“Captain!” she shouted.
“Working on it!” he snapped back. The Guard slowly moved from cover to cover, the yacht crew they had just rescued picking up blasters themselves. The pause the metal plating had bought them died, blaster fire intensifying as several of their troops formed a perimeter around a smaller group. Cal slid behind a grav-loader, quickly ejecting the cells on her pistols and reloading.
The bark of a strange blaster caught Cal’s attention. She laid prone on the floor, looking under the loader. A soldier in significantly different armor fired a second shot from the strange blaster. An explosion erupted from the wall and for a brief moment, the ray shield flickered.
“Kriff my life,” Cal hissed as she pushed herself to her feet. “Move it!”
They continued to move back across the hangar bay. Starfighters in the hangar whined as their engines powered up but their cockpits were still empty. Well that was a mystery she could worry about later. A couple of the shuttles powered up as well, taking off and leaving the hangar worryingly emptier. The Sith reinforcements moved toward the hangar’s blast doors, soldiers laying down covering fire so that those behind them could work on the doors.
Another Guard went down from a blaster bolt as they moved towards one of the shuttles that had powered up but hadn’t yet left. Behind cover, Cal scowled then stowed her blasters and drew her lightsabers. She didn’t want to but their small escort was taking too many casualties. Red blades hissed to life as she held the Apprentice’s hilt in her dominant hand, the blade crackling, and the Master’s in her offhand. Cal reached into the Dark Side and found the path she needed.
Blades moved as she deflected bolts back at their shooters. Behind her, the Guard took advantage of the decrease in blasterfire coming at them, racing for the shuttle.
The sudden loss of atmosphere swept her and the Guard off her feet. Supplies, grav-loaders, and even the ships inside slid across the deck for a brief second before the shield stabilized.
“Captain!” Cal shouted as she scrambled to her feet.
“There!” The shuttle ramp lowered, and Guard scrambled towards the transport, Lancel among them. Cal got back up and found the path again, deflecting bolts from the disappearing troops while the Guard retreated into the shuttle.
Atmosphere vented from the hangar violently. Cal didn’t see what happened to those in the shuttle. The vaccum tore her feet out from under her and flung her out of the hangar. The silence of space pressed in around her as a silence of a different kind pushed against her sixth sense.
MAJ Domar - Avril Leader
Avril Squadron, Commonwealth Starfighter Corps
The streaks of blue and whilte light reverted to the eerie blakc of space as Thyferra, and the battle raging in it's orbit, came into view. Domar pushed his thruster forward, adrenaline accelerating through his veins as he was on approach. Avril Squadron formed up behind him in an arrowhead formation. Domar looked to his radar that was filling with blips as he moved closer.
"Avril Leader, you seeing this? Friendly fighter engaging the battlecruiser. They've got some heat." Avril-2 reported.
"I see it. Move in to support." On Domar's command, Avril Squadron banked towards the Grace of Theeds, aiming to backup the Huxian. "Tractor beams are firing up. Let's see if we can knock those out. Push through the screen and cause havoc."
Avril Squadron approached the fighter screen with hostile intent. Lasers were traded, between the squadron and the feeble blockade. Avril cut through several fighters before breaking through. Not a scratch on them. Avril specialized in such dogfights. They flew towards the Grace of Theeds, dodging what point defense fire they could as they approached the battlecruiser.
"Sir, point-defense is heavy and the ship is closing in on Republic forces." said Avril-3.
"Avril-2 through 4 keep on the same vector. The rest will provide cover as we strike." Domar commanded. 4 of Avril squadron broke formation to provide cover from enemy starfighters while Domar lead the reast to the closest tractor beam emitter. "The last volley from Valiant weakened their shields. Fire when ready, Avrils." On approach, Domar fired a proton torpedo as the other fighters blasted the base of the projector's base with laser fire.
Apparently one of the enemy pilots was able to discern his location around the Grace. How they managed this at the extreme ranges of the engagement and with a sensor mask active he wasn't entirely sure when each flash was milliseconds at best. So be it though. [[::R6, increase ECM and ECCM throughput. Gravitic modulators online.::]] The final chance any craft would have had to rack anything of 'Huxian' disappeared completely as the gravitic modulator came online and the gravity around the fighter was matched to that of the background.
