Kuat

[Delta73]

And arrive the Axis fleet did, the black painted hulls of the heavy ships whipping out of hyperspace on the edge of the Kuat system. Next came the starfighter escorts, busting out of docking bays like the frothing lava of mammon. In that chaos in the bridge of the commanding Black Sun Star Destroyer Delta stood, grinning as his officers compiled data and composition of the Imperial Fleet. He turned to Zalis who had just finished her discussion on bounty limits.

 

“Of course you control the purse so the final tallies will go to you, But ill chip in on the empresses bounty from my personal accounts. Are you ready to fight? You can head down to the surface once we clear up these few star destroyers and gun some stormies down if you want.”

 

Then he held up his hand and activated the mass spectrum comm that would broadcast to the Imperial Command. Probably using an older code but it would still get across.

 

“This is the combined fleet of the Sith Empire and its Allies the eight criminal syndicates of the outer rim. We ask you to surrender your arms, your port, the shipyards and your Empress. In doing so you will give up the crown of the Empire and swear fealty to the Spider. Failure to do so will mean your death and the death of any worlds that resist. You have ten minutes to comply.”

 

He pointed to a TAC officer as the comm cut out and with a few terse commands, the interdictors in the combined fleet began to fire up, Bathing the orbital rings and the distant Imperial fleet in gravitational waves. There would be no escape for the Empire today.

[Delta73]

“Ahh I take that as a ‘I don’t surrender.’”

 

Delta rolled his eyes below his heavy helmet and turned to the Trandoshan bounty hunter that stood beside him. The man was tall and very dangerous looking, a perfect beast for this mission of carrion.

 

“Brother I need you to descend with the troop deployments to Coordinates 38.425527 and -122.664716. This are the coordinates of the Moff Retreat, a pleasure palace and grounds where no doubt the Moff Council currently resides, I need as many of them alive as possible. Kill everything and everyone else. Any women or girls you find are yours to kill or whatever you like.This is war, begin your ground assault as soon as the larger ships engage. Then there will be room enough to take the landing parties planetwards. Solid Copy?”

 

Then he turned and walked to his command chair and sat. Three young girls bringing him an assortment of heavy alcohols which he waved away with a laugh. One of the girls pushed the map table to him and quickly showed the array of Imperial ships around the shipyards. She was a flash trained slave and had been programmed with an extensive knowledge of fleet tactics that could amplify his own instincts.

 

“My lord.” He loved it when people called him that. “The imperial Star Destroyer Agamemnon is closest and could be engaged by that majority of the fleet.” He raised a gloved had to adjust the map before barking his orders to the crews. He had been put in charge of the entire Axis fleet and he would enjoy it.

 

“All vessels at maximum range begin to pump fire into the Agamemnon as the starfighters engage theirs. Bombers prepare for an attack on the Consolatrix and Animarium, they are small so engage with proton torpedoes and then when both targets are down begin on the Admiral Andripov. Ilk of Ion you may charge and fire at ready.”

 

 

In front of the fleet the emerald beams of turbolaser fire began to arc out with deadly intent towards the approaching Imperial fleet. Smashing into shields and scattering flashes of light that people could see for thousands of miles. It was a lightshow for the Kuati below that would soon be interrupted by falling ships trailing smoke as they fell to the planet below.

[Delta73]

The beleaguered Imperial fleet faced the whole wrath of the Axis fleet. Hundreds of turbolasers thundered their plasmoid energy into the shields and exposed bulkheads of the Imperial Star Destroyer Agamemnon . Siege torpedoes came flying in from the St Cathryne, carrying loads of high explosive shaped charges, designed to plunge through the Imperial bulkheads and detonate once within the vulnerable superstructure. The big guns of the Remnant Star Destroyers would have to be primaried down first to clear the biggest threats from the field, then the mop up could begin. Delta himself sat on the bridge of Holofernes, its black painted hull reflecting little of the green turbolaser energy that belched from its octet turbolasers. He waved to one of the slave girls who reached forward and triggered a comm to the Sith forces that were on the port side of the Holofernes.

