Invasion Total Eclipse of the Heart || Objective 2: And I Need You More Than Ever

[Rhys Gorne]

O B J E C T I V E 2
W I E L U - O R B I T
THE QUEEN’S GRACE

Rhys’s attention was pulled by the sudden appearance of a rogue star out in the void.

His jaw tightened as the explosion bloomed on the edge of his vision, it was bright and violent, Rhys having no idea what it was or who it was for. Just another reminder of how thin the line between order and chaos could become.

His crew had picked up the rhythm of blinking lights again from that shuttle, the crude message laced with desperate urgency: Need more information they had passed along, to which Rhy had offered some simple words. LAND. PLANET. RESCUE. It was all the time they had left to do as in the next moment there had been a very loud, almost wet clunk on the outside of the Queen’s Gambit’s bridge.

Somehow, in all the craziness of space science a wookiee had appeared like magic and landed on the outside of their ship. A wookiee who was now trying to carve his lightsaber through shielded ship armour that was designed to weather ion storms and energy blasts.

Rhys’s fingers hovered briefly over the console, his eyes meeting the wookiee. They’d have time, in this day and age technological designs of ships could weather that storm, not forever, but he at least had minutes on his side. Was slightly awkward though, seeing the wookiee trying desperately to get in. Maybe he would freeze in the cold of space before he made a scratch? Everything Rhys knew about space pointed to that happening. Yet somehow he knew he’d be wrong.

The weight of command had started to settle heavier than the storm beyond the viewport. The crew worked with practiced precision, but the silence from the rest of the fleet was deafening. No response from the blockade, no orders from the Admiral. Protocol was clear: hold formation, avoid engagement. Out here, among swirling wings of mynocks and shattering freighters, protocol was starting to feel like a shackle.

A cold knot formed in Rhys’s gut. This was no longer a waiting game. Someone had to break the silence, to draw a line in the dark.

His gaze sharpened. He keyed the comms that linked him with the ship. “Right I’m counting that as engagement.” He pointed towards the wookiee on his viewport still trying to smash his way in. “Close the blast shutters to knock that damn thing off then power up. Full power, everything we have. Prepare for evasive maneuvers, but I want to pull as many of those mynocks to us as we can. Fall out of formation, and prepare to defend this ship” His voice was steady but carried an edge, the kind that only years in the cockpit of starfighters could teach.

“Solvi, we are going to be blind, but find a way to keep communicating for that shuttle. If it tries to send more signals, I want to hear it.” He added quieter and to Solvi herself, he nod enough to carry the order.

Rhys closed his eyes for a moment. If the storm was trying to consume them he refused to let it swallow them whole.

“Do it.”

Rhys’s eyes snapped to the transparisteel where the crimson blade had seared a smoking gouge. The Madclaw was carving a path in, bold, reckless, and deadly. Rhys smirked, he knew the wookiee would see it and hopefully it would distract him just long enough for several tons of reinforced durasteel to extend across the outside of viewport, the trigger system designed for air breaches and deployment in 0.8 of a second. He’d have to release from the ship or be crushed by the flying metal.

The same moment the Queen’s Gambit hard locked in reverse, and the bridge plunged red as emergency lighting took over, the natural light from the systems sun fading with the covering shooting across the viewport.

“All hands, battle stations. Get me a tractor beam lock on that damn wookiee.” Rhys barked, voice sharp as a whip crack.

“Tractor beam on hostile; now!” came a response from a nearby officer, fingers flying across the console to lock on to the Madclaw’s form outside the bridge. The targeting computer stuttered under the strain, but the beam locked with a tremor.

“Did we get him?” Rhys said, his voice low and cold.

Meanwhile the attention of the Mynocks that had not headed towards the juicy Lucrahulk’s had all shifted towards the burning beacon among the cold. They headed at the Queen’s Gambit like a ravenous hoard of blood crazed beasts, the ship positioning itself to make sure that when the did get to them, there would be a disgruntled and very cold Wookiee in the way first.

Spoiler

Fleet Composition

1 Transport Shuttle 1 Vigilant Corvette

4 Sirocco Escort Corvettes

1 Capital Corvette

2 HRNV Seraphine-class Frigate

2 squadrons of starfighters each

Andrei Vorn Davik Haize • The Madclaw Jerec Asyr Vestra Tane​

 

[Andrei Vorn]

Republic: Rhys Gorne Davik Haize
BS: The Madclaw Vestra Tane Kinley Pryse Jerec Asyr
Objective 2

Admiral N’yvo rubbed his eyes aboard the Regal Dawn. Not believing the developments of everything that played out before him. A shadowport seemed well within the realm of possibility now with all of the larger vessels that had surrounded them. Section officers streamed all around the command deck with varying reports that they could produce as the man watched the wave of mynocks surge towards them.

