Jump to content

Nar Shaddaa


BLCKCLONE

Recommended Posts

Chalcedon let out a low growl of a laugh, he ran his hand through the spare sets of armour and fished out a chest piece intended for a young male. He shrugged and underhand tossed it to the young girl, it would fit for now, and that was all that mattered, there was no condemnation in his eyes or joking, this was a military order, and armour had to fit, the woman's sized would come in time.

 

“Blasters find gaps in armour most appealing, please put this one before we go into the field.”

 

After she had finished getting redressed into armour that fit, he beckoned her over to the medical bench and withdrew a swab pack. He pointed to his mouth.

 

“Open up for a DNA swab, then we will get to training. We do not use the prefix Master here, you are not a slave, you are not an apprentice, here you are called a Squire and have the military equivalent rank of Private until we approve you for the rank of Sergeant. You may call me Ser, or Knight Chalcedon, or just Chalcedon. I don’t really mind and it doesn't really matter. You will know me for some part of your life and then eventually I will die, no reason to force a narrative of masterhood, simply watch and learn from me.”

 

He swiped the banthacotton swab inside her mouth to collect a DNA sample, then he packaged it and placed it into a wall locker with her name and ID number. Which he retrieved from a kiosk. He handed her the military rank badge.

 

Pandora

IK236-0021

 

“Tell me little one, how do you touch the force?”

_________________

eLR4nwh.png

Raven_3_Sig.png.fa6e284bec4ff42ba02901e8567b2f87.png

Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Embarrassment.....

 

My face flushed with utter embarrassment as I grabbed the previous breastplate with both hands, thinking to myself that they would indeed eventually grow despite my previous fellow padawans comments about if I had drank my milk regularly I would already have grown. "Hmph...," I growled silently as I twirled and stormed off in protest, returning shortly after switching out the breastplate. "They'll eventually grow in, ya know.

 

My little outburst soon subsided as we went through the process of swabbing my DNA and me listening to him speak. My red cheeks still flushed in embarrassment, I kept my gaze lowered through most of it, his words slightly lost on selective hearing. But still, I heard most of it, me finding them very different from the Orders I knew. And in truth, this eased me as a smile crept back onto my face and a cheerfilled expression returned. "Chalcedon? It suits you Ser."

 

Seriousness...

 

"So our ranking is more military than philosophical?" I questioned, my gaze looking at the badge as I placed it away and looked back at Chalcedon. "Which makes you my trainer and commanding officer." This thought set my mind at ease. Not that I was normally the shy type, but after my trials with the Jedi and his rescue earlier, I had grown to feel comfortable with him. And for right now, I felt that was what I needed. With a wink and a joking posture, I saluted him. "Sir."

 

The Force....

 

But it was his final words that made me think, my tone growing the most serious it had became since I woke up here. And in truth, I held no real knowledge to answer his question with. When I was with the Jedi on Tython, they taught it through meditation and focus. They said that it flowed through every living thing and that focusing our thoughts and attention inward, that we could feel it flow from within us. But such things needed discipline and understanding, neither of which I was good at. It wasn't until I felt rage and fear here on Nar Shadaa that it finally flowed forth from me, and it's cold touch frightened me deeply. I suppose that's what the Jedi called the Darkside.

 

But as i sat there contemplating an answer for him, i remembered something i had always known to do, a gift i had seemingly been born with though i had no idea how or why. It had always came second nature, being able to see even when i closed my eyes or was in another room. I held no clue if this was something i was born with or if this what the Jedi considered using the Force, as no one had ever truly explained it to me, nor did i every question. "Ser Chalcedon?" i finally spoke, hesitant at first. "The power I felt here during the battle... it was different, cold, and fueled by my fear of you and my anger toward the slavers. But before then, i had never touched the Force, or at least, not that i know of. I've always been able to see into people's hearts and into rooms other than the one I'm in, but I don't know if that's the Force or something I was born with. See, I..." I stop momentarily, my hesitation apparent. " I've always been a ward of the Jedi, my parents unknown."

wGuSavf.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

“We are a military order little one. We carry rank in the Imperial Armed forces and answer to the empress, we are an extension of her will, and extension of the light to purge away the darkness that plagues this galaxy through force. Unlike the Jedi, we always move to action, there are no debates in high ivory towers here.”

 

Chalcedon nodded his grey head as he watched the young girl. He stroked his chin with a thumb and forefinger as he considered her. He sat down beside her and motioned for her to close her eyes and he took a mighty breath before letting it out in a sigh.

 

“So now we will learn on how to touch the force. Tell me what you see when you let every other thing in your mind flit away like gnats, listen to your heart and let it guide your thoughts. Concentrate on what you feel in this room, feel the energy of it, of me, of this planet, how it pulses with life with every breath. Talk me through it and if you have trouble ask for help.”

 

He let the force flow through him, it was his oldest friend and mentor, the thing that stayed with him in everything he did. He could feel the pain of the planet below, slowly being healed by the efforts of his men and the Empress. Thy would find light here eventually. They would bring a change to this planet of darkness. Then they would move to the next. An ever present crusade against the shadows of evil.

 

____________

eLR4nwh.png

Raven_3_Sig.png.fa6e284bec4ff42ba02901e8567b2f87.png

Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Sight...

 

I sat there, my eyes closed, as I did as he instructed. First I focused on my breathing, letting the sounds of my lungs inhaling and exhaling calm my mind, feeling my body relaxing as I did so. I had meditated before, so this was nothing new to me. Upon closing my eyes, as if upon instincts, I could see the entire room around me in an aspect similar to seeing images in white noise. But deep down, I knew he wanted more. So I began to focus even more, trying to clear my mind and see even more.

 

"I can see all around me as if my eyes were open, but that's nothing new for me." I spoke in jest as my focus broadened and I let my senses expand. "I smell the fragrance of the air around us, yourself included." I couldn't help but chuckle at that comment. "I hear the noises of the hallways and the rooms next door, even the chirping of the cricket over in the corner." I hung my head in shame as I began to follow the noise with my second sight. "But feel? I feel nothing the air flowing through the room."

 

I hopped up in frustration, crossing my arms, and pouting as I did. I was never a patient one. And with my second sight, I was still too easily distracted by what I was able to see and hear. This was going to be harder than I thought. Sure, I could close my eyes and sleep. But even then, I had always be aware of my surroundings, causing my mind to run in overdrive and taking forever before I finally fell asleep. It was one of the reasons I had always hoped to gain control of the Force, seeing some of the Jedi place themselves in statis and sleeping for days. If only I was so lucky. But this is where I got an idea, one that kinda made sense, at least in my own little head. I wondered if there were a way to turn down or even turn off my second sight using the same meditation and focus, allowing myself to tap into the Force. It was worth a shot at least.

 

Blindness...

 

Settling back down beside Chalcedon I closed my eyes and focused inward. I focused first on clearing my mind, focusing on my breathing and the air flowing around me. It was peaceful, almost serene in such an aspect. But as my mind cleared, I focused even more inward in an attempt to either close off or drown out my other senses. But with little to no avail. Frustrated, I opened my eyes, remaining quiet as to not disturb Chalcedon as i sat there. I thought for sure that would work.

