Mandalore Sector (Minor Worlds)

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Fieyr’s death came as a welcome answer to the rage that still coursed its way through Mirdala as she was able to then focus her full attention on defeating Ab’ki. The Twi’lek now fought with a frenzied abandon that Mirdala was finding it hard to maintain pace with, only having her instincts for combat and the call of the Force to rely on.

 

Again and again, the two of them clashed, the Sith now having abandoned her attack against Kandor in favor of ending the life of the enemy she realized she should have just killed outright. It was as though Ab’ki had come to realize just how much she’d underestimated the resources that Mirdala had held, not only within the Force but the allies and forces that had fallen into place around her to threaten the Sith Mistress’s plans for revenge.

 

Show her what she doesn't know. Kandor’s words of encouragement echoed within her mind, even as she heard him shout something she couldn’t make out without the aid of their shared implant connection.

 

Ab’ki didn’t know what love and utter trust in your partner was. She and her Master may have been lovers, but Mirdala doubted whatever had passed between them had been genuine love. There had been actual jealousy from Ab’ki that echoed in the Force as Mirdala had shown her Ca’s death.

 

Even though she couldn’t understand Kandor’s words, the intent came through clear enough as she reached out again with the Force and took the knife he held within his grasp, bringing it up to block an opportune strike from Ab’ki. The crimson lightsaber winked out as it met the cortosis blade as swept upward with Kirlocca’s lightsaber, severing Ab’ki’s head from her body, her orange lekku falling to the cavern floor and twitching.

 

She stood there for a few seconds before letting the weapons fall to the floor, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of the tomb. Pulling off her helmet, she staggered over to her husband as he rose to meet her, embracing him as tightly as she was able as the whole cavern seemed to spin up around them.

 

“Ni kar'taylir darasuum, Kand’ika,” her voice barely above a whisper. Her work done, her eyes closed and she knew no more.

[Moon Knight]

As his wife collapsed, Fett had to shift her against his right arm to keep her from hitting the cave floor, his left thoroughly useless except to keep him in pain. He slowly lowered her, glancing over at Ab'ki as if to make sure she was actually dead and the area was secure. But for the sound of running water, the cave was now quiet, once again a tomb rather than a battleground.

 

Settling Mirdala against the stone he couldn't blame her for needing a break, but with their injuries and the cave-in they couldn't yet afford it. He touched the side of her face. "Have to keep moving," he told her gently. She didn't move. In fact she was completely limp. He frowned beneath his buy'ce and gently lifted one of her eyelids. She was thoroughly unconscious. He popped the seal on his buy'ce and had to bend down to slide it off with one hand, then used his teeth to remove his right glove, reaching his fingertips beneath her neck seal to check for a pulse.

 

He couldn't feel a thing. She's dead.

 

The thought nagged at him. Of course he had always known that it could happen. They'd sworn to each other that they would not relent in their duty to the Sector and the galaxy when they were married. But still... it had only been six weeks. There was still so much they hadn't done yet.

 

Can't... know yet, he finally thought. Thinking was getting difficult. His limbs dragged. He grabbed his buy'ce and put it in his lap, hitting a series of keys in back that would reboot the computer. With any luck it hadn't sustained any permanent damage. Sure enough, after a few seconds the lights started flickering and the comm crackled to life.

 

"-dor, Dika, come in please!" Rhys was barking in Mando'a. "What the shab is going on down there!?"

 

Kandor thumbed the control. "This is Fett," he said slowly. "Rhys. Verdeyuii. Ab'ki and Fieyr are dead. Think I've... lost Mirdala."

 

"You sound like hell. Are you injured?" Vy'ika's voice cut in.

 

"Going into shock," Kandor answered matter-of-factly.

 

"Mirdala's left belt pouch. Antishock hypo. Take it," Vy'ika ordered.

 

Fett put the buy'ce on to free up his good hand and fumbled around in the pocket. Sure enough, the familiar orange vial that Nekkir was so fond of. He had to use the corner of his chestplate to prep it, rolled down his own neck seal and administered it. His pain flared but immediately his kovid started to clear up a little. "Done," he said. "Are you getting anything from Mirdala?"

 

"Kandor," Rhys said. "TeVerd is dead."

 

Mand'alor looked back at his wife, deflating slightly. "Shab," he said. He knew she would have immediately felt it empathically. It could explain why she'd been filled with such rage. He shook his head. "2277, get me the backdoor into her implant we set up on Hapes. Rhys... could TeVerd's death also kill Mirdala? Can you feel her?"

