Nal Hutta

[Kyrie Eleison]

The Imperial General took notice of the rush of pilots as they sprinted past her, heading towards their docked TIE-Defenders. Their blackened armour sparkled under the flourescent lighting, and each of them buzzed with excitement. Preplanned maneuvers spun about her in a tapestry of their combined thoughts, and she added her encouragement with strands of confidence to be woven into each plan. With her darkened cloak fluttering behind her, she stepped towards the Imperial Sentinel-Class Troop Transport, where a rising storm of energy emanated in waves through the Force. It bore familiar presence with it, the essence of war and the taste of Imperial Efficiency.

 

With her approach, the Imperial Commandos of Kildare Squad detached from the 189th Battalion off of Cardia and the Grenadiers of the Auxiliary Division of Foy, stood to attention. Kildare Squad was led by IC-426, whom had accompanied her during the battle for the Sith Temple on Cardia, and his men wore the sable armour of Deathtroopers, with stripes of darkened green on their Pauldrons. Emblazoned in dark green was the symbol of the Imperial Knights. The Grenadiers from Foy sported heavy armour that told of their volcanic past, reminiscent of the Shoretrooper variation, in ashen colours of sooty maroon. These hardy men and woman were led by Hadran Narraghmore, a former pirate who had turned to the Empire’s protection after their breakaway from the GA. Before them lay a battleholo, showing active positions of the enemy.

 

Kyrie motioned to the Enemy Flagship, The Immortal Soul, a carrack cruiser, flanked by two corvettes, The Valeren Dream, and the Battle of Vontor. She traced a looping pattern through the gravity well between Nal Hutta and its moon, a path that was cluttered with space debris and high orbit Satellites.

 

“We go in disguised as a derelict, I’ll keep us cloaked from notice with the Force… You guide us onto the Carrack’s docking hatch. We will use the distractions from those corvette's taking the hits from the fleet, then Aidan and I lightsaber our way through the hull, and end this battle.”

[DoctorOblivious]

An alarm klaxon blared from the cockpit, warning the inhabitants of the Sanctis Cogitatione of their imminent reentry into realspace. Sophia unconsciously braced herself for the predictable shift of the deckplates with a minute shift of her center of gravity, but instead of the expected tremor that would run through the ship’s hull upon their exit from hyperspace, the scholar was thrown off balance and nearly pitched to the ground when it dove in an evasive maneuver to avoid… what exactly? She had thought they were en route to Carida.

 

Sophia spared a quick glance at her datapad. They had just arrived in the Y’Toub system: the star system of Nal Hutta and its moon Nar Shaddaa. Nal Hutta: the homeworld of the Hutts, the lords of organized crime and the premier dealers of sapient chattel in the galaxy. Turbolaser fire rumbled through the hull of the freighter despite the void of space. Completely without warning, the historian had found herself in the midst of a battle. She hesitated, not knowing exactly what duties she was expected to perform or whether her presence would even be tolerated. On the other hand… the Hutts were infamous for the propagation of the slave trade, and Sophia was present to witness its downfall...

 

The historian rushed towards the ship’s armory. The ship’s stock of carbines and armor was secured with a basic electronic lock, but a deft manipulation with her datapad released the lock and she had her pick of the ship’s stores. She hastily donned the cuirass of a suit of stormtrooper armor, its formerly polished surface scuffed to a matte finish and repainted a deep forest green. The rest of the armor was too large for her, but at least the breastplate would offer some protection. Sophia also appropriated a blaster carbine and took a moment to load and arm the weapon, easily navigating her way around its controls despite never having handled this particular models.

 

From there, Sophia raced after Knight-Commander Eleison and her protege. Fortunately, even with the cordcam protruding from the collar of the breastplate and the datapad strapped to her wrist, her presence didn’t inspire any questions and she managed to board the triple-winged landing craft before the young General completed her briefing. Sophia cast another glance towards her scrounged carbine, fiddling with one of the controls and confirming that, despite her nerves and inexperience, the weapon was safetied and set to stun. Inexperienced and civilian and frightened though she might have been, Sophia was determined to be present, and if need be, not be a burden to the Imperial Knights or the Commandos.

[ChessRo]

Chess picked up the slip of paper and peered at the directions. In one hand, they clicked their communicator, signalling BB-05.

 

“Hey bud, can you start up the Minx? I’m gonna have to patch in some coordinates.” Oz tootled back cheerfully, accompanying her reply with the hum of warming engines.After co-ordinating the flight patterns, Chess bent down to take a good look at one of the crates. The glow wasn’t fading; it was slightly pink, like the colour of a baby human’s face or the resort sands of Naboo. The instructions hadn’t elaborated as to when Chess had to arrive on Tatooine, and Onderon was rather close by; perhaps it would be prudent to contact the Black Sun before travelling all the way to Tatooine. Besides, if one was lucky, there might be a few souls willing to take some of this… Glow off of their hands, for a few pretty pennies.

 

The control panel was pretty standard, although some of the switches and panels looked to be second-hand and shoddy. Chess tutted to themself. There would have to be some communication with Booster Rann about company costs - one did not like to be treated like a common ferry pilot.

 

Chess started up the engines and ran through pre-flight checks, checking sporadically with Oz so they would leave the atmosphere at the same time, yelling at the pit droids to exit the launchpad, and jettisoning into the open vacuum of space.

Edited November 11, 2017 by Guest

[Emma Three Nine]

“But I want to stay with you A-A-Ambrose, not be dropped off somewhere and left again.” She scrunched up her face in a sad expression. As they cuffed the Trando, she sat down on a chunk of permacrete and waited for what would come next.

 

________________

 

((Disable shot concession))

 

The duel ships were rocked by the Ion cannon barrage, the bridge crews watched the shield numbers drop to zero as the tractor beams kept them at bay until the command consoles turned off. Some crew members were killed by the explosions of the their consoles, but what did happen was, the slave crews aboard rebelled. The CR-90s were taken in a matter of minutes by their slave crews and when Kalimore tried to enable the passive self destruct systems, they didn't respond. He was alone. His Carrack continued to churn out turbolaser fire at the Imperial Fleet but he knew his reign was near the end. He would fight till the last. His troops aboard were ready to fight to the death.

[Ambrose Veshok]

The residence that Ambrose, his fellow troopers, Emma, and the unidentified Trandoshan found themselves in would have been cramped for a family of three; making it all the moreso for the eight beings within.

 

"Don't worry little sister. We've come this far. You ain't leaving my sight until I know you're safe somewhere that isn't going to treat you like the slimeballs here."

 

Listening to the Trandoshan's response did little to ease the minds of Ambrose or his other compatriots. Enough had gone wrong already this day. Besides, they already had one local that they seemed to be babysitting for the duration; at least this new one seemed like he might be able to survive on his own. On a positive note, it seemed that their built in comms were starting to pick up sporadic and statically crackled transmissions, indicating that at the very least other Imperial assets were beginning to make landfall. Given enough time, they should be able to regroup with the main body of the Imperial force, restock, resupply, and give an accounting of their mission, disastrous as portions of it may be.

 

After a bit more silent conferring betwixt their helmeted comms, Ambrose spoke aloud to the Trandoshan as he uncuffed him, "Here is the deal Kaldesh. If you're here to help us, we've got something that you might be able to do a bit better than any of us," he gesutred at his grey/white clad brethren,"It seems our friend Emma here can give us directions to where there is a large contingency of Hutt slaves and equipment. Obviously, we'd rather avoid casualties when it comes to enemy combatants that would rather not fight if they weren't forced. If you intend truly mean to help us, why don't you take your special skills and go and plant this at their base," Amborse extended his gloved hand, a small homing beacon sat in it. "That'll allow us to go and get some help and hopefully liberate the place. While your there anything you feel like sabotaging, well, it couldn't hurt."

