Wings of Fire (GA+Whomever)

[Roth Tillian]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=soj9rHJ49eQ​

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72 hours ago...

Roth sprinted down the hallway, boots echoing against the cold durasteel hallways. He needed to make contact with the Alliance so they would know about this. If they didn't, this was all over. Other footsteps clattered against the walls. Laminate armor. Stormtroopers. Roth skidded down a hallway, grimacing and stumbling as his broken arm moved in its improvised cast. Pain seared through his body and he half-collapsed, but pushed himself forward. He was in living quarters now. Barracks. He slid into one, stumbling as he ducked through the door to the computer terminal.

He hit the access button and pulled out his last remaining tool. The screwdriver. He hit the button, running through the controls until he got to the display screen. He pulled up the communications, putting up a long distance public communication channel. That was about all he could manage at this point. No time for encryption. No military channels. Already, he could hear shouted orders through the corridor.

It was a brief message.

All Alliance and allied governments, Sith have constructed a superweapon. Trace these coordinates. Shot down on recon and captured. Need assistance- Captain Roth Tillian.​

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The door slid open and two stormtroopers stepped in. One raised the rifle and fired. The blaster bolt slammed into Roth's back, much of it dissipating against the fibers in flight-suit. He collapsed to the ground, body a ball of fire.

PRESENT DAY ​

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Roth groaned as he sat up. His entire body hurt and he couldn't move his arm. He was back in his cell now. A small gray durasteel room with a small bench for a bed and toilet. He slumped down against the bed. Why were klaxons blaring in his head? He shook it slightly, freezing as nausea coiled through his stomach.

Those weren't in his head. Those were in this base. Something was going on. Roth tilted his head, trying to listen. Distantly, muffled by meters of durasteel and duracrete, he could hear explosions and heavy blaster fire. Then something louder and stronger. He had seen the superweapon, this Omega when they had dragged him after shooting him down Operation Dark Shadows, where he'd been shot down. Had that been it? Had his message been to late? Or was something else going on? No, it sounded like a full scale war up there.

Which was great. It meant he had a chance to get rescued. But that brought a frown to his face. Or potentially to be executed. He forced himself to his feet, bracing himself against the wall as he puked. Once that was finished, he staggered to the doorway, pressing himself against the wall. If guards came for him, he would be ready. But he needed to move now, even before they arrived.

He was a pilot above all. The best in the galaxy, even. And without his ship, he was nothing. Or, rather, almost. He was still a Jensaarai Defender, a full Jedi Knight. And no Jedi Knight was defenseless, even with a shattered arm and blaster burn scorching up his spine.

He closed his eyes, taking deep, shaky breaths. The Force flowed into his mind, touching every part of his body and mind. The nausea withdrew and the pain leveled out to a sharp ache. He reached out, finding the door controls. Roth had always been good with working with machines through the Force, extending his mind to the entire machine. Starfighters, especially. But it worked the same for this door.

He stepped into the door, feeling it become part of his arms, parts of his mind. It was electronically locked. A frown flicked across his face. This was far more complicated than flying a starfighter. But in principle, it should still be the same. He tried to just lift the door. No luck. Then he focused on the lock, concentrating on the metal. Through the Force, he began to squeeze on the circuitry, until it exploded in a shower of sparks. Then he reached out with the Force and wrenched the door open.

It squealed, but slid open about an arm's length. That was all he needed. Roth stepped out of the door, squeezing himself through, despite the firestorm of pain through his body. Now to get to safety....

 

[Veino Garn]

Susefvi, Jensaarai Enclave ​

Strategic Command Center​

120 Hours Prior​

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Roth had been shot down. That much was clear from the mission report from the remainder of the Wild Knights upon their return. Their sensors, and Force bond, had seen has his fighter, meant for recon missions and not dogifghting had been pinned down and destroyed above the planet in a massive crisscross of enemy weapons fire. Preliminary reports indicated nothing of where he was being held, and from what the Seers could discern, he was no longer on that planet.

Veino stood by the display, arms crossed as they rechecked all information. Technicians and seers alike sat nearby, working their own individual magics, through Force and technology both. No leads. All was a dead end. He turned on his heel to stride from the room, heading to his own small bed-chamber with its footlocker of supplies. It included his own weapons, his armor, and the controls to his own starfighter currently parked in their small hangar, coated in beskar as it was. Nobody was entirely sure what to do with it. It cost more than nearly the entirety of the starfighter budget combined, and yet Veino had one it in a competition. That meditation hammock which had earned him the fighter sat in the corner of the chamber.

He took a deep breath and settled into the hammock, opening his mind to the Force. His consciousness spiraled up and away into the galaxy. It was a seething storm, but he was looking for two specific presences. Hard to do when in a galaxy of quintillions, racked by war and the Dark Side, and even more so when he was far from his previous skill. But he had two things to his advantage. He had a Force bond with each of them. Jeela Tillian. His heart ached slightly with the thought. They had been lovers once, long ago, before their paths had split them down separate paths. He'd lost track of her and then he'd met Thyria. The two had almost been lovers.

Then Roth Tillian, her older cousin. Not that great at being a Jensaarai, he had been a wizard at pranks, reckless driving, and eventually piloting. A bit of an older brother to Veino and laughing observer of the relationship between Jeela and Veino. Now he'd been captured.

He felt them both now, Roth far away, his signal weak. Jeela, signal strong, and also far away. Veino took another deep breath and reached out to Jeela.

Roth has been captured. I need your help rescuing him.