No signature emanated from the craft any longer except the occasional burst of fire. Still blazing a trail through the fighters and point defense weapons. Ten came the shots from the enemy pilot, a single salvo that bracketed his fighter as he twisted and turned through a squadron of A-wings, leaving a trail of damaged ships and floating debris. A few moments after that came a warning trill from R6. They were trying to find and lock him down with tractor beams. Hard to grab onto something that according to sensors didn't exist and had no mass. But that gave him a nice advantage of knowing right where to target since they glowed bright on sensors.
[[::R6 lock on to those tractor beam generators.::]] Before he could destroy them, he got updates on incoming A-wing squadrons vectored towards his position. [[::Cute, they want to play. R6, reprioritize, switch tractor beam generators to secondary targets and hit the A-wings with spoofed IFF tags. ID each of their ships as 'Huxian' force the point defense to target them, thin out the squadrons a bit and we will pick off survivors.::]] A few moments later an entire squadron of the incoming Republic ships were erased by their own defenses, while the tractor beam generators sswiveled to grab the others and hold the pursuers in place, leaving him free to continue pounding the hell out of the defenses. 'BeeWAOO!' [[::Sure, buddy, they played with the big boys and found out that you can't always trust what you see.::]] Kurayami replied to the droid with a slight chuckle as he grabbed his flask and took a long draught before slipping it back into his utility belt.
Engaging:Cyrine Zereth Location: Near HRNS Grace of Theed Posture: Shields Online, Weapons Charged, Seven Assault + One Recovery Squadrons Launched
Verity Suun turned her eyes toward the Communication officer as they announced interference ( Rowyna Galeway
) when she felt a notable increase and kind of rocking to the Aether. The enemy, Cyrine Zereth
, had opened fire on him. It would seem they had made a decision only slight ahead of the other vessels that had come in service to the Sith Order. Not that Verity found the Sith morally reprehensible like many in the High Republic, but they had been quite accommodating to the Aether since their arrival. It had helped that Verity had not described at length the nature of the Astrorum, of course. They would not have appreciated the Imperialism. All misunderstandings aside, the Commonwealth and others in support of the Sith had fired upon them, which designated them hostile vessels worthy of reprisal.
Obviously, given the fleet movements and concentration of fire the hostile vessels had their sights set on the Grace of Theed. It was not an overly surprising move on their part. Fortunately, Damos Rennar
had brought a fleet of the Republic's choosing that would delay the advancement of those enemy craft considerably. It'd keep the vast majority at a distance anyway. Meanwhile, the Aether could intercept ordinance on one side while Director Rennar did the same on the other. As for blaster fire the Grace would simply need to rely on the fact such weapons fire grew weaker over long distances -- imposed by Damos' fleet -- and their shields. When their shields didn't have holes in them, anyway.
"Astrum, enemy is intensifying sensor scans on the Grace of Theed."
Of course, they would. No doubt, they were striving toward a gap in their defenses and fleet dispersion.
"Intensify point defenses. Use smaller flak cannons to create a dispersion field near the Grace. Hamper the enemy squadrons' movements." The less area they could fly freely the easier it'd be for their own and the Republic's fighters to catch them in crossfire. ( Kurayami Bloodborn
, Rowyna Galeway
, Domar
)
When the Artifact was activated earlier and even now as it ramped up to full power, the Aether's crew performed as though nothing had happened. Most of the Republic fleet as well. Even the enemy vessels did not show over much influence. The battle was largely among those without the mystical force these outsiders used so freely, and that the Imperium would find most disturbing given its current armament. Just as well. A level battlefield allowed true warriors to shine the brightest.
Soon, the Grace began to turn into the Republic fleet under Tiberius Rath
's command. Verity noted the sudden change considering the voracity he laid claim to his target. Her eyes flicked over to the readout of the Idirsholas. It might be relatively easy to crush the other ship at this point, but that would spit in the face of Rath's honor. Sometimes strategy had to abide the dictates of the Code of Honor. Unless the other vessel posed a clear and present danger, of course, in which case the Aether would destroy them without batting an eye.
Verity Suun leaned forward slightly as a visual display of an explosion as it tore across the Grace's hull appeared. One couldn't just adjust their position in battle without consequence. Especially if broadband communication were hampered. It could lead to a massive gap in their defenses. Tiberius would need to ask for help if he felt particular exposed to that other ship.
In the mean time, "Ready High-Yield missiles in tubes two and five."