 

In truth, none of the stormtroopers felt that they could trust the mysterious being they had encountered was worth trusting their lives too at the moment; but if he was truthful, than the mission they passed on would be of some use to allow Imperial troops and fighter wings to hopefully take out the stockpile of slave collars, explosives, and preferably the hub where said collars were remotely activated/controlled from. If they could disable the blasted things, it would go a long ways in minimizing casualties on all sides. Unless, of course, those casualties were slimy and legless with a taste for underage slave girl or raw Nuna. If the Trandoshan was lying, well, it would get him out of their hair and they'd continue on continuing on; easy as that. Now all they had to do was await a response and move out.

[Aidan Darkfire]

Aidan remained silent as he stuck by the general's side, paying close attention to her strategy. It was bold, and that it factored the Force into it made it seem a very unorthodox and effective method of achieving their goal. He noticed when Sophia joined them, flashing her a quick smile. He'd almost forgotten she'd come with them from Carida. At the least, she was a link to his mother, and that filled him with confidence. He shared her strength, and it would carry him through anything. He spoke, questioning Kyrie.

 

"Will the debris get in our way? And what is our goal once we board the ship?"

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Karys was not one easily tricked or to take any enemy he faced lightly. Although he had not faced a jedi before face to face, their reputation proceeded them and as such he knew to expect the unexpected...to be wary even if they seemed placid and calm.

 

His assumptions were proven correct when the teenage jedi before him attacked his person. A unprovoked assault upon a unarmed foe or so he thought. It almost amused him...almost. As the debris shot towards his back, Karys felt a twinge in the force, it spoke of danger. Danger headed at him and as such he reacted quickly, without delay. Focusing the force upon his feet the massassi shot upwards, above the ground, letting the chunks of duracrete slam into the ground where he had previously stood.

 

And then he saw a additional problem as he landed again. Glass. Shards of glass, many of them headed his way.

 

Clearly this jedi was gifted with telekinetic attacks and more clever than most. And yet Karys was not a scared in the slightest, in fact he was amused almost yet again at the prospects of the battle that was taking place. For he too shared a similar gift, a affinity for telekinesis. As always when faced with a foe of such magnitude he stood fearless, only now his sabre was ignited. The crimson red lighting up the Tu'kata fang he had carved it from, the blade called out...demanding vengeance and wrathful punishment upon the jedi who had assaulted Karys.

 

Carve the flesh from her bones! Shed her of her mortal shell and feed me her entrails. Let my wrath be felt upon her soul!

 

It demanded. The wrath within desiring tribute.

 

With his free hand and sabre hand, being very careful about not touching the red hit beam of plasma, Karys again focused the force. This time he employed the same technique that she been used against him in a form of mockery whilst also serving as his defence. Lifting several chunks of duracrete he placed them in front of himself, as a makeshift shield of debris hoping to stem at least some of the glass form entering his body and preventing a premature death. As expected that is precisely what happened.

 

He felt pain, a ever familiar feeling enter his body.

 

Several shares got stuck in his armour, piercing the medium dragon krayt while others got stuck in his left arm and legs. He thanked the god's for his extremely tough skin, courtesy of his race...and also thanked his training if not for that fact many of the wounds would likely have been far worse and been far more irritable.

 

As he held the debris aloft he spoke out, using the pain as fuel, he launched the chunks of duracrete into the last of the glass hoping it smashed into the shards and thereafter the jedi who threw the pane of glass at him.

 

"How rude, attacking me unprovoked and without provocation like that. Is this how you treat everyone you meet? Not very jedi like. Regardless, you presume incorrectly of my race as many others do. I am no slave to the Sith and neither is my race nor are we held in bondage. We serve of our own free will and out of loyalty. Not because we are forced to do so. We are symbiotic...we feed on the dark side, and empower it in turn. The Dark is the bosom from which we were born and it is the Dark which we shall continue to serve until our dying day.

 

The Dark is not as you may think. Corrupting by nature...but it will consume those unable to control it properly, or those who delve too deep and too greedily without thinking of the consequences. There is always a price both for the Light and the Dark. At least that's how I see it. You and your ilk have always been afraid of what you do not understand and seek to punish us for it. My people and the Sith both. You seek to destroy us under the pretence of keeping the 'peace'...and claim we are evil. Yet your crimes are just as bad. Such hypocrisy. You reap what you sow jidai. Vengeance will be ours, maybe not today or tomorrow but it will come.

 

But I get ahead of myself. Allow me to explain my purpose here. I am not here Kalimore, in case that was what you were worried about. I am here for you, for I have been tasked with fighting a jedi by my master and in so doing I will rise. It is unfortunate that you chose to answer and become my road to ascension. I don't make a habit of fighting children. Shame really but beggars can't be choosers, if you are my road to ascend so be it. My master commands and I obey and in so doing I assure my rebirth. Yet he never mentioned if I should kill you or not...I guess we will just have to worm through that particular problem when it comes. For now let us fight and see who is truly worthy."

 

As he threw the debris shield, Karys followed close behind, zig zagging as to not stay in one place and not make himself a easy target. All the while still talking until finally he fell silent his entire focus on the jedi before him and the battle, his senses alert. Sabre in hand awaiting the moment it would cleave her flesh, the demonic voice within savouring what it hoped would be the moment to come.

 

Yes...feed me. Let her feel the wrath of the Sith.

 

The sabre called, like a addict seeking drugs.

 

His other hand was likewise preparing a counter should it fail. A wall of telekinetic energy which would with any hope 'push' his enemy into anything behind her. At the moment it was focused solely within the palm of his hand. Like a coiled viper ready to unleash hell.

 

((1))

[Kyrie Eleison]

IC-426 pressed his armoured fingertip onto the holographic display, bringing up a closer view of the debris cloud. It was a mix of spacetrash, from dislodges nasales and shattered ships, to satellites past their prime in centuries past. He added a stream of data to the overhead display, and a series of orange shapes appeared. His voice was doubtful as he spoke

 

“I don’t think some covert nonsense is necessary, Kalimore’s escort ships are disabled. We can distract him with a few wings of fighters and bring us in under low power. A nice suggestion for future engagements, General, one which I have no doubt would succeed with your Jedi powers…”

 

The squads shifted uncomfortably, as Kyrie studied the datastream for a moment. There was something off about the defenses of the Carrack Cruiser, a slight difference in the design that gave her pause

 

“My instincts tell me we need to be more careful, you never know what these Hutts have up their sleeves.”

 

Hadran Narraghmore’s voice carried the natural lilt of Foy, a rhythm that sounded quite peculiior through the synthesizer of his helmet

 

“Dare now, ayit? Letus grab ‘em by the throat, no fare!”

 

The men and women of Foy nodded in agreement as Kyrie sounded out the words in her head to find their meaning. She was no natural speaker of basic, so it took her a moment.

 

“Gear up then, we follow our course around the battle, we will find a compromise and flank them. Everyone into the ship”

 

She stepped quickly up the ramp of the armoured shuttlecraft, pulling an oxygen mask around her head as she did so. She adjusted the webbing about her scarred face, taking care not to entrap her braids, as she handed another mask to Aidan. With a roar, the armoured shuttle lifted from its mooring, heading out into the fray of battle. She turned to her apprentice as they settled,

 

“Reach out into the Force, into where your feelings burn brightest, and see the battle around us. Open your mind to the chaos, and begin to sort it. Feel the rhythm of your own breath, then feel mine, then open yourself further. What do you see?”