 

Looking around to cool myself off, i noticed something that i hadn't before and it caused me to have an almost dumbfounded epiphany, nearly falmpalming myself in stupidity. Why hadn't I thought about that. Quickly reaching out with my hand, I grabbed a couple of sterile banthacotton swabs like the ones he had used in my mouth and quickly plugged my ears as I resettled. I was going to succeed this time, even if it killed me.

 

Awakening...

 

And so I delved deeper into my focus, repeating the same pattern as I had before. First focusing upon my breathing, and then inward upon my senses. Although this time, I couldn't hear a thing as the pressure of the cottonswabs settled the vibrations of my eardrum to a near dead silence, causing me to momentarily wonder if this was what it was like to be deaf before I refocused myself completely.

 

And this was when it happened. To me, I felt almost as if I had drifted off to sleep at first, my second sight disappearing as my mind fell completely blank for what felt like only a couple of seconds before everything became overbearing, washing over me like a wave of explosive noises, and for a brief moment I screamed in agony.

 

If Chalcedon tried to speak to me, i wouldn't be able to hear him, only feel his touch before the cotton swabs were taken from my ears and my hearing returned. But as i felt the noise, it was a combination of life. Sadness, joy, hate, love, voices, alarms, engine sounds, tells, screams, even a booming voice warning me of something. I felt it all at once and it left me completely breathless, almost as if I had been hit in the chest and the wind knocked from me. And as I struggled to my feet, when I gazed upon Chalcedon, my face would be as white as a ghost.

wGuSavf.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 months later...

Chalcedon’s kind face melted into a soft smile of comfort as the imperial squire struggled. When she returned from her journey his kind face was smiling encouragingly. He extended his hands towards her to steady her from the swaying and extended a cup of hot chocolate drink that another squire had brought at his beckoning. When she had drinken fully and some pallour had returned to her gaunt face, he gestured for her to sit beside him on the bench.

 

“What did you feel little one? What so frightened you?”

 

His voice only came softly and without contrition. He was not criticising her, that would come in time. Years perhaps, when she was ready to begin the later part of her training. His eyes flitted to holoscreens that showed an imperial star destroyer on fire over Kuat. And he swallowed his own spike of fear that cropped up in his mind.

 

________________

eLR4nwh.png

Raven_3_Sig.png.fa6e284bec4ff42ba02901e8567b2f87.png

Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Comfort....

 

Feeling Chalcedon's grip brought a sense of ease to my mind as I regained my strength to stand firmly, but the entire trial had taken a deep exhaustion upon my soul. Taking the cup into my hand, the heat of it stung slightly at first, but my nerves grew used to it as I held it, bringing my lips close to its rim as I blew upon it before each sip. The senses I had felt still gripped my heart tightly, partially that one could find such emotions and feelings like compassion and love even in a place such as Nar Shadaa. Yet, the more horrific truth was that hate and cruelty ran rampant and unchecked, substantially more so than the others. It truly was a disheartening realization.

 

With a heavy sigh, I sat the cup aside as his question came across my ears. At first, I sat in silence, trying to gather the words that could express all that I felt. But no matter how much I tried, the words would allude my thoughts and knowledge. So I spoke the only words that came to mind, a bittersweet acknowledgement that both could exist in such a twisted way. "I felt life, and it was surreal. I could feel both love and hate, compassion and fear, intent and doubt. And it was saddening that those feelings could not only exist side by side, but dwell within the same heart, entangled in the same soul, separated only by choice."

 

Taking the cup back into my hand, its warmth having faded, leaving only the lukewarm liquid chocolate within, I took another sip and again sat in humbling silence. My mind would pour over this realization for quite a few moments, unable to grasp such truth, even in the lives of ordinary everyday people. Some still held hope, this much was true, doing as they could to make the lives of those around them better simply out of selflessness. But for the majority of the lives I encountered, hope was lost and they only looked out for themselves and those they chose to cherish. Division was rampant, and weakness was constant.

 

Finishing the cup, i sat it to the side and turned my gaze back to Chalcedon, though i noticed his own distracted. Following his own gaze, my eyes caught notice of a star destroyer on fire being displayed on a holoscreen. Questions arose within my mind why it distracted him so, unaware that it was one of Imperial origin, yet felt compelled to remain silent, his business his own. Yet, I could help but continue to stare at it myself, a sense of unknown dread creeping up my spine that sent shivers across my form and my skin began to rise in little dimples. Truly, whatever was going on, it managed to reach us even here on Nar Shadaa of all places.

 

Fear...

wGuSavf.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 4 weeks later...

The Caridian Pride dropped out of hyperspace, requesting priority landing at the defensive Golan III outpost orbiting the moon of Nal Hutta. Minutes later, Aidan disembarked the shuttle with the rest of the Kuati survivors aboard. As Beth got up to go, he went to gently hold her arm, getting her attention for a final moment.

 

"I know I was pretty gruff back there. I'm sorry. I appreciate what you and your men did. The ones who didn't make it have sacrificed themselves to the noble memory of the Empire, and I intend to make sure every man lost counts."

 

He let go, realizing just how patriotic he sounded.

 

"Just...at the least don't think I'm an ass. I didn't mean to take out my frustrations on you."

 

Without another word, Aidan grabbed his belongings and left, not wanting to embarrass himself further. They might meet again, but for now Aidan simply found his temporary barracks room, put his things in a corner, and sat in silence. Eventually, orders would come, but until then he had work to do. Now more than ever, he needed to learn. About the Force...about himself.

 

Setting the metal and crystal pyramid on the work desk, Aidan began reading through the Imperial archives on all Force related documents his security clearance would allow him to access. Soon, the holocron would finish rebuilding itself, but until then he wouldn't realize that the answers he sought were closer than where he was looking.

fuckmeIwannastop.png.f6b3c407fbf3e64619d8058b21303934.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Lights. Blurs of light. It was all that Beck could see. He wasn’t even sure if he had his eyes open to begin with, yet he knew somehow. His own movements seemed fluid to him, like there was a weight, but very subtle and not strong enough to actually prohibit him from doing anything. There was a slightly muted beep or two off to his right. That was the only clue he needed to know that he was emerging from a tank of some sort. A sudden shiver ran down his spine that forced his body into constant movement, which resulted in the start of the emergent process. The light blurs grew brighter, forcing Beck to lock his eyes shut temporally.

 

He hit the floor somewhat hard, face first. He was cold, wet and slightly sticky and slimy all at the same time. There was a rush sound of feet towards him as he was quickly wrapped in a towel or robes of some sorts. He himself quickly used the edges of it to wipe whatever was on his eyes away and slowly tried to see what he was looking at. Faces.

 

He recognized some, but not all. The one who held the highest rank insignia was Commander Monilar. The olive skin color with the matching jet-black hair and eyes made him stick out like a red rose against a white wall. He was the second in command of the ship, Misericordia. Admiral Illein was the commanding officer.

 

“Where am I?”

 

It was the most direct command that he could give that would allow for him to come to terms with what he needed to do. It was Commander Monilar who spoke. “Sir, you’re in the cloning chambers in The Institute, which is the Revanchist Imperial Academy on Nar Shaddaa. It’s the only location that was deemed safe after Kaut…”

 

“I want a full report within the hour. Allow for me to get dressed, then I want all commanding officers to be prepared to give their report in whatever meeting room is available to us. Dismissed.”

