The Bloody Bones

[TB-705]

Amidst the various ships passing through this sector of space churned an ugly hulk of durasteel strapped with engines. The Connestoga-class bulk freighter's transponder indicated it was a cargo ship bound for a nearby orbital outpost, burdened with supplies. A common sight in the galaxy.

Communication with the destination would indicate the ship was scheduled for delivery, but was running a day late. Not a rare occurrence, by any means. Space travel had come far in the millennia, but there were still countless obstacles to face from system malfunctions to unmarked gravitational pulls to pirates.

The colossal floating box moved steadily onward, approaching a Panathan warship. Was it the Ruination? Who is to say.

[member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Darth Imperia"] | [member="Laguz Vald"] | [member="Rigor"] | [member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Athena Heron"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

“And the kids, how are they?”

Laguz tilted xir head to the side. The disassembled parts of xir lovely Tessie lay on a workbench before the merc, neatly separated into two groups. Xe’d just started cleaning the barrel when the pilot’s conversation drifted from the cockpit.

The zabrak was a talented ace, one of the best in Saeva. Laguz knew she could outmaneuver most decorated pilots and get out of situations so tight that even a blushing Dathomiri virgin would go green with envy. Xe knew she’d been dismissed from the Alliance navy because of her love of drink, and the violent rage that followed. What Laguz didn’t know, however, was that she had children.

Go figure.

“I know, honey. Tell Sile I’ll be home soon.”
“Yes, I’ll bring gifts, you know I always do. Yes, honey. I’ll be careful.”

Laguz smacked xir lips and set down the gun. With languid movements the assassin slithered out the door and down the corridor, leaning on the wall behind the zabrak.

“No, hon. It’s just one of those jobs. Those people! Come on, Reed, we’ve talked about this a hundred times! We can’t all be happy pushing papers around all day!”

Quirking an eyebrow, the merc glanced down at the navicomputer. At the pilot’s whitened knuckles. At her dissatisfied scowl.

“Myra?”

The zabrak slammed the auto and pivoted in her seat.

“What?! — no, not you, hon.”

“Drop the call when we get close, will you? It’s making you, mm,” xe gestured to the stick, “a tad jittery. Kind of beats the point of using a stealth ship, yeah?”

Myra stared at xem for a few tense moments, then settled back down. “Fine. You’re the boss, Vald.”

The shi’ido snorted. “Wouldn’t give a frak usually, M. But that ship…” xe shook xir head. “That shet spots us, we’re stardust.”

The pilot chewed on empty air, then puffed out a sigh and nodded.

“Take us in.”



[member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Darth Imperia"] | [member="Athena Heron"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Darth Imperia]

Not much tempted Darth Imperia these days. She had enough income to purchase (or, failing that, enough manpower to steal) almost anything that struck her fancy; from masterful artwork to expensive wines, there was little that Imperia couldn’t acquire on her own. No, if you wanted to bribe the self-proclaimed Lady of Rhelg, you had to do one of three things: stroke her ego, offer her knowledge…or promise a challenge.

So when Thengil called upon Imperia, his begrudging vassal, to assist him in destroying the capital ship of one of the most powerful Sith in the Galaxy, well.

How could she resist?

Close behind the Connestoga floated a Sekairo-Class Stealth Transport, lent for a single mission to Imperia by a certain porcine associate of hers. With an extensive array of anti-sensor technology, not least of which was the exceptionally useful Stygium Cloaking Device, only the most thorough and advanced of sensor suites had a chance of detecting the otherwise unremarkable transport.

Imperia, clad in a stunningly anachronistic set of armor, was the sole passenger of the ship – excluding the crew, but Imperia didn’t really consider them worth noticing. Except, perhaps, the pilot; she was quite cute, in her way. Speaking of the pilot, it was her characteristically chipper voice blaring over the comms system that broke the Knight out of her meditative trance.

“Approaching mission objective, Mistress. Have fun!”

A small smile crept upon the Knight’s features, hidden behind a faceless mask of phrik.

‘Fun’ was an understatement. This was going to be fantastic.

