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Borleias


Tarrian Skywalker

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As focused as she was on the half-awake, half-competent medtech, Draygo never took register of the sly tip of the scalpel that slipped into her mind. She just quietly yawned and fought the temptation to count the hours. However, the veteran Jedi knew that she would be more useful after a few hours of sleep--actual shut-eye, rather than a Jedi rejuvenation trance that would restore the body without providing respite to the soul. And her healers had warned her of something--osteocalcititis or something like that--a potentially chronic condition that could result from her stint on Coruscant.

She would be more useful after a few hours of sleep. In her present condition, she was likely to bumble into a medtech’s private neuroses and trigger a panic attack during a surgical operation.

“Point. Been… eighteen? Nineteen hours since coming out of that bacta tank? Oh, finally she gets it.” Draygo pushed herself away from the window separating her from the surgical suite and grasped her Padawan by the shoulder. “I’ll leave this situation in… your…” She blinked slowly. “Hands. Make sure that you’re always on the move. And… you’re likely to lose someone at some point. Try not to blame yourself. I know that you will, but try not to and learn as much as you can.”

And then she was gone.


___

Ten minutes later, Draygo reemerged from the Foundation’s hospital, having abandoned her scrubs for a freshly laundered set of robes. Feeling something wet splash against her face, she glanced upwards--again, Borleias’ tropics were gracing the refugee camp with one of the planet’s ten-minute showers.

It only just occurred to Armiena that she had yet to secure berthing in the camp. No matter. Spying an unoccupied landspeeder that was unloading near the prefab buildings that comprised the Foundation’s hospital, she drew her cloak over her face and clambered into the vehicle’s cockpit. Glancing over her shoulder to find that none of the teamsters at the flatbed had taken notice of her trespass, Draygo then rummaged through the internal compartment for a piece of stikflimsi to scrawl a note to place on her forehead. It was only fair, that when one of the teamsters inevitably climbed aboard to find the snoring form of a woman with two lightsabers curled up in the copilot’s seat, that they were at least briefed:

Yes its me. Wake if you need me. Loud noises--NO POKING.

Edited by ObliviousKnight

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"In time, comes understanding, experience, and knowledge. Without time, nothing is ever learnt or experienced." - Genesis Stormhelm

As Armiena left upon my suggestion, I turned toward the fold before me. My gaze turned serious, remembering my Master's words as we went about saving the Twilek from earlier as well as the consequences of pushing myself too far. There were so many injured and very few hands to aid, even as more poured in every day. I wanted to help all that I could, but I knew I needed to pace myself. So I went about, offering aid in triage at first before I would attempt a more complex aiding.

Minutes would turn into days, and days into weeks as I went about, offering my aid where it was needed. I started in triage, helping with minor injuries and gathering local and exotic herbs and medicines from the surrounding forests as well as medical freighters that poured in with supplies, taking in what i learnt and recording it to memory. Salvants, suppressants, antidotes for local poisons, all retained within my mind as many cases crossed my path in the weeks that followed. And from triage, i ventured into more complex injuries, helping to reset bones and makeshift splints as well as heal cuts and gashes, both with aid of the Force and with my own hands.

And those weeks would become a month, taking my time to learn what I could without pushing myself. But as I trained and learnt, I also began to notice a stamina beginning to grow within me, noticing that it took longer and longer before I felt myself faint or weak. But still, as those moments would come, I would leave and find a place to rest, even if only for a few hours. In my moments of rest, I would take time to meditate on the day, letting myself wander about within the Force and let it flow through me, feeling its rejuvenation return to me. And then I would close my eyes in peace and serenity, letting exhaustion wane away into oblivion until it came time for me to wake.

Except this day, when I awoke, a new challenge had presented its self. I awoke to screams and yells, causing me to jump from my cot. Barely awake, I hurried from the tent that many of us here at the medical units had came to call home to see a group of rescuers flowing into the critical ward of the hospice, a total of ten patients badly injured and in need of treatment. I didnt ask any questions and followed in quickly behind them, adorning a fresh batch of scrubs after sanitizing myself as I went.

I didnt know it yet, but these were some of the numerous scouting parties sent out daily for local supplies, only this group found out the hard why the need for equipment checks were mandatory. It seems the speeders they took malfunctioned, and the patient that now laid before me was likely, multiple contusions and lacerations, as well as internal bleeding and a punctured lung. I stood there for a moment, locked in by fear, as I gazed upon the human female with horror. She was almost unrecognizable.

((Post 1 of 2))

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  • 2 weeks later...

 

((Neural handshake much?))

Another day. Draygo would be roused from her nap four hours later, jolted to wakefulness by a heavy hand that slammed on the door of the landspeeder. She groggily stumbled out of the vehicle and blearily blinked that the waxing hints of sunlight that heralded the beginning of a new day. She staggered towards the perimeter of the camp, ignoring the shouts of the loaders who had awoken her.

Draygo hated her emaciated body, hated the way that her robes seemed to hang from her frame and the tendency of her gunbelt to exhaust her over hours. She had been in peak physical condition during the war, but the indignities that she had suffered at the hands of CreoVive had caused all of that muscle mass to waste away. That needed to change. Physical training began anew. The refugee camp on the peninsula grew accustomed to witnessing her runs along the perimeter of the prefabricated city at daybreak, beginning with a brisk jog under the sweltering forest canopy. As her strength returned over the weeks, she would escalate to merciless sprints in plastoid armor, burdened by a soldier’s rucksack. If, over the course of the weeks, the veteran Jedi had managed to rally a number of sapients who emulated her habit of beginning their days with a punishing sprint, she gave no indication that she had noticed her followers.

 

 

Another day. The days  Still having not secured a berth, the Survivor’s Foundation had become accustomed to the sight of a dozing Jedi Master curled up in the copilot’s seat of their landspeeders, the cloak-enshrouded pile of robes snoring enthusiastically as supplies were delivered throughout the camp. Again, she was roused by a powerful fist hammering beside her head, but as Draygo pulled back the hood of her robe and blinked away the few precious hours of sleep, the wrinkled face of a similarly-dressed Gotal came into focus. The grayed sapient passed a sheet of flimsy into her hands.

“Master Draygo,” Her healer nodded. “You haven’t been answering comms. Orders from Alluyen.”Not awaiting a response or her protestations, the Master Healer turned and left her to read the sheet of flimsi.