Another report came in concerning the same transports that held Cyrine Zereth
's eye. Verity frowned. "Send a squadron of attack fighters with a recovery squadron. Get as many people off those ships as possible. Move!" The transports had the speed to get there in time, but their escort would be trailing behind. Dangerous assignment, but the Commonwealth had already shown an interest in those ships. They'd have to chance it.
In fact, it was that very group of vessels that'd started an assault on the Aether earlier. "Bring particle beam turrets to bear on these vessels," she pointed at the Thunder and Tempest. "Roll the ship." One side in particular was taking the brunt of the punishment by the enemy vessels. Shields on that side weren't in danger of collapse, but they were lower than she liked given the sheer volume of enemy craft in the area. Fortunately, the Aether was a long vessel rather than a wide one. Another of those design characteristics that set the Imperium apart from the ways of outsiders. They would turn the less drained side of the shield grid toward the brunt of the enemy assault with minimal alteration in coverage of the Grace or the Republic fleet. If anything presenting their ventral side up was a more dangerous proposition for Sith or Commonwealth forces if they tried go 'over' the Republic fleet -- it put them in the perfect spot for a full spread. Not that Verity expected them to try it.
"Bring railguns to bear on," Verity tapped the Nerys, and Ikaros on the map. "And have the turbolasers concentrate on," the Hyperion. Verity was curious to learn how effect their weapons were against this Commonwealth fleet. Which were more effective and which less if used in isolation?
A second later her eyes narrowed. "Contact Squadrons Four and Seven, focus fire on inbound ordinance," she snapped. The Commonwealth had just fired some surprisingly large weaponry of their own. Perhaps they would enjoy a taste of the single-use High-Yield missiles the Aether had fueling after all.
Oh, the calamity! The blood-strewn terror laid bare across the stars, across every which way and woe, each more terrible than the last! Cascading symphonies of death and destruction, Jedi and Sith tearing each other apart, Republic fighting tooth and nail, the Sith desperate in their own way. How Atham loathed the idea of even one such Republic soldier or sailor lost to these foul beast- much less the hundreds already! Not to mention, even by worse, the pain of the civilians caught in the fray.
The Commandos sped towards Lady von Ascania with such ferocity, such violence and such speed. They moved like lightning and fought like thunder. The Commandos earned every bit of their name. Droid, soldier, Blackguard, they all fell to the 7th Commandos. Atham rushed the area that Arris was in, the Quibbler's deck just ahead. A Sith turned a corner, raised a lightsaber-
Atham slammed his body against the bulkhead, stepped on his ankle over and over and over again, and headbutted him six times. Without the force, the Sith warrior was dazed, confused, and surprisingly mortal. He screamed and fell inwards, and Atham took the time to reach up with his wrist-
And his wristblade cut him from ear to ear.
He let the Sith drop and turned to the bulkhead. On the other side was Cora. The Commandos fanned out and Atham took point. He entered the room first, followed by no less than 20 Commandos. They'd entered with 24, not including Atham. The casualties they inflicted were enormous already. It was a curious sight. The well-known Sith Arris Windrun
giving medical attention to Corazona von Ascania
.
The Commandos carefully targeted the cybernetic witch, weapons slowly training on them. The team medic, Staff Sergeant Aros made for Cora, flanked by two other Commandos. Cora was quickly pulled away, and began treatment. Atham looked at Arris, and didn't give the order to fire. He did it himself. His weapon raised, a fresh magazine of armor piercing ammunition- and sixteen rounds went straight to Arris. He was not a Jedi. He did not negotiate. He didn't say a word. If Arris had the force about her, she would've felt the murderous intent, that black, oily shadow about the man so intent on killing and hurting his foes. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing. The grimmest of reapers wearing the facade of a gentlemen. His niceties, his manners, his speech and his dignified way of walking hid his true nature, only barely:
Atham Harek was a killer to his core. But the irony was that it was people like Arris that made him thus. If there were no Sith, no wars to fight, then there would be no men like Atham. There would be no need. Atham would've been an accountant. Managing shipping lanes in a complex world. He would've written poetry about plants and fields. He would've danced with beautiful women for a good many years before he settled with one. The cycle continued. Because there were people like Arris, there would be people like Atham. And because there were people like Atham, there would be people like Arris.
Violence beget violence, simply. Arris was surrounded by hateful men with hateful Republic eyes, staring down at her broken, twisted body from behind cruel visors that betrayed their even fiercer visages below. They were all roughly six feet tall, but stood ten feet tall in the face of the enemy.