[SIZE=11pt]---[/SIZE]

[member="Athena Heron"]
[member="Blackthorne"]
[member="Darth Carnifex"]
[member="Laguz Vald"]
[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Pacanth Reach was an isolated and well-fortified area of space deep on the border between the Outer Rim and the wild Unknown Regions, and for good reason. It's ruler, the infamous Sith Lord Darth Carnifex, was a wanted man across all of known space for many different war crimes by many different, mostly now defunct, governments. He benefited well from the out-of-the-way and isolated location that his fiefdom was currently located in, as the only hyperlane to and from the region was funneled through the gateworld of Bunduki and monitored by MIGs procured via his connections with Ignus Industries.

They were set up along the only path to and from the Reach and were constantly monitoring the lanes for any undocumented and unsanctioned entries or departures. Alongside them were Sondheimer class Interdictor Cruisers graciously gifted to him by the First Order whom his territory was an integral aspect of.

So by the time any of these multiple unsanctioned incursions into the Reach had just begun to get underway, they would already have been detected by the advanced sensor equipment and safeguards put in place by the cautious Dark Lord of the Sith. And followed shortly after the detection?

Retaliation.

Even on its lonesome the Pacanth Reach harbored a flotilla of thousands upon thousands of ships varying from small corvettes to monolithic Star Destroyers, many of whom had been delegated to defending the Pacanth Reach's only entry point. Now dedicated strike teams converged, intent on destroying or apprehending any and all trespassers and violators of the Arch-King's law.

But none among them were the insanely sought Ruination.

 

[TB-705]

The rather large flotilla converged on the only other visible ship in the inky void: the ugly, rusty and entirely scheduled bulk transport.

The Connestoga-class did not appear concerned. In point of fact, the vessel churned straight into the middle of the flotilla without diverting course. Strangely enough, the cargo freighter's bay doors were not closed.

In fact, some sensor officers might say that the gargantuan two thousand meter hulk looked like it was headed on a direct collision course for the nearest Sondheimer cruiser, but that would be absurd.

Would it not?

[member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Laguz Vald"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Darth Imperia"] | [member="Erin Vikar"] | @Vraukt

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

The jewel in Pantha's defensive crown was the FIV Malice. Flanked by two imperial-x star destroyers, and three victory-x star destroyers, the group cut an intimidating figure. Although it didn't out right eclipse the juggernaut known as the Ruination, the Malice's presence was a reminder to the local rulers of whom payed Panatha's bills. However, the Malice was not orbiting Carnifex's kingdom out of a need to intimidate. It was instead there for maintenance. FIMB Palpatine was currently maintaining some of Battlegroup Imperator's larger ships. Down below, protected by a planetary shield, the FIV Menace, Vindicator and Trump, were undergoing routine repairs. Given the current climate of hostility, Carlyle really didn't mind. If his ships needed to undergo a check up, he'd be more than happy to wait, to ensure they were at peak performance.

Admiral Rausgeber however wasn't aboard the Malice's bridge, instead he was in his admirals office, writing up operational reports to be looked at by the admiralty on Dosuun. A hiss of the reinforced durasteel door informed the admiral, that a situation had arrived. "Admiral," A weary bridge officer barked, "Sir, we have a situation."

"What is it?" Carlyle asked, raising an eyebrow at the lieutenant.
"Sir, our perimeter scans show a ship coming out of lightspeed," The officer informed the admiral.
"And how is that of any note?" Carlyle asked, "We have ships, moving through this sector all the time, what is-"

"Apologies," The officer replied, wincing at the gaff, "It-It didn't appear on our scopes."

Carlyle stood, "Take me to the bridge," Carlyle ordered, before brushing past the lieutenant, and walking through the cold corridors of the Malice. It was a rather relaxed mood. The technicians and stormtrooper aboard were meandering through what was otherwise slow, training procedure. However, the emergence of the ship's commanding officer, briskly marching changed their tune. In his wake, Carlyle left officers and technicians scrambling to their posts, in an attempt to keep a professional demeanour.

