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Nal Hutta


Dagon

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Emma laughed softly and fingered her collar and gazed down at the other ration he had offered. Usually when people gave gifts, they wanted something more. She looked down at the Stormtroopers lower half and shrugged her thin shoulders. She wouldn’t mind, unless he wanted that right now, which would not be wise, especially if she still had her collar on. She took the ration and opened it with gusto, she pulled out the plastoid spoon and ate the ration with a quizzical expression on her face. The description didn’t sound appetizing at all but it was soo much better that what she usually got, She finished a bite and grinned at the trooper.

 

“A pleasure to meet you Mr Ambrose, and if you are hesitating about shooting the thing you really shouldn’t i'm not a very valuable slave, so it's not a large material loss if I go pop. But if i'm seen by a supervisor like him.” She pointed to the dead Rodian, “They’ll blow me up for sure. And that could hurt you guys a lot. In fact it might be a risk to you if you shoot it though, so you might want to do it from a distance of five meters or more, or just hand me your pistol and ill try it myself. I would rather blow up then hurt you guys.”

 

She reached out and put her hand on Ambrose’s shoulder,

 

“You guys are the nicest guys I’ve ever met. So I don’t want to hurt you at all. And if it comes to cost to do it, I am more than happy to pay you back, I have the highest medical aptitude training and tests so I could help your men out.” She twisted up her face to a quizzical and sad look. “Or I have other training too if you would prefer that.”

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A flash of light signalled the exit of the Admiral Andripov from hyperspace into normal space, they had come out of hyperspace a few moments late according to the Navigating officer however Luke had made it an order for a purpose as the Cruiser had exited hyperspace behind one of the moons of Nal Hutta. Luke nodded at the worried face of the Navigating officer then turned to the Captain.

 

“Report.”

 

“Sir, the ship has exited hyperspace behind the third moon of Nal Hutta. All systems show fully operational and the remaining members of the fleet are on station with the exception of the Eventuality of Justice.”

 

“Very good Commander. Open a link to all ships, have it recorded for the purpose of retransmission to the Eventuality of Justice.”

 

Luke looked at the console before him and checked the status of the fighter squadrons then nodded.

 

“SIr, the Captains are assembled and awaiting your orders.”

 

Adjusting his jacket, Luke stepped onto the transmission pad for the communicator. “Captains, here are your orders. Upon completion of this briefing each ship is to launch one squadron and place their remaining squadrons on alert 30. The fleet will assume the Tarkin standard formation as we move from behind the moon with the Admiral Andripov at the center of the formation, Commander Janisar will hold the right flank. Commander Liu, you will hold the left, the Eventuality of Justice will take position astern of us upon arrival.

 

Enemy vessels Battle of Vontor and Varlen Dream are to be listed as secondary targets with the Immortal Soul listed as the Primary target. We will utilize the the ion cannons on all ships for the opening barrage to break their shields. That is to be followed a volley of plasma missiles from the Hand of Valor. Upon detonation of the missiles, all ships are to launch their remaining fighters and send them on an attack run of the Immortal Soul. More orders to follow, Dismissed.”

 

He stepped off the pad and nodded to Commander Matteri “Launch fighter and signal Half Ahead all Engines.” Luke watched for a moment as the Bridge leapt into action then turned to where the Supreme Commander was standing and inclined his head. “The Fleet is moving into position, fighter screen is deployed.”

 

He strode to the forward viewport above bridge consoles and looked out at where the fleet was moving into place with the TIE Defenders moving in their preassigned screens. He ran his hand along his jaw as he watched fighters, his mind going back briefly to what it had been like to pilot one and later to command the squadron. It had been a different experience than what it was commanding a Star Destroyer or a Fleet of them. While he remembered, his eyes tracked the movements of the fighters and in turn the frigates moving into their position.

 

“Sir?”

 

“Yes Commander?”

 

“Sir, the Fleet commanders signal that they are on station.”

 

Very good Commander. Signal to the fleet. All ahead full, Shields up and sound General Quarters."

 

“Aye Sir.” Seconds later, the orders had been passed to the fleet and the alarms were going off. “Sir, the fleet has acknowledged the orders and all stations report that they are at General Quarters.”

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Ambrose sighed at this young girl's talk. There are some despicable folks in the galaxy he mused. THe idea that anyone would use such a young presumably innocent young girl for anything remotely....no he wouldn't even go there. Just another reason he was thanful to be a member of the Empire...er...Imperial Remnant. There was still some semblance of order in the galaxy. His and his brother's presence here hoped to extend that sense of order to this backwater den of iniquity. Bad enough they enslave this poor girl and mess with her mind. Hutts, truly disgusting pieces of filth

 

"Oy! he shouted at his remaining brothers, waving a hand at them directing them back into one of the adjacent rooms along the back wall, "We're gonna give something a try to get this girl free."

 

As the remaining troopers quickly shuffled back into an empty room, as they dished out the medical supplies to one another and began to treat their more serious injuries, Ambrose turned back to Emma, as he pulled his FWG-5 Flechette pistol from his belted holster; pausing as he thought about what such a weapon did to even armored flesh and then thinking about what it might do to this poor girl. Shoving it back in his holster he growled at Emma, "Stay here. I'll be right back."

 

Turning, Ambrose stalked over to where his fellow storm troopers were and after a bit of hushed discussion came back with a standard nondescript blaster pistol, probably taken from one of the fallen slaves given the rough care the weapon appeared to have received over the years. Holding the barrel of the gun in his hand he offered the pistol to the girl. "I trust you won't shoot me," his face and tone betraying none of the minor humor he tried to inject into the situation, shrouded as it was by the seriousness of the situation, "It is up to you little sister. Either way we'll do our best to get you to safety; but if it were me I wouldn't want that blated bomb around my neck any nanosecond longer than it had to be. Live free or die and all that jazz."

 

As the slave girl took the blaster from his hand, he added a final note, using his armored hand to brush a stray lock of grimy hair out of the girl's dust and dirt speckled face, "I'll stand with you either way."

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The Kalimore Fleet:

The objective is to board these ships, recover the cargo of slaves, free them, and eliminate all resistance. Then open the skies for the ground invasion to secure the planet and rescue our forces on the ground.

 

Immortal Soul is a Carrack class Cruiser which serves as the main capital of the fleet with escorts of 2 cr90 Corvettes Varlen Dream and Battle of Vontor. The Immortal Soul contains the mobile throne room of Kalimore the Hutt and is crewed by 1500 slaves and a mix of bounty hunters, all Ascendancy capitals carry large external bulkheads of slave cargo. Every ship is heavily armed.

 

Notable NPCs:

47IG - IG series Battle Droid - Commander of the Varlen Dream

Nenon The Hutt - Hutt Commander of the Battle of Vontor

Liam Jonven - Twi'lek Toscan Fighter commander

Sanda Belishok - Human Y-Wing commander.

 

The fighters launched, the bombers swift behind them and screened out in front of the fleet, as the turbolasers began to engage from maximum distance on the imperial ships.

 

5 Squadrons of Cloakshape fighters and Toscan fighters with 3 squadrons of Y-Wings.

 

_______________

 

 

Emma tested the weight of the pistol in her hand, lifting it up and down slightly and looked at the powerpack. She checked the connections on the gun, flipped the switch on the base of the grip and fed an extra load of tibanna gas into the chamber. She flipped the gun up and pressed it under the collar towards her chin. Right under the detonite charge. Her bottom lip trembled a little bit and she reached out with her other hand and grasped Ambrose’s. Her tiny hand dwarfed by his black combat gloves. She half pulled the trigger and the whine of a charging superbolt shot filled the room.