 

Beck didn’t wait for those in the room to leave, he began to dry himself off and moved to get dressed in his best uniform. He needed to find out what happened, and where they currently stand. More importantly… where their Empress was and if she was safe.

emperorpilon.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The repurposed Lambda Shuttle T-5 Deliverance Angel’s Wing lurched from hyperspace into real space, safely arriving at the Imperial stronghold of Nar Shaddaa. Her weapons systems depleted and smoky gray steam spewing from a punctured coolant line into the void of space where it dissipated to a thin haze before vanishing completely.

 

”Looks like the Miscericordia made it out in relatively one piece. They’ve already picked us up on comms. We’ll dock and get these kiddos the attention they need.” the pilot radioed over the shipboard speakers.

 

Back in the rather crowded medical bay, which was a converted passenger area complete with state of the art, front line medical equipment, Ambrose sat cross legged in the corner. He was trying to keep his bulky form as out of the way as possible. Aside from basic first aid he did not know much about medicine, and these kids required more than he knew. He was forced to trust the capable hands of the ships’ crew. As such, he was forced to content himself with sitting motionless in the corner. In his new(er) mechanized body sitting still was not a problem; but still, he could not find a way to shut himself down. Thus he was left with his own swirling thoughts. Thoughts of Query, of Emma, Nal Hutta, his men, his death, Bespin, the fall of Kuat, all that had transpired. These were not thoughts he was pleased to ponder over, but he could not help himself. He wanted to escape. He needed to get out and run. Run or fight, he had been reduced to his most base mental state. In combat he had been clear and focused. He just needed to get back to fighting; maybe then he could work through everything.

 

Maybe Query had been right. There was something wrong with him.

 

Looking down at the small body of the sleeping child in his arms, Frond sighed, mentally. Even through the haze that was his twisted swirling mind, he could do something right. His massive imposing form seemed to be the only thing that helped calm the otherwise screaming youngling. Amongst the symphony of beeping machinery and hushed voices, Ambrose could sit there, a silent sentinel, the small being swaddled safely in blankets, cradled in the crook of his massive phrik arm.

 

Looking up at the pilot’s announcement, Ambrose mentally began to try and compartmentalize his thoughts. He was going to have to give a report of his actions on Kuat. He was, or had been, a storm trooper. Failure was not something the corps took lightly. Just another failure. . .

 

Soon enough, the T-5 had landed in the hangar of the mighty Imperial warship and as soon as the hangar crew had secured the heavily damaged vessel and rendered it safe to be around, swarms of medial techs flooded the already cramped interior and began to expertly carry out the injured children. Through it all, Ambrose sat, devoid of any outwards signs of life. When the last of the injured were removed, slowly, with a creaking and grinding knee, Ambrose stood up, stooping to exit the ship and descend to the deck plating below.

 

Standing there as the hustle and bustle of the ship went on practically unnoticed around him, Ambrose found himself wondering where he needed to go next. His knee needed looking at, he needed to file his after action report, he really ought to probably seek out some sort of psychological assistance which meant even more paperwork, and then there was this:

 

Looking down at the lightsaber he had taken off the fallen Sith warrior on Kuat still clipped to his belt, Ambrose knew he had to turn it over to someone. He had no need of it and an after action report usually only had a small box to check and list items seized from enemy combatants. Normally, he’d turn it over to his commanding officer. In his current state, Ambrose did not even know who that was. The Empress had pardoned him and said he had worth to the Empire, but beyond that she had been silent. He highly doubted that he could return to his old unit in such a state and his last special assignment had ended in complete failure. Truth be told, all of his actions since he had awoken on Carida had been of his own decision, not under orders or alongside any semblance of a military unit. Sure, there had been soldiers battling alongside him at Kuat, but he had been an outlier, an Imperial piece of tech that, in the chaos, was a welcome addition to the fight. Where did he even belong?

 

As he stood there puzzling, an Imperial clad lackey rushed up, eyes darting from his datapad up to the towering mechanized being’s face and back, ”Captain Ambrose. You are to report to Conference Room Epsilon-2. Grand Admiral Beck has ordered any and all commanding officers to assemble there A.S.A.P. to give their reports on the Battle of Kuat.” Without another word, the weasel-like lackey turned and scurried away, leaving Ambrose to figure out what to do next.

 

At least he had some direction though. Truth be told, he was not looking forward to standing for his behavior planetside on Kuat. He had not been acting under orders and under his watch a hospital, still filled with who knows how many sick and dying Imperial citizens, had collapsed; a Moff, in as much as he knew had gone missing and was most likely presumed dead, Imperial fighter craft had been shot down trying to assist him, and he had, technically, without authorization, taken a piece of experimental weaponry that now lay somewhere buried in the rubble that was Kuat. In anyone’s book, that was stealing.

 

Hanging his metal head, the 9 foot colossus began to shuffle across the hangar, each metal-on-metal footfall clanging across the bay.

 

Soon enough, he found himself outside Conference Room Epsilon-2. It looked like he was the first to arrive. Stooping even further he, squeezed through the shorter door into the room. Inside, it was clear that the black polished tables and chairs were designed for much more humanoid-sized beings. He was but a droid after all, a second-class citizen at best. As such, he took up a standing position in the furthest back corner, his features obscured by the shadows as he towered over the angled lights directed at the conference room table.

 

Now all he had to was wait for the arrival of Admiral Beck and whoever else outranked him.

 

Again, he was left with none but his thoughts. Captain? he pondered, last I checked, I was a lieutenant, if that anymore. . .

O0kxjoU.png?1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Hours seemed to pass like minutes. Aidan studied like he never had before, only leaving his room to acquire food. The texts the Remnant had were cryptic at best, and undecipherable at worse. There were many references that Aidan simply didn't get because of his inexperience with the Force. He had been taught to touch the Force, to use it for basic things, and naturally discovered how to let himself drift into its control. But all of this was akin to a primate swinging around a telescope for a club, as much of the subtler nuance was lost on him, and he knew it.

 

Periodically he would check on the small metallic tetrahedron, which was rebuilding itself at an accelerated pace. Aidan suspected it was some sort of nanite technology, but couldn't be sure for certain. All he knew was that it had a definitive presence in the Force. Aryian's presence.

 

After what felt like an eternity, it was done. There was no indicator other than a deep feeling in Aidan's gut, but when the time came, he absolutely knew. For several minutes he studied the thing, tracing the patterns on the surface, noting impossibly small trails of the metal etching in beautiful fractal patterns towards the heart of whatever crystalline substance the thing was made of. He'd found the name for such a thing in a short description in one of the texts he'd studied: holocron. But this holocron didn't quite fit the pictures included. For one, it looked like a miniaturized Sith holocron, though other design features were decidedly Jedi in nature.

 

After a while he finally picked it up, slowly, gingerly. It looked fragile, but as he held it and explored it with his hands he realized it was actually quite sturdy. But there was no button, no latch...nothing to indicate it did anything more than look pretty on a shelf. His father hadn't seriously just made something to be a self-repairing memento, had he? And if so, why would he attach a part of himself to it, and then allow it to fall into the hands of a Sith?