“Shiraya helps us.” Words barely a whisper as he shook his head.

“The escort corvettes have been or are being engaged Admiral.” The news from a sensor technician, standing at the furthest viewport, informed them while observing through a pair of handheld binoculars.

“Report.” Admiral N’yvo voice rose above the commotion that died seconds after.

“The Queen's Grace has-” The binoculars made an audible series of clicks as the bridge remained deathly silent. “Has something stuck on their viewport. I think it’s a jedi?”

“Pardon?”

“There’s a lightsaber involved at their front viewport. From the outside.” The Admiral pinched the bridge of his nose as the tech continued after turning slightly. “And the Diligence… seems to have a starship preparing to collide with it. High speed.”

The Admiral stood in silence while processing the news. A deep sigh came from him as he pointed to the communications section officer.

“For the record, we have been engaged by an unknown entity and thus enacting defensive measures.” Receiving an affirmative on the command, he turned back before engaging the shipboard announcement system.

“General Quarters. General Quarters. All hands to battle stations. I repeat. General Quarters. General Quarters. All hands to battle stations.” Peeling his finger back from depressing the button as he turned to the staff around him.

“Defensive firing solutions only. Keep firing solutions from hitting the ships surrounding us as you are able. Shut down unnecessary systems to keep our power signature low.” The flurry of activity after his orders did not ease his concerns. His arm crossed to support the hand that rested in front of his mouth.

Chewing on the skin of his thumb as his eyes watched the mynock swarm begin to invade the formation.

A sudden burst of light drew his attention away from their formation. Something well outside of the formation that had lit up like a dying star. A weapon? Detonation maybe?

“And someone get me a reading on what that light was.”

VORN COMMAND​

~Diligence~

~100%~

~100%~

“Incoming shuttle collision Commodore!” The sensor section officer shouted.

“Burst transmission from Queens Grace to release helium and power down.” The comm section officer shouted.

“This went to hell in a handbasket right proper fething quick.” Adnrei hissed, staring down the shuttle that was even larger than the mynock swarm and partly painted with them.

“Queen's Grace is breaking formation!” The sensor section officer shouted.

“Brace-!” The commodore had barely had time to shout before the starfighter had punched headlong into their nose.

The entire hull groaned but held as it was rocked by the collision and out of position. The viewport spiderwebbing with cracks as the blast shields made their distinctive rumble. As the first hint of failure announced itself in a high pitched hiss before the shudders slammed shut.

Bodies thrown around as Adrei was thrown forward. Unable to hold fast to the duty station as his hands pressed against the broken viewport to break his fall. A splintering crack resounding in tandem with his sharp howl of pain.

“Commodore!” The comm section officer recovered first, thrown flat against his console and able to shield his head in time. Helping to pull Andrei back and examine his marred hands.Blood poured from several large cuts as the officer called for a medkit.

Others slowly rose around the command deck as the ship began to return to operational abilities. One of the technicians retrieved a kit from the back of the chairs and rushed over.

“Report!” His voice boomed in the lingering silence.

“Systems green sir.” The engineering section officer called out with a groan, holding her stomach while leaning over the console. “Powering down non-essentials.”

“Weapons status?”

“Checking now sir.” The weapons section officer reported, slowly seeing the screen fill with green lights before continuing. “All batteries are reporting ready."

Andrei growled as the bacta spray was applied, his whole body tensing at the sensation against raw nerves as he scowled at the officer.

“Let the weapon teams begin to target-track and orient themselves according to doctrine. I need one set of flares, and pull that fething ship off our nose.”

The tractor beam projector spooled up before trying to peel the Deep Ranger away from the Diligence's hull. A single string of high visibility flares burned bright in the void of space as the light turbolaser cannons on either side prepared to line up shots if the Deep Ranger was pulled away from the hull.

The spray blast cannons began to track the projected flight paths of the incoming Mynocks, checking with each battery before locking in their targeting vectors.

Spoiler

Fleet Composition

1 Transport Shuttle 1 Vigilant Corvette

4 Sirocco Escort Corvettes

1 Capital Corvette - Regal Dawn

2 HRNV Seraphine-class Frigate

2 squadrons of starfighters each

Post #3

 

[The Madclaw]

“Close the blast shutters to knock that damn thing off then power up. Full power, everything we have.