 

Her voice trembled with fear, “I just got to hit the charge and take it out before it knows it hit it. Thats all i have to-”

 

The gun went off and the collar disintegrated in a white hot blast, the bolt destroyed the detonite charge and shot past her chin, burning it before it smacked into the ceiling above her head. She dropped the blaster to the ground with a clatter and slumped into Ambrose’s arms, exhausted, mentally and physically.

 

“T-t-Thank you.” She mumbled, her collare gone except for a jutting piece of durasteel that protruded from her vertebrae, where the collar had been permanently attached. Outside a shout signaled that more enemies had likely arrived.

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Ambrose grimaced at the sight of the jagged metal shard jutting from the back of the neck of the girl he know held in his harms. Ouch. "That took some guts little friend," he whispered to Emma as he gently stood her back up and pointing her towards where his brethren were still working with her medkit. "I think your friends are back," he whispered, donning his helmet and grabbing his rifle up in his hands. One more time my friend. One more time.

 

Silently keying up his built in comms, Ambrose warned his brothers, at least those that still had their helmets on, warning them of the shuffling sounds of a large group that could be heard outside. Great. i'm sure the blown open door with some downed slaves isn't anything but a great big flashing arrow saying 'bad things done happened here.'

 

In the back room, the six other stormtroopers geared up quickly; wounds doctored to the best of their abilities - workable to say the least.

 

______________

 

Ambrose crouched down to look through an aged jagged hole, what he saw outside was not exactly thrilling. Shuffling down the street in a not-quite-exactly-stealthy-r tactical-manner was a large gaggle of miscreants armed to the teeth and wearing the state sponsored hardware of Hutt majesty. "Well this is gonna be more than a picnic in Statuary Park" Looks like bacon is back on the menu

 

seven, plus one slave girl if you want to get technical, versus a small horde of goons hellbent on killing us so they don't get killed by their boss. Given their last foray into combat, Ambrose was not confident with the odds. Sure, all of them were trained as Imperial stormtroopers, mostly under the old regime where brutality and death were commonplace. Still, they'd all been extensively trained in cold weather combat and survival. Urban combat was less their forte than the sweeping windswept plains and bitter cold nights of exotic locales like Hoth, Orto, or any other frigid places the average citizen or soldier were loath to go. Sweeping through outlying military bases and small roughshod mining towns was one thing. Holing up was another and not one they liked. Cold Weather combat was about moving, hiding, and staying warm. Warm. Grenades were warm; but there was no telling when backup would arrive and conserving supplies and lives was just as important as securing a forward position right now.

 

Falling back to the group, Ambrose eyed the fallen comm of one of the last thugs who had fallen to his blaster, scooping it up as he entered the room with his comrades.

 

Poor Emma got to stand there in silence while the stormtroopers chatted about their plans silently via their helmeted comms. Within moments, Ambrose' six comrades were slipping back out of the room to the back door that they had reinforced. Slipping away wasn't always a bad idea; especially if it meant gaining a tactical advantage.

 

Before Emma could follow, Ambrose put a staying hand on her shoulder and spoke, "Your friends seem to be coming to check on you." Holding up the comm, showing it to his newfound associate, "You stick with me and we'll get out of this. Just don't start shooting until I do."

 

"Keying up the comm he spoke, "Stand down! Galactic Alliance Intelligence!" he lied, just in case someone was monitoring the Hutt comms, "We have you surrounded. Any acts of aggression and you will all be nothing but another abnormally large pothole!" Surrender, and we'll get you to safety." In truth, Ambrose did not have any desire to blow up a bunch of slaves who didn't have much choice. They were just following orders after all.

 

Letting go of the comm, he turned to Emma, "Which one of these buttons blows their collars? he asked, the distress at such a prospect clear in his voice.

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[[Dordjooba – Fleet Action]]

 

A stern administrative official arrived aboard the bridge and strode the distance to stand beside Tanus, Dordjooba, and Wyler. He was human of moderate height with a short-clipped pate of black hair. His beady brown eyes didn’t waver from the large viewport ahead of him as he moved. The only gesture of acknowledgment he made was a curt nod as the leather of his hard boots clattered on the deck plating.

 

Moff Wyler’s head and Tanus’ head similarly inclined as the man stepped between them. “Thank you for your arrival, Commander Liu. Now we can get underway.” Wyler suggested as he turned to face the newcomer.

 

Liu’s face was stolid and fierce. It didn’t move to mirror Wyler’s. “Change of plans Moff. We are to focus on crippling the enemy ships, boarding them and freeing the slaves onboard. I received new orders on my way from the Remnant Capital. And, Fleet Commander Macleod has ordered an all ahead full. So, without further deliberation… bring power to the thrusters. I want to see the aft thrusters of the Andripov in the next few minutes or I will start ticking days off of shore leave. Move out!”

 

With the Commander’s instruction, The Hand of Valor pulled to the port flank of the Andripov just as the Kalimore fleet lit with the opening volley.

The Hand of Valour rocked roughly as turbolaser fire pounded at the shield. Tanus reacted swiftly, moving to signal the 11th wing. But, the rough concussive force of the blast as it rocked against the ship sent the poor Chiss sprawling to the deck plating. His body, surprised by the sudden shock, was sent into a series of erratic spasms. Medical professionals were hastily dispatched to remove the Starfighter Commander, leaving the remaining three Command Staff floundering for a replacement.

 

Commander Liu ordered the ship to focus fire on the Varlen Dream with occasional fire to support the remaining fleet assets. Ion cannons were brought to bear against the shield of the cr90 Corvette to scramble the field. The plasma missile turrets were warmed, but held on standby until an opening in the shied emerged; their targets were primarily the engines and the shield generators. The gunners held their fingers at the ready waiting for a disruption to leave the ship vulnerable.

 

“Hutt or Wyler! The 11th wing needs someone to assist them and I’m too busy trying to manage this. Get to it, NOW!” the human Commander’s voice rattled from two feet away. The announcement was made in between instructions given to the ship’s pilots and gunners.

 

Dordjooba, not versed extensively in fighter tactics didn’t think it was wise to interject. But Moff Wyler wasn’t making any move to take initiative. So, swallowing his inefficacy, the Hutt tapped into the Starfighter comms and started to assist. First, by having the 11th wing join the fray.

 

Only understanding the basic principle of what the different ships were for, Dordjooba used the defenders as cover for the bombers in a shield and sword pattern. Due to the shields on the Corvette and the massive firepower on its hull, there was no reason to engage the ship directly until its shields were down. In the meantime, Dordjooba had the Rose and Blood Tie-Defender Squadrons running fighter interference for the bombers, while the Ruby and Rufous Tie-Bomber squadrons prepped for a run against the Varlen Dream, closing the distance but maintaining a safe flight pattern at length from the Dream’s close-range cannons.

 

If Fleet Commander Macleod needed any additional fire, Commander Liu left the Concussion Missile Turrets, Slugthrower Cannons, and the Point Defense Cannons open as needed, bringing more into the fight if necessary.

 

___ ___ ___ ___

 

The personnel transports originally split to send reinforcements to the surface, re-prioritized their loads to arrange efficient boarding parties. All two thousand troops would be sent to board, and any leftover would be sent to the surface as soon as the slaves on the Varlen Dream were secured.

 

___ ___ ___ ___

 

[[Kaldesh – Ground Forces]]

 

 

Hmph… Sloppy.