 

Frustrated, the young Knight put the holocron back on the table, sitting and staring at it. Eventually, a thought came to him, something that should have been common sense. If it was an artifact infused with the Force, perhaps the Force had something to do with unlocking its secrets? Aidan exhaled slowly, allowing his eyes to close halfway as he reached out, probing the device through the Force. Most of it paralleled what he surmised from examining it with his hands and eyes, but there were deeper layers to the thing, patterns and designs that seemed to violate what was possible yet still sang harmoniously together.

 

And then, he mentally touched upon a specific area, almost out of curiosity, and activated it. A torrent of Force energy surged back through the connection he'd made, and Aidan felt himself being drawn into...something.

 

Aidan's mind expanded far beyond what he'd ever experienced before. Time and space opened their doors wide, teasing secrets across the darkest recesses of his thoughts. But there was a destination, a light at the end of the tunnel as the holocron worked, establishing a firm hold on the last strongest presence to possess the device, and using it to connect Aidan and restore itself.

 

Aidan's eyes opened, but what he saw was not in front of him. He felt a familiar presence, that of the Sith. The one who had slain his master...though the Sith had changed. As he took in more and more details, Aidan began to make sense of it. Before him stood a man with silver hair, much like his father's. The man was marked with tattoos, markings Aidan could almost feel upon his own skin. The memories, the experiences, the man's mind was almost an open door, though the young Knight knew better than to venture in.

 

He had so many questions, but was unsure of where to even begin. At the periphery of his perception, he felt two others nearby, one full of life yet on the path of darkness, another devoid of life but bound to servitude in contentment. And for a brief moment, Aidan knew the Sith could see everything he could, the experience almost mirrored in kind. This was one of many binaries of the Force, a concept he'd read about hours before. In a knee jerk reaction, Aidan forcibly broke the connection, retreating inside himself until there was nothing to connect to.

 

Sweat racked the young man's face as he found himself back in his room on Nar Shaddaa, breathing heavily as he sat on his bed. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be as simple as just shutting himself off from it. There was more to this holocron than even the texts had mentioned, and Aidan was equal parts thrilled and terrified at the unknowns involved with it. As he stared though, a familiar voice spoke up, one that wasn't his, nearly startling him.

 

"Hey, kiddo."

fuckmeIwannastop.png.f6b3c407fbf3e64619d8058b21303934.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Chalcedon grimaced, as the news of the first few evac shuttles landing was played over loudspeakers and the din of it echoed through the hall. He looked at the young girl and waved his hand dismissively. Indicating that she should not feel distracted by his own distraction, though believing an explanation was necessary, he finally spoke.

 

“This order is sworn to serve the Imperial Remnant and its Empress. You can feel the sickening dread filtering throughout the moon no?”

 

For there was darkness that was drifting in like wind through an open window. The smell of fear was rank on those refugees that had escaped the slaughter of Kuat, and its stench came even through the white halls of the Imperial Mission. Driving joy before it like game to the slaughter.

 

“That fear.” He tapped the side of his head with a gloved finger, “Comes from the loss which you can see on the viewscreens. Our holding in the core have been obliterated, and millions have died at the hands of the Sith. I am afraid that the Galactic Alliance, to which the Jedi order is sworn to will fall with the core. I fear for my brothers and my sisters, but I fear most for our Empress, who now lies captured among our enemies.”

 

He looked the girl in the eyes.

 

“What do you truly fear little one? For we should always strive to confront fear where it rears its ugly head.”

 

________________

eLR4nwh.png

Raven_3_Sig.png.fa6e284bec4ff42ba02901e8567b2f87.png

Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"...Dad?"

 

Aryian's ghostly image chuckled. "I knew that would be the first question. No, what you see is just the holocron's gatekeeper. That's me. I have some of the memories of the real Aryian, I have his personality, but...I'm not him. You can call me whatever you'd like, though, the programming I incorporated into this holocron is fairly sophisticated."

 

An eternity of a pause. Eventually Aidan inhaled, realizing he'd stopped breathing. His knuckles were white, his fists clenched tightly, wetness welled in the corner of his eyes.

 

"Why...why did you leave us? Why did you leave me?"

 

Aryian sighed. "And I figured that would be the second question. I don't have a good answer, kiddo. I could tell you it's where the Force willed me, but that's not really fair to you, is it? The short answer is what I did to you and your mom, leaving like I did, was inexcusable. I tried to be a good dad from afar, I tried to use my influence to protect you, but too late I saw the truth: you never needed it. I wish I could have seen what kind of a man you grew up to be. I figured you'd eventually make use of your birthright talents, so I made this holocron. It was my hope to pass on my knowledge, to help you understand yourself on a deeper level."

 

"I didn't ask to hear excuses."

 

"I'm sorry, I don't understand your question. Could you rephrase that for me?"

 

Another breath, fists unclenching slightly. It was just a program. One his father had written, but a program nonetheless. Getting angry here would be useless, though deep down the interaction had reopened the old wound. Still, the answer he was given made sense, despite it not removing the sour taste from his abandonment issues. What was done was done, and that truth was as painful as any other he'd known. The past was written, unchangeable. Another breath.

 

"Tell me about the Force."

 

Aryian paused briefly before answering. It was clear the program had expected a further line of questioning, an oversight of his father's. He'd always expected Aidan to be something he wasn't, he expected him to walk in his footsteps. As Aidan listened to the old man start lecturing on the nature of the Force and its philosophies, he resolved to never fulfill that expectation. He would be his own man.

 

He was not his father.

fuckmeIwannastop.png.f6b3c407fbf3e64619d8058b21303934.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I nodded my head in acknowledgment as he asked the first question, not only a sense of dread having overcame this installation as refugees and Imperial personnel began to flock in, but a sense of coldness that was different than the cold recycled air that constantly blew from the ventilation shafts. This coldness was deeper, it had weight to it, and it thickened the air to the degree that it seemed to affect even the moods of those returning. Many walked around with blank stares as if they couldn't believe what they witnessed. Others walked in anger, their gazes defiant. Even Chalcedon's gaze had changed, his eyes stern, yet sorrowful, as if his heart had been shattered.

 

Yet I remained silent as he spoke, my eyes meeting his with attentiveness and concern. I watched as he explained the situation, spoke of fear, and noticed that he partially admitted his own even if he had not meant to. But given the atmosphere that had descended upon Nar Shadaa as well as the Imperial Compound that we stood within, it was a reasonable accident. All I could feel at the moment, however, was sorrow and concern for him and the others that strolled by me as my gaze shifted toward those that past on occasion. My understanding was oblivious, yet, my heart still felt for them.

 

"I have many fears Chalcedon." I finally spoke after a long period of silence, lost in thought upon his words and in those that walked to and fro around us. I couldn't quite grasp the concept of war, and yet, I could see it clear as day in each face that past, some broken, some enraged, some even reveling in the sensations they felt. But as I searched myself, only a singular fear stood above the rest in that singular moment, a fear I thought he had laid to rest and stemmed from my time in the Jedi Order. Clearing my throat, a shiver crawling my spine and causing me to shake a moment as it hit me. " My greatest fear is not being accepted for who I am.