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy had to laugh at the Sith's logic. The laughter escaped her lips in a soft torrent of sound like water bubbling down a brook. Attacking a Sith who was there to actively hunt Jedi, or her team of troops was hardly a crime she would feel sorry for. It was practical and good thing, to preemptively strike the Sith to save lives, or so she believed. She had been taught that by her masters. Her attacks seemed to have an effect, and to see it blossomed joy in her heart. As each piece of glass shattered or hit harmlessly against the hide armour of her opponent, her frustration began to simmer beneath the surface of her mind. It was a sad thing, to see such things discarded, like bones after an evening meal, once animated, now dead and gone. Little blades wasted, her effort in the force thrown away. A bead of sweat trickled down her right temple as she breathed in another lungful of humid air and refocused her mind. Every shard that reflected or was shattered she let go of with the force. There was no reason to keep hold of it, or to exert extra will on broken bits of powdered glass. For as the glass shattered into dust it was redeemed, its purpose fulfilled, to return to the dust from which it was made, free from the bondage of this world. Liberated in final death as this Sith would soon be.

 

A few shards however found purchase in the Sith beast. She could feel the flickering pain through the force as the shards found new homes in his body. Sticking into his arms or legs, their jagged razor sharp edges carving into the hide that covered him from head to toe. Those she did not let go of, instead she worked them with the force, willing them to drive deeper, at first like thorns or flechettes. Like one would a knife left int he back of opponent. Aiming for the veins and arteries that kept the beast alive. Unreachable shards that would burrow underneath the hide to serrate and eviscerate muscle, sinew, scrape against bone, and finally open arteries to pump their lifeblood into the dirt and mire of Nal Hutta.

 

Her voice trembled slightly from exertion as she rebuked the Sith Lord, “You are an active threat Karys, if not to me, then to those innocent lives you put in danger here by your presence. There is little for you here but death. If you win, you may kill me or take me a prize, I accept the price to defeat you for the good of the Galaxy. ” She took a step back from the end of the ramp as the Sith towards her, twisting his motion like a serpant. He seemed a giant in elegant crimson, mixing with segmented gold armour against her small form. She stood her ground even in her small form, lightsaber held as a brand to ward off the advance of the night. She was a Jedi Knight, not a weak youngling. A smile creeped across her lips as she watched him approach, holding her saber above her head in steady practised grip, her legs prepared to dodge.

 

When he struck, it was like a hammer upon her blade as she sidestepped his blow, and she strained as she used his exerted strength to spin her blade into a slashing counter attack at his chest and shoulder blade. He was a larger opponent, but she had speed and dexterity on her side. A second after her counter attack she was sent flying through the air by a massive wall of concussive force energy that the Sith had attacked her with as a counter. She flew a dozen meters while twisting and flailing until she landed skidding on her back. The impact was atrocious, the back armour cracked along the seam at her ninth rib and Sandy could feel a painful crack as her right lowest floating rib snapped from the impact with the uneven floor. Her utility belt came apart from the sharpness of the jagged permacrete, scattering protein cubes, gels, powerpacks, and her vibrobayonet all over the dusty ground. The bayonet hummed and vibrated loudly as it escaped the well oiled sheath to spin on the permacrete. She cried out in pain and bounced to her feet using the force to steady herself and she concentrated again, still holding the blazing white sabre above her head. Sandy channeled the throbbing and biting pain from her lower right side into her focus on the battle. With a small sigh, she reached out with the force to grab the grey bayonet while she refocused on the shards in Karys and with a groan of exertion forced them deeper into him, their jagged edges intending to bring the fight to a bitter end. Within the Force, they seemed to her like the pins from her mother’s sewing basket, sticking from a muja-shaped bobble. It was a reckoning to a long lost childhood, and she longed to press the needles to the core. The shards of transparisteel glass cried out for redemption in the force, having looked for ages upon the suffering of slaves and unable to do a thing. Sandy offered the force that redemption, a baptism in evil blood to end the threat in gross finality.

 

However, Sandy knew that even those shards may not be enough to stop the beast so she prepared her own defense. She kept ready for another counter strike and dodge with her own upheld saber. The silver pommel of her sabre held aloft as a beacon to call darkness to it's doom. She was ready with the whirling counter strikes of Vom Tag, a deadly match against this Sith.

 

She kept her half lidded eyes on Karys and she concentrated fully on the transparisteel shards in the Sith. Intent on pressing them in with jabbing motions through her connection with the shards. Vibrating them with subtle application of telekinetic force. Aiming ever onwards to the pulsing arteries of the Sith Lord.

 

This would be over soon.

 

((2))

[Dordjooba the Hutt]

[space]

 

Dordjooba watched as the c90s stuttered and drifted. Their shields dissipated and a sigh of relief that Dordjooba didn’t realize he’d been holding, slowly eased from his large mouth. Admiral Liu was relieved as well. Although, if you looked at Liu, his body language was clipped and reserved. When the Commander was sure there was no remaining threat from the Dream and the Vontar, he ordered that the shields be brought back up and that all available guns be directed to assist the Andripov in disabling Kalimore’s Carrack.

 

In the meantime, as Dordjooba shuffled off the tension from his skin, he mobilized, heading toward the docking bay. With the commander’s permission, Dordjooba made his way with one thousand of the two thousand boarding troops toward Nal Hutta’s surface. While, upon instruction, Lieutenant Gerard Caber stayed and went with the other one thousand troops to secure the c90’s and assist the slaves in gaining control over the two ships. The two maneuvers happened simultaneously and the Caridan Spider squadrons split apart and followed both groups to their locations, keeping them away from harm as best they could.

 

__________________________

 

[Ground]

 

“Sss-sounds simple enough,” Kaldesh said with a curt nod of his head. He wrung out his wrists as the troopers removed the cuffs and looked around. A little steam escaped his mouth, but his face remained neutral. The levels of tension around him seemed to press at him through the heavy gazes of the troopers. But there was little he could do. He was an agent of a criminal organization. If the situation was reversed, he would probably share similar sentiments. But that didn’t make his current predicament any easier.

 

“Just point me in the right direction and I’ll get it done.” The tarry black Trandoshan said, not staring at any particular trooper or even the little girl that sat off to the side. He gripped the homing device in his claws and slid it between his fore-claw and his opposable claw.

 

The troopers looked at the Trandoshan with hesitation, wondering if they were making a terrible mistake. But, after an awkward silence and mild deliberation, Kaldesh was sent on his way into the oppressive swampy planet, skirting the shadows and making use of the planet's natural odorous camouflage.

[Raven Nasra]

Meanwhile, as the CR-90's were disabled, the large troop transports disgorged from the imperial fleet like rats from a sinking maritime vessel. They streaked to the surface carrying stormtroopers, supplies, At-ATs, AT-PTs, LAVS, and support personnel. They were screened by imperial fighter and bomber cover which when in atmosphere began their attack runs on Hutt positions.

 

General Kyrie and her apprentice were alerted by high broadcast Comm to their helmets, and to be on watch for Sith. They were alerted to Jedi Sarna's engagement of a Sith Lord on the surface and their HUDs showed images of the Massassi taken by the helmet cams of the imperial troops in the area. The Imperial Knights were issued stern orders to kill any Sith found among the Hutt/Slaver forces. And to be prepared to recover a Jedi corpse if things went badly for her on the surface. There were greater forces at work here.

[Aidan Darkfire]

Aidan did as he was instructed, reaching out like he'd done before with the lightsaber training, but this time instead of focusing on one or two things, he struggled to push his perceptions further. At first, he simply felt trepidation, and if he was honest with himself he wasn't sure if it was because he was worried about failing this task or the feel of the battle itself.

 

But then, parts came in with more clarity, pain here, passion there, courage there...the cacophony was almost too much for him.

 

"It feels...so...chaotic. I can feel pockets of people, I can feel their emotions, but everything is hazy. Like I'm straining to hear a quiet noise, even though it's unceasingly, maddeningly loud. The turbulence of it all makes it difficult for me to see anything clearly. It's not at all like it was on the ship."

