The Long Haul

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Taanab, a world of farmer . Cyril had actually visited the planet in that single year of peace the Republic had before the Sith brought war to it once more. Seventeen years. That was how long the Sith Empire, and then its reincarnation as the One Sith, had warred with the Republic, with only a year in the middle to break up the conflict. Cyril had been at the forefront of it - he was the former Sith Emperor's child, his right hand, his successor, the marked one.

It was only by the grace of his mother that he ever found his way into the Jedi Order.

"It's a pretty planet, though I can see why you left. More excitement out here." He mused, offering a wry smile.

For but a moment, he felt something wrong. A sense of malice heavy in the air, like a thick blanket falling over the town of Kinthar. Something undeniably wrong was nearby, and then just as it had appeared, it was gone. A shiver ran down his spine, but he could not dare voice it without giving himself away. There was no point in doing so anyway, as the presence was completely gone.

"Well.." He murmured, gazing out toward the setting sun. The great ball of light was slipping just below the distant mountains, casting the sky in a myriad of hues, from blue to gold. If was a sight you only ever saw on these less developed worlds. "I think you should. Figure you've piqued my interest. Good shot, good head on your shoulders, good..."

He trailed off. He wasn't cheesy enough to drop the gorgeous line. He leaned down toward the Imperial, his lips pressing into an amused little line. "I'm going to be in town for awhile. Given the way the war is going, I figure you are too..."

He said nothing more.

[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

"Mmm, 'tis."

She agreed with a small nod. She'd loved Taanab, still thought about it some days. Assuming she managed to reach retirement she might rebuy a plot of land. It was beautiful, it just hadn't been enough. Or more accurately it had been too much of the same for no reason beyond survival. No cause. Raise the beasts, fix the fences, fight the raiders, sell the excess, provide for your self, repeat. Year after year. You might go help a neighbour in need now and again but otherwise you were focused solely on your own ranch.

Which wasn't bad. It just wasn't good either.

She'd been raised on stories of the honourable Imperial, fighting for justice and to protect the people of the universe, usually against the untrustworthy, bloodthirsty aliens, or the corrupt Republic. Granted she was a grown woman now and took everything with a grain of salt and saw far more shades of grey than she would like to, but a little bit of that naivety remained. She wouldn't be a hero, but she might work beside or under them. She might get to see the next story or legend as it happened, and if she wasn't mentioned in the history books, well that was just fine. She was only a simple farmgirl after all. Still, that slight dreaminess in an otherwise practical head, that want to make a difference, to be involved had pushed her off her ranch and out into the stars.

And then of course he completely threw her again. Seemed to be something of a trend. At least at the beginning of his speech his attention was on the setting sun, so he hopefully missed the look of utter bewilderment. And he was straightforward about it, gods knew she had a tendency to miss subtext. She'd just never really had time nor opportunity for this sort of thing before. The ranch had been fairly isolated and in basic training you'd either been worked too hard to even think of rutting or it was someone talking down to you just because you happened to have ovaries, and the correct response was a punch to the boys and a knee in the nose.

Still. They were both adults. She had the time now, as her one woman war on metal parasites during off hours attested. He was more than handsome enough, and decent company so far. She was pretty sure Temi and Vaiden were shackin' up from the moon-eyes they made at each other so it couldn't be too much against policy.. So long as care was taken to avoid any unintended results, why not? Why over complicate something that was at it's root simple?

"Suppose I likely am."

She allowed. This didn't seem like quite enough but words seemed too complicated. Maybe them with more education than her could have had a whole bit of flowery prose perfect and ready for the situation. Well, he was already leaning down towards her.. One hand, callused and rough for all that it was small rose to his cheek and she shifted slightly, moving to bring her lips up to his.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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"The heat is sweltering." The voice growled. Cyril found himself in a dark chamber, though he was not there physically. He was only a spectator to these events, real as they felt.

A massive figure some two meters tall hovered over a line of men and woman in dark robes. Each was down on one knee, heads bowed, lips twisted into morbid scowls as they whispered an arcane verse. The figure above them lifted his massive head. Eyes so dark they sucked in all light around him gazed down on the gathering of Sith Lords. Pale white lips twisted into a terrible smile.