Atham lowered his weapon, canting his weapon to reload, and turned to the medic.
"She'll be fine for now, sir, but, we have to get her to surgery." He relayed. Atham took a deep breath and nodded, standing over Cora as she was being treated. Clamps, bacta patches, coagulants, the like. Atham watched as the medic prepared her to move to their escape plan.
Location: Orbit of Thyferra, Grace of Theed
Equipment: Camlann, one LORAN recon drone, Aurelia in pistol configuration, rest in signature
Sith Troopers in Barbazu armor with LORAN drones with some, Sidhe Jetpacks with others
The message from her apprentice scrawled across the screen of her HUD, and she had to say, Quinn Varanin
was not taking the loss of the Force very well. She didn't know the Queen of Eshan had it in her, but then again, considering her parental figures, perhaps it shouldn't be too surprising. Still, good for her. A blaster bolt pinged off her shield in her momentary distraction, the auto-turret that had fired it being gunned down by the squad accompanying her. More of her troops had linked up with her personal squad, spread out as they were through the ship. They were still two decks away from the bridge, and her HUD dinged with the lifeform scans of a Besalisk a few decks further down... and moving closer. The Jedi was coming, but there was still some time before she added a new epithet for the Jedi remembrance wall, if they even had one of those. Considering how they had treated so many of their number over the years, she doubted it.
"Advance squad has been trapped in a ray shield, Lady Raaf," one of her soldiers reported, wearing the command capelet of a captain. "Republic defenses are trying to keep us isolated."
"Deploy drones to mark any traps between here and where the advance squad was captured," she ordered.
LORAN drones floated past, one getting taken out by the turrets and marines still in their way. They kept pushing forward, engaging in firefights against turrets and marines, their shield wall tactics working well in the corridors of the ship. She suspected the Republic would change tactics for their own troopers soon enough. The ship suddenly rocked as it seemed to take a massive wave of fire, no doubt from the Commonwealth ships that were now engaging the Republic fleet. Some data was still getting through to them from the Idirsholas on fleet positionings, and it seemed the Grace of Theed was trying to melt back into the Republic formation. Perhaps they had realized they had painted a target on the ship carrying several senior Senators and the Chancellor was not the greatest idea.
The dots representing Kaivaan and the squads he had assembled showed steady progress towards engineering. Good, he was proving himself more and more. If only she could pass along through the Force how proud she was of him.
"My Lady, intercepting a transmission from the bridge," one of her soldiers remarked as they paused at an intersection of corridors. One deck below. "Transmitting to you now."
She recognized the voice of the Chancellor from the recordings from Kaine and from studying the Republic leadership. Rallying the people was she? How... inspiring.
"We stand today at a defining crossroads in our history. The peace we have cherished, the security we have built, and the values we hold dear face an existential threat. We did not seek this conflict. We exhausted every avenue of diplomacy, extended every hand of peace, and exercised every ounce of patience. But the Sith Order has mistaken our reach for peace as a sign of weakness. They have chosen the path of aggression, and the people of Thyferra are at this very moment forced to bear witness to the travesties that Order seeks to impose upon us all. They have left us with no choice but to respond with the full, unyielding might of our assembled worlds.
As the speech continued, their assault continued. "Squads Three and Four, move to under the bridge and wait for my mark. Squad Six, hold this intersection. Slow down the Jedi, use overlapping fields of fire from multiple angles. He won't be able to anticipate them all. Squads One, Two, and Five, follow me."
"This is not merely a fight for territory or resources. This is a battle for the very survival of our way of life, our freedom, and the future of our children. If we falter now, we compromise everything that generations before us bled to protect. The cost of inaction is far greater than the sacrifice of action.
"To our brave men and women in uniform: you carry the hopes of your world and that the Republic on your shoulders. You are the shield against tyranny and the sword of justice. We promise you right now that you will have the full backing of this government, the unwavering support of our industries, and the daily prayers of every household in this land. We will not send you into harm's way without the tools, the strategy, and the absolute resolve to win.
"I'll admit, it's a good speech," she remarked as they neared the door to the bridge, her lightsaber and remaining soldiers having cleared out the outside defenders. The advance squad was pacing in the ray shield they had been trapped in, and two of the drones were whirring around in another. Scans showed the blast door was rated for even baradium explosives. Someone hadn't skimped on security at least.