[Ambrose Veshok]

As the slightly suspicious black lizard-like being set off to succeed or betray them, a most joyful sound began to fill the secured in-helmet comms of the remainder of the squad, pride of the 73rd Cold Weather Combat Battlegroup - voices, garbled and squelchy at times, but clearly incoming Imperial craft. Pumping their fists in joy, the squad began to carefully work their way back outside, pieing corners and quickly, quietly and carefully making their way to a nearby intersecting roadway that would be large enough to land at least a couple transports provided the pilots were skilled enough. Thankfully, The Remnants' were the best.

 

Making an empty clearing, only disturbed by the brief bits of blowing refuse, several yellow-colored smoke canisters clattered to the ground at the edges of the clearing as the Commanding Officer radioed their approximate position to incoming transports.

 

Meanwhile, Ambrose, rifle in one hand and holding Emma's hand in the other spoke quietly, "Come with me. Its time to get out of here." The duo followed the others to the edge of the clearing, Ambrose covering their rear with Emma between he and the remainder of his crew. "It is time we got you somewhere safe.

Then we're gonna go see about rescuing some of the other slaves."

[Lord MacLeod]

((Apologies for being away so long, Internet connection was spotty for a bit))

 

Luke watched as the Valern Dream and the Battle of Vontar were taken out of the fight and nodded proudly. He had been a little worried for a few moments but was pleased to see that his worry had been for naught.

 

“Commander Matteri, send my compliments to the Hand of Valor and the Glory of Cardia. They are ordered to advance til they are abreast of the Immortal Dream and to place their shots with percision. They are free to use their tractor beams as necessary to attempt to move the pods.”

 

“Aye Sir”

 

He turned from the window, his eyes had noticed a flaw in the enemy defenses. “Lieutenant Morin.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“The order packet I gave you, you may carry out the last order now.”

 

“Yes Sir, I will require ten minutes to finalize the plan.”

 

“You have eight, Lieutenant.”

 

Luke watched the Lieutenant leave the bridge and turns to Commander Matteri. “I hope that you haven’t grown overly attached to your personal shuttle. I’ve ordered the Lieutenant and a hanger crew to gut it and install several more substantial fuel cells inside it along with a significant amount of explosives. You see the enemy has a left a fatal flaw in their defenses much like a hutt alway will. You see they protect the body that is visible, but they leave the softer underbelly that slips along the ground less protected. So it is with their ships.”

 

He pointed to small ridge near the engines. “There is their underbelly. The shuttle has had a droid piloting system installed on it and under cover of the fighter and bomber wings will fly out on a ramming run that will blow a hole in the ship large enough to send several boarding teams across to the enemy ship. While they conduct internal sabotage to distract the enemy forces, we can launch the full boarding parties. Although as I said it will come at the cost of your shuttle.”

 

The commander looked a little annoyed at the loss of his shuttle but nodded. As he did, Luke’s comm chirped.

 

“Send.”

 

“Sir are you in range of a secure hologram unit, I have someone here who wishes to make a change to your plan.”

 

“Very well.”

 

Luke strode to the back of the bridge and activated the privacy shielding then opened the terminal. As he did a young fighter pilot appeared with the rank of a squadron commander on his shoulder.

 

“Sir forgive me for interfering but I figured out the plan as they were cutting me out of my Defender.”

 

Luke studied the fresh wounds that were visible on the pilot, he had been badly injured in the fight and looked to be having trouble standing.

 

“Sir I wish to fly the shuttle in and avenge my squadron. The droid is good but I am better.”

 

Luke chuckled as he heard the bravado in the pilot’s voice then frowned as he watched him waver.

 

“Mortal?”

 

The pilot nodded slowly, “Sir I have six pieces of shrapnel in me, one of which is an inch from my heart. I wouldnt survive the surgery. At least this method offers me a chance to finish the battle and save the lives of my fellow pilots.

 

“You know I can’t let that happen, I have no guarantee that you would survive to impact. I’m sorry lad.”

 

The lieutenant stepped into view. “Sir, there is a way. It takes a moment to wire the droid system to be online but secondary to the pilot but in the event that his brainwaves go offline then the droid takes over.”

 

Luke ran his hand over his jawline for moment and traced the scar on his face. “Very well. Squadron Commander, these are your final orders. You will fly the shuttle out and will impact on the Immortal Dream right in front of the node that is highlighted. The impact and explosives will do the rest. Acknowledge.”

 

“Yes Admiral. I accept what is my final orders and will carry them out. Long Live the Empire.” The hologram went dark and Luke returned to the Bridge. He turned to the Supreme Commander and nodded. “Ma’am, We are about to watch the final actions of a pilot too injured to survive his wounds but willing to offer the last moments of his life for the Empire.”

 

He turned back to Commander Matteri. “Have an encrypted comm opened with all Squadron Commanders, in fact extend it to all fighters and bombers.”

 

He waited till he had acknowledgement that the comm was open and then spoke his parade polished voice ringing out over the bridge and to the fighters beyond.

 

“Pilots, today you have suffered heavy losses and I honor you for that but I must make one final request of you. As I speak there is a shuttle launching piloted by one of your own. He will not survive this fight having taken grievous injury to his body in the fight. He has made a request to be part of my plan so that he will die in combat with those of Onyx Squadron who he lead. I ask you to shield his shuttle till he reaches the Immortal Dream and then break away. He will sell his remaining moments dearly to preserve your own so that you may fight on. Show him the same honor he shows to to you.”

 

He reached to and pressed a single button on his comm, an activation order for the shuttle. He watched it launch then drew his sabre and brought it up to salute as he watched the shuttle and the fighters making their run, many of the bombers that still had payloads left dropped their ordnance wherever they could that wouldn’t damage a pod.

 

Moments later, the shuttle struck and a large hole could be seen in the Immortal Dream as well as the debris that were vented along with the atmosphere. “Flight Director, Do any of the Defenders still carry launchable payloads.”

 

“Sir, Krayt two and three have three missile between them.

 

“Direct them to manually fire them into the hole then breakaway to rearm. Tell Boarding teams 1 and 2 that they have launch authority and the remaining teams Five Minute Warning”

 

Luke sheathed his sabre and watched the two Defenders launch the remainders of their weapons and streak back to the ship for a rearm as the two landing craft launched toward the Immortal Dream shielded by a freshly rearmed flight of Defenders. The first shuttle hovered near the breach and launched cables into the breach followed seconds later by the first boarding team of troopers and within five minutes the second team of troopers were inside the breach, each heading for a seperate location.

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

With each counter of Sandy Sarna's blade, her Vom Tag somewhat impressed the crimson massassi....somewhat. He always did admire others techniques of combat. However as she was soon to find out despite his large size, the Sith was rather quick a fact which often took his opponents by surprise. As a attack came for his chest he redirected the blade and again when it came for his shoulder blade.

 

Karys was more amused when his counter worked, the concussive force of his 'push' hitting the young jedi like a freight train at full speed. He allowed her to fly a dozen meters before she twisted and flailed...skidding on her back as much of her equipment broke away loose before she grabbed the vibrobayonet, a fact which did not escape his gaze, his species eyes capable of tracking moving objects at nearly twice the magnification of humans. And yet the massassi could feel there was more. She was hurt, her body had been broken in the strike. Now he had a opening, he would use it wisely and treat her like a she was a building with a crack, a crack that could be widened and bring the structure toppling over when enough stress was placed on it. A flaw. A flaw that had seen the downfall of many a opponent.