 

Kaldesh, leaning against the shadows of another warehouse, his red eyes the only thing remotely visible, eyed the broken warehouse that the Imperials had commandeered down the cluttered roadway. A large mishmash of aliens was ambling down the path with only a hint at coordination. Multiple ranking individuals stood among them, but the bulk of the force seemed to be a cornucopia of dirty miscreants. Kaldesh could smell them from two hundred feet away – even amidst the slop of Nal Hutta’s nastiest bogs. Their collars suggested slaves. But Kaldesh didn’t know.

 

The Trandoshan had been walking around the capital, not keeping too much and hiding in plain sight. He heard of the Imperials through the grumbles and rumors of voices on the street and followed the conjecture to this spot. Only now did he see how the Imperial contingent was faring. Their methods seemed sloppy and hard to place. But, from where he stood, they looked professional. The value of his interference at this point was little. Instead, he simply watched as the events transpired, waiting for a convenient or easy moment to arrive and offer assistance.

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As soon as The Stinky Bantha was hailed by Kalimore's fleet, Karys became aware of their successful infiltration. At least thus far when Hayley told him as such...and yet...the journey was not over yet. The duo still needed to make it to the surface without Kalimore noticing the ship diverting off-course, or without them paying enough attention anyways to cause trouble.

 

But if it was trouble they sought, he would not deny them.

 

As Hayley piloted the ship, the massassi at last happy with his loadout and the placement of his weaponry, headed towards the command deck. Checking on the pairs progress he was satisfied as the ship slipped between the fighting and descended below, hidden at the back of a formation.

 

Soon enough and the ship snuck off before landing on a unoccupied landing pad in the city. Covering his face and head, Karys wrapped clothe around to conceal his features...at least for now and motioned for Hayley to follow.

 

Deep into the city he walked, even as panic gripped many lives around them. Even as chaos erupted, like the calm within a storm, Karys walked defiantly and without fear. He knew in places such as this the Dark protected it's own. Now all he needed was to find a jedi somewhere among the millions of lives, but the massassi knew that was no easy task.

 

A single jedi would never trouble themselves with him. Not when many others required help. No it would require...more to gain their attention. He would need to lure them out. As such Karys sent a beacon out in the force, one only a jedi would think to pick up on. A dark beacon that echoed his darkness and challenged the light to face it here among the chaos of battle.

 

It spoke in defiance of life, in defiance of the light.

 

Come. Darkness awaits.

https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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Luke stood at the forward viewport and watched the Hutt ships close on the Imperial fleet and the results of the first enemy attack. He nodded to himself and then strode back to the command position. “Signal the Hand of Valor. Full barrage of plasma missiles on this shield point followed by a spread of concussion missiles.” He paused for a moment then looked over at Commander Matteri. “Target the explosive impact with our main batteries.

 

He felt the ship shudder under the impact of enemy fire and looked down at the console for a damage assessment. Shields were holding and there was minimal damage reported across all decks. He stroked his chin in contemplation as he watched the battle continue to unfold. He really did not like this ship, he missed the angular sleek lines of a Star Destroyer and the arrangement of its weapons systems. He turned his attention to the fighter squadrons.

 

He was well familiar with these fighters having been a fighter pilot when he had joined the Empire especially this exact class. He watched their movements for a moment or two then strode over to the fighter command console. He examined the plan that was in place and then entered an override code and entered new flight orders. Within moments two squadrons had formed off of the bow of the Admiral Andripov and launched their attack.

 

The squadron of Scimitar bombers and TIE Defenders streaked towards the Immortal Soul. The Defenders flew ahead of the Scimitars, breaking into the enemy formation and pulling the fighter cover away from the lead Hutt ship. The Scimitars closed with the Hutt ship and overflew it, dropping their payloads over same shield segment and overloaded the shield generators. Luke smiled as he saw it.

 

“All ships, focus fire on that location. Main batteries and Ion Cannons fire!.”

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Emma wished she could just curl up and sleep in the arms of Ambrose, but she knew that that dream would probably never come true. She rubbed her neck, where the long red scar of restricted growth and rubbing had been left from the collar as he stood her back up, and she followed him around the facility, her hand still gripping the blaster, and gingerly stepping over jagged rubble with her bare feet. The stormtroopers turned their helmets and shrugged in silent conversations through throat mics probably as she watched them, her crystal blue eyes catching the harsh light of a recently fired flare from outside. Signalling approach of...she wracked her mind, Limpisies company. That’s who it would be.

 

She followed Ambrose as they set up their ambush, then as he shouted about galactic alliance intel she got confused. But figured it was some kind of ruse. She scrambled up the rubble so the was perched in front of him, and reaching forward with her small hands, she positiioned the comm to be pointing at the surging mass of beings, and with a mischievous grin on her face dialed a three number circuit. She looked back to the stormtrooper,

 

“This one.”

 

She pressed it.

 

The night sky lit up with thirty separate detonations of high yield detonite, and the threat ceased to exist. She giggled softly and grinned widely,

 

“Do you think I could be a stormtrooper?”

 

___________________

 

The fighters clashed with the Imperial defenders, two cloakshapes dying in bright flashes of debris, as they launched flurries of missiles from the Toscans and cloakshapes into the mass of imperial fighters, intending to follow them up with laser fire. As the scimitars engaged the Immortal Soul, they ran cockpit first into a mass of anti starfighter fire from the two cr90s and overlapping fire from the Carrack, their gunners expertly flashtrained to destroy the imperial bombers. The right flanking cr90 was hit hard by the attack run from the Moff's forces, staggering the shields to 40 percent before the gunners began to engage the quick moving scimitars with accurate fire.

 

The Y-Wings engaged at range the Imperial capitals, launching streams of fast moving ion torpedoes at the Hand of Valour followed by a secondary stream of proton torpedoes to finish her off.

 

Aboard the Immortal Soul, shield dropped significantly from the scimitar run, and the carrack’s crew were taxed to bring them back to 50 percent. The turbolasers began to churn in rapid fire against the now closer imperial ship Admiral Andripov. Followed by the ion cannons, targeting the enemy ship’s weapon emplacements. The voice of Kalimore thundered across the subspace frequencies.

 

<>

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The warehouse shook, albeit slightly, as the numerous explosions detonated down the street, cratering the already rough roadway of the Hutt-controlled world.

 

Ambrose grimaced in pain. They were supposed to be saving slaves not sending their heads miles above their bodies. Between the first band and ensuing battle and losses and now the band of slavers/slavees popping off, Ambrose was sure he was in for a rather nasty reprimand, if not worse. This was not the old empire, ruled through the fearful grip of power. Things were different now. Collateral damage was not necessarily a good thing.

 

Looking up at Emma, he shook his head, as his fellow troopers came into view behind them, weapons at the ready.

 

"You might be a little short for a stormtrooper" he responded, holding an open hand up to help her down, "Maybe next time, let me do the button pushing. You're far too pretty to be doing that kind of dirty work. C'mon, we gotta get out of here."

 

Along with Emma and the other troopers, the group quickly made their way out a back door and down a thin trash strewn alley, "Say, Emma, do you know where your old masters kept the extra collars?" Ambrose hoped that perhaps a pile of ready made explosives and their controls would give them an added edge until backup could arrive. Then I'm in for it, he thought. The deaths of the soon-to-be-but-not-yet combatants at the hand of the young girl weighing on his mind.

 

Without waiting for Emma's response, the group moved in a well-trained silence down the alley, ducking from alleyway to alleyway, scanning Imperial comm channels on a local level looking for any signs of incoming assistance.