"To the families at home: I know the heavy burden of anxiety you carry. I know the fear that comes with parting from those you love. But history proves that when our worlds are united, there is no force in this galaxy that can break our spirit. We will come together in our factories, our communities, and our homes. We will out-produce, out-innovate, and out-last anyone that dares to challenge our resolve.
"Our cause is just. Our determination is absolute. We will face the dark days ahead with courage, dignity, and unity. We will endure the hardships, we will overcome the obstacles, and we will emerge from this conflict stronger and more secure than ever before.
Her lightsaber could cut its way through, eventually, but where was the dramatic statement in that? Oh, certainly someone could make a comment on the other side that they were coming through. Their drones continued scanning the door and its surrounding bulkheads, four red spots appearing on their HUDs. "Gentlemen." Breaching charges were set around the door, on the frame, and its surrounding bulkheads.
One. The charges detonated in a sequence that would leave the door intact, but blow it and the anchoring bulkheads away. The door would cave in, smoke billowing into the bridge from the explosives... and she and her men would emerge from the smoke with their shield wall raised. Behind her helmet, her eyes took in the scene of the bridge crew preparing to fight, of the politicians, and of the King of Naboo grasping an onyx-shaded device and clearly struggling.
"Hello," she would say, her voice almost cheerful as she gazed at the object of her curiosity. Her saberpike rose into place. "It would seem to me, the good King needs some assistance. Don't worry... I'm here to help."
Vess Sadragen
's comms rang out without an answer, a cool mechanical voice echoed in her place, requesting for a message to be left. Lily punched the console, disconnecting the call with a violent surge of rage. She leant forward, elbows resting on the console, fingers tangled in her hair as she held her head, her leg bouncing with her agitation.
She’d left a dozen messages, sent a hundred more with no response. Lily would have known if she was dead, she would have felt it on Abregado if she’d died. So if she wasn’t dead, then where was she?
Lily sat back, tipping her head back against the pilots seat, watching the flow of traffic passing the black expanse of space as traders, smugglers and everything in between moved to and fro from the space station. Arris instructions had been pretty clear.
Wait here. I’ve got some business on Thyferra.
She was only a system away. But how could she just sit here when she had no idea where her girlfriend was. A knot twisted in her stomach, something cold ran up her spine. Lily couldn’t stay here, she couldn’t say why or where she needed to go but suddenly she was sitting up straight. Hands cycling through pre-flight checks as she brought the ship to life.
Pain lanced through her skull without warning, like a hot pike had skewered through her brain and she clapped her hands to her head with a yelp. It passed as quickly as it had come, remaining as a dull ache behind her eye as she pulled the ship out of the dock. The knot of anxiety in her stomach tightened and Lily was punching Tyferra into the navicomp without really thinking.
As the stars stretched into lines, giving way to the swirling blue of hyperspace, Lily felt something go dark. The distant hum of Arris Windrun that she hadn’t even realised had come to rest at the back of her mind suddenly vanished.
Anxiety jumped into panic as she reached in the force, trying to find her but came up with nothing. She tried to calm her racing heart, it’s not like she could do anything in hyperspace. She passed the time pacing across the cockpit, watching the timer on the short jump count down, settling back into the seat before the reversion alarm screamed.
Swirling blue gave way to lines before settling into stars. But it wasn’t a peaceful blanket, it was full of fire. Capital ships exchanged heavy fire as fighters tore through one another, carcasses drifted, listing with dead engines as bodies spilled from their bellies like discoloured stars.
Then the absence of the force struck her and Lily suddenly felt like she’d lost a piece of herself. Fire lanced across the hull of her ship, alarms screaming and snapping her out of her shock as Lily threw herself against the controls, sending the ship into a nose dive out of the way of the fighting.
This, was Arris's business?
Her hand reached for the comms. “Arris! Where the fuck are you?”
"Squads Three and Four, move to under the bridge and wait for my mark. Squad Six, hold this intersection. Slow down the Jedi, use overlapping fields of fire from multiple angles.
The intersection was waiting for him. Vornak still received the tactical holofeed from the ship. A corridor early he was able to get a view of their positions before feeds were lost. Internal lifeform scanners still gave him a rough view.
Soldiers had been left in his path, the others moving forwards. He did not know if they were waiting for him or just making a tactical decision to cover the rear as more forces before to the deck beneath the bridge.