 

I sighed. I felt shameful to use such a lousy fear, especially amidst the fears that fermented all around us. But it was the truth. Or so i thought at that moment. I didnt fear death. It was natural and I believed that in death, we returned to the Force and became a droplet upon its flowing river. Nor did i fear battle. For i had fought my entire life to retain my beliefs and even ran from the Jedi when my beliefs conflicted with their teachings and they wanted to strip me of the Force. That could change however. As i held no real clue of what battle was like, and from what i saw in the eyes of those that returned from Kuat, it was evident that i held no knowledge of true battle, only my own. Yet, despite this, in this moment, acceptance still remained my greatest fear.

 

To be accepted was to be loved, to be cherished. It was comradery. It was knowing that I had a home, that I had friends, and that I could and would be relied on and forgiven if I failed. And as long as I had that, I could always face life head on with courage in my heart no matter what mediocre fear did manage to try and grasp my heart. I knew this to my very core. Even when i first met Chalcedon in that dark alley, despite the fear that he was Jedi, I was prepared to face him and die before I let go of my beliefs. But after finding out who he was, and for the first time in my life, feeling his acceptance for who I was, I felt whole. That would be all I would ever need.

 

Gazing at Chalcedon, my bright blue eyes meeting his, I smiled sincerely, hoping to return the favor of comfort as he had done for me.

wGuSavf.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Beck didn’t really waste time. He walked into the meeting room designated for this meeting, clad in a weird mix of uniforms. His top was the white uniform piece, while his pants were the grey colored ones. It was all mixed together with a black belt, boots and black cape. He was accompanied into the room by Commander Monilar, who seemed to be nervous, or scared. Beck couldn’t tell, and he really didn’t care at the moment. Now was not the time for fear or nerves. He quickly took his seat and looked at everyone in the room.

 

“Remove your fear. There is no place for it here. We have a single Star Destroyer, the Misericordia, to which Commander Monilar informs me that Admiral Illein resigned his post in light of the loss at Kuat…”

 

Beck allowed for those words to sink in before he continued with the men.

 

“… I want to make it very clear. I don’t want any officers like that. We have been handed a defeat. The first of many to come. But are we not Imperials? We do not tarry at the first defeat that comes our way. We stand tall.”

 

Beck looked around to see everyone in the room. He made sure that his eyes locked with everyone at least for a few seconds before he continued on.

 

“Now… We are here to figure out our next move. I want reports.”

emperorpilon.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ambrose stood there, the topmost portions of his domed head shrouded in the shadows near the ceiling as he took in every word that Admiral Beck said. He had never seen the man before, only heard tell of him amongst whispers in the ranks. Truth be known, Ambrose was still not even sure how he had come to be here. In so few months he had received what seemed to be one promotion after another. Yet still, in his own heart, Ambrose knew he was a failure. He had lost the Moff, failed to defend refugees, fallen in battle, fought against his own brothers, and allowed the destruction of an entire hospital with who knew how many deaths inside.

 

With a heavy heart and mind, Ambrose took one clanging step forward towards the table and his comrades, most if not all of whom outranked him. The others remained silent and Ambrose had to wonder if they too were contemplating their failures and how they came to stand here at Nar Shaadaa.

 

Before saying a word, the newly minted Imperial captain, unclasped the saber that he had taken from the nameless Sith lord he had defeated on Kuat and hefted it easily out unto the middle of the table with a clatter and a clang.

 

”I am RG-126, formally of the Ryloth Stormtrooper garrison before a series of unfortunate events befell me in the service of the Empress. I command no men. I have no duty station and no assignment. I have been pardoned by our Empress and I serve the Empire in an effort to bring peace and order to the Empire; to defend the poor, the weak, and the innocent. Such is my duty. That duty is what brought me to Kuat in the first place. Moff Hohenlohe’s estate on Kuat was besieged by Sith armies and men that appeared to be servants of the Black Sun Syndicate. I do not know what became of the Moff. He was lost to me during the din of battle, escorted by other Imperial forces when the wilder of that,” he pointed a massive metallic finger at the lightsaber lying on the table, ”came for him. Whatever monster it was, I left smoldering in a crater on the field of battle, his weapon claimed from his severed arm.” Ambrose paused to look around at the gathering about the table. If he had a throat to swallow with, he would have to try and wet his windpipe before he continued with the highlights of his activities on Kuat. ”The destruction of the fleet in orbit caused massive destruction to the planet, raining down burning chunks of durasteel and death on the people of Kuat. As the battle of the Moff’s estate drew to a close, I set off towards the city, destruction falling all around me. I was able to pick up a distress signal and with the assistance of a single medical transport and two fallen TIEs we were able to evacuate eighteen ill and wounded children and their caretakers before. . .”[/Ambrose paused, yet again, composing himself, ”the enemy descended on the Palpatine Memorial Hospital and reduced it to rubble; it and all the defenseless within. I had no choice but to evacuate with the ship.”

 

Ambrose hung his head as he fell silent.

 

”I had no choice. The hospital fell beneath my feet. Wherever the Empress deems that the monstrosity I have become to serve, so shall I serve.”

 

With that, Ambrose stepped back, his magnetized foot clanging again against the floor as the room fell silent awaiting Beck’s response.

O0kxjoU.png?1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The door to Conference Room Epsilon-2 opened abruptly, keyed by an individual with sufficient rank to know the location of the Admiral at all times, even after such a defeat. Tallin strode quicly into the room, his eyes gaging the assembled officers. He knew the Admiral well, having stood beside him at the messy dinner on Coruscant, and had seen many hours of footage of his military actions. He had also meet the commander, at one of the many Imperial functions, where he had also learned, at least by name, face and rank, most of the others gathered there. The monstrous being who had just finished speaking seemed familiar, perhaps, but he could not recognize him.

 

Briskly, Tallin saluted the admiral, as he was the highest ranking officer that the Zabrak respected, now that the Empress had been captured. He turned slightly to include the rest of the room, gaging them with weary, bloodshot eyes. "My apologies for my late arrival, Admiral Pilon. I had a difficult time making it off of the Shipyards, most of the transports had fled or been destroyed, and my own ability to fly compromised. It was only by luck that I found a functioning fighter and a willing pilot, which brought me here. I also had to stop at the medical facilities, as..."

 

Tallin paused, gesturing at the remains of his left arm. The duel had left it heavily damaged, too damaged for anything but removal or a long stay in the Bacta tanks. So he had it removed within the medical hospitals erected by the Moff Hohenlohe, a metal cap on the stub which ended just above his elbow. With the Empress captured, a long inactivity was not an option. He was the Captain of the Imperial Guard, and he had failed to protect his Empress. But he would not fail to avenge her.

 

"I had to get this taken off. Dead weight anyway, I guess right? For those of you who do not know me, I am Imperial Guard Captain Tallin Abraxas. I was faced by a Sith warrior in the shipyards, and like our companion, also defeated him, and took his lightsaber. Most of the Imperial Guard is dead, fallen by the side of their Empress. As soon as matters are decided, I shall begin the process of finding and training a new branch, in the ashes of the old. I do, however, have one squad ready, as they remained behind to take part in the rebuiling efforts on this very moon. What are our orders, Admiral? How many of the Moffs survive? Any news of the fate of the Empress?"

PERmoGM.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Beck lowered his head upon hearing all of those of a command status give their reports. It was a sad day, that the Imperial Remnant is now broken and without their Empress. They would have to be careful in moving forward. He looked down at the table for a long moment before looking up directly at Captain Tallin.