"Yet cleansing. Do you feel it? That shift? Something comes. Something...blasphemous?" The large man lofted a brow, and lowered his head.

One of the Sith gazed up at her Lords, and mumbled something unintelligible. The Dark Lord laughed, nodded, and then the world disappeared.



The errant Jedi Knight drew in a sharp breath as Cyrene's hand came to rest on his cheek. Part of him was still off in the void, far disconnected from his physical self. The other half was drawn into the momentary exchange of affection. It was something alien to Cyril - relationships were never in the cards. His time as the Emperor's Hand had suppressed any carnal desires he might have had as a teenager, and service to the Jedi Order stole too much time after that.

Not to mention his apprehension about intimacy anyway.

Still, he found he could not help himself. His arms slipped around the Imperial's waist autonomously. His lips fell to press against hers, his eyes driving shut at contact. He held her close, as if she might disappear were he to be anything but dedicated to what they were doing. What they had just started.

What he might come to regret in the far future.

The vision invaded his mind once again even as he fell under the woman's spell; one she had unknowingly cast over him when their eyes met in the bar. His mission was to learn the layout of the Imperial garrison. Instead, it had become an excuse.

Then there was that vision.

It only bothered him for a fraction of a second. Then he was back again, his arms around a woman he had only just met hours before on a ridge overlooking a Sith world. An impossible circumstance, but it was the reality of things. Cyril wasn't going to complain.

Their lips parted, though he lingered close to her, his brow pressed against hers.

"That was...nice." He stumbled for words. "Don't suppose you're going to make me run on home now?" He asked quietly, amusement lacing his words.

[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

His arms pulling her closer were.. well it was new. Most physical closeness had either been familial or more recently part of self-defence training. This was neither. Of the three options, this was definitely the preferable one. Or at least when it was with him. While her eyes had initially closed when the kiss began, for just a brief fraction of a second they popped open to study him. Because closing your eyes was the done thing. Who knew what everyone was missing? Once she'd taken in and memorized his expression however, they closed again, her secret faux pas gotten away with unseen.

Eventually the kiss ended, though he stayed close, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. His words made her grin. She kind of liked that he wasn't too fast nor fancy with his words either. Made the fit seem better, easier.

His question did raise some conflicting feelings though. Was she sending him home? If not.. what then? How far did she intend to let this go? She had just met him after all. She knew his name and where he was from, that was about it. She wasn't in the habit of just throwing herself at folks. Still.. There was something about him..

"Reckon y'can walk if y'want to. Nothin' chasin' ya, and I'll shoot 'em if they do."

Was her teasing response.

"It was nice, and you don't gotta leave now, but I do soon enough, I got watch duty in th'morn."

In theory as long as she slunk in before she was expected to go on duty she'd be fine. They generally just posted her up in a tower somewhere to spot and snipe as necessary, but he didn't need to know that. Besides, she ought to have at least few hours sleep before duty for the same reason she didn't drink on duty. People's lives depended on her being functional. Responsible.

Didn't mean she couldn't spend at least a little more time with him though. Just meant she was unlikely to start stripping. After all, it was dangerous here. The Colicoids, for all that they were sentient, could take it into their weird buggy heads to attack at any time, and that was the sort of thing a person wanted their pants on for.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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"I don't intend to go too far." He mumbled, finally breaking their contact. His hand lingered on her forearm as he pulled away, a tether between the two of them. He wasn't going to let her off so easily. A quiet laugh escaped him at her teasing.

He settled down on the ridge, gazing out at the approaching darkness. The city's lights were beginning to come alive. The cantina's neon sign hummed as it illuminated the main road in hot pink. Street lights flooded the alleys in cleanising pale light. Floodlights from the Imperial garrison illuminated the sky, and cast massive powerful beams out on the plains. One could just make out the shifting forms of the Collocoids in the distance, though any details of the creatures went unseen.

Night was when they tended to attack. It gave them the lowest risk of being wounded, and even the Imperial snipers slipped up in the dark. That wasn't to mean they were inept. It was rare any of the bugs ever found its way into the town - the Stormtroopers did tier jobs well.