 

As Sandy pressed at his injuries, Karys gritted his teeth bearing them, sharp and jagged as they were. His eyes which once were yellow, were now the deepest, pupiless black. Like there was nothing but a vast, emotionless shadow behind them, a true terror to behold for all who saw it. It was the same black colour as the blood that now flowed down some parts of his armour. Drawing upon the Force, using all the pain he felt as he had been taught, fueling the darkness, the massassi fed the great fire within and set it ablaze. Turning what would usually be wounds that could bring down mere mortals into a irritation instead, even as it slowed the process down, Karys was acutely aware it would not hold out forever...he had to end this soon.

 

He merely laughed at her attempts, speaking between sweaty, panted breathe.

 

"Cute trick jedi. But I am accustomed to that of pain, pain you can scarcely and barely imagine. While you were likely nothing but a thought in your parents eyes I was bathed in the baptism of violence and war. You speak of destroying me for the good of the galaxy...but tell me what good will that do? The galaxy is bloated...corrupt. And it is only getting worse. When the rot becomes so much one must cut it out.

 

It is a time for change, it is the time of the Sith. Can you not see it? Can you not feel it? The Light is fading jedi...the time for the Dark has come and with it a new era shall begin. The Golden Empire that was foretold by the most ancient is on the horizon and I will see it through to it's end."

 

As Sandy attempted to apply more pressure to his wounds, the massassi decided to return the favour with equal malice and contempt. But first a distraction and diversion was in order. Stretching out in the Force, Karys lifted several large pieces of duracrete and launched them at his target...like he was throwing several fast balls in a baseball game, simultaneously. Following this, Karys latched onto the broken ribs of the young jedi.

 

And attempted to force them inwards, moving them about as if he were opening a sack with a knife upon any organs in the way. And perhaps at least he hoped breaking off inside and causing more harm. Even as he did that, the crimson warrior approached at speed, zig zagging as before, keeping his movements never in one place or spot at a time and always on the move.

 

Making himself a hard target for both the jedi and any would be imperial who thought about taking a lucky shot while the massassi was busy. His hope was even if the duracrete missed, his sabre would not.

 

Karys fell into a a variation of Juyo as he ran, holding his sabre defensively he struck at her vital points in several consecutive strikes that at first glance were chaotic, vicious and erratic. But upon inspection each was as planned as the last, albeit just as unpredictable as the form was implied to be. Karys placed feign's between each movement aimed to distract and redirect. Slashing at her neck, legs (and her achilles) and arms at the wrist and elbow hoping to take her sabre hand as he unleashed a barrage of deadly accurate cuts and slashes. Yet Karys was fully aware of his capabilities and as such, was prepared after to unleash another push that would send her flying if that should fail with the crushing force of a locomotive.

 

Hope for success but plan for the worse as his father always said. Regardless Karys was certain one way or another this duel would end and very soon if he had any say in it.

 

((2))

[DoctorOblivious]

If Aidan was picking up on the rear of sapient beings in this engagement, he was certainly perceiving that of a companion only a few meters from him. Only having a blaster and a plain feldgrau breastplate to protect herself with, Sophia began to wonder what exactly had possessed her to have intruded on this situation. She was a historian--a scholar--the dark-skinned woman told herself, and she'd been warned only a week ago by some of Draygo's compatriots to avoid entanglements with soldiers and lightsaber jockeys--to stay alive. With little to do but ignore the obscured eyes of the stormtroopers wondering what this civilian was doing on their transport, Sophia a familiar cold sweat begin to trickle down her sides and her stomach began to clench.

 

Sophia busied her racing mind by repeatedly inspecting her gear, such as it was. Her carbine was of an unfamiliar design, but she somehow knew that the sights were zeroed to one hundred meters, though the holographic display along the barrel appeared to offer some additional information from a rangefinder. Again, she checked to ensure that it was set to stun and safetied; that the folding stock swung out to her shoulder with minimal discomfort and that a gentle heft of the weapon produced a minimum of rattle. She gently toyed with the magazine with the tips of her fingers, checking to ensure that its connection was secure--a quick glance along the barrel reported that the magazine was fully loaded. How Sophia knew any of this was an unwelcome mystery--she had never handled a weapon like this in her life.

 

At that last inspection, she realized that her hands were shaking. Sophia took a deep breath and clenched her hands and relaxed them after a few seconds. No change. Again. No change.

 

She checked her datapad next, twisting her wrist to bring its display to her eyes. Battery charge--acceptable for the day, but she had neglected to charge the device after departing from Coruscant. Signal to her various devices and backups--some interference, probably from some electronics warfare that was clouding the airwaves, but tolerable. The recording quality of the cordcam that she had snaked through the breastplate was thoroughly mediocre, but it was the only equipment that Sophia had managed to scrounge on short notice.

 

Sophia’s gut gave another lurch as an alarm klaxon blared something that was clearly very urgent into the passenger compartment of the transport. The floor began to rattle perceptibly and she glanced around wildly, though the armored faces around her suggested that nothing was at all unusual. One stormtrooper made an unusual pattern with his fingers that she didn't recognize--a religious symbol, perhaps? Her brown skin paled notably and a familiar acidic sensation began to crawl up her throat. She staggered away from the rest of the crew and tore off her breath mask, making her way to the landing craft's mercifully unoccupied refresher. The familiar sounds of a nauseous, motion-sick woman began to issue from the tiny, sterilized chamber. As her face sank miserably over the bowl of the refresher unit and she began to retch, a mechanically-modulated voice called out helpfully to her.

 

"Let it out. You'll feel better."

 

That stormtrooper, who had taken a moment away from his duties to check on the state of an unwanted embed, was right. After it was done and the effusion was washed away, she felt a lot better. There was even a canteen--of wonderfully fresh water--and a wafer slices off of one of those flavorless, textureless ration cubes waiting at the door to the tiny chamber. Even sterilized and processed on an industrial scale, those foodstuffs were nectar and ambrosia to her at this moment.

 

As she washed out her mouth on her way back to her seat, Sophia silently thanked the anonymous hero for his intervention, who could only be identified for his sacrifice through the temporary loss of his canteen.

[Sandy Sarna]

The transparisteel cried out to her in the force, thankfully welcoming their baptism in the blood of evil. They knew their purpose and unopposed and unmolested by opposing force, they went deeper, seeking the pulsing quivering arteries of the beast. To cut and tear them to shreds alongside the meaty muscles they currently inhabited. Sandy willed them to finish the fight, to sever tendon and vein, to go deeper even as he closed on her. From the amount of black blood that now coated the ground and the crimson armour, her plan was working. She believed him to be very heavily wounded, but still he came, unabated by the shards digging into him. Her knuckles were white with the strain as she gripped the lightsabre pommel in a desperate grip. Watching him as he ran in a serpentine pattern, her stance light and knowing that his mad dash would only end in one point.

 

Her

 

He spoke as well, his voice evil and dark, and Sandy found herself wondering how the Massassi could be talking through this fight. Much less an entire rant. She, a full fledged Jedi Knight was much too tired to exert any of the strength on such a thing, and the break in her concentration would be a fatal flaw. Surely this Sith, as an apprentice, was taxed to his limits as well. Then she saw the chunks of duracrete spinning towards her like rogue asteroids in an orbital pattern. The first she sidestepped and the second she brought her blade up to deflect when Sandy could feel the fist of the force close around her broken ninth rib. The pain was immense and she cried out, barely bringing the saber up in time to half deflect the duracrete chunk a bit of it raked through her scalp as she bashed it away from her, the duracrete tearing a long nasty gash in her forehead. Blood flowed like Alderaanian wine down her face, tracking a crimson river from forehead to nose, around her mouth, to drip off her chin onto her shallow chest. Where it left an expanding pool of green red fabric.