Once aboard the bridge, the mood was tense, "Admiral," A cold, feminine voice barked, "We have another developing situation." It was Captain Vera Shannerssy, the commander of the Malice in Carlyle's absence. "A freighter, larger class. We've been tracking it, and it's moving towards one of our ships, FIV Momentum. It appears to be on collision course." the Captain informed him.

Carlyle looked over the bridge, "Get a priority signal out," Carlyle ordered to the Signals officer. "Tell the ship to halt its trajectory and if not, we will fire." He ordered, "Then, tell Marshal Wulf to prepare his ion battery for bombardment of this ship, I want it disabled."

"What of the Momentum?" The Signals Officer asked.

"Order Commander Gibbs to hold the line," Carlyle ordered, "But tell him, to charge his engines and prepare for evasive action." He paused, "Now to find this mystery ship."

"Understood Admiral," The Signals Officer replied, before sending out a public signal, "Unidentified vessel, you have entered First Order jurisdiction, as apart of inspection, we ask you immediately disable your engines and hold position until we can get an inspection team to view your cargo."

[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Darth Imperia"] | [member="Laguz Vald"]

 

[Subject 37]

IGNORE THIS!

 

[TB-705]

Too late, much too late. By the time the sensor officers realized the trajectory and the orders from high command came down, the Connestoga-class already bore down on Commander Gibbs' interdictor at full thrust.

Several things then happened at once.

I.

Some might be perplexed as to why a freighter would enter a system and then proceed onward with bay doors open. The Connestoga-class boasted a cargo capacity of one billion cubic meters. If necessary, the class could hold fifty million people. Incidentally, the freighter could also hold somewhere north of three hundred and fifty thousand ion mines. During all this time, the cargo freighter had steadily disgorged a very specific type of ion mine. These cloaked mines, under constant drift in the void, now lay scattered through space, invisible to sensors.

II.

The Connestoga-class attempted to ram into the side of the interdictor at full speed. The gargantuan rust bucket dwarfed the interdictor in size. If it hit it could likely split the interdictor in half. However, the results scarcely mattered, as some officious intermeddler had set the reactor core of the ship to overload, which it now did.

The blackness of space disappeared beneath a kaleidoscopic explosion of colors as the reactor core detonated, igniting liquid tibanna and oxygen in an expanding fireball right in the middle of the flotilla. Any ship caught in the blast, especially the smaller corvettes and gunships, were liable to be heavily damaged, to say nothing of the resulting debris field from the enormous cargo freighter.

III.

Something about the blast must have triggered the ion mines, because their weapon systems all came online and immediately began to target the ships of the combined flotilla. Approximately three hundred and sixty some odd thousand ion cannons discharged from empty space. By all appearances, it would look to sensors as though the Panathan defense force was faced by a cloaked armada.

IV.

In the wake of the explosion and the subsequent activation of the ion mines, a ship emerged from hyperspace. The ship bore no transponder, but even the most cursory of background checks would reveal the ship as the Peregrine-class armed freighter Ascent, which had gone missing along the Zareca String almost a month ago. The ship bore, emblazoned on its side, the burning claws, a symbol immortalized in holovids and synonymous with piracy.

The Peregrine-class launched a number of fighters as it moved toward the combined flotilla.

[member="Rigor"] | [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Darth Imperia"] | [member="Laguz Vald"] | [member="Erin Vikar"] | [member="Vraukt"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle watched in horrorfied fascination as the the Momentum was slammed into. The ship didn't outright split, but the interdictor, was clipped, and spun out of control. The following explosion tore through the hull of the ship. The Malice rocked from the explosion, as debris moved to hit it. "Take evasive action!" Carlyle barked, to the Helmsman who was dumb struck by the move. The resurgent-class destroyer began to move, as quick as a ship of its size could muster, and turned away from the debris.

"Admiral!" The Scanning Officer shouted, "Incoming, sir, some mass of cloaked devices incoming."

"I need more than that." Carlyle replied, "What is it?"

"It's like a wave sir, it's just, it isn't ships, that's for sure. They're too close together." Scanning stammered.

"Activate tractor beams and repulse them, it's most likely some form of automated stealth droid!" Carlyle snapped, "There is no way they could have deployed that many ships without our knowledge."