His feet dangled over the rocky edge. Three meters if open air sat between Cyril and the ground. No Collocoid was going to reach that high without being noticed, and it was quite unlikely they would get this close anyway.

"Why leave Taanab?" He asked curiously, his voice little more than a low whisper. "Too quiet? Creepy neighbor trying to get you to have his kids?"

[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

She hadn't meant to be too blunt about it, but it was good he understood all the same. With her own body and mind at odds with each other currently, it made things much easier to keep in hand if he wasn't going to push. She wasn't sure how many times she'd say no. Or even if she would.

So she settled down beside him, leaning into his side, watching the sun go down. While she was paying attention to both the view and the man beside her, part of her couldn't help but track the movement of the bugs, watching to see if any of them took up the movement patterns she'd come to associate with attack. It was something she couldn't turn off anymore. Once it had been watching the herds for anything out of place, now it had grown and adapted to new settings. She'd been raised since infancy to be a guardian in one form or another, for all that few ranchers or shepherds would apply such lofty titles to themselves, Cyrene included, it was accurate.

She shrugged once at his question, a common response from her apparently, before elaborating.

"My Mama raised me on her own, just the two of us, sometimes we'd take a hand on if the year looked t'be a good one. Couple years back she died, stampede, damned stupid accident, but they happen. Suddenly there's just me and the ranch. Ain't exactly a one woman job. Coulda tried to hire folks on and hoped I made enough I guess.."

She paused and rubbed her nose briefly as she considered how to continue.

"I heard a lotta stories about heroes and such growin' up. I ain't sayin' I believe them, not any more anyhow, but I reckon there's still folks doin' what they need t'do. I figured I could help th'folks doin that. We had a lotta raiders, I was a good shot. Had t'be. So I sold the ranch, bought a decent rifle and enlisted. Might go back one day."

Probably not though. Life expectancy for grunts like her wasn't that high. Not with aliens that could rip your head off, doomsday weapons and force users all over the place. That was all right though, everyone had to die someday. Better in the line of duty than trampled in some muddy gulch.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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His arm drew around her shoulder. It was an involuntary action, but the message was the same. He liked this. It was so rare for him to ever just sit down. Spending time like that with a woman was something else entirely. His heart thumped in his chest in the same way that it did in combat, only this time it was not to prevent an untimely demise. Cyril was excited like a giddy little teenager to be involved with this woman - this Imperial, the very thing he was here to stop.

It was a sobering thought, and one he quickly forced out of his mind.

"When I was little, I always imagined what growing up on a farm might be like." He admitted. It was embarrassing, but the truth nonetheless. "My father was a Grand Moff in the old Sith Empire. My mother was a Jedi Padawan my father managed to charm, and then he got rid of her, kept me as an heir."

He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. Such things were common in the Imperial hierarchy. Perhaps not taking up with a Jedi, but in a society run by force users, force sensitive bloodlines were everything. His father had orchestrated his birth strictly for that reason. He wanted a Sith for a child, one who would bring the family name prestige.

"He married a Sith after that, had two more kids. Then he got too big for his britches and threatened the Sith Emperor. He and his wife were executed, I was taken as Darth Vulcanis's pet, and I served him until I was...oh, twenty one?" He lofted a brow, asking himself the question, and sighed. "The slave yards were terrible, but they built character. I eventually escaped when the Empire fell. Add a few years, and now I'm here."

It was all truth, but adding anymore would expose him. Both his connection to the force, and his true allegiance. It was not something he could afford to do. Not with her.


[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

"Hrr."

Was about the closest one could get to expressing the noise Cyrene made after his revelation. She didn't like folks being bred like prize nerf for all that in some cases it might make sense, and she certainly didn't like the thought of [member="Cyril Grayson"] as anyone's pet. Her face screwed up slightly at that bit. That it was a Darth just made it that much worse. She wasn't keen on slavery to start with, but slavery to a force user? On top of being unnatural, they were as near to gods as you were like to find wandering the Galaxy. Which was probably half the reason the sniper was an atheist. It was just.. If you were going to be a god you ought to take care of what was yours. Mind your flock.