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[space]

 

Dordjooba swallowed nervously as Commander Liu ordered the point defense canons to intercept the incoming torpedo barrage. Priority was put on the ions, but a few gunners successfully intercepted the protons as well before the ordinance slammed into the shields of the Valour. Due to the decrease in ion torpedoes, the shields were not hit as rough. But, regardless of the countermeasures, the Valour’s shields dropped to sixty-five percent. And the bulk of that was due to the tenacity of Liu and his professionally trained staff.

 

The Hutt marveled at how well-oiled the machine was - even as the ship rocked with impact - and almost forgot his own role as a few of the squadrons were clipped. Sergeant Adda Kare sounded off, alerting the Hutt that the Rufous squadron was down two six bombers. Caleb Amek had also lost two bombers due to the unexpected skill and finesse of the Hutt-trained gunners. The Defenders has lost a few of their number as well, but they were busy pressing for any advantage they could in the fight. The Hutt could feel Wyler’s eyes probing him for action, but was unsure how to proceed.

 

Liu continued to fire the Ion canons at the Valern Dream but broke off when ordered to focus fire on the Immortal Soul. Dordjooba, not wanting to let up on the Valern, took the fighters in a counter strafe run. He still held them to the shield and sword standard formation to protect the remaining bombers. But, instead of heading for the bulk of the ships, he had them – staying at range from the Dream and its canons – run along the starboard edge of the c90. He orchestrated a staggering maneuver where the bombers and defenders dipped into the corvette’s range and released a little of their ordinance before blazing their ignition and flying away. Like spiders, they swarmed in and sunk their teeth in, hoping to render their prey dead in space. While the defenders, following and surrounding them, clouded the bombers in a web of viable targets, providing them the cover they needed to strike.

 

This was Dordjooba’s first command. The weight of it all hung on him as he moved. And, despite the level of investment he’d had in the Remnant before, there was something about being in a metal shell inches away from a miserable death in space, that either galvanized you to act or pushed you to be a puddle on the ground. And puddles don’t win wars.

 

____

 

[Ground]

 

Kaldesh followed close behind the Imperial contingent, slinking from shadow to shadow and monitoring their movements. He stepped behind but kept more of an eye on their surroundings than them. He postulated moving away from them and looking for threats. He also postulated telling them that he was following them. However, would they believe that a seven-foot-tall black-scaled Trandoshan with glowing red eyes was there to help them?

Probably not.

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“Commander, signal the Hand of Valor the following. The Grand Admiral offers his compliments to your gun crews.” He watched the commander pass the message on then turned his attention back to the readouts and the view port in front of him. He stroked his chin for a moment as he studied the enemy movements and the results of the previous attacks. It was nearly time to begin the next phase of his attack plan. He checked his readings against the read out in front of him once more then left his station.

 

He strode forward to the viewport and beckoned the commander forward. Luke gestured to the Immortal Soul and to the enemy fleet as a whole. “What do you see, Commander.?”

 

“Admiral, the enemy looks to be positioning something against the hull of the ship just below the shield layer.” He turned to the command deck with an unpleasant look on his face. “Sensors, give me a reading on the Immortal Soul.” A moment passed before a response came in.

 

“Sir, the readings confirm a second set of lifesigns. They are reading as many if not more than are on the ship and they are directly in front of our arcs of fire.”

 

The commander looked horrified as he turned back to Luke. “Sir, they would use slaves as a shield from our fire? Not even the rebels did that in battle.”

 

“This is true Commander.” Luke’s voice took on the steel tone that he was famous for. That however will not save them as there are not enough pods to protect the ship and begins the next phase of my attack. He turned back to the command deck and began to issue orders.

 

“Signal to all squadron leaders, they are to fall back and make it appear as if they are fleeing but are to rally behind the ships, all bombers to rearm. Next, to the commanders of the Hand of Valor and the Glory of Cardia. Tell them that we are to assume Tarkin Black formation and inform them to expect allies to arrive at their flanks. Finally open a Hyperspace Relay and send the following Kcalb Nikrat to the Consolatrix and Animarium then pass all previous fleet orders and a current status report and inform them I want them in full readiness when they arrive.”

 

((OCC, Takin Black is the inverse of the arrowhead formation, the rear ships are to advance forward))

 

“Aye Sir, messages have been passed and all ships have acknowledged.”

 

Luke nodded and watched the fighters pull back briefly before he turned and watched the readout for the arrival of the Consolatrix and Animarium. Mere moments later the two ships broke from hyperspace and took their place in the formation, Luke smiled then turned to Commander Matteri.

 

“Enough two dimensional combat. Bring our Axis down 30 degrees for a four minute burn then return it to current. At that point, you may recommence firing at your discretion Commander.”

 

“Aye Sir”

 

Luke stood at the viewport, his arms clasped behind him as he listened to the crew carrying out their orders. He heard the point defense lasers open up and watched them shred a third of the incoming enemy fighters in as many moments with a nod of satisfaction.

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I'm pretty?

 

Emmaline’s pale face became flushed with a blush and grabbed his spare hand before yanking him further down the trash strewn alley. “They keep the collars at the pens where the other stock are kept, compared to them I’m lucky to be outside. Most of the other stock are just crammed into the pens waiting to be bought or shipped offworld.” She reached up and activated the map on the built in datapad on Ambrose’s arm armour and scrolled out until the entire city could be seen. She quickly indicated three heavily fortified industrial zones. “There is at least a fifty thousand stock between these three, though I didn’t know you guys could be interested in such a thing.” She cocked her head to the side and looked up into his dark visor. “You guys aren’t here to free us are you?”

 

She looked behind them and yelped, pointing out the lurking figure of a dark skinned trandoshan that had just ducked in behind them. She held fiercely onto the trooper’s arm, and brought her gun to bear, bracing it against his armour before letting fly a three round burst that cracked into the duracrete infront of Kaldesh.

 

________________

 

Though the fighters may have been decimated by the imperial barrage, the bombers were relatively untouched and continued their long range attacks on the Valour. The imperial fighters while successfully harassing the CR-90 took massive casualties to coordinated sweeping fire, the bombers and fighters also took massive casualties as they retreated, their ion engines a easy target for point defense. The three Hutt ships began to concentrate their turbolaser fire upon the Imperial flaghsip, variating between ion cannons and turbolasers and missiles, first knock out the shields, then the hull. The slave pods rotating along with the ships themselves to keep the main imperial firing arcs from hitting anything but pods packed with innocent life.

 

Onboard Kalimore began the process of calculating a high risk burn through the gravity well and into hyperspace. Meanwhile his fleet cut their engines and began to let gravity pull them into the atmosphere.

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Ambrose just shook his head at the description the diminutive slave girl gave, fifty thousand! And all probably going to be begrudingly sent after us. Not sure I like the odds. six,

well..... eyeing Emma, ...six and a half versus fifty kay.

 

"We're being followed. 12 o'clock. Black lizard. Looks to be alone" one of his fellow stormtroopers conmmunicated through their helmets, slient otherwise to the outside world.

 

"Ya, I seen 'im earlier. Just let him follow us. With any luck he'll tell his Hutt masters where we are going and we can lay a little surprise for these alien scum"

 

Patting the girl gently on the head he responded with an overly parented phrase, "We'll see, but first we..."