“All hands, battle stations. Get me a tractor beam lock on that damn wookiee.” Rhys barked, voice sharp as a whip crack.

“Did we get him?” Rhys said, his voice low and cold.

One by one, the external holocamera feeds trained on the wookiee went dead, fuzzing out until nothing but static showed.

For a moment, an indrawn breath: silence. But for the thundering heartbeats of those on the bridge, murmured chatter, and the hiss of static.

THUD.

Metal shrieked and bowed inward... in the shape of a fist.

Another loud groan of metal that should have been capable of withstanding all but a direct turbolaser blast squealing as it twisted inward beneath some horrific force, some unholy might.

The static hiss aboard the bridge of the Queen's Grace broke, an incomprehensible rumble of guttural noises, coming from all around at once. Only those who knew Shyriiwook would understand.

"Dead men."

A bar of sunfire-bright scarlet plunged through the warped blast shield shutter and transparisteel glass alike, all around it growing molten.

Outside of the bridge, beyond that twisted steel of the blast shield, the Ghost of Kashyyyk stood upon the surface of the Queen's Grace, feet rooted to the hull as if by magnetic clamps, stuck there by the same infernal power the White Wookiee now drew upon to plunge his way through the blast shutter, even with the ship at full-burn reverse, roots as deep as the wroshyr. Muscles strained, ligaments pulled, some tore. And yet he held. Held even though around him beat a swarm of beasts so thick they blotted out all else, manic in their fury to drain the energy from anything they could clamp to. A dozen clung to him, suctioned onto his frame, trying to peel apart the layer of his skinsuit.

Deactivating his saber left a small hole.

It would be enough.

He yanked in the Force, pulling with his will on the warped metal so that it peeled backward... glass fracturing behind it.

Explosive decompression would follow.

And into that hole... thousands of mynocks.

Rhys Gorne

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Vestra Tane Kinley Pryse Rhys Gorne Andrei Vorn The Madclaw Rojuhr Pouihl Davik Haize

Jerec had an idea. It was probably because he was wearing a cape.

---

Space suit's helmet firmly in place, cape too, he now stood on the peak of the mountain fortress. The cape moved based on his movements and its own flexibility and mass, without atmospheric resistance. It didn't swoosh properly.

The movements in question: he shouldered a titanic multispectral radcannon rifle, one of his very favorite weapons lo these many years.

"Prepare to drop shields."

This was a very bad idea. The shields had made the purebred mynock situation survivable. Most of the horde was now well disseminated throughout the battlefield. Those still inside the shields were being hunted down by Supa fighters and space-suited semi-pacifist Ithorian toughs with tanks of helium. The moth-eaten neon signs read:

CO IN B EACH
LOGICAL AS
YOUR OWN
D W U SP​

So yes, dropping the shields and potentially renewing the whole situation, horrible plan. He insisted.

The multispectral radcannon fired. It had no recoil. Its coruscating line-of-sight speed-of-light barely-visible beam, comprised of several delicious kinds of hard radiation, swept across the battlefield. Would it do damage to a reasonably shielded ship above starfighter scale? Not remotely.

He pointed it at a random ship (ONE OF YOU, I DON'T CARE WHO) and a significant portion of the mynock hordes began to chase the laser pointer.

 

[Davik Haize]

He pointed it at a random ship (ONE OF YOU, I DON'T CARE WHO) and a significant portion of the mynock hordes began to chase the laser pointer.​

As soon as he’d found a clear, straight trajectory towards the planet, Davik let out a silent breath of relief. The moment of reprieve was as fleeting as the flash of light of a ship jumping into hyperspace. Something, no, many things began pelting the hull restlessly, ceaselessly… cravingly.

“What now?” he gnarled, “Skip, check the aft cam - see what the hell was that.”

The slicer droid whirred to action and twisted the socket upon which it was plugged into; a monitor blinked to life and Skip shrilled, its chassis lighting up like a Life Day tree at the sight: a gaping, slavering maw brimming with teeth shaped like cable cutters before the feed turned to static and the ship groaned a lifeless moan.

It all unraveled too fast.

The light-coded pattern the Duchess emitted sputtered into a spasm of an unintelligible code before before collapsing into a red-hued emergency glow; the various readouts across the cockpit fractured into static, then faded into a pitch-black void; the yoke stiffened in his grip, hydraulic pumps ceasing to function; and the Duchess’ lively engine flare was extinguished, leaving the vessel drifting, powerless, down towards the tropical world like a bone stripped bare by hundred gluttonous mouths, now sated.​

--
OOC:

Oh, no, what happens next ?! Find out next episode as we delve into the distant past of Davik Haize!!