Cyrene hadn't been one to use electric prods on her stock. She'd not even used speeders to herd them most of the time, since the sound tended to set most of the species on edge. She'd gone proper old style, riding a gualama to make the rounds. The comparison wasn't entirely apt of course, since most of what she'd raised had been slaughtered for meat in the end but still. If you were set over something you did your best by it. That was the long and short of it, and most force users didn't. No matter what cult they fell into. Jedi didn't act, and Sith thought of themselves. If they were gods they were stupid, ineffectual, selfish gods.

Cor, that were likely treasonous.. Mind yourself girlie. Still..

"I'm glad th'Sith don't much bother with th'grunts. Guess they give order's t'them over me, but aside from that y'don't see 'em much and I can't say I'm sad about it."

Even saying that much was dangerous. As much as she liked to pretend the army and the Sith side of things were disconnected, this was not the case, and it was the Sith from whom the orders the army carried out generally originated. Still, if absolutely pressed, she couldn't be faulted too much for not wanting to interact with a being as terrifying and ruthless as your average Sith Lord. She might just be brutally tortured and not executed for it.

But it had been important that he knew she did not think what was done to him was okay. She liked to think that maybe the One Sith were better than the Sith Empire, that maybe they would not have done the same, but in all honesty.. When it came to force users she wasn't sure. They just didn't care or think about the little folk.

A pet. That said a lot. Pretty well summed it up.

"Farming was.. It was hard, and y'never had a day off. Couldn't call in sick neither, y'got up not matter how y'felt or what th'weather was like. There was no one to fill in, you didn't do your job, th'stock suffered. It was good though. Satisfyin' I guess. Y'could see the physical results of everythin' y'did."

 

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The idea that anyone could see the Empire as heroic was disturbing. Not in the warped sense, but in the way ISB managed to spin their war machine. They oppressed people, plain and simple. As far as Cyril was concerned, the Empire and the word hero were antonyms for one another. Of course, Cyrene didn't need to hear that.

"I might try it one." He mused. "When I'm not shooting things or being shot at. I-"

There it was again, that dark presence just on the edge of his mind. His words hitched in the back of his throat, and he instinctively glanced over his shoulder. There, standing two meters tall and clad in ebon robes, the source of the disturbance gazed down at him. Fierce yellow eyes studied him, and then Cyrene, before drifting up toward the valley.

"The Collocoids are mounting an offensive." It rasped. "On the western wall. Two children have been taken. We have held them, but require manpower. You two will come with me to deal with the threat - and quickly. We will not return for a day or so." The figure clenched its fists at its sides. The dull glint of a lightsaber hilt flashed in the pale moonlight.

Cyril felt his face and neck flush a faint shade of red. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. This was what he had come to look for, a Sith Lord.

"Forgive me, m'lord, but don't you ne-"

"Another word of reprisal and I will sheer your woman from shoulder to hip. She is a Stormtrooper, if I am told correctly, and property of the Dark Lord, my proprietor, which makes her my property." He pressed the tip of his boot in Cyrene's direction. "I have need of a sharpshooter. You were recommended. This spacer should serve us well."

Cyril fell silent, and glanced over at Cyrene. A knot was beginning to form in his stomach. Had the Sith sensed him? Surely he would have felt the mental prodding, unless this Dark Sider was a particularly skilled mentalist...


[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

Cyrene glanced over her shoulder to see what had so thrown Cyril off. Having no force abilities to speak of she'd not sensed anything, and the Sith had been unnaturally quiet. As such it was safe to say the sudden appearance of the Sith as though summoned by her nigh treasonous thoughts of a moment before gave her something of a start.

Ain't bloody natural-

This thought was clamped down upon immediately, not only out of self-defence, but also because the Sith began to speak, and he was speaking business. The sniper was rising immediately turning to face the Sith at attention, back straight, heels together, eyes front. Colicoid attack. Two children. Likely dead, but one could hope. Might still be alive if the bugs had just struck. She didn't have the gear she'd normally bring, but that wasn't her call. Either it would be provided or she'd go without. She had her rifle and a decent amount of ammo, it would have to do.