You are required to depart and deploy with Nebula-class Star Destroyer Justice’s Mandate. Detailed briefing will be delivered by Commodore Lendran Neldis.

Draygo crumbled up the piece of flimsi and ate it.

 

 

Another day. Draygo had finally managed to secure permanent lodgings in the camp, a tiny-pressured sealed hut situated far from its landing strips and the constant stream of sublight traffic. Her face ruddy from physical-exertion and blood rushing to her head, she balanced upside-down on her hands and methodically repeated sets of push-ups. Her arms shook with every repetition and a puddle of sweat had pooled below her head, but she endured the burning of her limbs with a wolfish grin—this kind of pain was an old friend to the veteran Jedi. Her lips silently counting off the repetitions, Armiena glanced upwards as a familiar presence approached.

Master Gloth opened the seal of her tent and the Gotal Healer stared disapprovingly at her.

Armiena spat out a strand of hair from the beginnings of a short ponytail. “What… is… it?”

“You had orders.”

"I made a commitment to these people. I was going to help them, be whatever they needed me to be. Even if I would have preferred to be out on the front lines."

"How much has this camp grown since you've took residence here? The influx of refugees hasn't abated--even if Borleias' government has refused to allow additional settlement, it hasn't been able to prevent it. Master Darkfire--hush a moment--these people need you a great deal more than they require a single mediocre Healer and her Padawan. They need the fighter.”

Fighting to keep her voice steady despite the trembling of her arms, the veteran Jedi glared at the Gotal Healer. "My name is Draygo."

"Tell that to your son."

Her arms collapsed under her body. Somehow turning the motion into a languid forward roll, the veteran Jedi rose to her feet, grabbed the grim-faced Gotal by a fistful of robes and pressed the greypelt against the wall of the hut. Threats, justifications, and curses all competed for her exhausted breath, which was only capable of managing a strangled gasp that sounded vaguely like "you… you…"

Then the screaming started. Suddenly aware of an explosion of pain that burst from the perimeter of the camp, Armiena set down the Healer and left the older Jedi behind. Not bothering to don her robes, she ran through the camp towards the hospital. Now a familiar figure to the staff, she was immediately led towards the surgical wards “Bring the worst to a private room.” She muttered towards the shift supervisor, negotiating her prosthetic hand into the gloves. “I need to be alone for this.” Completing the sterilization protocols, Draygo made her way into a private room with a gurney, blood dripping from the side.

What she saw in this sapient was little more than a breathing corpse: a three-limbed body of blisters, burns, and abrasions, only recognizable as a Zabrak from the forehead horns. Perhaps the crash victim had a face, but it was obscured by swollen welts and bruises and implanted pieces of vegetation. Having been impaled through the cheek and shoulder with long shards of green plasteel, he was already fading. Draygo approached and laid a hand on the Zabrak’s chest just in time to feel his chest fall for the last time. She sighed.

The veteran Jedi left the suite and made for her apprentice. Seeing him hesitating before a similarly wounded woman, Armiena approached and tapped him on the shoulder. “Bacta tanks are occupied. She won’t make it long enough without… assistance. Sync?” She asked, extending her Force presence in a teasing, hesitating manner. Remembering her mother’s rituals on Coruscant, Draygo shut her eyes and allowed her mental defenses to slip, permitting Genesis to potentially invade the most privately-held recesses of her mind. It was an amateurish emulation of her mother’s Force-meld, but it would between two closely-linked individuals.

She spoke, but words were not quite necessary through the meld. “Morichro is a dangerous technique and has the potential to be abused, but it may save this woman. We’ll put her into a hibernation and slow her bodily functions to the point of near-death. Foundation is going to think that we’ve killed her, but we’ll implant a code-phrase so they can wake her the moment she comes out of treatment.”

Draygo moved slowly, not quite trusting her abilities with this dangerous technique. Her senses permeating the crash victim’s flesh, she began the work of shutting down the woman’s body and deliberately killing her… so that she could live again.

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Above Borleias, the rest of the ships that composed of Jedi Fleet Group Two began to power up their engines and do last minute checks on all systems. They had received orders to join the rest of the Jedi fleet outside Black Sun Station. A message was sent out to select Jedi still on Borleias who would be best suited for combat and the recovery of the hostage Empress. All Jedi were given one hour to join the fleet or be left behind. Among those Jedi who were sent a message were Masters Draygo and Gloth.

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"And its through that understanding, experience, and knowledge... that we know the need for time and the lesson taught by it." - Genesis Stormhelm

A million and one possibilities were racing through my mind in that moment, and I weighed every outcome as if it was as viable as the last with hope that this one or the next would be the best solution when I felt Armiena's familiar touch fall upon my tensed form, her presence bringing me out of the state of shock I had begun to fall into. She always seemed to have a way to ground my mind and heart whenever she was near and as she voiced her suggestion, I was secretly glad she had done so. As I gazed at her, I smiled briefly and nodded, her suggestion reminding me of the time we stood upon the precipice of Coruscant's destruction, and in that moment, our thoughts had became one. At least this time, I actually held power to truly aid.

Feeling her conciousness open and her defenses fall, I followed in suit, tip toeing into the abyss that was her mind as I allowed her to meld with my own. Typically, I was never one to freely open myself so, but Armiena was the only person to have known all of my secrets and still remain unjudgemental. I trusted her above all else, not just as a teacher, but as a mother like figure as well, our time together binding is in such a way. At least, for me, it had became such.

As had become accustomed, I followed her instructions, paying close heed to her words as we progressed and noticing her movements, following every detail in close unison. And as our senses joined with the woman's, I simply rode the waves of Armiena's divination. Slowly the woman's body began to shut down, organ by organ as we guided her body into it's hybernative state, keeping her heart and mind active the longest so that we could preserve her as best we could. In truth, it was a terrifying ordeal to witness and be a part of, but I understood its necessity even as her breathing shallowed and her heartbeat faded. And when it came time to lay the passphrase upon her still lingering psyche, my gaze shifted toward Armiena.

This power, even as a passenger upon its pathway, had taken much of my strength. But it was the only viable option of saving her life, even if it required her feigned death. Hopefully the outcome was one we were hoping for.

((Post 2 of 2))

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A small Starfang fighter exited hyperspace after having left Felucia and instantly hailed the Jedi fleet stationed above Borelias, notably @Adenna Alluyen.

"This is Lt. Mjan Sadow, former padawan to Aira Caden, requesting permission to land."