 

“Ilk of Ion you may fire when ready.”

 

The Ilk ignited its engine cluster and sped to the front of the fleet, releasing a cloud of ion before it towards the Agamemnon and the Fiat Lux. It was now in its most vulnerable state and would likely be primaried down by the imperials. Which if he was honest, Delta did not care a bit about. It was a Sith ship, and a glass cannon at that. Plus the black sun would be paid handsomely to rebuild it. On the scoreboard however, his bombers were being shredded and he made the next primaries for the big star destroyers the smaller vessels of the Imperial fleet.

[Delta73]

Imperial Star Destroyers tossed fire at each other with more ferocity than the warlords did after Palpatine's unfortunate death. Star destroyers died in heated explosions of fuel, munitions, and venting oxygen. Spilling life into the void of space as the Imperial Remnant made their final stand. The Ilk of Ion died in a flurry of explosions that first rocked the ship, then sent huge hunks of the hull spiraling into the path of the Rhodes. In a blink, the small corvette was destroyed, joining its bigger brother resulting in the death of some five thousand crewmen combined. One of the young girls standing beside Delta’s command chair calmly reached forward and tapped a series of commands into the control console, removing the green and blue signatures of the two ships and replacing them with debris field indicators whose locations were tightbeamed to squadron commanders.

 

The Mephistopheles, was for now safe, and Delta watched as the Imperial fleet began their maneavures to save their flagship.

 

“Let it go, the Empress is not aboard and a single star destroyer cannot save them. Focus fire on the rest of the fleet.”

 

It was magnificent to watch as the Fiat Lux destroyed not only the Silent Spring but the Hellespont as well with its suicidal charge. Delta could only admire the Imperial Admiral and watched as the Misericordia disappeared into hyperspace.

 

He clapped his hands in applause then turned to the TAC officer.

“Begin planetary bombardment until a surrender is offered.”

[Delta73]

The rings of Kuat were beautiful, man made creations that amazed him as much as they had when he had sat aboard an Acclamator a hundred years before. Half finished Star Destroyers sat suspended in the rings, flashing lights from a thousand pinpricks of welder’s tools making the dagger like carapace almost shimmer. Two of the hulking empty drydocks were assigned for refit and renewal of the Black Sun Star Destroyers. Yellow bug like tugs were already escorting the two destroyers into their berths and Delta stood silently as his command crew packed their equipment away into their personal luggage. They had all said their goodbyes, some he would see again, he would likely be able to keep the massive amounts of wealth, and the slaves safely stored aboard the Marie. He didn’t know though, and that ship was still personally registered to him and not the Black Sun, so perhaps, should any luck return to him he wouldn’t loose that as well. . 

 

But this journey was sacrifice, for now he willingly gave everything over to the Sith lords. Perhaps it was that self destructive streak that had not only lost him the first love of his life, but all of the love he had ever felt. Qaela despised him, and Ailbasí likewise.

 

“See ya Cap. Gods bless ya."

 

The last crewmember saluted his captain’s back and strode away, softly crying. Leaving Delta alone on the bridge, a statue in iron and crimson, left with ghosts and memory. 

 

-

 

“So what, you like special forces or something?” 

 

Brilliant white smile, red padawan braid, old for that? Aren’t padawans supposed to be children? 

 

“I was, my squad was lost on ‘Nosis just like that master of yours due to incompetence from those masters further up the chain than your own. I mean who even thought it was a good idea to use ARCs as general infantry.” 

 

Blue eyes narrow to grey slits. Do jedi even get angry? 

 

“You have quite the opinion for something so mass produced. Let’s start again.”

 

Hand extended, small, delicate, missing smallest finger, wrapped in bacta bandage. Late stages of recovery. Likely from a blaster wound.

 

“Kailen."

 

He took the hand in his.

 

“RC-A2532-D73.”

 

Shake

 

“Great what a personal name to know you by.”

 

Release.

 

“Just call me Delta. They all did.” 