Click here for the story's continuation (no ads I promise)

[[Moving to Obj. 1 Scene, thanks Jerec, you Jerc]]

TAGS: Rhys Gorne Andrei Vorn The Madclaw Jerec Asyr Vestra Tane Kinley Pryse

 

[Rhys Gorne]

O B J E C T I V E 2
W I E L U - O R B I T
THE QUEEN’S GRACE

The bridge fell silent as the first THUD rolled through the reinforced metal that had planted itself across the Queen’s Grace’s viewport.

Rhys froze, hands braced on the console as the second impact groaned through the hull. He knew that sound. Not the what, it was scientifically impossible, he’d never read the manuals for Wookiee’s that ignored the logic of space, temperature and energy clinging to a capital ship before; but the how? That noise was steel failing. To those who frequented space, the noise that came right before someone died in vacuum.

“Frakk, how is he still on the damn ship.” he snapped.

At his fingers a holo bloomed to life, their eyes on the outside and right now it was presenting the most surreal image for them to mull over. A Wookiee, standing as if the void itself didn’t matter with dozen’s of mynocks, enough to cripple any respectable freighter latched to his suit, their wings flailing sparks of electricity arcing from their teeth as they ripped and tore to get at the power seams.

The blast shutter bowed inward under invisible pressure. Metal squealed like it wanted to scream and ripped Rhys back to attention. The audio feed broke into guttural, rumbling Shyriiwook nearby a comm officer translated under his breath, voice shaking:
“…‘Dead men."

"He said… dead men.”

Rhys didn’t let himself feel it. He didn’t have the luxury.

“Situation report?”

“Microfractures in the bridge glass, internal blast doors locked but...uh...Even though they are rated for sabers, he’s still coming through. They’re minutes from venting atmosphere.”

minutes?

“Right, then we let him come in.” Rhys ordered. “We just won’t be here when he does. Sound alerts, all hands to escape pods. Keep it internal, nothing loud.”

“Sir.” Already the crew had started to move their way calmly out of the bridge and into the corridor behind.

“This is the only way we live,” Rhys added to some of the more hesitant bodies. “That thing’s making sure of that. Making sure we have no opinions. Now move.”

The rest of the bridge sprang into motion. He could already hear the clicks of suit seals as people went.

He turned to helm. “Bring us in line with that big lead Lucrahulk, we may not have a choice if we are going down, but maybe we can break this blockade.”

“Understood, sir.”

The Queen’s Grace pivoted, angling into the line. Through the viewport, Rhys caught the flash of the molten metal begin to puncture through the blast shield, spots of energy-resistant military grade metal dropping onto the glass beneath, a silent orange sun coming to consume them all. He’d been in vacuum before, but never like this, not with something alive out there, carving holes in ships, ignoring any and all logical science and technology.

“Solvi,” he said, quieter now. “You know what to do, everything. Dump it all.”

“I know, sir.” She didn’t look at him, fingers flying across controls.

Rhys keyed his codes into the ship, fully aware that what he was doing would probably get him chewed right out if he survived. His voice was steady, all things considered. “Permissions are in. Engines at a hundred percent, forward shields, one hundred percent, hyper reactor…one hundred percent.”

“One hundred and two.” Solvi answered. “One hundred and five.” She keyed off and turned to Rhys before pulling her blaster out of the holster at her hip and firing two shots into the control panel. The bridge went dark, all that remained was the ominous glowing orange of slowly melting metal. There would be no reversing what they had set in motion, the Queen would now propel itself at full speed towards the Lucrahulk dome, it’s reactor increasing in heat and energy pulling itself like a beacon of power that would attract every single Mynock in smelling distance to follow it as it carried like a missile into the Bank of Nar Shadaa ships.

The blast door sealed and clicked behind Rhys and Solvi as they departed, by the time the explosion of depressurisation ripped through the bridge of the ship both officers and the crew of the Queen were in escape pods hurtling through space behind the Republic line and towards the safety offered by the Corporate fleet of the planet both sides were trying to win over.

Rhys sat in one of the pods with no illusions.
He wasn’t a Jedi. He wasn’t a hero.
He was a spacer who knew how to survive a void fight.

And if he failed, the only thing waiting for them all was vacuum and death.