Already the realization of his new status was beginning to truly set in and he felt the loss of Aira deeply. But she had chosen to raise him to Knighthood for a reason and now he pushed himself forward to honor her hope in him. As a newly appointed Jedi Knight, as well as a Lieutenant in its naval fleet, Mjan needed to report in.

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The deck officer on the Justice's Mandate received many messages from various ships trying to gain access to the Nebula class-Star Destroyer. Most were simply supply shuttles or ships ferrying up crew from shore leave. On occasion, there was something a tad bit more interesting that came his way. There were a few members of the Jedi Order on board, mostly Padawans and a Knight or two. This was one he hadn't heard of before, so he did a quick check of their records. There wasn't anything about a Knight by that name, but there was something about a naval commission assigned from Felucia attached to this name and ship. Those codes were checking out, but just in case, he sent a quick message to one of the Jedi on board that one of their Order was landing.

Permission was given to Mjan to land, and a male Duros Jedi Knight named Gupta Fazon was there to meet him.

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This was agonizing work. If Genesis and Draygo slowed the heart too quickly, the periphery would die. Vice versa, she would either bleed out or the bloodstream would become so toxified with carbon dioxide and metabolic waste that she would drift into a hepatic coma that even bacta might not recover their patients from. And even if the trance was successful, her life was now in the hands of a surgical team that might have never operated on a cadaver since university.

 

But the trance took, and the ooze of blood slowed to the barely-perceptible trickle of capillary action from their patient’s wounds.. Armiena reflexively took a step back as she withdrew from the Force presence of her apprentice. "Sorry, didn't give you much of a chance to refuse. I thought that under the circumstances…" She sighed. The veteran Jedi preferred to believe that she possessed sufficient control to not wander about in Genesis' mind like a psychic wrecking ball, but whether her fellow half-Miraluka had developed such discipline… Armiena was too busy attempting to not murder a patient to notice any such intrusions. She tapped in a brief note on the patient’s chart and summoned the medtechs.

 

"I think she'll live. At least long enough to be stabilized, but… no telling after that.” Draygo led her Padawan out of the hospital and towards the refugee camp’s landing pads. “I’d prefer to look after her, but I’ve been sitting on orders from the Grandmaster to join the fleet. Something is brewing, and judging from the handwritten notes it’s going to get ugly.”


A munitions freighter had been diverted from the Jedi Dojo on its way to Justice’s Mandate, and the two Jedi hitched a ride on it towards the orbiting Star Destroyer. From the wholly unfamiliar hangar of the Nebula-class Star Destroyer, Armiena found a yeoman to guide them towards the bridge and their briefing.

Edited by ObliviousKnight

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As the Starfang landed gently within the flightdeck of the Justice's Mandate, Mjan let out a sigh of relief. Space was still a thing for one of his kind to get used to, himself having rarely stepped foot off Krayiss II but on two occasions during his lifetime, and the last lead him here to the Jedi Order. Grabbing the metal stave that hid his saberpike, he disembarked his ship and met with the elder Duros Knight with glee, the Tsis's golden eyes soft and kind, only amplified by the hue of his crimson skin.

 

"Lt. Mjan Sadow reporting in". He spoke with enthusiasm as he stood firm and saluted the Jedi that stood before him with his left hand perching the spurred brow of his only seeing eye. "Forgive my tardiness. I only recieved the comm to report here when Master... I mean Aira Caden... dropped me off at Felucia to retrieve my ship after Ilum."

 

As Mjan gazed toward the elder Knight before him, he could sense a bit of confusion upon the air, even for the Jedi before him, causing the young Tsis to wonder momentarily if Aira had reported his Knighting on Ilum to the Order. Returning his own confused look, he questioned. "My Knighting at Ilum was sanctioned, correct?"

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"The life of a Jedi is neither dull nor ending, for as one crisis is adverted, another follows quickly behind. Coruscant, Borleias, war... no rest for the wicked which meant to rest for the we who stood against the Darkness that threatened." - Genesis Stormhelm

 

"There was no need Master." I spoke in return to Armiena that day as she sighed. Even if she had asked, I still would have helped. I was just grateful that we had managed to stabilize her a bit so the others could take over and prolong her death, even if only for a bit. It may have been all we could do, but we did it. "I'm glad I was able to help this time."

 

As the others began to take over, I followed Armiena as we began our trek outside, tossing aside the contamination scrubs for my own clothes and placing the patch back over my Miralukian heritage. I could see that something did not bold well and that something laid upon her mind, but I had never been one to push any issue, even now that I held a slight sway to do so. And like clockwork, she opened up to me as we neared the landing pads.

 

"I see." I spoke, a hint of uneasiness flowing over my own form as I remembered back to Coruscant, how it seemed forever ago, yet wasn't as long as it felt. Climbing about the freighter, I turned to her. "If it's anything like Coruscant, we both have a right to be worried."

 

And with that, we made our way toward the Justice's Mandate and onward to the plans of war. But despite the uneasiness I felt, all I had to do was look her way, and somehow, I knew that everything would work out for the better. Now if only Armiena could have such faith in herself.

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Knight Gupta Fazon was a calm and calculating man, not one to overreact or let emotions sway him. Still, he was slightly surprised to find that the new Knight he was meeting was of a species he had only read about. There had long been records that there was an ethnic Sith among the Sith Order, but he had only recently heard rumors that one had joined the Jedi. Apparently those rumors were true, because there was no sense of darkness coming from this young man, and his authorization code as well as that of his ship checked out. It was theoretically possible that he was a Sith infiltrator, but the Jedi didn't operate on racial suspicion alone. There were plenty of Duros among the Sith Empire, he wouldn't want himself always questioned.

 

"Lieutenant Sadow," Fazon said clinically, "It is not for one such as myself to question your status or place in the Order. Whether you are a Knight or not is more up to yourself than any other. If you feel yourself worthy of such a title and honor, then you likely are. If not, then that is something that you must determine on your own.

 

"Until then, I can only validate your military title and confirm that you are indeed a naval lieutenant. You clearly can fly a fighter so you may elect to attach yourself to a squadron and fly in battle. As a Jedi, you could also join with whatever assault force that will be attacking the station to rescue the Empress. Commodore Neldis is a wise man: did not give me a preference of where you are to be assigned because he knows Jedi go where they are best rather than into a mold."

* * * * * * *

 

With the last stragglers boarding their assigned ships, the ships comprising of Jedi Fleet Group Two formed up and made the jump into hyperspace.