 

There was a pause. "They were linked very closely." It was Vy'ika that answered. "Sorry, Kandor, I can't tell if she's still in there."

 

The seconds passed like hours. Fett was sure that his elbow was fractured or worse. It could be fixed, assuming they could even get out of the blasted cave. Finally, his beskar'ad reported that the link was made, and sure enough, Mirdala's vitals sprung up on his HUD. They were... sporadic at best. "Implant reports she's alive," he said at last, tentative relief trickling through him. She was in bad shape and there was still no guarantee she'd last, but he hadn't lost her just yet. "Barely."

 

"She must be pretty deep," Vy'ika said. "If we can get to her we might be able to help her. We'll keep looking for a way up, but we had some trouble ourselves and my own mobility is impaired."

 

Fett went through Mirdala's medical supplies and what he carried on his own belt pouches, found a few drugs that he thought might help stabilize her, and administered them, then made her as comfortable as he could manage with one hand and the materials he had around him. He dropped the beskad'ika Mirdala had given him on the floor, positioned it blade up between his plated knees, then used it to cut a length of gauze to fashion a rudimentary sling for his left arm in an attempt to limit its movement until it could be fixed up.

 

With a prodigious effort he got back to his feet and began to use his penetrating radar to look for another passageway, activating his repulsor pack on its lightest setting just to take the edge off simple gravity that was in his condition becoming almost unbearable.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Kih’edeemise...

 

She felt herself half-floating, half-falling, but knew little else other than she wanted to give herself over to the sensation forever.

 

Kih’edeemise...

 

Why wouldn’t they just leave her alone? Hadn’t she done her job? Hadn’t she saved the sector? She just wanted to be done.

 

Dika, come on.

 

Her eyes snapped open at the familiar term of address and she took in what the Seekers referred to as the “Red Dreaming.” To the outer world she was as still as death.

 

A familiar presence was near, but not the one she desperately wanted to find.

 

You won’t find him here, not yet anyway. Get up, the voice urged, gently and firmly.

 

“No.”

 

“Always with the stubbornness,” Hwulf Ad’Nort chided, as he came into focus, his arms crossed as he looked down at his niece, but not without a measure of understanding in his eyes.

 

Mirdala stared back at him defiantly as Carid emerged from the stream to stand beside his sword-brother.

 

“I have to find him,” she insisted, attempting to shove her way past the two dead Seekers. “I have to bring him back.”

 

“Not this time, Kih’edeemise,” Carid intoned. “And you can’t stay either.”

 

Before Mirdala had a chance to protest, she could feel the two of them pushing her out of the Red Dreams, and back toward the pain that seemed to resonate throughout her entire being. Instinctively, she forced it away as she felt her body begin to take on weight again.

 

---

 

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out, but Kandor wasn’t at her side when her eyes finally opened. Anger still darkened her eyes and was the only outward sign of emotion she exhibited as she rolled to her side and slowly rose, bracing herself against the stalactite. In her focus, she was oblivious to all else but the two corpses before her.

 

Drawing her knife, she worked to remove the head from Fieyr’s body and tossed it over by Ab’ki’s before retrieving the ancient besk’ad and bu’cye and placing them back in their rightful resting places. For several moments she stared at Randavok’s armor, before she asked in an eerily calm voice, “Are you okay, Kandor?”

 

Again, she had to push away the emotions that continued to rage inside her. ’Have to keep moving’, his voice echoed inside her head. She hadn’t lost him. Despite Ab’ki and Fieyr’s best efforts, Kandor now stood before her. She wasn't being allowed to help her father, so she chose to focus on the victory, rather than the gaping hole that had been left in the very core of her being. It was the only way that Randavok’s tomb wouldn’t become theirs as well.

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett was completing his sweep of the cavern, collecting his discarded weapons as he did so, when suddenly Mirdala's vitals stabilized and she wordlessly arose and began the grisly task of sawing the heads off their enemies. He watched her silently for a moment, immediately glad that she was again conscious but not certain where she was psychologically. She had a way of clamping down and pushing him out when she was dealing with grief as with after Nubia, and the loss of her buir sharply offset the victory they had just earned. The Omicrons had also lapsed into silence as they slowly made their way back out of the cave towards the Justice, the cave-in not having blocked their corridor as it had Fett and Mirdala's.