The Tractor Beam Officer nodded, and began to activate the tractor beam. The Malice did most of the work, while the star destroyers shielded the smaller from the mines. The attack was largely ineffective once the first mines were sent back. They detonated, catching the second wave in their path, so on and so forth. While the Momentum slowly burned, a wave of blue ion spread as thousands of mines collided, detonating. "Send word to the surface," Carlyle added, "This is some kind of attack. Alert them a ship may have slipped past us."
"Yes admiral," The Signals Officer replied, "Priority Signal to Panathan Reach, we have a code four incursion, suspected stealth transport landing on the planet, our fleet is under attack, we believe a stealth transport of unknown make, and calibre has landed on the surface." Carlyle nodded at the message, as a go ahead for its sending.
"Second ping admiral," The Scanning Officer reported, "Another freighter sir, she's launching fighters."

"Let them come," Carlyle growled, "Tell Marshal Wulf to get that ion battery online and target that ship." He snarled, "I want to have someone to hold accountable for this mess."

"What about the fighters sir?" The Scanning Officer asked.
"Deploy all of ours, we'll play it defensively, keep them close to the ships." Carlyle ordered, before peering out into the blue void, whomever had attacked would need to work a lot harder to subvert Supreme Leader's will.

[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[TB-705]

The vast majority of the mines had been dispersed when the Connestoga first entered the system, bay doors down. The nature of drift meant they spread out, many thousands of meters away from the flotilla.

Of course, a number were released much closer to the fleet, trailing off in the wake of the cargo freighter. The actions of the flotilla spelled doom for those devices nearest.

The bridge of the Peregrine-class bustled with activity.

“Tribune, speak.”

“They are trying to repulse the cloaked mines with tractor beams. A few thousand have been damaged or destroyed. The rest are still operational.”

Indeed, roughly three hundred and fifty thousand blue bolts continued to appear out of the nothingness of space at regular intervals and shoot sizzling for the flotilla vessels. The mines targeted the fighters pouring from the Malice as well as the capital ships, filling space with a storm of azure spears.

“Mines?” asked a Rodian with several ammunition bandoliers wrapped around his chest, “Are we not worried about a chain reaction?”

“Not those type of mines,” replied the Sunguard tribune. “No ion payload. Nothing to detonate. Just cloaks, sensors, and an ion cannon.”

Thengil nodded, “They claw blindly. A futile effort that shall see them to swifter end.”

“Legate,” said the Tribune, pointing to his screen, “They target us.”

Return fire began to pour out from ion cannons, directed at the Bloodfang. Shields flickered under the first salvo, as did the lights of the bridge.



Thengil growled. “Come, bring us behind paralyzed corvette and use it as shield, then for that disabled cruiser.”

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] | [member="Laguz Vald"] | [member="Lok Munin"] | [member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Darth Imperia"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"]

 

[Lok Xiangu]

When someone told the Trandoshan of the high priced Jagganath Points he would get if he were to join on this merry pirating crew, Dagorn could not resist the urge to join and skip out on this opportunity. Why were they high valued points? Simply because the troops belonged to one of the most infamous Sith Lords of the Galaxy; Darth Carnifex. That man was a worth a lot to his eyes and the eyes of the Scorekeeper. Did Dagorn think he had the skills and merits to combat such power?

Absolutely not.

However, if he were to die in this pirate raid, he would be living a high tiered life in the afterlife of the Trandoshans. Never had he been captured or shamed in any ways in the eyes of his goddess.

The hunter was aboard Thengil's ship, patiently awaiting to get his hands on some Blackblade Guards so that he could take their lives and be awarded handsomely by the Scorekeeper for his actions.

[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] @Rigor [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Darth Imperia"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

As planned, the freighter slammed into the interdictor in that deceptively slow motion characteristic of space. Laguz winced in sympathy as xe finished donning the vac suit. They were cruising some two clicks away from the Malice now, stealthy as can be.

The massive distraction – ramming action and explosions notwithstanding – began next. Ion cannons were the shet against fleets. They didn’t even need to disable much; the clusterkark was perfectly enough for the sniper.