 

((anyone who wishes to be part of the fleet has until battle commences at Black Sun Station to show up there and will be assumed as part of this jump))

Edited by Adenna Alluyen

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As Fazon spoke, Mjan took his words to heart and listened with attentiveness, letting the wiser Jedi's words linger in the air. The Duro was quite different from Aira, more militant and blunt than his Master had been. Not to say Aira didnt have her moments where the warrior within had shown through, but that she had a softer and gentler side, albeit a bit coddling if one such as Mjan had been outside looking in. 

 

Not to say she pacified the young Tsis, but as a Teacher, she was extra encouraging and softer upon his mistakes during training. And truth be told, outside his Jedi training, his scope was limited. So as he sat there and listened to the Duro speak, he realized his own weakness. He had been trained to be a Jedi, but not to be a warrior within the Fleet. And as Fazon spoke of his feeling worthy of such a title and the honor that came with it, Mjan questioned himself just for a moment.

 

"I dunno if I would say worthy..." Mjan out loud in retort, mostly to himself that Fazon. "But Master Aira felt that I was."

 

Only time would tell if Aira was right in her convictions about Mjan. But the young Tsis trusted her judgement and the sheathed pike he held in hand as a walking staff spoke of his own in volumes. An Apprentice may have been able to forge such a weapon, but only Mjan could attune it so precisely. It's aura matched his own with such strength that there could be no denying it. It was a weapon truly forged for a Jedi Sentinal.

 

But what path would the battle ahead bring for Mjan? When presented the options, Mjan grew confused. It wasn't that he was perplexed by the Duros or his choice of words, but what path would be the Force's will. He had yet to even think upon his next choice of actions, only being led here for this moment. But now that he was given the choice, it was unclear. Even as he opened his mind up to the Force, it remained undecided.

 

"Understood sir." Mjan finally spoke to Fazon, a deep sigh following his words as his gaze shifted aside as he heard the Justice's Mandate frame wail and shift as it entered hyperspace. "May the Force guide me well in the coming battle."

 

He only hoped it would provide a clearer path as they grew closer to the moment when the Jedi brought the war to the enemy.

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  • 6 months later...

A half million kilometers from Borleias, a Sith fleet emerged from hyperspace and took up a defensive position, but advanced no further. The largest ship with an IFF indicating it was called the Herløv had shields raised, but its weapons were not powered or trained. Only one squadron of TIE Defenders had been deployed as a screen, though the rest of its compliment was on standby just in case the Rebels decided to attack. Qaela wasn't interested in a fight, but she also wasn't going to put her mission, herself, or the beings under her command in a vulnerable position.

 

Qaela couldn't help but smile at the though of the panic that the arrival of the small fleet likely caused among the remnant of Coruscanti refugees and the defending forces that protected the planet. The weak needed to be culled so that the strong could improve the Galaxy. Balance needed to be restored from the vapid and feeble. Those here who cowered and fled rather than stood and fought against the invaders of their home were destined only to serve those who were strong to help build that new society.

 

She had never lusted for war and conquest, but among the Sith, that was often the best way to be recognized and gain power. Power was the best way to protect yourself, even if it was a tenuous thing. Draw too much power and you drew too many wanting to take it for themselves. Remain with too little power and you would be used by those with more. The trick was a balance, and so far, she had managed to obtain just enough power to maintain it. Her mission today was not to conquer, but perhaps if she accomplished it, more recognition and power would come directly from the source of all power in the Sith Empire.

 

"Send a comm to the planet on a broadband, unsecured transmission," she ordered. When the comms offer indicated that such a connection was made, she spoke calmly and confidently. "I am Qaela Darksong, emissary of the great Sith Empire. We are not here to conquer or kill, but to talk. For reasons known only to himself, the Great Emperor wishes to speak with the leaders of your Rebellion. As a token of his goodwill and sincerity, I have with me one thousand political prisoners from Kuat who were scheduled for a lifetime of harsh slave labor. In exchange for dialogue with Rebel leadership, I shall release them to you unharmed and with no further stipulations. Unless you act aggressively towards my forces, I shall wait here for three days after which the offer is expired and I shall return to the Omnipotent Spider to report that it was the Rebels who refused diplomacy."

 

She terminated the connection and then gave a new directive. "Let Lord Mordecai know he is welcome upon the Herløv for the duration of our time here." Though he was subordinate to her, technically he had command of the smaller ships in the fleet. She would rather know his mind and intentions a little better and maintain at least a working relationship in case this turned into a fight.

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Not even ten minutes had passed before the Dathomiri SIth got her response. In a communication broken by lines of static from multiple encryptions and decryptions, the small form of the Empress Raven gave her response. 

 

Yes

 

_______

 

A day passed in silence as the citizens of the neutral world took in and housed the captives. Giving them medical aid until on the edges of the system a black painted Star Destroyer named Misericordia slipped from the grip of hyperspace. A shuttle dropped from her bay and microjumped so that it reached the edges of the Sith Fleet. 

 

Raven and two Imperial Knights were the only passengers, armed only with their lightsabers and the force. It had been against the will of the rest of the Rebel leadership, but Raven was here. And she would dialogue with the Sith, though she knew it would already be fruitless. 

 

The Shuttle set down in the landing bay of the Herløv and Raven and her two guards descended the ramp. Raven dressed purely in black, with the long bands of service ribbons across her left breast. The small circlet of silver resting gently upon her head the only adornment save her lightsaber. 

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Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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Mordecai arrived on the Herløv shortly before the rebels did. He knew he was going to meet the Lady Darksong later than expected, but he had a fleet to run. Defensive strategies to discuss with his officers  as well as proving to the troopers that he was worthy to command them. While the latter may have been less important, since no officer would ever disobey a Sith, he'd seenjust how effective troops could function if they trusted their commander.

 

His venture had been semi-successful. Most of the officers trusted him with command of their ships now, though a few of the higher ranked crew still had concerns. He'd missed the chance to prove himself over Coruscant, and it was showing. Still, he couldn't put off meeting the Sith that commanded him any longer. The rest of his duties would have to wait. When helanded, he was escorted to the bridge of the Star Destroyer, where he would finaly meet the Nightsister.

 

"Lady Darksong, it is an honor to finally meet you. I am Mordecai, apprentice to Lord Valinor. Have we heard from the Rebels yet?"