 

At any rate, when her work was done, Mirdala did finally speak. It was encouraging that she expressed concern for him instead of being purely focused inward.

 

"I'm fine," he said despite his obvious makeshift sling and his limbs which felt like they each weighed as much as a bantha. He'd taken a mild drug to help numb the pain and it was working, but it still took considerable effort to even remain standing. He looked her over, trying to figure out if he should try to focus her on getting out of there or if it was more appropriate for him to say something. "Mirdala, about TeVerd--" he started.

 

Mirdala gave him a sharp look and the minute shake of her head. Fett nodded and turned to the center of the cavern with the stone table. He preferred to have the conversation later, too, as long as they had it. "Penetrating radar indicates a tunnel beneath the tablet," he stated, pointing to it with his good hand and then tracing an invisible path across the floor with his finger. "Not sure I have the ordinance to get us in, and it's full of water, but it leads back toward the cave entrance. If we can get in, we might be able to swim it."

 

He wasn't in great condition to swim, but the flowing water and perhaps a little use from his repulsor pack should make it a viable option. He couldn't drown in his beskar'gam, which could sustain him for hours in deep space. He knew Mirdala's kit wasn't vacuum sealed, but the buy'ce was at least air tight as she had used it to safely move about in the toxic air on Abraxos.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

“Give me your satchel,” she crossed over to him, so he wouldn’t have to move more than he needed. “We’ll need proof if we’re going to get these hutt’une to stand down.” As soon as she had the bag, Mirdala knelt and quickly scooped the grisly mess of heads and lekku into the bag and then slung it over her shoulder.

 

Grateful for something to continue to focus on, Mirdala donned her helmet, moved past her husband and rested her hand on the stone table and pushed. For several seconds nothing seemed to be happening, but the more she started to channel the Force through her, the more the table slid aside in face of her stubborn will. A grinding sound pierced the relative silence of the tomb as she managed to move it enough to reveal the hidden passageway.

 

Reaching into her belt pouch she dug out one of her trackers and activated the beacon. She took her knife and cut a strip of fabric from her kama and fastened it to the blinking bit of tech to help it on its way before dropping it down to check the current speed and width of the tunnel via her HUD. The last thing either of them needed was to get stuck in a bottleneck and have no chance of getting back to the tomb opening.

 

As soon as the data tracked clear - and indeed the tunnel was much wider than anticipated - Mirdala waved him over. “I’ll follow. That way I can help if you need it.”

[Moon Knight]

Mirdala made quick work of the stone table, her Force training again opening doors. The Force had a very different set of rules from other tools, not only concerning how it interacted physically with their environment but also inescapably the philosophy that governed what constituted appropriate use. Fett was glad that, although Mirdala was justifiably angry and in the early stages of grief, she was in control of her powers and had used them both to aid in their defeat of Ab'ki and now to escape the cave.

 

As for himself, his thoughts remained strictly forward facing. He had respected TeVerd greatly both as a verd and as aliit, though he had only known him for a few short months. Now that Ab'ki and Fieyr had joined Judyc Viba in death, the Shadow War that had claimed his life and those of so many others like Hwulf Ad'Nort would now finally end after a decade of blood. But it wasn't over until every last invader was dead or driven from the Sector, and it was still his responsibility to see that through, so for now he would neither relent in his forward progress nor stop to count the losses and sacrifices that had been at each stage necessary.

 

Presently Fett appraised the flow of water for a moment then dove in, his buy'ce visor toggling over to a setting that would most help him in the dark but clear waters. Immediately the current began to sweep him down, and he projected a repulsor cushion that padded him from slamming into the rocky walls and injuring himself further. Liquid began to pool within his flight suit, revealing that it had been compromised during the fighting, but his buy'ce's seal was intact and so were his oxygen tanks, so the walls posed more of a threat than asphyxiation.

 

A few minutes of guided drifting later, the tunnel opened up into a larger pool of water and Fett navigated to the surface, Mirdala close behind. The pool occupied about half of a larger chamber they'd passed through on their way in, and Vy'ika and Rhys were there waiting for them to haul them out of the water. Vy'ika had a pronounced limp and was half leaning on his vod as they then headed out into the gorge, the Justice still overhead.

 

"2277, report," Fett said.