Her calculations were interrupted by the Sith's threats. Anger started to rise at the unjustness and the sheer wastefulness, but it was quickly quashed and set aside. Still, the idea that he would kill a trained sniper to prove a point to an unenlisted unknown did not sit well. she chose to assume it was a bluff, and just his usual manner of speech.

Hain't my call t'make. I signed up, this's my job. They reckon this gent can requisition my services, well I guess that's so. Besides, all else aside, trackin' down child-killers is a worthy job.

"Yessir."

Was the response with a precise salute.

"Resupplying or deploying immediately Sir?"

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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He knew this Sith. It was not the eyes nor the pale features that gave the force user away, it was the voice. The slow, gasping tremor that shook his words like an old man struggling to draw breath. It was the same voice that had taunted him on Tython. The Sith Apprentice.

Gregory.

The arrogant boy had not seen Cyril's face. Their duel was a short one, ending with Gregory being thrown into a marble column and left for the Stormtroopers to find. It seemed he'd recovered far more quickly than the Jedi could have ever guessed. It was likely cybernetics that allowed him to walk so quickly after being so grievously wounded.

"Good. I appreciate an eager soldier." He rumbled, yellow eyes tracing over Cyrene's form like a beast elaborating its next meal. We'll move quickly. The gate may still be under siege. There will be a speeder, take it to the locale listed on its nav system...there is no time to resupply. We move now." He snapped.

Then he was gone, striding off in a swirl of black robes. The force was a monstrous storm around that man, crackling and burning anything that came across his path. It sent a shiver down Cyril's spine, though he did not voice it.

He fingered the grip of his sidearm, pushed up to his feet, and sighed.

"Aren't you the good little soldier?" He teased. "We should help the defense...but keep your guard up around that Sith. His intentions aren't so transparent. He wants something else - what it is I'm not too sure."

His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "You take the lead. I'll watch your ass, figuratively and literally speaking."

[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

Eager wasn't the right word, but he did not need to know that. There was an extremely extensive list of things Cyrene would rather be doing than working this closely with a force user, unfortunately leaving children and other civilians to die was not on that list. One good thing about the stiff, eyes directly ahead attention stance when you were short was that you could avoid making eye contact and no one could call you on it.

Hain't got no armour, hain't got no back-up or close-in weapon, hain't got no ammo cache. This'll be bloody interestin'. And I gotta save th'town, hopefully save th'kids and fer sure keep Cyril alive. My damned fault he got pulled inta all this.

None of this made Cyrene happy. Being properly prepared and geared was half the battle at least, or so they'd been told in basic training. Look after your gear and your gear looked after you, yet here was someone in command throwing her in ungeared. She relaxed slightly as the Sith strode off. She wrinkled her nose and scowled slightly at the good little soldier comment. Not that it wasn't accurate, it was just frustrating when she reckoned someone could use a whack on the nose and knew they were never going to get it.

Likely never.

"Don't do no good t'argue. Asides, them in the town are dependin' on folks like me t'keep 'em breathin' and I don't much like kiddy-snatchers, bug or otherwise. 'Nd y'don't need t'tell me twice.."

Fingers moved to touch the strap of her rifle where it hung over her back, body betraying a thought her mind knew better than to even form.

"A-yuh I reckon y'will, might as well get somethin' out o' this bloody night."

Came the teasing reply back as she started to move, giving the piece of anatomy in question a slight wiggle and winking over her shoulder at him before breaking into the sort of trot that ate up ground and could be maintained for hours if necessary, especially largely unburdened as she was.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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"They frighten me. The Sith I mean." He admitted plainly. It was the truth. Sith could be terrifying - the key was to lock that fear away. To put it in a box, throw out the key, and tuck it into a corner where it could never be seen again. It was how Jedi could throw their lives away for total strangers if necessary. It was also the fact that most Jedi had absolutely nothing to lose.

Yet Cyril did. His mother, his sister, his...what was Cyrene now. He watched her as she walked ahead, studying the subtle sway of her hips, her posture,the way she took in the world she lived in, the sudden sharp looks and wary caution to her gait that was characteristic of a military sharpshooter. They needed to be ready for the most minuet changes at any moment, and that was reflected perfectly in this woman, this perfect model of the Imperial Stormtrooper. One that the Sith would break without a moment's thought in one of their tantrums. That was all the Empire was to them, toys to be broken. Cyril would show the Imperials there was a better way.