 

 

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Qaela had been surprised that the Rebels had so quickly responded in the affirmative, and from the Pretend Empress herself. True to her word, she organized the release of the thousand prisoners with the small numbers of Sith spies mixed in. In the grand scheme of things, they were irrelevant. Once that was accomplished, there was naught to do but wait.

 

Though it didn't concern her much, Mordecai's delayed arrival meant that she didn't have much time to focus on feeling him out. Perhaps later she would, but for now, business must be taken care of. She looked him over as he approached, but there was no glaring hostility from him which meant that he was not a direct threat for now. He seemed respectful enough as well which bode well for his future. Those who tried to shine too brightly often burned out. She had not heard of Lord Valinor, so she didn't know his style or how he taught.

 

"The Rebel's False Empress is on her way, it seems," she answered. "We shall see what comes of this, but under no circumstances are you to interfere or threaten the boarding party. The Dark One wishes to speak with the Rebel leadership and we will not do anything to cause them to change their mind."

 

The sensors on the Herløv rang out with the arrival of a Star Destroyer. Smiling, she ordered the patrol squadron to prepare for their Rebel guest's arrival. Gesturing for Mordecai to join her, she left the bridge to head to the hangar bay. Along the way, they were joined by the quartet of her trusted apprentices. There was an honor guard at the docking bay waiting just in case this was some sort of Rebel trap, but Qaela sensed no extra danger as the Rebel shuttle landed.

 

Qaela paid the False Empress' relative youth no heed as she herself knew age was often not an indicator of skill or ability. In standing there receiving the trio, Qaela was quite interested in them. She had encountered and fought Jedi before, but this was her first experience with Imperial Knights. They seemed far more steeled than the Jedi she had faced which meant they were more of a threat. She liked that.

 

"Raven Zinthos," she said with a slight bow of her head, "the Dark Emperor will receive you if you will follow me." She gestured for the trio to follow. With a gesture of her hand, the honor guard of Sith Troopers remained leaving only Qaela, Mordecai, and her quartet of apprentices with their guests. She led them to the comparatively large conference room that served as the Herløv's command and control relay center. There, she pressed a button alerting the True Emperor that they were present so he could respond at his own leisure.

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The very air within the Herløv was pungent with the dark side. Was it terror she smelled from that royal guard or hatred? She could not tell, for it had been nearly a decade since she had trained in the arts and mysteries of the Sith. She could still tap into that place, that hatred, that fear should she need to but the very thought of it turned up her nose. She was no longer a scared little girls seeking power from disgraced Dathomiri witches like Lady Tiana Calthye. She reflected on that experience as she waited for the Sith Lord Darksong to join her in the hanger. That terror, the loss of her arm, the taste of the Jedi Knights blood as she had bitten out his throat on Gala. Raven was glad that she had kept the black lightsaber on her belt, even for all the sin it had caused, but knew if it came to a duel she would surely be bested. 


 

She had much to atone for. With that pang of regret, the Imperial Knight beside her stepped up to her side and placed his heavy hand on her thin shoulder. 

 

“Empress.” He whispered. She nodded and that was enough to find her center. She breathed once, twice and focused her mind. Drawing on the strength of the men and women around her until the regret, the sorrow, the pain was gone. Leaving her face stern and ashen. She was glad of it, for in that moment the Lady of the Sith arrived, beautiful and full where Raven herself was lacking. This was a woman ruled by her passions, abjectly surrendered to them, and full of a hidden malice. They were not very far apart in age, but the woman had lived a much fuller existence. And the pride in her steps showed it. 

If there was death to be found in this vessel, it would be by her hands that Raven would find it. 

 

The Pretender to the crown of the Galaxy returned the Sith’s modest head bow. 

 

“Lady Darksong.” She used the vernacular drilled into her by her old master and the imperial cadet corps while they had still served under Emperor Black. She fell in beside the Lady of the Sith and walked with her to the communications room. Where her two imperial knights stood back. While they waited on the dark lord, Raven looked back at the Dathomiri Sith. 

 

“Have you served Him long?”

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Qaela was intrigued by the young leader and kept a close eye on her with both physical senses and passive Force senses. She didn't truly admire the other, but studied her as a huntress her prey. Physically, she doubted the False Empress posed much a threat, but she had managed to get a large number of beings to follow her, even if it had been a mostly disastrous path for them. There had been pain and suffering on her path, that much was clear. Reports Qaela had read indicated that she had been tortured pretty thoroughly by her Black Sun captors. Such amateurs: physical torture was a waste if it was not to build and strengthen. Qaela had never been keen on physical torture, instead preferring to kill those who needed it quickly and use her mind as a weapon against those for whom information was sought.

 

Most intriguingly to the Nightsister was the scent of the Force upon the woman. She had not been aware of the Force sensitivity in the Child Leader. Perhaps, if the Dark Lord wished it, Zinthos could be turned and brought into the power of the dark side. To do such a thing would be a most uniquely interesting challenge and, upon successful completion, would certainly garner her a significant amount of power and respect. Though, that might also bring unwanted attention. Better to instead allow the Spider to receive the glory and remain behind the scenes.

 

Zinthos did ask a question, and as wary as she was of giving unwanted information, it could be useful to engage in a conversation. Perhaps the younger Sith Mordecai would also be enlightened as well. "I have served as long as he has been worthy of being served," she answered truthfully and without malice or hostility.

Edited by Qaela

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Mordecai understood his purpose here. It was one of a bodyguard, of the meek follower, and it was a part he'd play, for now. His moment to prove himself would come, all he needed was patience. Provoking a powerful woman like Qeala was a bad idea, to say the least. Still, it was a learning opportunity. He didn't have time to properly discuss with her, but he was sure the time for that would come. The sensors informed them it was time to begin, and he followed Lady Darksong dutifully, taking up a position behind her.

 

As the negotiations began, he remained standing. He listened, and thought.

 

The woman who deigned herself Empress was a child, really. She was barely older than he was, and yet she'd rallied entire armies behind her. A foolish gesture, to be sure, but fools could still impress. He eyed the Imperial Knights. He'd been briefed on them by his more experienced security officers. Force wielders who fought for the false throne. Trained warriors. In the heart of a Sith Star Destroyer, they were dismiss-able threats. Before the Dark Lord? They would become irrelevant. Still, he was here to protect Lady Darksong, and so he watched. His hands stayed near his lightsabers, one from Korriban, the other pilfered from a defeated foe, but they never touched. He would not start the aggression, but his stature would hopefully inform the knights of his watchfulness.