 

He cut his words short as the girl swung about a leveled off several shots at their shadowy pursuer, So much for leading HIM into an ambush! he thought as he quickly and expertly twisted the blaster out of the smaller girl's hands. "I think that you've had just about enough trying to kill folks today." he chuckled pushing the girl back around behind him while his fellow troopers spun about, flicking their blasters to stun and sending a barrage of shots back down the alley towards the demon-esque lizard. Not a word had been spoken aloud, save for Ambrose' brief conversation with Emma. These men had been together through the thick of things innumerable times. Combat was their native tongue.

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Chess stretched and picked up the glass from the counter, eyeing its contents with a lazy eye. The soulful wails of a kloo horn wound through the cantina, around the murmur of its unscrupulous guests. Out of the corner of one eye, Chess could see the holovids displaying the latest scores of the big lotteries, around which several desperate souls huddled. The smells of various bodily odours overpowered any other scents, making Chess wish they had brought some sort of face-covering; anything to block out the smell. The moisture was the worst. The humidity of the swamps crept into Chess’ fur and made it clump horribly; how Chess wished for a good dust-bath.

 

However, Chess had bigger worries than the state of their fur. Supplies were low and funds were few, and Chess needed a contract. There had been plenty of talk on Nar Shaddaa, of some bounty work available on the planet below. So far, Chess had managed to avoid getting entangled in any outside conflicts, but the chronometer was ticking and Chess needed to eat. There had to be someone who needed a job doing.

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[space]

 

Following the Fleet Commander’s request, the Valour pushed forward, ahead and to port. Commander Liu was keen in his orchestration of every piece of the bridge crew as Dordjooba had come to expect and respect. However, Dordjooba was still the one left holding lives in his hands, while the Moff sat and watched. Wyler’s eyes still niggled at the back of the Hutt’s slimy skin. He’d acknowledged his gaze before, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

 

Commander Liu ordered the Valor’s ship systems to filter non-essential power into the shields to counter the rampant bombing and ordered that four of the eight medium point-defense cannons intercept bomb and torpedo fire. The shields were holding steady at half strength, but only because Liu fought tooth and nail for every scrap of it he could. The rest of point defense cannons fought the incoming fighters and maintained some track of the bombers based on the relative trajectory algorithms of their projectiles. The sixteen heavy slug-thrower cannons, slow and brutal, were put to the task of following the bomber’s trajectory algorithms to calculate – to limited degrees of success – the possible path of each bomber. Their next task consisted of following that predicted path and shooting the Kalimore bombers down to the best of their ability. It was an imperfect strategy, but in the thick of war, one could only hope to battle maybes with more maybes. Certainty was a luxury that most people couldn’t afford, especially in combat.

 

The three Hand of Valor ion cannons continued their barrage on the Immortal Soul, with one of the cannons breaking off to pound away at the Valern Dream. Three of the four plasma missile turrets unloaded salvos on the Immortal as well, with one of them being spared for the Dream. That left the concussion missile turrets, which were left open for any task that wasn’t delegated. Fighters that got too close and didn’t get pulverized by the point defense cannons, would be targets for the concussion missile turrets.

 

In Starfighter land, however, the story was a bit different. Rose squadron was the strongest of the four. Sergeant Regis Carr was holding up with nine defenders and holding strong. However, Hilla, the Squadron leader from Blood squadron was down to seven. The bombers were worse. Caleb from Ruby had seven and Adda Kare was slowly dwindling. They had four bombers left in Adda Kare’s group and she was calling infrequently for status updates.

 

Dordjooba’s muscles clenched. He wasn’t used to an active fire situation. He’d had men and women under his care before, but this was different. Do or die. Or, in this case, do or let others die.

 

Dordjooba sent orders to his defenders and bombers, requesting that they run across the aft edge of the Valern Dream, toward and around the thrusters at the aft end of the c90 vessel. while the Kalimore ships focused fire on the Andripov, he ordered Rose squadron to keep a weather eye on the other squadrons and help shield them and guard their flank by targeting the Hutt fighters that pursued them. Hilla and Caleb were given a similar request. Sergeant Adda was asked to conserve her bombers and attempt to commit to evasive flight patterns. They needed all the bombing power they could. In the meantime, as the fighters strafed, they took advantage of dips in the Valern’s shield strength and targeted the engines with strategic artillery and bombing runs, dipping in and out of the Valern’s effective weapon range.

 

___________

 

[Ground]

 

They found me?! How?!

 

These are either the best-trained stormtroopers ever, or the Hutts have been really lax on their employment policy. (Probably both, actually) Of course, he was vulnerable to thermal vision and visors that filtered out certain radiations, but most methods of sight would not be able to make him out. Unless of course, he was getting old and losing his edge. That might’ve been it.

 

The stun bolts slammed heavily into the refuse bin he’d been sheltering himself behind and reduced it to molten slag. Kaldesh took a few shots to his shoulders and arm but bit them back as he ducked his head down and hid behind a large roadside fixture.

 

“Hold! I’m here to rendezvous with the Imperial Remnant. I mean you no ill will.” Kaldesh tried to yell over the roar of renewed blaster fire. It was a bit cacophonous and he worried it would not reach their ears. But hope was all he had. He held his arms up, wincing at the movement of his injured arm. He didn’t reach for weapons, nor did he become aggressive. He simply sat behind a large obstacle with his hands raised.

 

“Parley?”

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A message chimed into Chess' comlink:

 

 

A 3 dimensiol figure sporuted up, hoovering just above the pad. The vision of a heavy set corellian complete with a well trimmed graying beard and slicked back hair.

The picture of a slimy businessman.

 

"Greetings Master Ro, we have been watching you. It seems that we both have something the other needs. I find myself short of employees at the moment and you need some cold hard cash. Perhaps we can assist one another. If you are interested, find yourself at Docking Bay 36 before 1300 hours local time tomorrow. There will be a ship there. Just tell them that Booster sent you.

Booster. Out."

 

With that the holo image sputtered into nonexistence.

 

 

Having bounced all over Taris from Coruscant to Corellia to Tatooine before arriving at Chess' comlink, tracking it wouold take time. Too much time and effort to find the true master of the con. Anyone that dug deeply enough would find the messages, bank accounts, and any other information all led to an older, heavyset Corellian named Booster Rann - current whereabouts: UNKNOWN.

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Emma growled as the blaster was ripped from her hands and she set her face into a pout. She couldn’t understand what she did wrong so she just stood there, holding onto his arm and watchred the Trando hiding in his cover with a mix of fear and skepticism. Whispering Huttese curses under her breath and flexing the fingers that had been ripping off the blaster pistol. What had she done wrong? SHe didn’t know the troopers had been talking about the ambush. Such was life, she knew when to shut up and let things happen. At least Ambrose was nice about it. And he would protect her from this Trando, she tried to hide her fear of him but remained glued to Ambrose.

 

_____________________

 

One of the slave pods on the Immortal detonated from a plasma missile and spilled a thousand lives into the upper atmosphere of Nal Hutta. Luckily most experienced decompression and knocked out before they lit on fire from the decent. But still it was not a pleasant journey for any that regained consciousness in time to become a meteor in the thick atmosphere. The Immortal sould rotated to bring another slave pod in line with the Imperials as the technicians on board shunted more power to shields and weapons, letting life support in the pods begin to drop. Their weapons continued to chug away at the imperial fleet, but they wouldn’t last for long. Kalimore know he was defeated, but he would make them pay a horrible cost. He considered opening a hail for surrender but considering his shields were still high and that the imperials wouldn’t knowingly attack the slave pods again he figured they could take one or two ships down and then escape.

