K I N G
CAMP DRYSTAN, SERENNO
The HUD pulsed with the final confirmations he had been waiting for. Adonis’ signal held firm at the mouth of the tunnel, his broad frame covering the retreat with the kind of resolve Aether had expected of him. Each blast of his shotgun and sweep of his blade carved space for their kin to spill into the open, and the Mand’alor marked it without a word, his silent approval carrying through the fire of his regard. Acier’s transponder blinked clear in the same moment, the younger brother pressing through the choke with the same steadiness he had carried since the first charge was set. He had done his work, and done it well, ensuring that what followed would find no Mandalorian still caught in the jaws.
Above, Talohn and Zlova were already making their way to the relay, their comms alive with familiar banter that drew a rumble from Aether’s chest. The Cathar had taken his jest about looting in stride, and the Twi’lek had claimed her title of best aunt with all the confidence of one who had never once failed to earn it. Their path was their own, but he knew well enough that when the time came, the relay would burn.
The moment stretched, the field alive with blasterfire and the thunder of engines, and then the last green blip peeled free of the tunnel. Aether’s gauntlet tightened upon the trigger in his grasp. “Hold this.” his voice growled across the comms, and then the earth itself answered.
The charges went first, the walls of the tunnel collapsing inward with a roar that tore the air asunder. Yet it was the chain reaction that followed which shook the mountain to its roots. Munitions stored in careless stacks caught and blossomed in fire, their thunder rolling through the base in an avalanche of destruction. One after another the detonations carried, each blast feeding the next until the sky itself lit with fury.
The obsidian helm tilted skyward as the inferno consumed their enemies. Aether’s throat thundered with a war cry that carried to every Mandalorian frequency, a raw and unyielding roar that belonged to no throne and no crown, only to the blood that bound them. When at last the echoes began to fade, his voice cut through the static once more.
““Mandalorians, rally to the wounded and see our kin made ready to march. The Chorus waits for us in the capital, and we will not keep them long. A detachment will remain to sweep the wreckage, and any who yet draw breath will be given the choice to lay down arms or be cast into the fire. Another battle is behind us, and it was well fought. You have honored Mandalore!”
Above, Talohn and Zlova were already making their way to the relay, their comms alive with familiar banter that drew a rumble from Aether’s chest. The Cathar had taken his jest about looting in stride, and the Twi’lek had claimed her title of best aunt with all the confidence of one who had never once failed to earn it. Their path was their own, but he knew well enough that when the time came, the relay would burn.
The moment stretched, the field alive with blasterfire and the thunder of engines, and then the last green blip peeled free of the tunnel. Aether’s gauntlet tightened upon the trigger in his grasp. “Hold this.” his voice growled across the comms, and then the earth itself answered.
The charges went first, the walls of the tunnel collapsing inward with a roar that tore the air asunder. Yet it was the chain reaction that followed which shook the mountain to its roots. Munitions stored in careless stacks caught and blossomed in fire, their thunder rolling through the base in an avalanche of destruction. One after another the detonations carried, each blast feeding the next until the sky itself lit with fury.
The obsidian helm tilted skyward as the inferno consumed their enemies. Aether’s throat thundered with a war cry that carried to every Mandalorian frequency, a raw and unyielding roar that belonged to no throne and no crown, only to the blood that bound them. When at last the echoes began to fade, his voice cut through the static once more.
““Mandalorians, rally to the wounded and see our kin made ready to march. The Chorus waits for us in the capital, and we will not keep them long. A detachment will remain to sweep the wreckage, and any who yet draw breath will be given the choice to lay down arms or be cast into the fire. Another battle is behind us, and it was well fought. You have honored Mandalore!”