 

 

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Scratching, brief moments of stubborn static,

followed by a rough three seconds of deafening silence.

The sonic frequency was erratic but when the connection settled,

a much clearer rasp fell upon the uncomfortable board room.

His breathing was harsh,

heavier than usual, far too close, yet not close enough.

And then it wasn't. 

 

.. C C R R R R R K K!

 

A sharp and short crunch. Breaking? Delicate bone caving under pressure? What that sound was, could only be confirmed if they had visual. But they didn't. What sounded similar to a body gone slack, dropping with dead weight to the floor, was just conjecture. The labored breaths that once were, now fell quiet. Three-dimensional imagery sprouted from the centerpiece unevenly, the filaments of dry color shorting as the Dark King emerged. This was not the likeness of some hunched, over-cloaked, force-festered blight that stood before them. Here, the crude and able-bodied width of a young conqueror satiated the relay transmissions. The magnitude of his size and imperial stature seemed overwhelming, even by holo-display alone, magnified by the detailed tinctures of armor that covered him from his battle-worn greaves to his neckline. Loose cloth that was both unsparing and thronged, hung from his open cloaked breastplate, strengthening his exalted demeanor. Yet, the color of his battle raiment remained distilled by the simple grey-scale transmissions, so much so that his face was rendered into a distortion, leaving his facial features covered in an obscure mask of shifting shadows. 

 

 

".. Aaah. And so it begins,"

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Raven’s eyebrows spiked upwards as the holograph materialized. He looked impressive to be sure, but anyone who hid behind a mask had something to hide. She shrugged and looked from Qaela and back to the holograph. 

 

“Yes it does begin. That’s why I am here after all.” She smiled softly and placed her gloved hands on her hips. Showing no intimidation from the holographic dark lord that stood some quadrillion miles away. “I must Congratulate you on toppling the useless Galactic Alliance. Slightly larger kill count than I would have had by quite the magnitude, but then again i'm not quite one to rule by fear. All it cost you was a Sith Lord named Faust and a couple trillion innocent lives snuffed out with a moon of all things, really puts the charm into ruling with fear.” 

 

She lowered her head. “But there are those of us that contend against you and your new empire, so I must ask what your purpose is for this conversation?” 

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“Astonishing,” It even speaks as peasants do. 

 

 

“Your ignorance and blatant inexperience reveals itself in record timing, Raven. Like the child you have proven to be, you wave your finger about, trying desperately to blame another for your glaring shortcomings. You are wrong, and you have failed."

 

Exodus considered for a moment, that this was the champion of the battle at the Third Death Star, an unexceptional woman that bonded the blood of foes and created false peace. A thing once called the Galactic Alliance, a thing she had a hand in creating, but now calls useless. Perhaps she was a witch, and had turned them all into fools, but the mystery was one he would likely never understand. His challenges in waters that were far more dangerous than these, had taken him into an undertow of struggle for a near decade before he could return to what was left here. And thus far, he was wholly unimpressed with the remainder of what common folk considered the Golden Age. The Dark King cleared his throat before he continued with his explanation. 

 

"Your provocation and betrayal on Carida, it was I that put that to a halt. Your failure to apprehend Faust on Iziz was costly, but it was I who crushed him and liberated the Capital. I shielded Onderon with might, reinforced her better than any have before, and you chose to answer with an invasion." Exodus broke an empty laugh, sarcasm more than obvious in his delivery, "you barely broke orbit."

 

"Your forces crumbled like paper against the armor of our armada, yet you and your Jedi friends chose to bombard and defile the small colonies of Dxun for nothing more than jest. Even Lord Sheog would not think to stoop so pathetically low. If this was not yet embarrassing, you allowed one trite and tired criminal to devastate Coruscant by himself, and open the flood-gates for the Crusaders to rape and ruin the Galactic Throne. Where are the beloved peacemakers now? On Chandrila, did you send aid? Was it enough? But of course, the hundreds of thousands that ambushed the Station to rescue you was of most importance." Egregious selfishness was on display, sickening when the realization hit. No endangered civilizations were sent any amount of aid, but the full armed force of the their greedy alliance was sent to rescue just one woman of mild importance. It painted a bright picture for even the most ignorant to see.  

 

 

"Understand this, I weigh my kills with the blood of my enemies, while you and yours weigh it in the blood of the innocent and weak."

 

 

"Little Raven. If you think this is what fear looks like, than you have been nursed at your mothers' teat for far too long. You are a suckling that has attributed your failures as a protector, to your fears of the great and powerful Sith. I am what you fear, and as the evils around you distract and take you apart, you continue to instead watch me with cowardly eyes and sacrifice your sheep against my wolves. I have handled your responsibilities for you while you skulk in my shadows, and have done what I have needed to do to see a true Empire rise. I am not here to school you on these histories, but if it is any voice that you would use to speak to me with, it should be one of reverence, for your sarcasm will have you killed where you stand." The conviction in his voice, explained that this was not the dealings of Black Sun. This was life or death.

 

 

"Do we understand one another, Raven?"

King Exodus was merciful, he would start again.

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Though she would but watch in this exchange, Qaela could understand the potential of what the Spider had spoken and was at the ready. Her senses were at their most alert, her muscles ready to spring into whatever action the Dark Emperor of All wished of her. If commanded, she would unleash the dark side and all of its power against the False Empress and crush her under the might of the Sith. She had no reason to threaten for that was the pleasure of the Dark Lord, so she did not make any move that could be considered as one. Still, she was ready for whatever was required.

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Raven kept her face stoic as the Sith Emperor spoke. He was very wrong and very persistent in his lies but to correct them here was not the place or time. She stood up completely straight. Her amethyst eyes staring into the cloud that was Exodus’ face. 

 

“Lord Sith, we do not represent the senate, or the Supreme chancellor. That weakness has been washed away by the terror and death you so wantonly let loose on the galaxy. We represent the hope that lives in the face of tyranny. We stopped Mandalore over Chandrila, we destroyed Black Sun and their forces as you rushed to save them. We killed the dog in spite of its master’s fury. Our strength may not be in power of arms, or a million warships. It is in hope and the careful strike. It is in this strength we will persist. Hope will outlast you.”  

 

“I think we understand each other. You lead those that butchered thousands of Prisoners of War at Onderon, and I lead those that will oppose you. Many of us will die, but we will overthrow you in time, and your stain will be wiped away like so many other God Emperors. Of whom no one now remembers their names.”