 

That was the least of her worries though. Inside her body the rib moved like a stalk of grain in the wind, swaying through her abdominal cavity after breaking off of the cartilage attached to her sternum that made up her floating rib section. She screamed as the rib was forced down into her abdomen where it imbedded itself in her upper section of the large intestine. The pain was almost overwhelming, like getting struck with a hammer in her gut, but she concentrated on the pain and let it flow into the force, the release driving her further into the loving embrace of the light. Pain was a part of life, and to be overcome with it was only human. She embraced the pain like an old friend, turning it to her desire to do good. However she needed an outlet. She fed the pain and suffering that was wracking her body into the only thing that was close and still within her grasp of the force. She fed that bright fire into the bayonet. Dredging old memories of pain and loss alongside the pain in her abdomen and throwing them like paper into the bonfire of the lightside. Like she had learned with Kyrie she imbued it with all that she was. Using the extra strength that the pain gifted her to grasp the broken rib and still its movement. It had embedded itself firmly in the intestine and blood began to leak from the wound to pool silently in her abdominal cavity. If she made it out of this fight in one piece she would be in the Bacta tank for weeks, if not months. But she wasn’t dead yet, and bacterial infections and blood loss from a torn intestine weren’t immediately fatal. She was not yet crippled.

 

He was nearly on top of her when she regained her footing, her blade held over her head in Vom Tag, a valiant knight to defeat the tide of evil. She licked the blood from her lips and let a small smile take the place of the grimace of pain. Pain was what had kept her alive for the years since her ordeal at Thalassia. She had learned to overcome it, to embrace it, to love it. For internal pain was not darkness, it was life, the darkness came from putting it on others. When he arrived she was ready.

 

Conservation of force was key and for each of his wild swings she dodged what she didn’t have to parry, and those that she did she redirected with blows that sent the red saber skittering by her arm, or leg, or elsewhere. Every move was pain, but she let the pain roll away, her emerald eyes hard with focus. One of the strikes set her tunic ablaze with the close miss, the green fabric smoking and sputtering in the humid air. She could feel its heat but knew that it was not something that could kill her so she left the small patch to smoulder for the moment as she continued the fight. He whirling blade striking from above and below, fueled by the clashing of his own blade. The force exerted from his muscles spinning the blade in her own hand around in a circle to strike him again, as was the Vom Tag tradition. But sword fights were short and deadly affairs. And this Sith was predictable, though his blows were not, his thinking seemed to be.

 

The Jedi Knight could sense him summoning the force again to counter like he did before, and she arched a brow in concentration her will still attached to the cortosis weaved virbobayonet behind her. Imbued with the light, a beacon to burn out the darkness. When he struck with the force wall again Sandy figured that she could manipulate it in her favour. She blocked his next blow, keeping her blows fluid and agile against his unpredictable attacks and when she countered again she prepared herself for the thrust of force energy. Her stance light on her feet and when it hit she let herself be thrown away from him, her spin not a wild thrashing thing but one of grace and preparation. As soon as he pushed her away with the force the vibroblade struck. A present left for the Sith in place of her body. An attack that was guided by the will of the force. While Karys concentrated on the force blast she thrust the vibroblade with the force, under his guard, driving up to skewer him in the chest if her luck held. The blade would be a divining exorcism for the darkness that covered his soul. Just as she had been taught.

 

She landed half a dozen metres away, her blade up and prepared. Her stomach and abdomen throbbing and stinging, nearly doubling her over. She spat a stream of blood onto the ground and brought her blade up again, ready to counter attack at will while still pressing into the shards and bayonet with the force. She would be the end of darkness on Nal Hutta.

 

((3)) (Great fight man.)

[Emma Three Nine]

Empires come crashing down all the Damn time, this time it's mine. Tomorrow the Empire.

 

Boarding operations Kalimore and his crew were ready for, the crew would put up a heroic defense and when stormtroopers entered non vacuum parts of the ship they would be ambushed by heavy weapons, laser rifles, flechettes, and carbines. All wielded by poor slaves who knew their only way out was to repel the boarders, lest their collars detonate.

 

Kalimore himself awaited in his throne room, holding an E-Web with its protective shielding covering his massive form, the energy pack secure under his throne. His twin Chiss slave girls, disgustingly underage, held their E-22s and took up firing positions behind pillows. The rest of the court, made up of bounty hunters galore also prepared an effective defense, some holding young slave hostages. Altogether the ship held some five thousand slaves and all were hostages of the Hutt’s wrath.

 

_________________

 

On the ground, the slavers were holing up in their defensive positions, securing slaves into their transport vehicles, preparing to flee from the Empire’s might.

 

_________________

 

Emma kept hold of Ambrose her eyes scanning the rooftops. “The only place I am safe is with you, plus I know where the slave pens are.” She glared up at him. Her expression a mix of fear and anger at the thought of being left behind. She pulled on his arm and gestured towards a set of low built fortified bunkers.

 

“Complex Echo-2: Slaves in stock, seven thousand for illicit industries.” She rattled it off like a computer. “Ages; ten through eighteen. High value stock. This is a heavily fortified with two turbolaser towers there and there.” She pointed out the twin barrels of duel XX-10 turbolaser towers painted in the olive drab of Nal Hutta. "Probably manned by several hundred slavers, though there is an entrance through the garbage tunnel...." She looked up smiling. "But you'll need me."

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Even as he spoke and fought, before falling silent...Karys willed the force to still the glass shards still embedded within his flesh....like small daggers that edged their way ever inwards. Aiming to halt their movements even if it was only temporary, fighting back against the force being exerted against them.

 

With each time she tried, he opposed with opposite force, sweat now pouring down his brow to mix with the black blood that flowed in his veins and across his armour. With each movement it hurt but the massassi simply accepted the pain, used it to drive him, his resolve unending and determination absolute. With one movement of his blade as he swept by, he spat blood at her trying to catch her in the eye in a attempt to blind or distract her of her goal.

 

He wasn't certain on the success of that particular offense, so continued his assault elsewhere. A grin gripped his lip when one of the duracrete slabs hit the young jedi after he had messed about with her damaged rib and torn up her intestines. He grew a little frustrated but respected the young jedi's ability thus far to reflect his blade. As he thrust out the 'push' in the force he felt a twinge of danger. A silent alert. Even as his focus had seemed apparently entirely on the push, that was not the case.

 

His attention had been divided between two things. His target and his surroundings. His eyes caught the sight, the vibrobayonet he had noted earlier....hurtling towards him. He knew there was no avoiding it coming at him, not when he had committed himself already. Which left him few options. Save perhaps one or two.

 

As such as quickly as he could, the massassi warrior entered into a backflip. He allowed the momentum to propel his form backwards and placing his strength on one hand hoped the same momentum would propel him back upwards after the vibrobayonet hit the wall behind. This would be swiftly followed by a last exertion of force energy.

 

A dark tide that would grip around Sandy Sarna's fragile broken body. And break the remaining ribs and any other assorted bones nearby into sharp, needle like shards about her insides as Karys crushed her bones inwards into her organs like it were trapped inside a vice or a press. He would show her what true darkness was when he broke her.

 

That breaking the Dark and it's beholder's would not be made an easy task.

 

((3)) (Indeed. Great fight, good luck. )

[Ary the Grey]

Sandy vs. Karys

 

Firstly, well written, both of you. The imagery and attacks/responses were beautifully done, and I enjoyed my read through. Top points for you both.

 

Tactics, Sandy edges out, largely because of the decision to try and drive the shards deeper (an interesting but very viable strategy if it worked), as well as the bayonet in the end. Karys had good responses in the beginning by simply dodging the first attack (simple, clean, efficient, effective), and also by attacking with a prepared telekinetic blast, an interesting tactic that paid off...the first time.