Magboots engaged, airlock released, and Laguz was climbing onto the sleek back of the Nephilim. Well, oozing, more like, with Brenda strapped to xir back.

Location? Space. Distance mattered jack shet. No gravity, no weight, no real recoil. The lightshow of the defender mines would hide the muzzle flash like an umbaran hides his feelings. Scope? Piggybacking on the aiming modules of the ship under xir ass, so zero trouble there. The target? Captain of the Malice, Vera Shannerssy, determined and steadfast on her bridge.

And lastly, the performer? Laguz Vald, spy, thief, and assassin extraordinaire. How many other snipers could say they had shot a sorry frakker in space?

Grinning, the shi’ido molded against xir weapon. Brenda, among the heaviest of characters in xir arsenal. A pain in the ass to use. Unwieldy. Loud. Bright. Hot. Huge.

Sniper. Nightmare.

Not today, though. Today, the positron rifle would have its chance to shine. Laguz in the Sky with Diamonds, tripping on xir longtime friend, patient finger on the trigger, excited breath in xir lungs. Xe set the aim, then let the computer make the necessary adjustments based on on the speeds of the Malice and the Nephilim. The mercenary exhaled, took xir time, enjoyed the ease with which Brenda handled out here.

Didn’t even know when exactly xe’d fired, the consummate professional that xe was. Xe just felt the rifle move against xem, the intimate buck of a feisty lover; the curling of fingers in the throes of passion.

Oh, [member="Catalys Maijora"]. He’d always known how to craft weapons that made xir heart sing. Hyper-velocity rounds? Yes please. Hyper-velocity rounds that explode?

Laguz let out a dreamy sigh as xe observed the fruits of xir labor.

[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] | [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] | [member="Darth Imperia"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Dagorn"] | [member="Rigor"]

 

[Darth Imperia]

The detonation of the Connestoga's reactor core rocked the Sekairo, but thankfully, the pilot had the presence of mind to create some distance before the explosion commenced. The ship was battered, but not bloodied - and still fully operational. [SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

So while her companions distracted the enemy and the mines worked their magic, Imperia's ship floated unseen towards its target: a single frigate, of typical First Order design. Imperia detested First Order aesthetic (despite having somewhat similar tastes; egomania does that to you) at the best of times, and ship design was no exception. Oh, well. She could sell the thing later, or perhaps scrap it and use the parts to create something more appropriate to her tastes.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

First, however, the Knight had to manage the actual hijacking part of the plan. For that, she’d secured something a bit less subtle than the Sekairo.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

In the hangar of the aforementioned stealth vessel rested a far smaller craft, one that could only be described as resembling a very angry, very metal bird. To be a bit more specific, the hangar bay of the Sekairo held a Katarn-Class Boarding Shuttle, a rather simple shuttle with a rather simple purpose; sticking itself to the hull of a much larger ship and boring a hole in it.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

Which, after floating free of its mother ship, is exactly what it did.[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

By the point that Imperia stepped from the shuttle to the quarters of a very surprised (and shortly after, very dead) yeomen, stealth had more or less gone out the window.
[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]

---

[member="Laguz Vald"]
[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"]
[member="Dagorn"]
[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]
[member="Rigor"]

 

[TB-705]

Blue bolts bombarded the Peregrine's shields and the bridge crew began to look nervous until the helms person guided the ship behind an ionized corvette. The freighter took refuge there for a few moments, allowing the shields to regain strength, before pushing ahead toward a cruiser.

"[member="Dagorn"], follow me to the katarn. Tribune, keep the ship alive."

"Aye, legate."

Thengil strode imperiously from the bridge and down to the hangar of the Peregrine. He clambered into a katarn-class boarding shuttle, where a number of Sunguard, Rodians, and Ubese waited. The katarn soon departed from within the freighter and burned hard toward the paralyzed vessel. The shuttle rocked from the occasional hit, but the ion defenders likely proved a bigger problem than the enemy had suspected.