 

Her knights inclined their heads and prepared to move against any strike that would come from the Dathomiri or the apprentice. 

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Dun Möch

 

 

"You lead those that will oppose me? ..Silly Raven, that is the meaning of this. Your focus is half-witted. When will you lead your people to protect those that beg you for it? Coruscant weeps and burns, yet you ignore and choose instead to warmonger like the God Emperors of old that you speak of. I am but a simple man, one that the likes of you and your kind are ill-prepared for. This, I promise you." 

 

 

The Emperor-King smiled, but the strange static that hampered the holo-display from revealing a clearer picture, obscured his sharp toothy-white grin . Truths were spoken, ones that perhaps bit harder than she could expect, but these were the events as they unfolded. If blows were exchanged here and now, the startling of Dun Möch would set this child beside herself in the face of a Master. Exodus hadn't expected much more than this, for his enemies were all unlettered, and weaker than he could have hoped for. In the strangest of ways, it had become his responsibility to strengthen those that opposed him, for iron sharpened iron and the failings of his enemies would surely sour the truth of his ambitions. The Jedi were a crippled rendition of what they once represented, choosing to detonate the lives of innocent bystanders in a war for a fraudulent Empress, for no other reason than to make a statement. Several thousands sacrificed selfishly for her and her alone, to be rescued from an eclipsed Black Sun, while their home-worlds and loyal citizens were ravaged and undefended. Sickening, beautiful and truly a nature born of the dark side, whether they understood that or not. They served themselves, that was the tall truth of any Jedi past or present, and that was the tale of Raven the pretender. 

 

 

"These prisoners of war.. They invaded Onderon, unprovoked and herded by your Jedi.

You must have known this, child. Their treason, their warmongering is why they faced impartial execution. 

Their blood is on your hands, Pretender.

You are playing a game in which you have no understanding.

What would you have me do to those that endanger the citizens of an innocent world?"

 

 

The Spider dangled the choices of life in front of her, weaving the white braids of her consequences as bleak cobwebs of truth. There was no convincing this one of how dark she truly was, and no measure of lies needed to convince her that the ones she chose to align herself with were just as sick. She knew at least that much, for it was the dark side that had freed her from her chains. But perhaps here and now, she could learn and become more than what she was, perhaps one day she could bring his adversaries to a place of worthiness. Exodus was still smiling widely, the wild lengths of his dark hair sweeping his powerful features. Or perhaps, there was something far more sinister at stake, and not a soul could place their finger on it. 

 

"Would you trade your life for theirs?"

Edited by Exodus

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She shook her head slowly, her black locks of hair pulled back behind her cap, brushing the edges of her crisp uniform. Her Imperial Knights glowered at the image of the Dark Lord. 

 

“I have no reason to go to coruscant and give death to all that follow me. We cannot pretend to trust a terrorist and ally of the Black Sun in such a manner. No you will not have me, for I cannot trust you.” 

 

She smiled sadly, as she took another breath, her hands clasped behind her back. Her shoulders straight, exemplifying her militaristic background as best she could. 

 

“I trust that out of your magnanimous good will that you have promised to the galaxy, you will also show to those that you have captured and your now erstwhile allies. You claim to be good, and we’ve seen a glimpse of it with this thousand, so I will trade the lives of those Black Sun we captured for the lives of the Kuati and other prisoners you may have.” 


 

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".. Yet pretending is a specialty of yours? You wound me with your distrust, Raven.

 

You continue to believe, or rather insist, that you lack the slightest of reason to step onto Coruscant. You will not do it for the prisoners that fight for you and your allies on Onderon, nor will you move for the trillions dying on behalf of you and the enemies that you failed to stop. You have abandoned them to Mandalorian butchers, and now you hide from your duty even as I extend favor to your selfish circumstance."

 

"You see, you are gravely mistaken, for I have never once claimed such juvenile notions as good or evil. Where I am from, such words are merely groomings for children that have been burned out from their family homes and thrown blindly into colonial holding camps, each of them counting the good and evils that passed them by the hour. All this is, is survival. You will make of it as you please, little Raven.

 

 

For the lives of thousands, you would have been wise to have killed yourself on Dark Sun and been done with it.

For the lives of many more, you would be brave to face the fire, but you will not show.

You are not worthy to call yourself an adversary of mine, a youngling desperately void of dignity.

But you are youthful, and perhaps we can make something of you yet.

 

"We have summoned you, you have been weighed, and you have been found wanting.

 

Your allies will not be released. They will die clinging to this hope you speak of, and they will face the inescapable judgment of the Dark Side. 

They will not be the last, for they are not the first. Just as you or I will face an end when our time comes, theirs will not be swift.

The cowardice charged to you and the Jedi you serve ensures this."

 

 

"Master Qaela. You have done well. She may leave if she chooses,

But those that she came with,

Kill them."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

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Qaela, had dealt with the Sith enough to get a gauge on where things were headed and was prepared for her Emperor's lethal command. As soon as he uttered the words "Kill them" she pressed a button on her comms that set into motion one of several contingencies. That signal sent a quick two word message to all Sith ships on a short range radius: Zerek Alert.

 

Within two seconds after that message went out, all comms and communications signals were automatically jammed and the Sith ships started aligning themselves for a pre-programmed jump to hyperspace. Ten seconds after the message, the Sith fleet jumped into hyperspace to a point thirty lightyears away in the void of space between stars and began orienting themselves for a second jump back to Coruscant. Any pursuit reverting from hyperspace would initiate that second jump, as would the confirmed death or incapacitation of Qaela herself.

 

In the hangar bay, two TIE Defenders detached from their collars, rotated using their repulsors, then opened fire on the Rebel shuttle with their ion cannons. As soon as she shuttle was disabled, two platoons of armored Sith Troopers would enter the hangar and permanently neutralize anyone on the shuttle itself.

 

Qaela knew from what she had read and sensed of the False Empress that she would never stand by idly while her comrades were slaughtered and that she would fight. While she had no problem with the Spider's offer to let Zinthos leave, she also interpreted the "if she chooses" portion gave her leeway to use lethal force were it warranted. The Dark Lord might chastise her for giving no opportunity for Zinthos to comply peacefully with the execution of her escorts, but Qaela had not survived this long by taking chances or giving enemies the opportunity to make the first move.