 

The two CR-90s activated their engines and began a ramming maneuver for the Hand of Valour. They shunted all power from weapons and rear shields into the engines and began the 5km sprint towards the enemies. Their slave crews silently begging to be released, but the masters in the bridge continued the deadly dance.

 

Fighters were fleeing the field, diving back into the atmosphere, followed quickly by the surviving bombers. Beginning the dive for land so they could withhold the invasion for as long as they could.

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At the sight of both offers, Chess’s mouth split open into an eerie, larger-than-life grin. In demand, weren’t they? Both offers sounded enticing; perhaps, if Chess played their cards right, one could have the proverbial cake and eat it too. The Cathar’s whiskers twitched; Booster’s offer seemed the more urgent, and therefore, more likely to produce a larger payout. For now, the Black Sun could wait. The Cathar typed off a vague reply, assuring the Black Sun that their offer was appreciated but not confirming a specific date. Then Chess swivelled out of the bar stool, and strode, nonchalant, towards the exit.

 

Docking Bay 36 was on the outskirts of the city, which meant Booster wanted privacy. Chess would have to scout it out before-hand to make sure one could approach without attracting undue attention. It might be a good idea to update Binoo and Oz before they left; perhaps a quick hookup to a local databank was in order.

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The Exorcist nodded as she assessed each of the performances of her apprentices. Sandy was taking to the work of an Exorcist quickly, as was expected of a full-fledged knight of the Jedi Order. Kyrie walked to Aidan’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder, letting the peacefulness of her own song mingle with the waves of emotions that emanated from him. A scarred hand clasped the one that held his wound, and a healing warmth began to spread in pulsating waves. She had felt his anger, its bitterness was tangible, even now.

 

“Confidence can be a blindfold to the Force. When that confidence is shattered it can inspire doubt, anger, fear... Be wary, young Darkfire, of the ways in which your emotions can control you. Pain, if not properly channeled, can be directed into a fueling the darkness instead of the light. Anger, choosing that easy path to strength is forever a temptation.”

 

The ancient Exorcists replaced their blades at their sides, and Il-Andon drew up his sleeve, revealing a jagged scar that ran the length of his wrist.

 

“We do not admonish you, Aidan. We’ve all been to where you are, our first rise in power, followed by being swiftly knocked back into reality. The Darkness will always lurk within you, trying to be fed by a rash action. A call to anger… Disguised as justice, or righteousness. Frustration with taking a hit. For me, the first taste of the darkness came on the streets of Coruscant, a heroic act of intervention ended me in the care of Jedi Healers for weeks... The pain of a loss, the taste of a wound will always seal a lesson into your brain."

 

Ben-Havram continued where Il-Andon left off

 

“The Dark Side is strong, and it will always try and control you. The dark will always try and embrace the light, to corrupt it. To bend your righteousness to anger. It is the dark that seeds contempt into compassion, or into justice, cruelty.”

 

Kyrie almost fell as their ship departed from Hyperspace in a rush, into the chaos of a space battle. The anarchy that echoed within the Force was almost deafening. She grimaced and nodded to her apprentices, with one last lesson as the craft docked with the Imperial Command Ship, under the careful control of IC-426.

 

“When you feel, keep a tight hold onto what emotions try to control you. Feed your fire with all errant thoughts, or emotions. Let your anger burn to nothingness in your righteousness. This is a lesson, Aidan, not a failure. You may accompany me if you desire, or find your usefulness where the Force leads. Knight Sarna, you are always welcome among us.”

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"Hold!" came the silent cry over the helmeted stormtrooper comms as the Trandoshan stepped from cover, hands held up in the universal sign of surrender. Immediately the blasterfire stopped, leaving only the sparse dust of fragmented stone wall to drift down through the air.

 

Rendezvous? a spy perhaps?

 

With Emma still firmly pouting behind him, Amborse motioned two of his brothers forward towards the Trandoshan, "Cuff 'im" he snapped through the comms. If he is a spy and given this planet's propensity for shooting at anything Imperial....maybe we won't totally blow his cover.

 

Moving forward, two of Ambrose' comrades swiftly circled about and slapped a pair of stuncuffs on the Trandoshan and hefted him to his feet, marching him back towards the rest of the crew. The entire time, the others had kept their blasters trained on the beastly being.

 

Once secure, Ambrose turned and squatted down to look Emmma in the eye through his emotionless eyeported helmet, "I know you've been through a lot, but not everybody on this planet is as vile as your past masters. We can't go about killing anyone that looks at us crossly." THough I'd sure like to....or turn this planet into slag he thought to himself, "We want to help others in your predicament if we can and bring some of those slugs to justice. Patting Emma's arm gently as he explained, "and I promise, when this is all said and done we'll get you off this wretched world. Maybe somewhere nice with trees, actual trees. Forests. With real fruit hanging ripe from their branches. Maybe a beach too. Whatcha think about that? Just quit shooting everyone

 

Spinning to face the cuffed Tradndoshan as they closed back with the group, he spoke again in a low tone, just above a whisper, "Identify yourself." motioning at his fellow white-clad troopers to try a doorway down the way a short distance. It was high time they got off the street for a bit and figure out what was going on before more blasterfire erupted. Finding the doorway unlocked, odd in itself, the entire group moved indoors, locking the doorway to the small residential suite behind them.

 

Removing his helmet, Ambrose stared at the Trandoshan, crooking an eyebrow, obviously awaiting a reply.

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Docking Bay 36 was a simple docking bay, almost identical to the 35 preceding it and the countless afterwards save for the unique patterns of blaster burns that marked a different neogitiation-gone-poorly in almost every single one or the worn and chipped duracrete. THere was a wide yawning opening for moving the larger goods in and out of the bay along a central pathway patrolled by a hodgepodge of miscreant guards, thugs, and criminal-wannabes from all manner of races and affiliations. Undoubtedly many were on the payroll of the Hutt overlords as well as whoever their 'primary' employer' happened to be.

 

Sitting, nestled rather comfortably on the dust and sand covered floor was a stripped down Zeta-cargo shuttle painted with a glaring advertisement for the newest product to hit the market in weeks: Gunga-glow. Undoubtedly that was what the dozen or so pit droids were moving from a duo of grav-sleds into the cavernous interior of the ship's storage areas. With the weapon systems removed the ship had even more room to cram crates of supplies in every nook and cranny. Overseeing the droids and shouting at a particularly clumsy one who had just toppled over and open a crate of the precious liquid, now soaking into the sandy floor, was a disgustingly portly one armed Zabrak woman covered in an array of equally disgusting jiggling blue tattoos. "No you mindless metal miscreant! How hard can it be! Pick up the kriffing box and put it in the ship!! You do not need to show your brainless robo-friends how you can balance it on your head! 'Cause obviously you can't!!"

 

After attempting, and failing at trying to bend over herself to pick up some of the spilled containers, the woman stood back up, hitching her sagging circus-tent like drawers back up, settling for an angry kick in the direction of the offending droid, missing by a wide margin as the spindly droid stepped out of the way to scurry after another crate to load.

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Landing operations were not something that got covered in the basic book of Jedi training. But she had been briefed by the operational commander. Having been assigned by the Jedi council to help save innocents from the bonds of slavery she volunteered to accompany a group of the Caridian Blackwatch Commandos in their landing craft to help secure the northern slave facility named on the topographical map that was in the legboard of the borrowed armour ‘Paradise Echo.’ This facility was rumoured to contain at least twenty thousand innocents in stasis by the first reports from deep scans of the city and was heavily guarded. According to the Op commander there would be heavy resistance, so the Blackwatch Commandos were happy to have her along.