As he approached the intersection blaster fire came from ahead, but also from his left and right as he tried to advance. That and ended the mystery. Someone had posted a squad here and placed them in a deliberate formation to stop him. He grunted once, more irritated than impressed, and kept the torn blast-door up.
Vornak was forced back down the corridor to meet up with reinforcements.
"Marines on my flanks," he called out. "Do not bunch up. If you fall in the open I will not fetch you twice. Engage left and right firelines and fix them. I go forwards."
Vornak rushed the intersection again with backup. He engaged the soldiers directly ahead and drew their fire. It was only a single squad, split up to fire from multiple directions. In open ground it would have been impossible to advance, but space was at a premium on ships. Their overlapping fields of fire were restricted to tight corridors.
The first volley hit the plate hard enough to stagger him. Bolts skipped off the edges and chewed the bulkhead. A marine to his left went down without a sound. Vornak did not look.
"Left and right!"
Cover fire went down the side corridors. The Force wouldn't answer, but Vornak muttered a silent prayer as he risked his life to chance. He charged forwards. His back was singed by blaster fire from the right.
Vornak rushed on, with only blasters ahead of him.
He drove the door into the nearest shield, put all four arms into the shove, and walked the Sith line back a step. The saber came around the rim and took a legionnaire at the hip. A second tried to fire past the plate. Vornak caught the barrel with a free hand, wrenched it aside, and put the man into the wall.
He broke the junction the ugly way. No elegance. Just weight and determination.
A bolt found the gap when the door shifted. It burned across his scalp above the left brow and opened him to the bone. Blood ran hot into his eye and he blinked it out, swearing under his breath.
"That was rude."
He did not stop. The remaining Sith tried to wheel and take up the angles they had been ordered to use. It might have worked on a man with two arms out in the open. It worked less well on a Besalisk who had already decided this intersection belonged to him. He threw the ruined door like a discus into the last cluster pair.
He took the service stair at a heavy limp. The second wound made itself known as he climbed: a blaster burn punched through the meat of his right thigh. He put a hand to the rail, but he kept moving. His hand left a dark smear on the metal.
They could give no quarter. There was no time for rest.
When Vornak reached the space under the bridge he announced himself clearly. The besalisk had dragged the blast door all the way up the stairs, but he'd brought a grenade too. Fragmentation, not powerful enough to damage ships systems. He tossed it in first into the midst of the Siths's squads three and four.
Vornak came out of the stairwell already swinging
"Where is the traitor?" he cried out.
But he was mistaken, the sith was already above them and breaking into the bridge.
He waded into the chaos, takkng another hit to his armour but closing the distance. He started breaking this formation in the same way he had broken the last one: with raw strength, skill, experience and determination.
"One of you will tell me where your mistress is!" he called over the noise.
But he knew they would not. They were too disciplined and he would not commit a war crime today. They would die here, beneath the bridge in determined silence. Vornak was a warrior too, it was a shame that good people had to die for bad orders but there was no time to think on such things.
He planted his good leg, ignored the bad one, and waded in. One lightsaber caught a shield from below and lifted it, the second thrust forwards for the kill. This would not be a quick fight, but the great deceiver's squads beneath the bridge were now fighting for their lives.
Cora's world reduced to blurred shapes and muffled sound. One sensation rose above it all with agonizing clarity: a gentle external pressure against her wound.
Someone was here with her. She wasn't alone.
Cora tried to blink focus back into her field of vision, lips parted as she took short, rib-rattling breaths. She didn't know that a second bacta patch had been applied to the juncture between her neck and shoulder. She didn't know that the bleary mass beside her was Arris.
During sleepless nights, of which there had been many, Cora would hold her drowsy daughter after she'd been fed or changed or simply in need of attention. Cradled against her mother, Luciana's pudgy little finger would draw languid circles against Cora's neck until she fell asleep.
Heat slowly bled from her body where shock started to settle in, but Cora could still feel her. The weight and warmth of Lucy's little body. The tiny, rhythmic breaths against her neck.
Suddenly, Cora's hand shot up. Quivering fingers grasped Arris's own. Cold, metal. It didn't matter. She squeezed once, thumb stroking tenderly over the backs of metal digits. Her chest lifted and her lips moved in a quiet shh, but a hacking cough stole the place of whatever else she'd tried to say. Blood speckled across her chin and Arris's fingers in tiny crimson droplets.