 

"No Moffs have reported back in yet. For the moment, we're all that's left of command."

 

Beck choose to let his words hang for a moment before moving on. It was for dramatics, but rather to let the weight sink in that they were dealt a heavy blow.

 

"There has been no word on the Empress. I don't believe that the Axis forces were that fool hardy to have killed her there. We must double our efforts in trying to track her down. All tech crews should be put on double duty until they can find a way to boost our signals and slice into the Sith comm channels. Otherwise... Tallin, accept the rank of Colonel and you may begin your efforts to train up new squads and find us a better place to put our roots down. You may may be dismissed and begin immediately."

 

Beck then stood up to let the others know that there was nothing more to be said or done. Until someone of a higher rank emerges, he would be the leader. It wasn't something that he desired at all. He would much rather have the Empress back. So until such a time, he would make every effort to find her and bring her back home. As he stood, he moved to the side and actually used his hand to signal for RG-126 to come forward. After he did so, Beck leaned in to speak to him.

 

"Do not fret over your performance. We were outgunned, outmatched, and outplayed. The Sith came in with the intent of ending the Imperial Remnant. But even in defeat, there are chances to learn and grow. They handed us a defeat, but the Empire always strikes back. Our time will come. In due time, I want you to help train our commandos."

emperorpilon.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ambrose offered a half-hearted yet professional salute at the Admiral’s instructions. ”Sir yes sir. I do have one request however. If it is acceptable, I would like to offer whatever limited skillsets I have and my new Imperial issued iron body to the cause of the safe return of our Empress. She saved my life. I owe it to her to try and do the same sir.”

 

Before he could receive a response, Ambrose marched out of the conference room and down the hallway. The few Imperials still moving about gave the walking arsenal a wide berth.

 

Training new recruits was one thing. Training commandos was different. Some would have limited combat experience; others would be fresh out of training, having never even stared down a true enemy; still others would be returning for refreshers on the latest and greatest combat maneuvers, technology, and theories. Ambrose Veshok was no teacher. He was willing to do what he had to though to ensure the Empire’s survival and by that the survival of peace, order, and the rule of law. Ambrose would do anything to protect those he loved. He would even teach.

O0kxjoU.png?1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Beck watched as the newly minted Imperial Commando trainer walk out of the room. It was good to know that others also felt the strong sense of convictions to the Empire. But because of those convictions, it meant that Beck would have to work twice as hard to keep the in line until they could locate and recuse their Empress. Turning towards Commander Monilar, he offered his final order within the meeting room.

 

"Commander, go and oversee our intelligence unit. I want them to find anything possible about the Empress. But I will also happily take any news on the whereabouts of the Moffs. Don't report in unless you have something to report. Dismissed."

 

The Admiral turned and looked out the viewport. The world of Nar Shaddaa was indeed a planet that seemed odd for the Imperial Remnant to stage a reformation at. The ships that moved from space to surface, the flickering lights of the planet itself, it all brought up a sense of a rundown wannabe Coruscant. Letting out a sigh, Beck relaxed himself and stared down at the floor. We are far from being a mighty Empire...

emperorpilon.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 weeks later...

A message, hurriedly constructed from a mix of emotions like fear, anxiety, and of course that one emotion that caused most mistakes in the galaxy; love. Came rocketing into Aiden’s commlink, from the Jedi Knight Sandy Sarna.

 

 

THIS MESSAGE HAS BEEN SCREENED BY THE ISB

 

PASSED TO AIDAN DARKFIRE FROM A JEDI KNIGHT COMMLINK #8859-559-2022-331

 

ISSUED TO A SANDY SARNA. YOU MAY DISREGARD THIS MESSAGE IF YOU BELIEVE IT IS SPAM

 

 

“Aiden, its Sandy, I pray that you have made it through the fighting on Kuat, and if this message finds you well, please let me know if there is anything I can do to help. The Empire, you, anything. I’m here.”

 

senay.png.2f049a5f093fee4ce31600cce37c9cbb.png

Calix Meus Inebrians

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Admiral Beck sat behind his desk with the viewport of Nar Shaddaa to his back. His own mind was frantic and full of ideas that were giving him a headache as he looked over many holo-reports and other elements of the recent Battle of Kuat. Deep down, he blamed himself for the loss there, which he felt was directly related to having his Empress lost to the forces of the Axis fleets. Letting out a very loud sigh, he pushed a report away from his sight in an attempt to regain his own mind back from the slavery he had now put it in. It was at that moment that his door buzzed, followed by Commander Monilar walking through the door and gave a bow. It was the first time he had done so, as it was protocol to wait to enter unless he had urgent news. Because of this, Beck straighten up.

 

"Admiral... I have two very urgent pieces of news for you. The first is less pressing. The Jedi have assembled on Borleias and have made an open declaration to help rescue the Empress to anyone wanting to help. The second is much more important... our intelligence may have located the Empress..."

 

The final words perked up Beck to the point of where he suddenly found himself standing up. Looking away into the distance, he thought upon what exactly could all of this mean? But the thought was quickly dismissed as he was an Admiral of the Imperial Remnant. He was the leadership for the moment. Looking back into the eyes of Commander Monilar, he was direct and ready.

 

"Prepare Heaven's Taint for departure to Borleias. I want two intelligence officers to travel with me. Also... notify RG-126 to have a squad ready to leave within the hour... We're going to bring our Empress home."

emperorpilon.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

LOCATION: Temporary training outpost Omicron three six - Nar Shaddaa.

 

Ambrose stood in the corner watching as three sets of the Empire’s more seasoned veterans and commando hopefuls squared off. Fluidly, as if by second nature the trio of duos threw themselves at each other, trained moves, interrupted by the occasional improved strike learned via extra, off duty training, or cantina brawls. It was probably a good thing that Ambrose was all of and nothing more than a brain in a jar nestled within the massive Dark Trooper Phase III suit he currently called home. How he longed to interject himself into these training sessions. He could not. His hulking metallic form would easily crush the warriors seeking to advance themselves. He had learned that early on after sending an entire squad of rookie Stormtroopers to the medical ward with a variety of concussions and broken bones. So here he stood, resigned himself to observing and pointing out apparent inconsistencies. These men were not commandos yet. Drawn from the ranks of enlisted naval, army, Stormtrooper, and Intelligence personnel, many of the soldiers here had shown exceptional bravery, fortitude, and outside the box thinking during the battle of Kuat or the innumerable minor skirmishes that had erupted since with the Axis forces.

 

As he stood watching, his mind grimacing at the clear divergences from Imperial hand-to-hand combat training techniques, but he did not move. He had been tasked with training Imperial commandos, not reprogramming their basic training techniques. If these warriors had made it this far in their careers, clearly they were doing something right. Inwardly, Ambrose Veshok doubted that he was the right man for this job. After all, hadn’t he been the one to throw an entire ship full of soldiers into the planetary shield of Bespin? Hadn’t he been the one to wreak havoc on the Imperial medical base at Carida? Perhaps he was being punished. That was all he could resign himself to. The Empress was gone, the fleet had fallen, and the scattered remnants of the remnants of the once mighty galactic Empire were making with all haste here, to Nar Shaddaa, by all rights not an Imperial world, but one that belonged to the Hutts. They had not even tried to mount a rescue of the Empress yet. For all he knew, she was dead and the upper ranks were squabbling over what to do. No, this was not the Empire he had joined so many years before. Yet he was a good soldier even in his failures. He would stay and train the next generation of Imperial commandos, even if it was his punishment. They would be the best damn commandos the remnant had ever seen!