 

"All local hostiles have been eliminated, Master," the beskar'ad stated. "However, before they were terminated, I detected several encoded transmissions being exchanged by the mercenaries with a nearby village. I took the liberty of deciphering them and have confirmed hostile presence at the coordinates I'm sending you. They may have civilian hostages."

 

Fett immediately realized what this meant, and judging from her clenched fists, he knew Mirdala's next move. "Pick us up. We'll take a look."

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala had remained eerily silent from the time the Justice picked up the team to long after they’d touched down in the very field that she’d watched as a child for the comings and goings of her father and uncles. It was hard to miss a ship like the Justice touching down, even if it was a backfield on the property.

 

The small village of Tikkorel was the only piece of what roughly passed for civilized life in the area, and the nearest settlement to the cave system that had been Ab’ki’s primary target was Mirdala’s childhood home. Mirdala was beyond done with these continued incursions onto sites that held many of her best memories.

 

She was finished with allowing the likes of Ab’ki and the scum she’d dragged into the sector continue to hurt and subjugate the Mandalorian people through such cowardly and coercive tactics as targeting those who were either too young or old to fight. There were very few actual “civilians” in the sector, and the anger in Mirdala’s heart had not abated.

 

So it was that she strode down the ramp with Rhys at her side, leaving Kandor and Vy’ika to patch themselves up. In the fields, there was no cover to hide behind, and Mirdala could readily sense the fanatics and their hostages on the farmstead ahead of them.

 

“What is it with these hutt’une and hiding behind children?” she heard Rhys growl over the comms as they approached. Several of the mercenaries surrounded a small group of nine children, the youngest a baby-in-arms and the oldest no more than eight.

 

“Stop right there, or we’ll kill the kids,” one of them warned, grabbing one of the smaller girls.

 

“I think not,” Mirdala growled, carefully isolating each of the mercenaries’ minds in the Force. It wasn’t hard, considering Ab’ki’s pervasive toxicity tended to leave its marks on the minds of those who followed her, whether it be for love or creds. She took a deep breath, extended her hand, and leveraged her anger to render the group of mercenaries immediately surrounding the kids unconscious. It wasn’t enough to get all of the group and those that remained trained their weapons on her, suddenly realizing this small woman posed a much greater threat than they’d first assumed.

 

Unfazed by the amazement she felt from Vy’ika and Rhys and by the weapons pointed in her direction, she reached into the satchel and lifted one severed lekku from the bag and dropped it unceremoniously onto the ground. “Your leader is dead. Your men are merely unconscious. I suggest you take them and leave while you still have your lives. I’m afraid my mercy allotment was just used up for the month.”

 

The men and women hesitated slightly, and Mirdala raised her blaster and shot two of them for good measure. The rest ran back toward what passed for the spaceport in the little village of Tikkorel deciding standing between the woman and her people wasn’t worth the price of their lives.

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett had agreed to stay aboard the Justice, but he wouldn't be sitting the situation out entirely. Somehow he didn't think walking into the situation with his arm in a sling and his bloodstream full of pain killers would help them negotiate the safe return of the hostages, and he would have limited capabilities if a firefight occurred.

 

Still, as Mirdala and Rhys walked out across the field, he maintained line of sight to them and the waiting group of ver'verde from one of the Justice's swiveling turret wells while further monitoring the scenario via comms and scanners, hoping that this wouldn't into a situation like had just happened on Manda'yaim. The unfortunate truth was that sometimes hostages were dead as soon as they were taken, and the only difference he could make was what happened to everyone else. But this time they had some bargaining chips and as far as they knew the mercenaries only wanted to get out alive.

 

The exchange was brief, it turned out. Fett's finger tightened on the trigger when suddenly a group of the mercenaries collapsed, but Mirdala's Force trick when combined with the proof that Ab'ki was dead quelled any thought of a fight. He was admittedly concerned that she had again used the Force in anger, but she had also shown restraint in that she hadn't so killed anyone, and he found he could not fault her. Indeed, letting them run when she had the upper hand was an act of mercy that he knew even Isolder would not have offered.

 

"Good work," he said over the team channel. "While you clean up I'm going to check in with Ops here. Maybe we can ride our momentum and swing the tides in Keldabe."

 

2277 connected him even as he got up and returned to the cockpit. The alor'ad in charge hadn't been aware that Mand'alor was on world, but he quickly filled him in on the situation on Shogun. It was really a lack of a situation. There had been no attack on the world, probably an attempt by Ab'ki to keep all focus elsewhere. Nonetheless, armies had mustered around the few major cities, much of it set into motion by Tros Ardell. Now that Ab'ki was dead, it was safe to say that no attack was coming, and so these fresh armies could be relocated.