 

I understand Karys is practically trained at the level of a Lord and is fighting for his Lord title, and Sandy is unofficially fighting to confirm Knighthood despite already holding the rank. At times, it felt like I was reading a fight between two masters, so next time dial it back a bit with the number of actions taken, as well as the complexity of the response. Why exert yourself and use the Force if you can just not be there when the attack is supposed to connect? Conservation of energy can go a long way in a fight like this, where the opponent has exerted themselves more or less by the end, and you continually highlight that in your narration of the differences in fighting styles. I get that you should generally match your opponent in actions taken to adequately defend, but the attacks kind of got out of control by the end there.

 

That being said, I feel like the thrown bayonet by Sandy in her last post was an attack that Karys should have eaten, allowing the wound so as to ensure dominance over his opponent. By reacting the way he did, backflipping after admitting there was no avoiding it, it felt like it pushed the edge of godmoding, especially after coming back with an incredibly powerful Force attack at the end of a Force heavy duel where both combatants are likely to be drained at their respective levels of training. While I respect the effort, it felt like it was just too much.

 

Therefore, Sandy Sarna is the victor and gets the next post. May I recommend that he landed wrong off the backflip, and concussed himself into thinking he did the Force attack? It should provide a long enough stun for her to kill or capture.

[Sandy Sarna]

With a sickening yet satisfying thwack, the Sith lords head hit the permacrete. He was still attempting to rise when she ran over and kicked him again in the head. Ending the struggle and leaving him unconscious. It was then when the pain hit. She was utterly and completely drained and after the kick her knees began to wobble and she fell to her butt on the hard cracked permacrete. Her stomach throbbed and convulsed enough that she threw up her breakfast and a pint of blood. A few painful tears dripped down her cheeks as she sat there, struggling to bring in gulping breaths of air before a few Imperial scout troopers made it to the two collapsed force users. Together, the troopers and Knight Sarna stripped the Sith of his weapons and armour and placed him into custody. Sandy collected the vibrobayonet and the troopers administered a few stun rounds to add their effects to the mix and Sandy was left bandaged and walking beside the gurney containing the Sith Lord.

 

She penned a comm to the Jedi council detailing her experiences and captured Sith Lord and walked with the troopers and secured and unconscious Sith to the rally point. It was there that she was assessed by an amazed imperial doctor who prescribed her a week of bacta treatment and issued her painkillers which she happily gulped down. Slightly overwhelmed from the fight, she also penned a comm to the Imperial Knight General Kyrie.

 

“General Kyrie and Knight Aidan, I would like to report my encounter and defeat of a Massassi Sith Lord, I have requested that he be put into Jedi Custody for transport before the council, but I would understand if the Imperial Inquisition would prefer to take him instead. I am your guest on this operation and I await your decision, if you need me I will be upon the Misericordia receiving deep Bacta treatment for extensive injuries. Please let me know as soon as possible what your decision regarding custody will be. Thank you,

 

Jedi Knight Sarna”

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

An encrypted and redirected comm arrives for Sandy Sarna.

 

 

Sandy,

 

Congratulations on your triumph. I am pleased and proud to hear that not only did you defeat your opponent, you did so without spilling blood. Hopefully, there is more knowledge to be gathered from your prisoner. Please keep me apprised as to the situation. If the Imperial garrison will allow it, bring the Massassi Coreward (under watch of ysalamiri if possible) and we will arrange a rendezvous. The Council will wish to question him.

 

In my opinion, pending the approval of the Council, you have demonstrated the actions of a true Jedi Knight and must be regarded as such. Take the time you need to heal and report in at your earliest convenience.

 

May the Force be with you,

 

Jaina Jade Skywalker

 

[Sandy Sarna]

Her body was stiff as she climbed out of the small bacta tank, the cool air of the medical bay prickled her pale skin and she shivered.The muscle trembles wracked her spine and she gasped in pain. She grabbed the towel from the medical droid and dried herself off. Rubbing vigorously until the cold was gone and her pale skin was flush. Dropping the towel she ran her hands across her scalp, she pulled the sutures with a quick tug and smiled at the flash of pain that caused. Instantly she felt more alive than a moment before, and she blinked to clear her vision from the Bacta.

 

Looking into the large mirror display she sighed. Of course the scalp had begun to bleed again, but that was no matter. SHe was so damned pale. Even the freckles did nothing for her complexion. She groaned and ran her hands across the surgery scar on her ribcage. Luckily that had been an easy repair. She looked over the rest of her body and let the air out of her mouth with a hiss and quickly covered up. She shirked on a pale green tunic, her saber belt, and left the boots in their cupboard.

 

She grabbed her comm from the belt when she noticed its yellow flashing and read the message from Jaina Jade. She let out a yelp of approval which sent a medical orderly to burst through the door. She let out a laugh and eventually she followed him to where the nearly naked Sith was in a hardened bacta tank surrounded by the double bubbles of Ysalamiri. She keyed the intercomm to the Sith. He would have no access to the force, and the stuncuffs that he still wore would prevent any escape.

 

“Karys, it's me, Jedi Sarna. I know you are awake. So speak.”

 

If he could see, she wore his large sabre on her belt. A prize alongside the beautiful glass dagger of the Parang. All had been scanned and disarmed of any traps that may have been set.

[Dordjooba the Hutt]

[Dordjooba]

 

The Hutt Lord and one thousand of the Remnant’s finest, touched down where the yellow smoke rose. It was a shaky landing, but not due to pilot error. On the way down, one of the landing craft took a clumsy shot from one of the Hutt fighters, but the pilot managed to maneuver his way to the surface with minimal turbulence.

 

When the group got out, they hailed Ambrose and his team, falling into line and rank, awaiting new orders.

 

Dordjooba, shaking the nerves from his tense aerial battle, looked at Trooper Veshok with his piercing blue eyes. His charcoal skin was roughened with wear and his mass was considerably smaller than some of the more well renowned Hutt Leaders. But, he was, unmistakably, a Hutt.

 

“We are here to offer aid.” Dordjooba said, his eyes combing over Veshok and his men. “Whatever you need, we will do what we can to provide.”

__________________________

 

[Kaldesh]

 

The black Trandoshan sprinted off into the shadows. He held no intention of deceit or larceny. But, at the same time, he had very little idea where to put the homing beacon when he got to his destination. He was also not entirely sure what they meant by sabotage. He understood the word, but what did they mean? Did they want him to destroy pieces of things to make it harder to start over? Or did they want him to help stop their process altogether?

 

The Trandoshan lept from alley to alley, embracing the shadows and taking care to limit the sounds of his scales and claws as he went. The facility in question wasn’t far, but it was guarded by large turbolaser cannons and skilled guards. The cannons, he assumed, were manned by expendables. The Hutts preferred to use expendables to avoid damaging the bulk of their yield. It was one of the reason Kaldesh preferred Dordjooba. As Hutts went, he wasn’t very Hutt-y.

 

The Black Trandoshan rounded a corner down the main street of the capital and was just about to slink into another alleyway when he caught sight of the facility not far off. He idly wondered if they wouldn’t mind him tossing the device at the facility and running past. But he decided against his momentary cowardice and began plotting his next move.

[Sandy Sarna]

Having heard not a peep from the Sith or remnant, Sandy knew that she had little choice but to complete the mission and deliver him into Jedi custody. A few short comm calls later and a Jedi order shuttle was arranged to depart coreworld. She thanked the Imperial team and left a message for Kyrie thanking her and letting her know that she would be in contact at mission’s end and apologizing for the lack of Jedi involvement.

 

Her heart was heavy as she looked down on the planet's scarred surface. There was still a fight to be fought, but she knew that she had to leave for now. She knew that she would be back, and she was greatful for the opportunity to help free so many. She would have to ask the council why only she was able to assist in such an operation. This was so important so why was I the only person to help?