 

”No! No! No!” he bellowed, his mechanical voice echoing across the relatively desolate training arena as one of the commandos tapped out after being flipped through the air and slammed to his back, his opponent’s hand around his throat. He was not stopping the drill because the trainee with the advantage was clearly pressing it, pushing his fellow to the point of black out. No, Ambrose stopped the drill because the other trainee had tapped out. ”There is no room for surrender where you are going. Do you think the Rebellion showed mercy to soldiers on Endor? OF course not! What about all the soldiers aboard the Death Star who died without a chance to face their foes head on? Do you think they were showed mercy when they cried out for their mothers? You play like you practice! There is no tapping out. There is no surrender. We are the last razor’s edge of the Empire. After us, there is nothing. Do you understand? Nothing! Without us the Axis runs roughshod over the galaxy. We are the final wall!”

 

The rage and pain of Ambrose’ proverbial heart poured out in his words. He meant every word and if these jockeys thought that they could tap out when the going got rough he had no use for them. Stepping forward, his metal foot sending dust billowing upwards from the packed earth, Ambrose hefted the supine combatant into the air, his massive mechanized hand crushing the man’s frame beneath it. ”AND WE DO NOT ABANDON THAT POST!” he bellowed angrily before sending the hapless soldier careening back down to the dust.

 

”Again!” he snapped as he turned to eye the five others who were watching. Only one had a smile playing across his face. Whether that was at his brother’s suffering or because he understood what Ambrose was talking about, Ambrose did not know; but he was pleased to see that his actions had gotten a reaction. As the fallen trooper picked himself up, the group began to square off again, as Ambrose took back up his post, only to be interrupted a moment later by the arrival of a courier who handed Ambrose a note.

 

Crumpling it in his hand, Ambrose held up his free hand, signaling the half-dozen to stop. ”Report to your quarters. We’ve got orders. he spoke, all tell of his emotions now gone from his dark mechanized voice. In that moment, Ambrose saw clarity. It was a clarity he had not seen since he had arrived on Nar Shaddaa, except when he tried to throw himself into his assignment. Here, he was finally being tasked with something fitting the tortures he had undergone for the Empire.

 

The Empress.

 

She spared my life. It is time that I honor that mercy.

 

Making his way into what counted as an office for a cybernetic ranking soldier of the Empire, Frond clumsily uncoiled the large wire from under the desk that held is assigned computer. Expertly, he wove it through his armored plates and plugged it into a hidden port. With practiced expertise, he cycled through a myriad of unread disregarded messages from fellow officers looking to find joy in their off duty hours with the company of attractive young ladies and spiced Corellian wine, messages adjusting the weekly mess menu, messages advising new arrivals to Nar Shaddaa, known survivors, and known losses for the troops searching for friends, family, and battle buddies. None of that mattered to him, so he had pretty much forgone ever even checking messages. If someone needed something, it was not hard to find Ambrose Veshok. After all he was the only nine foot three inch mechanized death machine authorized to walk about the base without an escort. Cycling through the messages, he found the one he was looking for. Apparently Command still had not caught up with the fact that he had forgone this level of communications. Scanning the message, Ambrose would have smiled if he had the muscles to do so. He was to hand pick a squad of Commandos and report to Admiral Beck Pilon within the hour.

 

Within the hour?

 

Ambrose glanced at the holoclock on the wall and then back at the message timestamp. That hour was 17 minutes ago.

 

Whoops!

 

Standing, Ambrose wrenched the cord free, disconnecting himself from the computer. He strode out. He knew just who was going to go and rescue the Empress. For a venture like this, rank did not matter. For a venture like this, all that mattered was having the best of the best. They needed soldiers hardened by their training, their missions, and their environment; soldiers who could not just complete their mission, but that could survive and if the need arose willingly lay down their lives for their Empire. There were only so many men Ambrose would trust with such a task. The 73rd Cold Weather Combat Battlegroup was where Ambrose had spent the bulk of his career, engaging hostiles on the most desolate windswept godforsaken planets in the galaxy. Even though he had not monitored his messages, Ambrose still kept an ear out for word that any of his old battle buddies had resurfaced on Nar Shaddaa. With luck seven of his fellows had. Each one a trained and experience snow trooper with a myriad of tours with the 73rd and otherwise.

 

Walking down the narrow hallways that connected the makeshift surface barracks, Ambrose found the central command center. He had grown accustomed to the looks of shock and fear that his hulking form was met with, so he did not even notice as the lowly private began to voice a protest but drew back at the site of Ambrose plated forearm and the clearly concealed hatches that houses the duel blaster cannons in each. Without a word, Ambrose scanned the private’s computer screen until he found what he was looking for. A few minutes later, his fellow members of the 73rd had been ordered to report to Beck in orbit immediately. All they needed to do was grab their gear and go. Orders would follow.

 

”Seven plus one makes eight. We need one more.” Ambrose growled to himself. Although the green soldier at the desk did not think that as his mouth gaped open and shut several times trying to engage his mind and fathom an acceptable response. At the same time Ambrose’ mind whirled thinking about who could fill the final slot. He knew, even as much as he did not want to consciously admit it. That smiling buffoon in the arena. What was his name? Kesto? Ketsy? Ambrose scanned down through the list of soldiers in the barracks. There it was. Ketso Kast. That smiling idiot would do well. He had grit and determination and the experience to prove it. Ambrose had read his file. Well, more so glanced it over. Several promising years as a member of the Imperial Army serving as an advanced recon scout in some of the hottest, most humid regions the galaxy had to offer. The man had taken not only blasterfire in the name of the Empire, but apparently the man still had a few aged slugs floating around inside somewhere too. Yes, he’d work. Pushing the same buttons, Ambrose sent a message to the man’s room, summoning him to Beck as well.

 

Standing up, Ambrose’ head scraped the ceiling, raining sparks down on the desk where the terrified private sat still trying to muster the courage to blink much less speak. ”At ease soldier. You saw nothing,” the cyborg growled before turning with stooped head and stalking off. His seven fellow stormtroopers and the commando recruit made eight. The traditional Imperial squad was made of nine. There was no way Ambrose would let Beck fill that slot with anyone but himself. He’d be damned if he was not going to rescue the Empress too.

 

Quickly, he made his way to the massive lift that connected the surface with the orbital station above; a recent addition to expedite Imperial movements from space to the surface and back. It did not take long for the massive war machine to carve a path through the crowds and find a seat aboard the lift. Glancing to his left and right, Ambrose was content to see his fellows finding their own seats, whispering amongst themselves wondering to what special task they had been summoned. Ambrose doubted any of them recognized him. Rapping a metal knuckle against his freshly repaired metal knee with a light gong that was lost in the din of voices, he had undergone quite the transformation. Still, it was good to see some of his old comrades. Their presence gave him a sense of peace and knowledge that wherever the Empress might be that they actually stood a chance of wrestling her away from the grasp of whatever slimy darkness had her in their clutches.