What might've been the most poignant about this gesture was way she looked at Arris with genuine warmth and affection. Cora gazed at the cyborg woman, her shape still nebulous, with glistening eyes and the ardent, fathomless devotion of a mother's love.
Then, it all fell away in a haze of muffled chaos. A mask over her nose and mouth. She didn't feel the needles in her chest, but she did feel the way they made her heart thrum with renewed vigor. Someone clipped a sensor to her finger. An IV slid easily into the prominent vein of her hand.
Shadows and shapes moved over her, across her, in the growing dimness of her periphery. Her fingers twitched, aching to stroke the soft, wispy curls of Lucy's hair. The baby always slept better that way. With her mother's touch.
Nearby, sixteen shots went off in quick succession. They reminded Cora of the fireworks that had gone off at the Ukatian Life Day festival.
Then, quiet. Relative quiet. Atham Harek hovered over her. He'd snatched her from the edge of the unknown. He sounded like he was underwater. Or maybe she was underwater? She couldn't understand him, but she could follow the gist of his tone.
Cora's lidded eyes sought the killer's own. Something akin to bloodied gratitude passed over her features.
Slowly, her eyes closed. Her breath steadied.
Somewhere on Naboo, where she’d been temporarily moved to for her safety, a nine month-old child woke up from her nap in tears.
Turbolaser fire scythed through the void, splashing against wavering shields or slicing through the meat of unfortunate Republic vessels. The Kainate Axiom formation held strong, position as such that their long-range turbolaser firing arcs overlapped in perfectly alignment. While the Commonwealth and other Sith vessels engaged at mid to close range with the enemy formations, the Kainate fleet held back and provided artillery support by hammering the enemy ships with tightly clustered salvos of withering turbolaser fire.
They would doggedly hound one ship at a time, dependent on the size of the vessel, the tactical importance of it, and the overall integrity of its shields and hull. Then they would hammer it repeatedly, blasting it with powerful ship-killing turbolaser blasts until its shields buckled, and its hull spilled forth crew and slagged debris. Then, in unison, they would move to the next target, and the next, and so on and so forth. But that strategy had only lasted insofar as it was tactically viable, and upon new directives the ships began to target the Grace of Theed itself from their exceptional distance.
New boarding craft streaked from the formation, sixty-four Reavers and thirty-two Skarnaths crossed the threshold under escort by the replenished swarms of Glaivewings and the addition of Commonwealth fighters. They'd concentrate their efforts around the command section of the Grace of Theed and around the breaches already forced open by the initial Sith assault. Fresh and untarnished Mowhefs and Blackblade Guard would bolster and reinforce the gains made by the Lady of Secrets, their units already familiar with one another due to their masters' close friendship.
The Glaivewings, after fulfilling their escort duties, would attempt to find purchase on the outer hull of the Grace of Theed, walking on their articulated wings to congregate around sensor systems and external weapon emplacements to destroy them with point-blank laserfire. Some would even commit to suicide actions, destroying themselves in order to terrorize the Republic ships, the distant Axioms already producing their replacements before they were even terminated.
Even without the Force, Arris Windrun was a lucky woman.
Her body was riddled with fresh holes, scorch marks, burst metal, and torn cybernetic seams. She didn’t remember what happened when commandos stormed the room. Only the way the Jedi looked at her, the way she comforted her. They had both been delirious - confused - unaware. Somehow, however, Arris had grabbed her gun and managed to fall into a maintenance shaft, courtesy of a hole made when the Jedi’s grenade blew apart a floor grate.
She was crawling quickly through the labyrinthine space that ran liminally through the ship, bypassing the usual corridors and security measures.
Of all her cybernetics to survive the encounter, she was very lucky to have active comms.
<:“Lily?!”:>
Arris had only spoken subvocally, translating her head voice into signals.
<:”I’m on a ship… I…”:> What was that horrible name?
She tried to think back to what she read on the bulkhead.
<:”HRNV Quibbler. Look for a matching transponder. It’s some kind of bacta transport. I’m in… I think I’m in some kind of maintenance tunnel. What are you doing here?! I thought I told you to stay put.”:>
It felt surreal to hold a conversation despite everything else blurring together. But that was survival, wasn’t it? Even after the commando had turned her into a scrap metal art installation, she was still on the move, still trying. Maybe that would’ve been a different story if they had found the Jedi dead, rather than clinging to a single thread of life.