 

The drop pod’s doors exploded outward with a whoosh of air and shaped charges, blowing the doors out into the courtyard they had landed in, Sandy and the men scrambled out weapons up and ready. Sandy wore some sections of a small set of imperial armour, the grey sections attached to her legs, arms, shoulders, and chest. Not complete cover, but the duraloid armour was light and unobtrusive to her movements. The dirty grey armour segments, unreflecting and covered in the grime from the landing made her look all alike a Jedi General from the old days of the clone wars. She held her saber unlit in hand and had no other weapons than a vibrobayonet that she had snatched from the weapons rack as a backup and her power in the force.

 

She ran alongside the Imperials, her boots making little noise on the permacrete as they approached the huge kilometers wide holding warehouse. As they turned a corner on the deserted streets a feeling of dread hit her in the force. The Darkside was here. Instinctively she fell into a fighting stance and ignited the saber, reaching out with her senses to find the enemy.

 

Her voice was soft and she gestured to the troopers to continue their mission.

 

“The Sith are here, please continue on, I will hold them off here.”

 

One of the older squad members patted her shoulder and whispered his thanks before sending off a message of Sith contact to the Imperial High Command and continuing on his mission to Paradise Echo. She took a few deep breaths and let the force flow through her, and broadcasting the purity of the light into the force. That would draw the monster. She hoped that Adain wouldn't have to come rescue her. Heck she was a Jedi Knight and could hold her own. Right? A little doubt tugged on the edge of her mind as her emerald green eyes scanned the streets.

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Chess could see their contact from the entrance to the docking area. Her voice echoed and bounced off every single surface, turning into a jumbled mix of indeterminate sounds by the time it reached the Cathar’s ears. Chess paused to let their pupils dilate a little in the dimmer light, and wrinkled their nose a little, trying to make themselves look as small and non-threatening as possible. After all, it never hurt to pour on a little charm.

 

Chess chose a meandering route, walking silently but moving steadily closer towards Docking Bay 36. When the Zabrak looked up and stopped mid-insult, Chess smiled widely, showing off their long canine teeth, and gave a theatrical bow.

 

“You must be my distinguished contact,” they said, waist still bent at ninety degrees. When they straightened, the Cathar chuckled inwardly at their audience’s wide eyes. “One would have to be blind to miss such an… arresting being such as yourself.” The rogue gestured at the fumbling droids, who scuttled onwards with their crates, casting an appreciative eye over the stack of crates yet to be loaded into the carrier. “I see you are also a firm overseer. My compliments on your crew. Now,” and with a feline grace that would be hard to match, Chess relaxed on the corner of a faintly-glowing crate, “how about we get down to business?"

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Aidan nodded, acknowledging his master. She'd healed the wound fairly thoroughly, though it was still a bit sore, Aidan wondered if he'd even have a scar from it. This was what his parents had sheltered him from, a life of strife and miracles, and the wonders seemed to never stop. Was there anything the Force couldn't accomplish?

 

Checking his blaster, and better securing the protosaber's power pack to his waist, he followed Kyrie wherever she might go next. The greatest teacher was experience, and Aidan was about to get some.

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"Huh?" The heavyset woman turned, her weight spinning her just a fraction to far as she stopped herself facing the Cathar. "Well bread my backside and call me a bantha steak" she responded as a smile spread acors her sweat covered face as her eiyes settled on Chess. "You must be the replacement pilot Booster said was coming? But where are your copilots? Booster said you had a crew of some sort." She craned her head to look past Chess looking for Chess' supposed comrades.

 

Shrugging her shoulders as the last of the packages were loaded up, she slapped her hand on the exterior hull of the ship, "Ship here is full of Gunga-glow. The boss doesn't want anyone sampling it en route. Just take this to Tatooine where you'll be met by someone name Fuzz. You'll get paid once the shipment is there safely." As she spoke the Zabrak began waddling off, clearly intent on being anywhere but the dirty dusty docking bay, "I don't need the stuff personally, she continued wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead, "I'm more of an aw nat-urr-al type of girl after all. Heaven knows you could use some though." before slipping around the corner and out of site leaving Chess as the only sentient standing in the docking bay. Thankfully the ship's codes had been left on a slip of paper taped to the control console of the ship.

 

Having loaded all of the crates aboard, the pit droids stood looking back and forth arguing with each other in a series of indistinguishable beeps and bonks that quickly devolved into one droid chasing the other with a cartoonishly large wrench.

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Karys did not show himself initially, he simply observed and spoke in the com-link he had to Hayley at first.

 

"I have made contact...keep the ship engines running and observe the battle. Anyone attempts to interfere, I want their corpse lining the streets. Karys out."

 

On that notion, the massassi continued to follow the young jedi as she slowly scanned the streets with he noted a saber ignited in hand, expecting what Karys thought was an obvious attack and broadcasting herself in the force. He laughed a little, how like the jedi to think he would simply charge in. But he was no fool and would not act as some among the Order's ranks. He had learnt his lessons well in his youth the folly of charging in and been taught the true way of the warrior. He laughed more so that she was attempting to lure him out just as he was trying to lure her

. And yet he was somewhat shocked a little to find the jedi so young. Barely out of her teens...he had expected someone older, someone experienced and mature in life...clearly the jedi had slipped back into old habits. Or so he assumed.

 

He decided to learn a little about his small foe, learn any weaknesses he could possibly exploit. The old adage 'Know Your Enemy' playing in his mind. And as such moved along the rooftops before dropping not far ahead in a area that opened up and entering a warehouse nearby to wait, his back to the door with both hands behind his back as he looked out at the battlefield ahead through a large window. Doing nothing...just observing, the same robed hood he had initially put up still over his head, concealing his face in darkness.

 

For now at least.

 

At long last I meet my enemy.

 

Karys thought, excited at the prospect of what was soon to come. As the jedi entered the warehouse, debris strewn about. He spoke in what would be a unusual dialect likely to the young girl, a dialect not many had ever heard, it was in basic and yet there was a strange accent to it. Deep and almost gluttural. It was that of the pureblood sith.

 

Of the Massassi.

 

"Welcome Jidai, I have been expecting you. I have to commend you for falling right into my trap. For following my lure in the force, for I allowed myself to be found."

 

He said. Turning around, Karys faced his foe, his rage, hate and anger buried just below the surface, awaiting the moment when battle would commence. Throughout this he remained calm and fearless, even though he kept one hand close to his saber in case the young jedi tried anything foolish and acted prematurely.

 

"Long have I awaited this moment, the moment I would come face to face with my enemy. The enemy of my people and the Order whom I serve. The enemy of the Dark. It is a moment I have prepared for my entire life, trained for. And yet...I was not expecting one so young. So...small. This is most troubling.

 

It leaves me in a bit of a conundrum. But where are my manners."

 

Removing the hood, Karys revealed himself. His yellow eyes and red skinned head, marked with scars...there was no doubt this was a pureblood sith. A Massassi.

 

"Just because we are enemies doesn't mean we can't be courteous or get to know one another, at least for now. Wouldn't you agree? I am Karys Narat iv-Adas. Descendant of Adas himself, massassi...that is a sub-species of the Tsis or Sith and a member of the Order which took my people's name.

 

And who might you be? That whom made the fool's choice of following the jedi and then my beacon in the force."