 

Clear blue eyes blink at Kuati rings then back at him. 

 

-

 

The bump of docking forced Delta from his reverie. It was time to begin again. 

 

His hand pressed the clasp at his neck and the blood red cape pooled at his feet. Mandalorian iron sections followed to fall onto he ground in the pool of fabric. Personality, individuality lay in discarded mass as the clone commando walked from the bridge in his jumpsuit. Carrying memories instead of armor for his next assignment. 

[Delta73]

Blood tasted like warm copper in his mouth as a split lip dripped blood onto his white teeth. The Pain from the blow had already been wiped away by the surge of adrenaline that pulsed through him with every second. The next punch flashed towards his face from the other direction and Delta bobbed his head under the blow, following up with a swift jab that caught the other man on the tip of his chin. Pain flashed from the two knuckles as they kissed bone, but the lights in the other man’s eyes snuffed out as he was knocked out where he stood. He dropped slowly slamming his head onto the decking and going into a seizure. The brute of a man writhed there for a moment before Sith medico arrived and dragged him to the sidelines. The battle of the Sith in black jumpsuits versus the Black Sun in their crimson red flight uniforms stretched the entirety of the makeshift arena.

 

A gladia display, but one that brought Delta so much joy that he was grinning from ear to ear, despite the blood. The brutality of unarmed contest was a thrill he did not often get to experience, though he trained for it constantly. It was some sort of contest between the crew of the Marie and the general Sithari army. And though Delta’s men and women were good, they were not used to the brawl.

 

He shook out a hand and dove into the fight at his right. A younger woman from the black sun was getting pummeled by a Sith woman and was busy kneeing the black sun agent in the back. Delta’s heavy fist blow stopped the sith cold and she slumped to the side. He shook the strings of hair that clung to his knuckles and he barked a laugh. 

 

“Get up Teres.” He pulled the agent to her feet where she swayed for a second, shaking her head before clapping him on the shoulder. Her red curls bounced and stuck on the blood that leaked out of her right ear. “Just a little longer, then this will be over.” She nodded then shouted for him to duck. The girls shout, was drowned out by the explosive sound of a fist hitting him in the base of his neck. And her shocked young pretty freckled face, stained with blood, disappeared in an array of stars. 

 

-

 

Perhaps relying on teenage soldiers was like a bad idea. 

 

The tone of voice betrayed the sneer in her voice, that Delta did not even have to turn his helmeted head to see her disgusted expression. 

 

“Now now, we can hardly judge the separatists when both of us also walk a battlefield little one.”  

 

His boots made little sound as they walked through the ruins of the outpost. He knelt beside a body of a young teenager who had taken the fragmentation from a mortar and had bled out clutching his rifle until the harsh dusty trench had turned to slick mud from his blood. 

 

“What do you think? Thirteen? You only outage him by what three years?” 

 

Kailens voice was hollow as she stepped over another equally young body. 

 

And how old are you then Delta? I'm A jedi, and I am much better prepared for fighting then these children.

 

He grinned into the tight helmet, almost triggering one of the HUD readouts. 

 

“Aww well, eleven. You know, growth accel and all that.” 

 

This was their first mission after all. How could she even know. And her gasp gave him some degree of pleasure. 

 

What?

 

He turned. His Illuminated T visor meeting her blue eyes. 

 

“What? Do you think we three million just volunteered and grew up on Kamino waiting? We were bred for this, you know that.” 

 

Were those tears? He couldn’t tell. The anger and shock on her face was enough to reward his little outburst but the dust of Melida/Daan could mimic tears well enough, he would need to get her a helmet too if they lived very much longer. Cries and movement on the horizon told him that death was very much a possibility, and one coming fast. His DC17 came up in one hand and he crouched beside her. One hand pushing her down onto the pile of bodies. Then he pulled his cloak over them both. Blink. Illumination on his suit vanished. All he could hear was her choking breathing. 