Spoiler

Fleet Composition

1 Transport Shuttle 1 Vigilant Corvette

4 Sirocco Escort Corvettes

1 Capital Corvette

1 HRNV Seraphine-class Frigate

1 HRNV Seraphine-class Scuttled.

2 squadrons of starfighters each

Andrei Vorn Davik Haize • The Madclaw Jerec Asyr Vestra Tane​

 

[Tyrant I]

Aboard the Crimson Aces Mercenary Company carrier Bandog
BLACK SUN SYNDICATE-aligned mercenaries
Tyrant Squadron Mission Briefing
Prior to deployment...

Briefing II

CRIMSON ACES DEPLOYMENT

Tyrant Squadron:

1. Emperor​
2. Nemo​
3. Ronin​
4. Consul​
5. Wiseman​

AWACS Support:

• Marchion

Crimson Command
« Alright Tyrant, listen up. The assignment is simple. Black Sun needs bodies to fill out their blockade, and you're exactly that. »
« Keep the air space clear and ensure that nothing happens to those Lucrehulks. They're pivotal to this mission's success. »

Wiseman
« What are our rules of engagement for this one, sir? »

Crimson Command
« Simple: warning shots at anything civilian that tries to leave the planet. If they persist, scrap 'em. »
« Republic Navy tries to interfere, do what you do best. But maintain proximity to those Lucrehulks. »
« I cannot stress enough how vital they are to this mission. »

Wiseman
« Understood. »

Crimson Command
« Good. This operation should be easy credits...one more thing. The jamming means we'll be going radio silent. »
« That means no radio chatter for any of you. I want you to follow Emperor's lead on this one. »
« Maintain visual at all times and do your best to reestablish if you lose it. Dismissed. »​

​

---

Wielu's orbit
Nearby the Lucrehulks
Present...

​

Oran twisted the controls sideways as hard as he could. The fighter rolled right, its engines screaming. He'd barely avoided one group of mynocks, only for more of the beasts to fill his viewscreen straight ahead. They were coming straight at him. This horde had to be endless.

What was supposed to be a routine blockade operation had quickly devolved into a nightmare. The High Republic fleet had been intimidating enough, and the baradium-filled self-destructing freighters had put Oran on edge. Now a mynock swarm of apocalyptic proportions had claimed the battlefield for itself and was in the process of chewing up anything with even a drop of energy to spare. Lucrehulks included.

Laser fire tore through the group of Mynocks coming for him. They scattered, leaving a small corridor of safety for Oran's fighter to slip through. A brief glance up revealed Ronin executing defensive maneuvers, lascannons still going hot, but Tyrant III quickly disappeared behind another cloud of mynocks again.

Oran pulled his starfighter into an upward turn, breaking hard to make the turn circle as tight as possible. Once aligned with Tyrant III's trajectory, he put the engines on full burn again, trailing behind his comrade. The fighter's shields had been holding, but the mynocks kept ramming into him, over and over. Enough impacts and they'd be overloaded, leaving his starfighter to be picked apart by the energy-sucking pests.

Oran squeezed the trigger, firing controlled bursts at the swarm. Most of his shots went wide, but enough struck, and soon enough the swarm began to peel away from his comrade. Ronin's fighter pulled back, flying parallel to Oran's. The two exchanged brief hand signals. Gratitude and some tactics.

Neither had seen the other fighters of Tyrant in a while. The unknown made Oran's gut twist.

He pulled his fighter into a wide turn, and Ronin followed suit. There was no teling how long they'd have before another swarm of mynocks descended on them. Oran needed a better understanding of the greater battlefield situation before he could proceed.

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Still standing atop the mountain peak of bat-chewed Fortress Thaal'Quorr, wearing a black cape over his space suit and sweeping the multispectral radcannon around like a laser pointer, Jerec cackled out both sides of his neck.

Pointer-chasing mynock hordes had just driven Davik Haize down from space to an ignoble crash or near-crash on the planet.

"This is what makes life worth living," Jerec said to himself with great contentment. He had only intermittent comms contact with the bridge crew a few dozen meters away. The jamming remained strong-ish. It was kind of flucuptuated.

Eager to direct additional mynocks away from Thaal'Quorr and the extremely valuable Lucrehulks, he picked another
target at random.

Multispectral high-energy radiation or not, it was a personal-scale weapon. If the target was a starfighter-scale ship with shields down, or a Wookiee in a space suit, maybe there'd be risk of rad burns and cancer. If it was literally anything else, harmless — apart from the mynock aspect inflicted on the unwary or especially sportsmanlike.

Tyrant I Rhys Gorne Andrei Vorn Kinley Pryse The Madclaw Vestra Tane