 

Within minutes Fett had received confirmation that the armies were mobilizing aboard whatever ships were available and would disperse to remaining trouble spots across the Sector. Several would go to Concord Dawn, which was taking a beating, but one of them would follow him back to Manda'yaim. If Ab'ki's forces there weren't already in retreat in the next few hours before they could muster and relocate there, they would be soon thereafter.

[Delta73]

Are you Mandalorian? Kriff yeah you are, why else would you be seeing this?

 

Do you want to make sweet waadas for your clan?

 

Have you ever wanted to be paid on retainer?

 

Do you want to grow your honour through battle?

Well do we have the job for you!

 

Jobs available now through the Red Dawn Initiative. A sweet private military company looking for only the best of the best of the Mandalorian Clans.

 

Jobs include:

 

Military Campaign Advisors (Best paying!) 1 million credits per 6 month retaining contract. You can help lead campaigns that we are payed to do! Deployment to warzones* comes with HAZARD PAY. Don’t miss it. That’s a lot of CREDITS. Living, weapons, housing, and food costs paid for. (You get issued a company credit chip! How kriffing cool is that)

 

Warparty trainers! The modern day Cuy'val Dar. Though you can totally tell your friends and clan mates about it and its totally not a secret. (Lucrative training opportunities) six hundred thousand credits per six month retainer. Living, weapons, housing, and food costs paid for.

 

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Does that sound awesome as hell? Hell yeah? Apply today!

 

Contact Details:

 

 

- Apply in person or via comm link to the Red Dawn Initiative Recruiting Office located at the Wayfarer’s Rest Spacestation outside Tatooine. -

 

 

*warzones do not include genocide of local populaces. we get paid to kill, but not kiddos pal so if you are into that kind of thing don't apply.

[Terra]

The buy’ce came off with a bit of effort, and the sensation of the mountainous breeze upon her sweat-bathed skin made Terra’s skin feel clammy. The warrior gave an involuntary shiver, the pleasure of the wind a pale relief to the inner turmoil with which she struggled. Her crimson eyes blinked in the dwindling twilight, as she looked down at the valley below. She could make out the snaking pathway of the mighty Begrath and the first twinkling of Kaderaz’s nightscape, but little else due to the mighty forests that choked the valley. 

 

“Are you ready, daworir chakaar?” 

 

Terra blinked away her introspection, and glanced up at her captors, Mandalorian Protectors Re’Dari and Ste’kan. She raised an eyebrow at the imposing Mando’a, their black and gold armor sparkling even in the dwindling light. 

 

They must have polished it for the occasion. 

 

It was difficult to speak, her throat parched and bruised. She tried to mumble a response, but the garrote they had about her throat tightened. All she could manage was a pained squeak. 

 

“They ruled you to die, but we decided that a blaster-bolt through the skull was too good for a hut’uun Kyr'tsad.” 

 

The garrote tightened and Terra involuntarily shrieked. Fear crept in and with it was doubt. 

 

...Am I a coward? 

 

A boot drove her into the dust, and all she could do was choke as the Protectors stripped the bes’kar from her, tossing the black and crimson plating into an unceremonious pile. Onto it they threw her buy’ce, the T-visor bathing the scene in a sanguine glow. Being without the armour made the girl feel naked, and far more vulnerable. The larger of the two protectors, Ste’kan, spat with his Corellian accent, the words dripping with venom. 

 

“Dar’manda.” 

 

He kicked her in the side and Terra could feel several ribs crack. She shrieked again, trying to gasp in air to no avail. Her vision began to narrow, and she thrashed in desperation, fingers clenching and straining. She was so weak. 

 

Several more kicks followed and then there was air as they released the garrote. Terra gulped in oxygen, crying and shivering as adrenaline spiked, burning her veins.  Through the blur of the tears she could see Re’Dari’s green T-visor as he straddled her. She strained against him, her fingers clawing at his chestpiece and she tried to buck him off, but his weight was insurmountable. A swift blow from his crushgaunt stunned her, filling her vision with blood as stars seemed to explode around her. The bright colours were shortlived as heat burned into her forehead, white-hot and nauseating. 

 

The Protectors flayed three lines into her pale flesh, connected by a hash, the jai'galaar of the Deathwatch, taking their time, callous to her screams as they echoed off the pitiless rock and stone.