Still, the only thing Arris couldn’t shake was the odd clarity that clung to her mind in juxtaposition to her current state. She still hadn’t pieced it together, but the Dark Side had been such a heavy shroud on her thoughts, a parasite for her emotions, and it had infected her so greatly that it harnessed her worst instincts - weaponized them - and rewarded her with the rush. It was why she found Quinn’s gift so potently addictive.
<:”HRNV Quibbler. Look for a matching transponder. It’s some kind of bacta transport. I’m in… I think I’m in some kind of maintenance tunnel. What are you doing here?! I thought I told you to stay put.”:>
Two fighters screamed past her port side and Lily banked away as one exploded, debris hammering the shields like rain as she scanned the transponders filling her sensor readouts.
“Ignoring you, obviously!” she bit back.
The Quibbler flashed on her screen on the other side of the battlefield. Lily swore under her breath, shifting power to the engines and streaking towards it. It was hardly a straight line, explosion and dogfights illuminated space around her, stray cannon fire lancing across her bough.
“I had a bad feeling and decided to act on it. Are you alright? I thought I felt-” the words died on her tongue as proximity alarms screamed half a second before half a fighter clipped the ship's top side, the sound of metal scraping across metal deafening as she let out a small involuntary scream.
“FUCK! How is this just business!? Arris I swear, I should have fucking killed you just to save myself the fething trouble!”
Alarms blared, shield output was way below anything she wanted to be flying on a normal day, let alone through this. The silhouette of the Quibbler wasn’t far ahead now, and beyond it the fighting seemed less, she could plot a jump and get them the hell out of here.
There was just the logistics of picking up the cyborg.
“Port side! Two mins!”
Verity sheltered close to the consoles to which the artifact was hooked up, crouched behind a reinforced portion of the bulkhead as Tiberius Rath
had directed her. She was near enough to Aurelian Veruna
to hear his whispering plea, and far enough away that she might have been able to delude herself later into thinking she had imagined it. If there was a later. She would know, deep down, in the dark of the night when she tried to sleep -- but no one present would have been able to gainsay her protestations.
Not Dominique, whose triumphant speech had just been punctuated by an explosion that blasted the blast doors into the bridge. Not her guards, who were surrounding her and defending against the incoming Sith forces. Not Rath, who was roaring orders, raising his own defenses, very much in command as the situation devolved violently. Not the Kinsguard, clustered around King Veruna's position, perhaps too preoccupied with the chaos at the breach and keeping his body intact to consider his mind.
But something in Veruna's plaintive plea stopped her: his struggling posture, the weakness where moments ago had been -- if not strength, then at least enough arrogant posturing to fake it. Verity's eyes lingered on him even as smoke poured through. Smoke won't stay forever, Verity observed, it's now or never. God damn it. That rat bastard is barely conscious and he's still going to get me into trouble -- move, woman! Using the choking smoke as cover, Verity stayed low, darting behind the consoles to stay out of sight. She weaved around the curved, segmented consoles forming concentric half-circles around the forward part of the CIC until she reached the rear of the console Aurelian now seemed to be so decoratively draped across.
"Pull yourself together, Veruna," she hissed, wanting to be heard by Veruna if he could hear anything, but not to announce her position to the others over the sound of the klaxons and chaos, rolling her eyes up to see whether she had caught his attention.
Nothing.
Her irritation with the pampered prince flared, then faltered.
"Aurelian?" She immediately disliked the concern in her own voice. She had intended something closer to snap out of it, fuckface.
Verity Stuyveris never thought she'd live to see the day when Aurelian Veruna's silence was worse than his speaking. She supposed there was a first time for everything. She was certain she hadn't roused him. But what she wasn't certain of -- couldn't be certain of, then -- was whether she even could. Verity stayed down then, wondering if there was any way to rally him. With a Sith Lord on the bridge of the Grace of Theed it would be the very worst time to have the device be shut off. Was Aurelian's bodily contact the only thing keeping it activated?
This was a fine kettle of fish.
Then a woman's voice, more pleasant than the circumstances called for, floated over the chaos. "Hello. It would seem to me, the good King needs some assistance. Don't worry... I'm here to help."
Verity went perfectly still, suddenly aware of the heft of the pistol tucked into the waistband of her trousers. Her free hand curled around the grip and pulled it carefully into her lap. For the moment, against virtually every instinct she possessed, Verity Stuyveris kept her mouth shut. If only Aurelian were awake to see it.
Arris Windrun
Atham Harek