 

-

 

Blink

 

His head felt like it was filled with spiked gravel and he spat out a mouth of blood and rolled to his side. Teresa was also laying beside him on the cold decking receiving a boot in the chest for her efforts. He growled and lept to his feet again. Another day. Another fight. Another World, another day to die. Another day to fail at that too. 

[Delta73]

Strike. Block. Parry. 

 

The classic rules of swordplay applied to the not so friendly fight with fists and feet. Only when it devolved to ground fighting, did all rules change. So an open palm strike to the upper face of a Sith woman was enough to elicit a cry of pain before Delta swept her ankles and tossed her onto the circle of tables. It brought a soft cheer from his men and women who still stood beside him in their little shrinking circle. But then it was back to the brawl, Delta’s eyes ever looking towards the throne of the Sith Emperor. The King of the Stars as Telperien had christened him. 

 

Another set of crewmen, some kind of Sith Imperial Flight corps breached the ring and made for the smaller group of embattled Black Sun. Delta’s eyes found the leader, a large man with three chevrons tattooed on his hands. He was holding back, but was clearly the one who had goaded his men into a fight. End it quickly. 

 

“Dubrillion manoeuvre!” he whispered to the three men beside him who informed the rest as the wave of pilots fell upon them. 

 

Delta pointed at him with a bloody finger. 

 

“Forever sergeant, do your own fighting!” 

 

He shrugged laughing at the man’s roar of indignation and fell back to the other side of the ring, letting him pass through the crowd of Black Sun who made way for him. That was except for the well placed foot of a corporal who knew Delta’s command. The large pilot fell right where Delta placed a stern kick to the side of his head. Ending the fight before it began. The man groaned and was silent. Delta dove back into the fight with a blow to the stomach to one of the grey uniformed men then kicked him aside. The pilots fell back in short order and Delta swung his arm out to his injured men and women. 

 

“Now friends let us eat and drink, we have bathed this battlefield in hard won blood.” He laughed and grabbed a mug of ale. “And so it is consecrated.” He downed the drink and spat a mouthful of blood onto the decking. Grinning at the burning in his wounded mouth from the alcohol. His men cheered and they took a seat at the large table. He clapped Teres on her back and laughed again as she winced. She sighed and drained her mug as well, letting some of it spill past her lips to wet her crimson uniform. 

 

“How long have you been with me Teres?”

 

She laughed again and shook her red haired head. 

 

“Since I was a child you rescued from Black X-1. It's been over a decade since you and Crosa-” 

 

Black X-1. That dirty criminal lab that had striven to produce the alpha variants to the Rage viruses. They had been striving to produce what? A virus that was going to genetically target some kind of trait in humans. Why couldn’t he remember this. He had killed them all with Hoverich by his side. Using some kind of vicious gas. Had he really just killed indiscriminately for no reason? That was your entire personality for years you moron. 

 

 “-Hell I was even the youngest knight in the crimson twelve before half of us died at Dathomir-” 

 

He cut her off with a hug. It wasn’t a romantic thing. It was an emotional embrace. It was a smothering hug of a man who was glad to have at least one person by his side through all this. He wished he could have hugged Ailbasi goodbye. Why hadn’t he? Depression? Pride? All foolishness. He took a deep breath whispering a thanks to Teres and turned back to his drink, the smell of her hair and sweat still thick in his nostrils. What did it smell like?

 

-

 

It smelled like dust and fear. Dust that had filtered through a close sealed republic military issued air reservoir. It stuck to his tongue and filled his mouth with its plaster. The soft breathing of the Jedi beside him lulled his senses to the outside world as he fought at the dregs of sleep that pulled at him from all sides. A look at the dim chronometer in his HUD told him he had been awake for nearly thirty two hours, and a quicker glance told him that the Jedi had also fallen asleep in their hidden shelter under the enemies nose. An hour of rest surely wouldn’t hurt. His arm pulled the sleeping jedi closer under his cloak and she mumbled something in a sleepy tone before snuggling into the dust and the armour at his chest. He smiled slightly, scanning the horizon where sentries patrolled from their firebase. Surely a moment of sleep couldn’t hur-

 

-

 

The crack of his forehead hitting the mugs edge brought him out of the daydream. Teres laughed and slapped his back. “No time for sleep Prince. There is still quite the party going on.” 