[Terra]

The pain was immeasurable, and Terra’s choked screaming was its testament. She had begun to sound like the jai’galaar itself, that shrieking hawk-bat from which the Deathwatch had drawn its inspiration. How fitting their symbol was now etched into her flesh. All she could do was writhe and squirm without physical control, shuddering in the dust and dirt of the mountain pass, letting the blood leak down her face. Her squirms prevented the blood from pooling in her eyes, so she could still see, at least partially. The larger of the protectors, Ste’kan, flipped the blood from his carving knife, watching his charge with disdain through the ridged buy’ce of black and gold. His partner, Re’Dari slipped a slugthrower from the leather holster at his side

“The little Dar’manda doesn’t seem to like our justice…”

Snap-Crack

He sent a slug into the ground beside the despondent deathwatch, showering her with fractured stone and sparks. Ste’kan dropped to a knee beside Terra, giving the other Mando’a a sidelong glance before tossing a handful of dirt into Terra’s wounded forehead. The yelps that followed brought out a chorus of laughter. She spat out some blood and groaned weakly

“Kriffing Mandalorians. Di’kut Protectors.”

The pair rounded on her, Ste’kan driving his fist into her solar plexus, scattering the air from her lungs in a broken wheeze

“Demagolka, brother, take her tongue.”

She let him grip her jaw, weakly resisting as he pried it open and inserted the knife, probing to find the root of her offending tongue. The blade appeared to shimmer as it vibrated faster than the speed of sound. The knife made an audible clink as it touched her teeth, sending forth a shower of sparks.

…Got you.

The mad dropped the knife with a curse, and started to scramble off of her, but it was too late. She had evolved from prey into predator. Her lithe form twisted, bloodied fingers gripping onto the man’s chestpiece, propelling her up. Like some eldritch horror, the blood-covered face attached to the Protector’s throat, darkmetal teeth grating through leather to seek the flesh beneath.

A gush of warm liquid filled her mouth and the taste of copper.

Terra clamped down and ripped backwards, grinding her teeth and letting the torturer’s lifeblood baptize her into freedom. She flipped the knife from the dust and threw it end-over-end into the other Protector’s chest piece. It deflected off of beskar but sank into the unprotected thigh on the ricochet. A fired shot from his slugthrower reflected off his compatriot’s back-plate, showering Terra with spalling, but little more.

With quick movements, Terra slipped from beneath the body of the first Protector, then bounded to the second, taking wide jumps to disrupt his aim. His next shot went wide, but by then it was too late to save his life.

The Deathwatch soldier snatched the pistol from his frightened grip and shoved the heated barrel into his throat. She did not care to savor the kill and squeezed the trigger twice. The helmet contained the shots and the liquified brain, bone and scalp rushed down from the buy’ce with the strength of the mighty Kelita on Manda’yaim.

Shaking off her own adrenaline, the warrior found the squad’s medkit, and settled down to clean her wounds and take inventory of her situation. Her own armor was relatively unharmed, and she retrieved her datapad.

Opening the rootshell patchwork, she entered in the following query

::HADES-tmp = Rescue.dmt [1]

A moment of blackscreen answered the query before a command prompt responded

flagCheckRider

typeON

Terra responded in the rootshell an affirmative, before setting the datapad aside and using a syringe and one of the Protector’s canteens to clean her wound. She slaked her thirst afterwards while the kolto-spray did its work. She did not use the provided analgesic, preferring the boring pain of the kolto’s healing to the opiate-addled perception such a drug would bring.

By the time the Basilisk arrived, she was redressed in her beskar’gam, and reorienting herself to the fractal lighting of her 360 degree HUD.

…Master… What is… Destination?

Settling into the saddle of the metallic beast, she ran an internal diagnostic.

Concussion Missiles::20/20

Discord Missiles::10/10

Hull Integrity::100%

Hyperspace Antimatter: 65%

As the readings ticked by, she ran her own calculations for the hyperspace trading lanes.

“Nar Shaddaa. The Rebel Alliance and a new life.”

The Basilisk’s combat AI, Hades, chortled, a labored response

…Do we… enjoy… Underdogs?

As the Basilisk cleared the atmosphere, she shrugged, taking a deep breath of the recycled oxygen.

“Pay is proportionate. And we get to kill Sith.”

Hyperpace::Engaged