In short order, the nose of the katarn kissed against the hull of the near frozen enemy vessel, near the bridge, and magnetized with a loud clank. Plasma cutters sheared through the hull, making an impromptu opening for the plunderers to exploit.

Ri'Shajirr followed at the rear of the corsairs as they streamed into the larger ship. The air soon grew thick with the smell of burning flesh and choked screams.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Darth Imperia"] | [member="Laguz Vald"] | [member="Rigor"]

 

[Blackthorne]

Aboard the Harrowbane

Sitting at the edge of the system, just beyond visible perception and hiding from sensor/scanner feeds, the Harrowbane lurked patiently, awaiting the cue to take action. FSDP and DERP systems active, the ship slowly glided along the outskirts a veritable predator stalking its prey. Within the confines of the ship its crew was busy with preparations. While the team ran systems and cargo prep the Captain attended to her own self-prep in the common area. She was packing along strangers: the Disfavored Elite was what [member="Marcus Itera"] called them. Not quite as rowdy as she'd been expecting, but Dahl had no qualms with this. Mercenaries often took their jobs a bit more seriously than Pirates - it was anyone's guess as to who enjoyed their work more at the end of the day - but here they were, strapped in with their game faces on.

Dahl couldn't help her amusement at their stoic natures. She quelled a snigger by taking a pull from her sten, the purple smoke expressed from her lips filling the space between her and Marcus as they finalized their plans for the run.

"Logistically speaking, we can manage two, maybe three separate snares before we run out of boarding harpoons," Kiin the Rattataki spoke, "if we stick to frigates and smaller corvettes, you shouldn't have any problem with smaller groups. Anything larger and you'll want a bigger dedicated team. Panathan security shouldn't be underestimate, the bigger ships will likely have the elite guards on them."

"Two ships, minimum," Dahl interrupted, "we're not going after bigger ships. They won't sell as easily and they'll take longer to strand."

 

[Marcus Itera]

Aboard the Harrowbane

There wasn't enough whiskey on this tug.

Once upon a time he'd made ends meet by helping an old friend out with his pirating endeavors along the Mara Corridor, and there was much booze to be had. Bountiful kegs and more bottles of beer, ale, rum, and brandy than he could possibly count. But here, there wasn't even quench his thirst. Just water and whatever odd assortment of alien beverages these Rattataki so enjoyed.

"What's wrong?" Harlan strode over, shouldering a rifle. "You're not being the usual fraghead before an op." The bald man grinned, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Marcus regarded the man with a glare. "I'm thirsty."

He meant well. They all did. Miranda had chosen most of them specifically for their skillset and personality - the kind that liked to keep others in line, namely Marcus himself. The Disfavored kept him out of trouble on more than just a few occasions. Unfortunately, the crew hadn't been with him when he'd met Dahl. Oh Dahl, she was a doll, offering a chance to redeem himself after their first encounter. There was also that great bounty of credits that she promised as well - and hopefully more to come.

"Mission parameters uploading; I've linked in with the Harrowbane's sensorscopes, I'll run scans on the vessels and mark them as viable targets." Miranda chirped.

Marcus nodded, sliding the charging handle back on his rifle.

[member="Blackthorne"]

 

[Blackthorne]

Green eyes slivered as they watched the group of Mercs huddled together on cargo benches or leaning against crates. She suspected there were a lot of hairy-eyes going on behind those visors and masks but Dahl was less an empath and more a woman of suspicion. With a tick her stare landed on [member="Marcus Itera"] and his bald-headed compadre - the sour nature of the former's expression speaking volumes more than any words could. He stood like an agitated bull waiting for his run down the narrows.

"Captain," the voice of Ihmoen sounded within a comm link in her ear, "we've been signaled. Time to move."

"Drop stealth systems, engage shields, targeting systems, and auxillary thrusters," [Aye, Captain.] a low reply with a hand to her ear before Blackthorne stood to her full height at the table several of the key coordinators had surrounded, "gentlemen! We make our approach. Grab your gear and tighten your belts. Kiin, you've got the bridge."

"Aye," Kiin nodded after her as she peeled away from the table and headed directly for Marcus.