"I already have sweetheart. I'm just going all in - can't leave with the winnings I have. Pot isn't big enough." He shot back, all the intent in the world behind his words. Such thoughts would have to wait for later, though they plagued his mind nonetheless.

That might be an issue. Charging a line of Collocoids was the last place to be having boyish fantasies.

"Also I get to look at your butt." He dead panned as he fell in step with the shorter woman, standing a little more than a head taller than Cyrene.

He could blame the Sith bio-engineering for that. If he had been left alone, he would have barely broken five-five in height. His mother and father were short people after all. At least there was one thing to thank Darth Vulcanus for.

It was the blood that caught Cyril's attention first. A Stormtrooper lay in two clean pieces, carved from the crown of his head, the the end of his hips. He was clad in fatigues - a Collocoid's claw had carved right through him. Cyril swallowed the lump in his throat, stepped around the corpse, and drew his blaster.

Two blaster turrets roared as they drenched a line of Collocoids in blaster fire. Stormtroopers fired from defensive position all along the western gate - and the Collocoids ripped through them like a knife through paper. The giant bugs' corpses lined the hill leading up to Kinthar, but for ever dead Collocoid, there were six Imperial bodies. The Sith Lord that had summoned them stood at the bottom of the hill, drenched in the pale white light of Kinthar's floodlights. They were the only source of light now, everything beyond their days was an inky black.

His crimson blade carved murderous arcs through any bug that came too close, but the stream of Collocoids seemed unending.

"Quite the mess. Wonder what the Sith did to get them so angry." Cyril asked quietly, taking up a position behind an overturned barrel. His DC-15 whirred as the packed charged to a lethal level.

"Shall we?"



[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Chiasa Kritivaas]

Welp. That character switch sure failed.​

 

[Cyrene Miles]

Cyrene nodded once in agreement when he admitted his fear. She felt much the same but.. Well there wasn't much she could do about it so there was no point letting it get in the way. Besides, force users might have been god-like, but they weren't gods. They were still mortal. Again, the fingers strayed to the strap of her rifle. Half an inch of durasteel with ease. That was what her baby could punch through at ungodly speeds, from distances of up to 1500m. Colicoids. Stay focused.

His next comment won him a grin though. At least he was holding onto his sense of humour. He might have resented her for getting him dragged into all this after all. Ulterior motives aside, the Sith had said he needed a sharpshooter. That was her. If Cyril hadn't been with her he'd not have been pulled in. A kiss was hardly worth being thrown to the Sith for. Of course.. Maybe it was more. Or going to be more. This thought honestly unsettled her far more than the coming incident. Not in a bad way exactly just.. An odd hollow fluttering in her mid section and a heat in her cheeks that the level headed farmer was not accustomed to dealing with.

"All in hey? Well, y'look like a lucky lad so we'll see! And tis a nice ass."

She agreed with a nod. Not that she'd really thought about the quality of her posterior before, nor was she really doing it now, but if he liked it, well and good, All joking was set aside however when they reached the first sign of carnage.

"Sorry brother."

She commented under her breath as she dared the gore to take the cleft stormtroopers blaster. If anything got too close it would be better than her rifle. Blood had never scared her. It was hooked off one of the clips on her pants. Small mercies she didn't run around in farm dresses off duty.

"Dunno.. I don't know enough about 'em t'know what'd tick 'em off proper."

Cyrene dropped prone to the ground, lining up her first shot. The Sith was holding his own, her fellow soldiers were not. If she could gain them some room they might be able to start pushing back the bugs.

"Yep."

With that her finger squeezed gently and the first of many Colicoids dropped, claw raised above a stormtrooper struggling to reload and get back in the fight.

Cyril Grayson

 

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He cracked the wryest of smiles. A nice posterior indeed. Not that it mattered right now.

He voiced his surprise when her rifle rattled off next to his ears. A Collocoid dropped, dead before it hit the ground. That was one way to do things. The pseudo-spacer drew in a deep breath, and centered his aim on the nearest creature. It had bowled through a trooper, and raised a knife-like appendage to spear the man through his heart.
Cyril vaulted over the barrel, and pulled the trigger. An azure bolt flew forward, catching the green bug in its stomach. The creature squealed, and turned on Cyril. It's spines rose to strike, until another four shots to the head sent it tumbling back.