 

[[See Attachment for more detail]] The room they were in was moderately large as it was designed to host dozens of Sith officers at once. The room was an almost oval design with three rows of benches along the long sides of the room. On each of the shorter sides were large doors. The center of the room housed the holoprojector array. The middle of the room was mostly open to allow for larger holoprojections or for officers to mill about and make presentations.

 

The movement of her hand that activated the comms alert concluded with Qaela's lightsaber in her grip. It joined the snap-hissing chorus of five red lightsabers igniting as her four bodyguards joined her. With a thought, her bodyguards turned to engage the Imperial Knights. The two doors to the comm's room opened and those four were joined by the twenty Sith Troopers who had been waiting in the two corridors outside.

 

Qaela wasted no time in long winded or elaborate setups, nor did she frivolously give away the initiative with conversation. Instead, she opted for a brute strength attack to start off with. Two seconds after the Dark Lord gave his order, Qaela sprung into action. With a gesture of her free hand backed by a healthy dose of the Force, she swept aside the two Imperial Knights throwing them across the room so that Mordecai, her bodyguards, and the troopers could deal with them. She then advanced quickly at her primary target, attacking with a flurry of lightsaber strikes. Her entire intent was to hit hard and with enough speed to keep her opponent off guard and on the defensive while testing the Pretender's abilities.

 

[[Duel between Qaela and Raven]]

((1))

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Cowards

 

Raven inhaled slowly as the Lord of the Sith finished his final words, tapping into that power that she so despised. Kirlocca had helped, helped focus that rage that always battled inside her skull. Helped turn it to something calm, but in tapping it she could feel the pain that the force had brought her over her relatively short lifetime. That point of rage that had snapped in the deep mines of Zinthos, that had brought so much blood on her hands that they never felt clean. 

 

That rage that had led her to kill a Jedi knight on Gala just to prove that she could, while the Trinity slaughter hundreds. The rejection that shattered her arm into dust when she had been expelled by her old master. The pain of the robotic arm attachment before the quick boot camp, the rage at seeing the Rebels carrying the day over the last Death Star. Her seething hatred at the Galactic Alliance and its weakness. With one breath she let those emotions cascade through her and be shunted away. 

 

One breath.

 

The hot air wisped out of her mouth as her lightsabre sprang to life in her hand. The deep red blade that had carved the life out of a Jedi a decade before. It carried her regret, and it carried her will to destroy everything the Sith stood for. 

 

She let herself move along with the Dathomiri Sith, fading back towards the doorway where she could feel the evil presence of more men outside. She lept high as the door opened. Blaster bolts passed beneath her as her blade come up towards the door panel. It was simple, if they did not isolate this room, they would die a lot quicker. The two Imperial Knights followed her lead, and as one the Empress and her Knights closed the room off from reinforcements.

 

Knight Ismael and Knight Cassandra worked well together, they had since Carida. While Ismael harried the pursuing Sith with a wave of the force, Cassandra followed what the Empress did. The actuators inside the doors were hydraulically motivated, and like on most Star Destroyers, upon loss of hydraulic pressure the blast doors closed. With a spin, and a slash of a well aimed sabre. One pearl white, and the other a vitriol crimson, two control panels were blown apart. Slamming the doors closed in the faces of the Sith Troopers. It was a delay, It was no permanent solution, but it would hold for the several minutes it would take to kill the Sith Lord and her Cadre. And if they didn't make it that far? At least it was a valiant effort. 

 

One slash, then Raven was back and facing the Dathomiri. Their red blades crossed for a moment before Raven inhaled again, summoning the force to her will. It was no longer time to give ground. She pushed off into a rabid counter attack, her blade whirling in front of her. Tiana had been fond of such attacks, and Raven would show that Sith fighting style to the Sith. Aggressive blow after blow as she strove to turn the Sith lord towards the centre of the room as she let the force guide her strokes. She let the Force build in her presence, that still calm before the storm as the two Imperial Knights began to advance on their enemies as well. 

 

((1))

 

The shuttle crew prepared themselves for death and fragged their navicomputer. While the Imperial Star Destroyer collected the thousands of freed prisoners and dashed back to Nar Shaddaa. 

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For a moment, Zinthos allowed a decidedly non-Jedi like flood of emotions flow over her which gave Qaela a small bit of satisfaction for reasons she herself didn't quite know nor had time to contemplate. Qaela smiled at her opponent's highly aggressive opening moves. Clearly, the Pretender didn't just wear a lightsaber for show but had a semblance of how to use it.

 

Though she had originally opted for an aggressive approach, she quickly switched tactics in light of her opponent's own frenzied assault. Adrenaline and the Force flowed through the Nightsister as the two began the intricately violent dance with matching red blades. Qaela adopted a more defensive posture, keeping her lightsaber more centered in closer to her body where it could deflect attacks at the cost of being able to lash out. She had fought a great many of duels, most were in training with students at Pelko Bastion though some had been lethal as she had to put down hopelessly errant students or even teachers who challenged her rule there. She often enjoyed allowing her opponent to burn off energy and exhaust themselves some while she defended and waited for an opportunity.

 

She was impressed that Zinthos was able to wield her lightsaber and stand more than a few blows. Clearly, she had been trained at some point, though Qaela wasn't sure if she had been keeping up with it after the horrible physical toll her incarceration and torture had inflicted. While it was known that the False Empress was sensitive in the Force and had worked with a Sith in the past, there had been no recent reports of her fighting as a Force user. Still, Qaela quickly decided to consider her opponent as a vastly larger threat than before and treat her accordingly.

 

She allowed herself to give a few steps back to the center of the room, though closer to the door that the two of them were closer to and opposite of the rest of the fight. She kept her distance from the holoprojector, using it as an obstacle for attacks on her flank. She didn't want to get tangled up there allowing one of the Imperial Knights to attack her from behind.

 

After allowing Zinthos to spend some energy in her furious attack, Qaela decided it was enough for now and put a little more strength into her most recent parry driving Zinthos' blade back a little. Qaela used that split second to gesture with her free hand at the door they were nearest to. The doors to the comms room weren't major bulkheads nor were they made of heavy materials designed to ward off attack, not this far into the center of the ship. Qaela closed her hand into a fist and the door crumpled and snapped apart. Qaela pulled the same hand back quickly and those doors flung themselves into the room directly at Zinthos. Qaela wanted those reinforcements and would use the opportunity to attack while clearing the way for them.

 

((2))

 

In the hangar, the two platoons of troopers breached the shuttle and began slaughtering any crew they came across with lethal efficiency.

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