 

As he waited for an answer, Karys stayed where he was, saber in hand but not ignited....for now at least. Many thoughts crossed his mind, most of all was how to handle this situation. It wasn't his usual manner to fight or even kill children. Even if they were teenagers.

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 "Only in my pain, did I find my will. Only in my chaos, did I learn to be still. Only in my fear, did I find my might. Only in my darkness, did I see my light." - Darth Akheron

 

I survived the Great JNet Outage of 2012

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As her emerald eyes scanned the warehouse complex, Sandy’s breathing slowed to a creep, her shallow chest moving slightly as she stretched out in the force. Her presence expanded to encompass the majority of the facility, seeing the scattered debris, boxes, duracrete chunks, discarded fire extinguishers, spice needles from an abandoned vagrants camp near the decaying wall, shattered transparisteel from the blown out windows. The entire place stunk of decay, the walls with their hardened permacrete blocks were streaked with rust from the rain slipping through holes in the durasteel roofing. Exactly the kind of place she had lived in on Gala. She could still feel the cold drips of rain in the middle of the night. Her fingers tightened around the battered silver pommel of the the lightsabre as the voice echoed out from the shadowed figure. Her sabre emitting scattered white light across the uneven ground and cast the sith in stark light and dark shadow from her position up the long abandoned freight ramp.

 

Sandy brought the blade above her head in a Vom Tag guard, slightly angled at 45 degrees for whirling slashing and let her eyes flutter to half lid, she concentrated on the surroundings, probing the Sith and the area around him with the force. He was an ancient creature of malice and torture. Evil as incarnate as she had ever seen. His armour thick, and his muscles strong. She felt a twinge of fear creep up her spine like a snake through the tall grass of Dantooine. She felt a pang of sadness at his words and let the silence fill the room as she considered her response. Before the Sith could use the fear she released it into the force and let that strengthen her as it filled her heart and mind with the resolve of light. If she didn't deal with him here and now, the troops and the entire mission was in jeopardy. When she spoke her voice was soft and sad, as if she had finished a long cry.

 

“Traps can easily be reversed Karys, that is the danger of them. I am Sandy Sarna, Jedi Knight and protector of the innocent, it saddens me that you have chosen to continue your races bondage of slavery to the Sith…”

 

He had to be the last of his race, they had not been seen in millennium, and to see one pop up on Nal Hutta was sad, especially as a servant of the dark side. They had been wiped out ages before by their Sith masters, or at least that's what the history holos had said. And yet here one was, enslaved by the bondage of the Sith Lords and willing to kill for his masters. She let her words trail off as she took a single step forward to place herself at the edge of the loading ramp, positioning herself a leap away and uphill of the Sith Lord. Any advantage she could seize early in the fight would do her far better off in the long fight to come. The facility had been used for slave freight an eon ago and though the floor had shifted through the years, it was still dotted with cargo ramps, sloped and broken in decay.

 

Her face flushed slightly, “And though I am young, Karys, I have seen and fought more than most…” She angled the sabre again in preparation for whatever strike he had planned and reached out with the force. She found two wicked chunks of duracrete brick in the debris behind the Sith and slipped her consciousness about them within the force. She could feel their history echoing in the force, their ancient construction falling into the embrace of entropy, giving into rust and ruin. The years of labour they witnessed in stone silence as slaves cried out behind their walls. They were stained in the agony of the eons. She invited them to her purpose and with a flick of her half closed eyes, the duracrete and rebar debris whipped towards the Sith with a cracking cry of joy. Redemption called to them, and they would answer. The duel debris would hit him from the rear, one at his head and the other at his back, chunks of a weathered stone studded with rusted and wicked rebar rushing at the speed of an E-wing on afterburner. Mass telekinesis was something she had shown affinity to while under Adenna and she would use that to her advantage. She was young and inexperienced as far as most Jedi Knights went, but she was not without extensive combat training. As the duracrete rocketed towards the Sith she found a shattered pane of tranparisteel and began to hurl the sharp slivers of glass at the Sith as well, a rising maelstrom of deadly shards. She exhaled a breath with, letting the exhaustion that bade her muscles to tremble dissipate into the Force. The Force was a well of life, and she drank deeply of its strength. She would rest when her opponent was defeated.

 

((1))

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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Commander Liu’s face blanched slightly when looking out the main transparisteel viewport, he spotted the Valern Dream and the Battle of Vontar speeding directly for the Hand of Valor. The blanket of humidity that clasped the top of his brow intensified. But he was lost in a haze of commands. His brain was furiously trying to scramble something together. However, as his mind did the frantic waltz of death, his composure never faltered. He continued commanding his people and the machine chugged onward.

 

Dordjooba, to his credit, also didn’t panic. Maybe it was because he’d stared down several capital ships in his lifetime and lived to croak about it. Or, maybe it was because he knew he might lose this ship and lose his life. There were contingencies in place, should he fail. But he did not want to fail. Dordjooba looked to the ramming vessels and stroked the large jowls that tumbled from his charcoal visage. Then, after a vital moment of speculation and worry, Dordjooba’s expression widened and his yawning mouth opened into a large grin. The Hutt wormed his way over to Ansfelt and whispered in his ear.

 

“Are you…” Ansfelt began before changing his tune and smiling, despite himself. “Alright, I like that idea. After all, what have we to lose?”

 

Commander Liu ordered the Ion cannons to split shifts. Two of them fired at the Dream while the other two opened on the Vontar. And, down the line, all weapons were ordered to split fire, targeting propulsion systems, shields, and engines. Their objective was to shut the c90’s down by whatever means necessary. “Don’t blow them up! Keep them dead in space! And, whatever you do, avoid firing at the pods.”

 

In the meantime, Commander Ansfelt Liu ordered a small subsection of gunners to funnel power into the tractor beam systems and reverse their flow so that they repelled incoming ships instead of attracted them. He then tasked them with firing the beams at both c90s and holding them off long enough to feasibly disable the Hutt's vessels. It was a risk because although shields were holding at 50%, re-routing power from them would weaken their chances of repelling the Immortal Soul’s continued fire. However, using weak tractor beams wouldn’t do anything and would risk the entire crew anyway. It was all or nothing (aside from the power reserved for weapons systems). The shields dropped to 5% and the tractor systems came online, sending powerful repulsive waves at the two c90’s sprinting toward mutual destruction.

 

Dordjooba’s fighters, relatively ignored, but losing one or two more defenders to the relentless onslaught of the Soul’s continued fire, were ordered to follow close behind the Dream and Vontar, targeting the c90’s vital systems. “Use any vulnerability you find. Disable their propulsion and stop their insane maneuver or we can’t get you home. Force willing, we’ll see you after this. Regardless of how this turns out, it was a pleasure.”

 

[Disable/Non-Lethal Killshot on Valern Dream and the Battle of Vontar]

 

_________________________________________________________________________

 

[Ground]

 

“My name is Kaldesh Kajieron. I was sent by my employer to assist the Remnant. That is all you need to know.” Kaldesh said, his own raspy voice held at barely above a whisper and lingering on the ‘s’ and ‘th’ sounds. “It should be noted that I have abilities that most Trandoshans don’t. But, aside from that, my history or employment will give you no more edge in this fight than a dull Ryyk blade.”

 

Kaldesh’s expression was neutral. He didn’t want to give up the name of his employer. He would if they pressed him. It wasn’t a secret. It just wasn’t going to help his case in any way. But, he could also tell that the information he revealed wasn’t the most helpful in terms of constructive or useful information.

 

It was complicated, and he only hoped that not shooting them or clawing their faces off gave him some leg to stand on.

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