 

He managed a laugh and drained his cup again, cold blue eyes searching the crowd, as if looking for a matching set of steel blue eyes and a sea of freckles. He shivered and hunkered back over his mug of ale. 

[Delta73]

The unfamiliar voice so close behind him made Delta spin into a crouch off the seat. But before any fight could commence he burst out into laughter that was mimicked by his crew. He bowed his head in thanks and took the package from the Sith Imperial and shook his hand. He placed the package down behind him on the table then slowly turned to face his crew. Their faces told the story. Mostly a mix of fear and anticipation, but there was a lot of defiance in their faces. As if to deny that he could even think of being demoted, executed, or whatever the dark lord had planned for him. Delta could feel that same mix of emotions in himself, so much so that he dared himself not to open the package at all until after the event was done and he was safe in his rooms. 

 

But that was the way of the coward, and every bit of that had been beaten and flogged out of him a century prior. The decision came naturally, face physical fears head on. And so the clone commando lifted the package and stared at it. The envelope was of a grey-brown paper and was strangely bulky, a dark blonde eyebrow arched over his steel blue eye and his fingers broke the seal. Two fingers dipped in and removed the flimsiplast first. The translucent flimsi was scarred by dark red lines of writing that he quickly scanned then passed to Teres to read out to the rest of the crew. He set the package down and picked up the duel cylinders judging their weight as the young woman read out the command to the crew of his Marie.

 

“Your Rank  RC-A2532-D73-” Her red eyebrows furrowed as her slightly tipsy mind tried to read out the long complicated number letter combination that made up his old name in the clone wars. “-Is captain where you will command a company of soldiers. Duty report is 0500.” She trailed off, her voice becoming questioning. “Is that it Prince?” 

 

He smiled, still staring at the two cylinders in his hand. “Captain now and It is indeed.” He held out his other hand where she dropped the flimsi. He rolled it up between two fingers and dropped the plasticine film into his half full mug of ale where it dissolved on the alcoholic foam. Leaving only the insignia of the spider in a halo of red where the ink remained captured on top of the drink. He looked back up to his bridge crew and nodded. “That means you all have to be up in five hours right?” They all slammed their hands onto the tabletop and saluted their eyes wide with anticipation. The commotion from the noise died down as they began to pack up and leave until only Teres remained. She leaned a tired head against his shoulder and he pulled her close for a moment before ushering her off as well. Then he was alone at the table. His heart racing and his continued to look at the two cylinders. He could be useful, he could serve. A smile played itself across his face until it tugged painfully at the scabbing wound on his lip.

 

There was a chance here. A chance to start again. And not many people got the opportunity to change their lives. He tucked the cylinders into his pocket and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he exhaled. His eyes fluttered open and strayed down to his mug, where the blood red Spider stared back.

[Delta73]

“They respect me because they must, I have never lead them wrong, not in two decades.” Delta gestured to the other man to have a seat. “I am Delta73, at your service. Tell me what warrants your presence among the forces of the Sith Lords?” His name was famous, the name that had sunk cloud city, killed a million civilians at Alderaani Towers at Coruscant, and slaughtered the Naboo Royal family. He was curious who this mercenary was and what had brought him into this service. He took another long sip from the ale and looked back up at Bakra 

[Delta73]

“Well welcome Bakra.” Delta raised the mug of ale still clenched in his fist in a slight salute. “Did you fight against the Imperial Remnant when they took Nar Shaddaa from the hutts or are your only commitments for cash?” He chided a laugh and took a long drain from the cup before setting it back down and looking thoughtfully at the other man. “It is of no matter, the Black Sun has folded into a non military group so I took my troops and came here. I have had a long standing working relationship with the Dark Lord so I was welcomed to some extent.” He adjusted his collar and checked at his split lip with the dab of a finger. “And what skills do you bring to the Sith Navy?”