 

It was not long before the eight men and Ambrose were all standing at attention aboard the Heaven’s Taint. All that was needed now were their orders from High Command.

O0kxjoU.png?1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

Beck arrived at the dock where Heaven's Taint stood ready. Commander Monilar had followed him out to the docks to see him off, and Beck thanked him for his work and gave him marching orders to follow until his own arrival back. He then boarded his own ship where two intelligence officers stood ready for him to give him the full run down, along with RG-126 and his squad, ready for the mission. As the ship lifted and took off, Beck gave only a slight word of encouragement before the ship blasted into hyperspace towards Borleias.

 

"Oaths we have made for the Empire. Today, we will fulfill them all."

 

And with that, the ship was well on its way.

emperorpilon.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

The Soresu was a cramped hulled vessel, a design that predated Sandy’s birth by almost fifteen decades, but according to the captain Rana Kusaseka, a Zabrak who had served the jedi order for nearly that long, or at least dating to before the Master Starlisk, the hull was tight and she could ‘stick it to the enemies of peace for as long as a star destroyer.’ Sandy heavily doubted that, but the ship would nonetheless would likely be appreciated by the empire. Watching the last week of holoreporting had been heartbreaking for Knight Senya, and her mood was dour as she stood around the small holotable at the center of the command module in the Soresu. She had never been good at leaving her emotions behind her, and captain Rana was giving her a glare for whatever sourness she was passing into the force. The two pilots in attendance, both jedi aces and twins from Dathomir grinned at her from behind faces of tan skin. Liamiar Kalistrasos the male, and commander of the aged Y-wing bomber squadron with his bulging arms of muscle smiled broadly at her apparent frustration. It wasn’t a smile of mocking however, but a smile of knowing encouragement. Both he and his sister had been ardent supporters of the interventionist policies of Adenna and the other knights that had followed her.

 

That was the initial curse of the Imperial Knights, Sandy thought, Revanchists had taken the creme of the jedi order with them. Leaving only the indecisive, the pacifists, or the obscenely loyal of the Jedi. When if they had merely stayed another few months, the internal revolt of those that desired to bring the Jedi wholesale into the conflict would have driven the entire order to war. Instead, brave and alone, the Imperial Knights had fought their battle against the Sith and had payed for it.

 

The silence was broken by the sister, Tenna, who short and lithe was everything her brother was not, which also reflected in her command of the A-Wings attached to the Soresu.

 

“So we strike for Nar Shadaa? This is the will of the grand master?”

 

Sandy was about to retort that it was of course the will of the whole jedi order but Rana held up a hand.

 

“It is the will of the force miss Kalistrasos. We cannot let our old friends stand alone against the darkness. Their empress has been captured by the Sith, and is enduring torture and who knows what else. If you listen to the force, it is preparing to break like a wave on the sands of time. This will be our last hurrah against the darkness and I for one will not stand by and let the young form the spearpoint. We have our orders yes, but this is a much larger game.”

 

The hyperspace deliminator began to flash and he sighed.

 

A minute later the Soresu and its escort came out of hyperspace over the Imperial Frontier.

 

It was Sandy that gave message of their arrival to the Imperial forces, and she opened a comm on the channel designated for use by the Imperial Knights which had been given to her by Kyrie.

 

“Jedi Corvette Soresu, responding for the call of aid to the Imperial Knights.”

senay.png.2f049a5f093fee4ce31600cce37c9cbb.png

Calix Meus Inebrians

Link to comment
Share on other sites

An encrypted holospace transmission is redirected from Borleais to Sandy Sarna's vessel.

 

 

What showed first was the rotating 3-dimensional hologram of an allied Jedi commander who spoke curtly,

 

"Master Sarna, this message was received in response to the Jedi Summons. It appears to be from your apprentice. We thought it best to forward it on to you immediately. We are. . . .er . . .not entirely sure what the tree means. The message came from pretty far out though."

 

With that the commander's head vanished, replaced by that of Frond's, looking much worse for the wear as his entire nose had been carved from his face, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of the tree-like beings head. His voice was somber as he spoke

 

"A seed on the mount

Buffeted by windy gales

Wrong about the worm

 

Cut down like timber

Two snakes ravaged our mission

Ficcabin Yule gone"

 

XQ19Jfm.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 4 months later...

The corvettes carrying the orphans and refugees soon arrived at Nar Shaddaa and landed at one of the many port cities on the Nal Huttan moon. In his adolescent years, Kel had often heard many travelers refer to this world as smuggler's moon. this combined with the fact that it was next to the home world of the Hutts  meant this world was a veritable breeding ground of gangsters, thieves, and crime lords. Kel hoped that this place would only be a stop gap on their journey. Kel sent an encrypted transmission to the imperial fleet on Chandrila informing them of their safe arrival. once that was done, Kel went to seek council with his fellow Jedi while they waited for further orders. 

5V8Toxy.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

It was only in the safety of the cockpit of the venerable Jedi Ace Pernition that Sandy began to come down from the adrenaline high of the fight. First her fingers became numb as the cold of the Ace’s interior finally pressed past her body's defenses. She shivered, and cried out at the pain from her shattered chest armour. Probing numb fingers came back bloody and a glance at the reflection of the viewport showed the entire front of her tunic was a dark red.

That's when the pain came in and she hissed and pressed her fingers back onto the wound.

The R4 unit chortled something uncouth and Sandy let out a biting laugh as she fished on her belt for her medical pouch and when she had retrieved it she broke open the hard case with a rap against the steering yolk.

Bacta. Cauterize. Bacta Again. Gauze. Tape.

And it was only a few hours later that Sandy arrived over the now bustling small world of Nar Shaddaa. Letting the imperial fighters guide her into a birth belongside the landed Jedi vessels did not take much concentration, and when she had stepped from her cockpit, Imperial medics gave her a one over in the hanger before clearing her as walking wounded.

The planet smelled like fear. It was rank on the now capital of the Imperial Remnant. Or whatever was left of it. It took nearly an hour of sifting through the murky haze surrounding the planet to find her erstwhile apprentice, and some hours later she found him beside one of the GA frigates that was undergoing maintenance. She was paler than normal and was in a spare imperial BDU. Stark grey, with red bloodstripes, her Jedi tunic and armour having been discarded by the medics earlier.

“Kel!” She pulled him into a fierce embrace before stepping back. “How was your journey? What did you learn?”

  • Like 1

senay.png.2f049a5f093fee4ce31600cce37c9cbb.png

Calix Meus Inebrians

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Kel Stood beside an alliance frigate in the shipyard when his master found and pulled him into a tight hug. Kel had an overwhelming sense of relief and elation at her return and happily reciprocated the embrace. the hug was brief, but he appreciated it all the same. "It's so good to see you again master. I've learned so much from master Tobias while you were away. And even Frond, rest his soul. I was following master Tobias and his apprentices to Taris when I felt the brewing conflict on Chandrila. I remembered what he said about the big picture, and felt that the place I was most needed was by your side." He then pulled out his saber from the belt loop of his dark brown apprentice garb showing it to her. "So, here I am. My light saber is yours master. I'm ready to help in any way I can." 

 

5V8Toxy.png
Link to comment
Share on other sites

×
×
  • Create New...