Cyril wasted no time in exchanging the blaster pack for another. He scanned the hill, and for a moment, his gaze froze on the Sith Apprentice. The robes figure seemed to be dancing, carving one Collocoid in half, severing the leg of another, and searing a third with a bout of force lightning. The beast crashed weakly to the ground, dead.

"Seems he can handle himself." Cyril shouted over his shoulder. Then he was flying.

The Collocoid patriarch crashed into him with the force of a seeding swoop. It was twice the size of the average Collocoid, rivaling an AT-ST in size. Where other Collocoids had four legs, this one had six, and a massive pair of wings jutted up from its back. Green eye slots stead down at its victim curiously.

Cyril scrambled across the ground, kicking up dirt just as one of the Collocoid's spire-like arms crashed into the spot where he had just been. He reached for his blaster, and breathed a curse of dismay to find it lost. It must have been thrown somewhere.

The Collocoid raised its arms. Cyril tried to scramble away.

Such a shoddy way to go.


[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

Cyrene did not reply to his observation. She was deep in Sniper-space. There was only the slice of the world seen through her scope and the kick of her rifle.

Two. Three. Adjust for wind. Four. Five.

It was at this point she caught sight of Cyril through the scope, and the trouble he'd gotten himself in to. He would find the biggest damned bug out there wouldn't he?

No son, no y'don't. That ain't yours t'take.

Limbs were raised almost in slow motion as the tip of her rifle tracked it's movements, aiming for that one little sweet spot. Just as it's limbs reached their apex, she pulled the trigger.

Six. Seven to be sure.

The rifle kicked twice in quick succession. Either it was dead or Cyril was. Trust that her aim was good an move on. There was more to do and more to kill, other lives on the line. Count the shot at the speeder earlier and that was eight. With speed borne from practice she reloaded and started again. Maybe the death of the big one would dishearten them some, who knew how bugs thought. Still, maybe the fact that the odds were slowly changing so that more of them were dying for each Imperial life they managed to take..

This was damned stupid though. She might have been effective but what was that Sith thinking leaving the line long enough to go gallivanting around looking for one soldier? And half those on the wall were in fatigues. Surely at the very least a civvy could have been pressed into running them their armour. For that matter if the attack was this heavy, her unit was assigned to the bloody navy, surely they could get some ships in here to mow down the bugs..

She was just a farmer and she could see how dumb this all was.

'Cause it ain't a military trained officer in charge..

Her eye flicked momentarily towards the Sith, before refocusing on her next chitinous target.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

The beast recoiled. A stream of purple blood expelled from two gaping holes in its abdomen. Bits of chitin and the soft tissue beneath fell from the beast and cracked against the dusty ground. Its front legs flew up as it screamed in unabated agony, the throes of a pain so great that even the most powerful of Sith Lords would have fallen to their knees. In its rage, it managed to sweep one soldier off his feet, and impale another in her right arm.

The woman screamed, and drew Cyril from his momentary daze. He called upon the force for just a moment, heating up the molecules around his hands at an exponential rate. Flames erupted around his fingertips, engulfing the Collocoid in a cleansing inferno. It would have screamed if its vocal cords were not sheered away from the intense heat. The creature toppled backward, twitched once, and died.

The rest of the Collocoids suddenly halted. Rather than attack, they began to retreat. Some dug holes into the earth and disappeared into the dirt. Others simply ran across the plains with blaster bolts chasing after them. The Sith Lord doused his lightsaber, and turned toward Cyril. He stared at Cyrene for a moment, before breaking into a purposeful strode toward the Jedi-in-disguise.

Cyril rubbed the back of his head, bruised and bleeding from a gash on his scalp. The dizziness slowly began to fade, but the realization of the Sith's approach gave him a new creeping terror. He gripped his blaster as of his life depended on it.

It very well may.

"Up with you. We will pursue them to their nests. End the threat." The Sith hissed. "The sniper comes as well. We will follow them through the holes. Come!"