"I need this," Dahl said to Harlan as she looped an arm through the crook of Marcus' elbow, "you can have him back when I'm done." Her green eyes, balefully glowing in the dim cargo bay, cut upwards at Marcus with a faint raise of a single brow. A flick of her head indicated for him to follow her.

 

[Marcus Itera]

Thank the stars for Miranda. The beauty of an AI was an age-old gift bestowed upon him by the Galactic Republic back in the day, and he'd ignored all requests for her return. Seeing as the great Republic hadn't existed very long after their peppering of requests and threats of forcible return, the two had grown used to each other. Marcus had grown out of seeing her as just another tool to use in war, and he assumed she'd realized that he was smarter than he looked - or so he hoped. Either way, her ability to prioritize targets and analyze data was the greatest skill a warrior could ever master. She was just as much one as even he was, whether there was a rifle in those holographic hands of hers or not.

Something flashed in augmented reality, the avatar of an Imperial vessel materializing along with every spec on it.

He had to admit, it was pretty hot. Good looking ships and rifles got him all riled up. It was called the Gorgon.

While the mercenary was busy daydreaming about swimming in the resale profits of the Gorgon, something brushed against him. The feeling was all too familiar and he knew exactly who it was without catching a glimpse of green eyes peering up into his. He felt her hand against the crux of his elbow.

He flashed her a wry grin, though it wasn't like she had x-ray vision, and fished a cigarra out of a tactical pouch. A quick light and it was promptly slid through his hydration slit, inhale following.

"Watch it," he warned her. "I've dropped too many of these 'cause of ya." The bite of nicotine awakened him. "Got somethin' pretty nice and shiny lined up in our sights. Cute little frigate with our name written all over it."

Marcus popped the cigarra out, flicking the ash onto the durasteel bulkhead, grinding it with a boot. "Fancy a tour of it?" He grinned, adding a courtly, pompous wave of his hand.

[member="Blackthorne"]

 

[TB-705]

He sat in the command chair and watched the blood pool beneath the former captain's body. Crimson ichor dripped from his claws, rolling across the deck to join the growing puddle. Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Legate, are you injured?"

Thengil blinked lazily, then glanced down at his exosuit. Smoke drifted from a scorch mark on his chest. He growled, then spat blood from his mouth onto the corpse at his feet. The blood was not his own.

"No."

The Sunguard nodded. "Sir, fighting was very fierce, but the ship had a great number of detention cells, which we opened. The prisoners joined us in the fight and rendered significant aid. Their leader wishes to speak to you."

Ri'Shajirr's gaze flicked over to an emaciated Togorian standing beside the legionnaire. "Speak."

The Togorian bared his throat in a gesture of respect. "I am called Mokir Cinderfur, chieftain of the Yil clan. We would stand beside you."

"How many do you stand?"

"A thousand or more."

Thengil chuffed. "Then stand with me."

Mokir flashed a deadly grin, then the two clasped paws.

"Legate," interrupted the legionnaire, "Tribune reports heavy fire from the star destroyers."

Thengil's growled. "Tell him to hold until we are underway."

[member="Blackthorne"] | [member="Dagorn"] | [member="Marcus Itera"] | [member="Darth Imperia"]

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Get a kill. Point. Another one. Point.

The Trandoshan was a savage and a force to reckon with as he firmly displayed on the enemy's vessel. At range, he wasn't dangerous. In fact, it was relatively safe for anyone to keep their distances from species such as a Trandoshan, Wookies, and others like them. However, when one was close to a monster like Dagorn there was a slim chance of survival. His weapons were his claws, his bright and sharp teeth, and his sword.

Bodies were slain, chewed, and thrown around by Dagorn's raw strength and viciousness. Little did he know of martial arts such as Echani, but he was a wrestler at heart. That was how he subdued most of his enemies, and the Imperial soldiers were easy ones.

"Let'sssssss go," the only dialogue the beast of Dagorn said to his feline companion of Thengil, realizing that their ship was in danger of being destroyed.

[member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] [member="Marcus Itera"] [member="Darth Imperia"] [member="Blackthorne"]