He didn't know what response was coming, but then he focused on Roth. An image appeared, the man strapped to a steel chair, as a Sith stalked in front of him, droids occasionally shocking him with an electrostaff. Roth looked up suddenly, seemingly to meet his gaze, and his mouth tried to move. Nothing else though, as he quickly slumped in the chair.

The vision ended and Veino shot up with a shock, hitting his head on the top of his meditation hammock. He knew where he was now. The problem was figuring out how to get there. But he had ideas. The Alliance would have to be moving to make a strike against them, and when they did, a Jensaarai strike team could infiltrate the prison and free Roth.

He stood and strode from the room to the council chamber, where they were having a session. They would listen to him on this. He had earned this mission.

​

65 hours prior ​

Nearly the entirety of the Alliance fleet was mustering, preparing to make the jump. And this time, one of the carriers would have some extra passengers. Veino had brought in his Panaka class elite fighter, along with a group of Jensaarai- mixed Ring Defenders and Vanguards- in two of the old Skipray Blastboats and Z-95 Headhunters. They needed newer ships, but simply didn't have the resources. Access to the Alliance fleet was helpful for joint operations, but they didn't have any new ships of their own. Not the best for stealth or infiltration either, but this was going to be a full on battle, and they needed more firepower. Another squadron had deployed with the fleet in the battle above

Veino strode up and down the length of the hangar, nervousness written across his face. It had been some time since he had engaged in such massive combat scales before and never as a pilot. He braced himself as the fleet, which was massive, prepared for a jump to lightspeed. He could only see a tiny portion of the fleet ahead of him. But it was full of Star Defenders, cruisers, and defenders. The best the Alliance could assemble on a short notice. Quite the awe-inspiring sight, probably the largest since Coruscant. He had sent out messages to others he knew. The Underground, the Silver Watch. Problem was that most people were heavily engaged in other parts of the battle. In the grand scheme of things, one prisoner wasn't that important. But hopefully, there would be some who had received his message and could answer.

A familiar presence arrived on deck and Veino stiffened, slowly turning to face her...

 

[Veino Garn]

Post Error-Please delete

 

[Jeela Tillian]

Jeela wrapped her arms around her chest as she stepped down off the shuttle onto the carrier deck. It was a busy place, with technicians running around and droids going about their business.

It was unfamiliar to her. While she had been a member of the Silver Jedi, apprenticing under [member="Matsu Ike"], she had never really served in wartime. If anything, she had viewed war as below her, a failure to respond to the Force appropriately. She had been wrong. That was something the others back home would be surprised to hear. She had never admitted that before.

She was older now though, and more humble. For all her conceit about serving the Light and the galaxy, she had failed, at least in the grand sense she had ictured when she was young. She had ended up working in a small city on a quiet world on the midrim, serving as its secret guardian against raiders and other threats. So the years had passed while wars tore the galaxy apart.

It had been the other two that had fought the good fight and paid the prices. Roth was being tortured this very moment, probably. And Veino?

Jeela stopped to look at him as he slowly turned. He wore the same basic traveling gear- heavy spacer's coat, high boots, padded vest and clothes. But he was older now, with a face scarred and lined, eyes tinted silver and ever so tired. They had seen so much. She had gotten glimpses over the years- of battles grand and small, but battles unending. He had fought this war for decades now.

A flicker of emotions crossed her heart at the sight of him. That old friendship, that old love. Memories of sunsets on the beach, talking late into the night while watching the stars wheel by over the gentle sea song.

But she was no longer that girl. She had ages as well. Her skin now sunburnt and leathery, with a golden glow. Her hair had a few early wisps of gray here and there.

"Veino," she said softly as she approached, "It's been a long time. I'm sorry..."

Her voice trailed off, trying to put the feelings in the word. Veino held up his hand.

"Don't try," he said, voice soft, "I can feel what you want to say."

The ship jumped as it made the leap into hyperspace. Jeela nearly fell, but Veino swayed with the movement, clearly accustomed to the feeling.

"We can catch up later," Veino added after a moment. "Once Roth is safe."

That was something else that had changed. He was older now- used to leadership. The Defenders nearby all clearly deferred to him, despite not wearing the armor of a Defender, but like an apprentice. He was the undisputed leader of this mission.

When they had even growing up, Jeela had been the leader, mostly through arrogance, with Veino as her closest follower. Their roles had reversed now and it felt strange.

 

[Aeshi Tillian]

Aeshi huddled against the wall of the cell, feeling the cold durasteel wall seep into her back. How long had she been here now? Months? A year? She couldn't tell at this point. Everything was the same here. Same food. Same stormtrooper guards. But something else was happening now.

She stood and strode to the doorway, feet echoing on the floor. Thunder rolled through the thick walls, but this was different. It was constant and staccato. A battle- with armies. It was like what she had heard the day the Alliance hit Coruscant. Artillery and turbolasers. A true war, not a fight or a skirmish, One with armies and soldier, that left time for her to escape.

Footsteps pounded through the hallway, then there was silence. It continued for quite some time. She stood there, poised against the door, ready to strike any that came for her.

But none did.

Nothing happened until a door slid open. Didn't sound like normal, maybe there was so,etching wrong with it. Like someone had managed to break free.

"Hey!" She yelled at the door, pounding on it. "Let me out!" She screamed and yelled until her voice was ragged, torn and sore.

Then the door creaked open, metal shrinking inside. She stepped back in surprise.

A man stood in front of her, one arm in an impromptu sling, in a torn and ragged flight jacket, with a blood stained face that seemed strangely familiar.

"We need to get out of here," the man said, slumping against the doorframe, "Before the base comes down," He staggered back away from the doorway. Aeshi hurried through into the corridor, stumbling as she broke free finally.

Time to get out and run.