He waved for Cyrene, and walked around the wounded soldiers scattered along the hill, heading down the closest cavern recently dug out by the retreating aliens.

Cyril just grimaced.

[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

Oh aye y'great tit. Wave at me like I'm a damned dog, and let's not stop t'get th'proper gear now we have th'chance, let's push straight on in t'their territory because that's a good idea.

Cyrene, calm and level headed under fire was nevertheless slowly getting annoyed. She did what her commanding officers said. Whatever they said. If they reckoned she needed to lay down her life, well sometimes that was necessary to achieve a goal. That said she trusted that her CO's would spend her life wisely and with the understanding that it was precious coin which could only be spent once.

Rising, the dust covered Sniper sprinted over to where the rest of her comrades were preforming triage and trying to right their defences. A quick huddle saw ammo from a fellow sniper who'd also splurged on their own rifle, bacta spray and two helmets handed over. It wasn't full armour, but at least she'd be able to see in the damned dark since that idiot was set on leading her underground. Because obviously what you needed in a dark and twisty tunnel was a sniper who needed light and range to operate effectively.

She trotted back, first to Cyril, giving him a quick once over. The scalp wound seemed to be the worst of it, and that wasn't bad, it just bled as such wounds were wont to do. Still, she gave him a quick spray all the same. Who knew what germs were on these damned bugs. She then offered him one of the helmets.

"It ain't armour, but at least they got night vision since it seems we get t'continue this little.. operation."

There were a lot of choice words she could have used other than operation, but you never knew when a Sith could hear you. Bad enough some of the things she'd thought of late. And that was hardly fair. Complaining was half of what any soldier did. It was a basic right. She pulled her own helmet on, looking a bit ridiculous without the rest of the armour, but if it kept her alive, she didn't much care. Checking to make sure her rifle was fully loaded, she hung it over her back and pulled the blaster she'd taken before, moving to follow the Sith.

If she had the room to use the rifle she would, but it would be stupid to have it out before she knew what the tunnel was like, it might be all tight turns and close quarters after all.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Wasn't the first time Cyril was hurt.'wouldn't be the last. He wiped some of the blood from his scalp to keep it from dribbling into his eyes, and accepted the helmet with a thankful nod. His lips pulled back into a warm smile, and he reached down to give her hand a right squeeze.

"Whatever he wants us for, we'll deal with it." He promised, pushing up to his feet. Without all the Collocoids about, Balmorra was actually rather pretty at night. That is, until the sweet stench of viscera and raw meat reached your nostrils. He scrunched his nose up in displeasure, and put on the helmet.

He stood just behind Cyrene, sidearm held right in both hands. The walls of the tunnel were smooth, as if someone had stuck a long tube through the earth and never bothered to stop. There was no light, as expected, but the sway of the Sith's robes a few meters away marked his position easily. One sharp left turn took them deeper, another to the right brought them up again.

"I think you owe me as are after this." Cyril teased, his voice grating with the helmet. Occasionally he would reach out to grab her arm, as if he were making sure she still existed.

"Draw your weapons." The Sith boomed. They came out into a large open cavern. All around were eggs, and behind them, slumbering Collocoids. Two of the massive ones stood at the Sith's sides, heads bowed. He pulled back his hood, exposing a pale head and monstrous yellow eyes. "Welcome to my abode." He snickered.

Cyril blinked twice, glanced around, and held his blaster up toward the Sith. He stepped in front of Cyrene, protectively.

"What is this?"

"Oh do be serious Master Jedi. You would think I forgot about you? After our duel on Tython? I'm afraid not." The Sith mused, igniting his crimson blade.

"Soldier, the man you seem so eager to open your legs for is a Jedi Knight. An agent of the Galactic Republic. Our enemy. I fear for your loyalty, your devotion to the Empire. Execute this vermin, and I offer you a place in our Dark Lord's royal guard. He is in need of another elite warrior." The Sith, Gregory, cracked a terrible grin.

Cyril's blood ran cold. He glanced very at Cyrene, then the Sith, ignoring the bead of sweat running down his scalp. His blaster never moved away from the Sith's midriff.

[member="Cyrene Miles"]