 

When the jedi shuttle arrived, the Jedi, with the help of a few medical orderlies loaded the unconscious Sith onto the shuttle, still under Ysalamiri protection and they departed for Coruscant.

[Kyrie Eleison]

The ship lurched as the engines powered down and they could feel the grasp of gravity starting to manipulate them through the battle. Kyrie leaned against the docking hatch, her emerald eyes closed as she focused on influencing the song of war, to guide them safely through the choas that surrounded them. A swell of solar wind swept around the hull, but still the ship kept its lazy orbit, bringing them closer to the ships of the enemy. Screams of agony and fear erupted through the Force as the two corvettes surrounding Carrack Cruiser were hit with fatal shots by the Imperial Fleet. The pilot of one tried a last ditch effort for survival, turning the undamaged belly of the corvette towards the Imperials, the lazy maneuvering allowing temporary respite to the song of death.

 

The Imperial Knight could feel as the azure shafts of ion cannon fire lanced through the belly of the Corvette, puncturing through the hull and bleeding the ship’s systems of their power. She winced as death swelled through her connection to the force, as the ship’s crew began a butcherous revolt against the slavers.

 

“We are approaching, Aiden. Focus for now on our task, we will sort this chaos together after this war is done.”

 

She withdrew her longhandled lightsaber as a rasping of metal could be heard as the two ships touched. The Imperial Knight reached out with the song, beginning to weave it into a connection between the craft as a new feeling blossomed within her mind. She let out a small gasp, and sent the wave of force power to her sides instead, sending her forces and Aiden sprawling to the bulkheads. A breaching charge detonated, sending the hatch she was about to use flying straight for her.

 

Silver light blossomed, and the two halved of the hatch crashed into the walls behind her, narrowly missing Hadran Narraghmore where he lay clutching his blaster rifle. She felt immediate shame bloom in her heart, her blood running cold as she charged forward, the silver blade reflecting the blast of a heavy blaster cannon.

 

...It was a trap. I should have felt it.

 

Her hand throbbed with a twinge of pain as she deflected another blast from the cannon, the kinetic strength of the hit running down her forearm. She breathed in, and sent her emotions into the Force, grasping onto the oncoming danger before it struck. The next blast of the cannon she took with both hands, sending it back to sender, a Nhogri who’s impacted chest cavity sprayed his organs across his squadmates.

 

She beckoned her rising men and women to follow with a rallying cry, a rasping hollar she had learned from an Iridonian during her times in the battlepits. The 189th Battalion off of Cardia and the Grenadiers of the Auxiliary Division of Foy picked up the cry in their own voice and charged behind her as she lept through the breach, bringing her lightsaber to decapitate a Dathomiri girl holding a flechette launcher.

 

They were in.

[Emma Three Nine]

Kalimore slurped down a double scoop of white worms into his gullet as he held the E-web one handed, aiming at the only entrance to the throne room aboard his ship. Before him and behind him were his most deadly and beautiful slave girls, young, lithe and heavily armed. His favourite, Irina Moltke-Feldgrau stood on his extensive tail, shouldering a E-22 against her small shoulder. Around the room, behind piled furniture and stacked pillows were the rest of the slaves of his staff and the few mercenaries that remained. A Kal-Koran mercenary, a Rodian Brawler, and an Echani named Breslin Falkenhayn, who was holding his double sided viroblade in a forward grip.

 

The rest of the ship fought hard, but the battle was a losing one and many slaves simply surrendered themselves to the empire, screaming about their collars and throwing down their weapons. Not a single slave of his staff was of age to be a soldier. The ones that continued to fight and fire turbolasers at the imperial fleet had cybernetic units.

 

Warcrimes as many as the worms he gulped down were committed on that ship. All to please Evona and Ardos, and a Hutt’s greed.

[Aidan Darkfire]

In one brief moment of clarity, everything seemed to click together for Aidan. This is what the Jedi taught, what they meant when they applied their code to real life situations. Kyrie was a shining beacon within the cacophany of battle, everything around her turning to order as if chaos had never been a factor to begin with.

 

There is no emotion, there is peace.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There is no death, there is the Force.

 

It was not his place to judge. It was his duty to find the harmony through the darkness, to follow it and weave it in beautiful measure to visit an end to those who wished to bring evil to the galaxy. That was his calling. That was what it meant to be an Imperial Knight, a bastion against the dark, the bulwark upon which evil breaks. The sword that cuts night from the sky, bringing daylight and hope once more.

 

His skin flared with goosebumps as he felt the flow of Force, letting out his own battlecry as he surged forward with the rest of the fighters, his blue protosaber lit and ready to to serve justice. Today there would be a reckoning. He began working his way through the ship, his movements guided by the Force, taking a small pocket of resistance here, leading a charge there, but eventually, the day would be theirs.

[Kyrie Eleison]

The 189th Battalion off of Cardia and the Grenadiers of the Auxiliary Division of Foy moved like a well-oiled assassin-droid throughout the Carrack Cruiser, countering the banal tactics of the pirates with Imperial Efficiency and a hail of blasterfire. At the lead was the acting head of the Imperial Knights, attached to the Imperial Intelligence Agency, former slave Kyrie Eleison, her glowing silver lightsaber the battlestandard of the Empire.

 

A warm bead of sweat followed the scarred crease on her cheek as the adrenaline from the fight worked through her blood. She had fallen for one trap, and she had no desire to do so again. The Grenadier had taken the majority of losses in the battle so far, Private Hurrad and Sergeant Kazadi felled by a Thermal Detonator. The 189th had fared better, with only one wounded during the initial breaching maneuver into the enemy vessel. The Force surged around the Imperial Knight as she pressed ever forward, the visualization of the Carrack Cruiser’s blueprint ever in mind. She issued an order for Aryian to take a detachment to secure Engineering.

 

Resistance fell away into surrender as they made their approach to the bridge, the slaves and pirates throwing down their weapons at the feet of the rushing Imperial Squads. Prisoners were stunned and stuncuffed, there was no time to secure a prison vessel or excess troopers to guard the cowardly. Kyrie reached out through the Force as she approached the bulky blastdoors, enveloping them with her flame. She could hear heartbeats echoed in her own ears from those beyond, and she knew the coming battle would be a long one.

 

IC-8206 rushed to her side, hefting a breaching charge from her loaded back, placing the rectangular blastpoint over the main seal of the blastdoor. IC-3498 accessed the door command codes with his datapad while the rest of the team set up a firing line. The Auxiliaries worked with less finesse, heaving the cut down bodies of those that had resisted into a line from behind which they took cover, arranged in a semicircle out from the door. A smoking R2 unit was placed in the center to draw fire from the enemy. From this arraignment, they would have a complete LOS on most of the bridge, where they could apply fire with their blaster-rifles and heavy weapons. Lt. Davenpore hefted her concussion rifle onto the leaking belly of a Gammorian, while halfway down the half-circle Private Evenalder set up the BB-23 heavy blaster cannon, arranging the firing arc to place heavy blast points into the enemy line.

 

Kyrie slipped beside IC-3498 as the rest of the 189th prepared for a breaching maneuver once their boys from Foy placed suppressing fire down on the pirate scum. The Imperial Commando showed her the datapad, where he was ready to keep the doors open after the maglock was neutralized. She gave him a nod, and the countdown began by handsignal from the Imperial Knight.

 

5…

 

4…

 

Trust in the Force.

 

3…

 

She took a slow breath, allowing herself to release her emotions into her flame, and a surge of energy coursed through her muscles. She would be the first through once it happened

 

2…

 

1…

 

She ignited her blade as the blast shook the hallway, years of detritus raining down on them. The whoosh of the blastdoors opening was the signal for all hell to unleash.

 

The Grenadiers of Foy filled the room with a wave of blasterfire from their DLT-19Ds, slugs from their IHRs, and flechettes from the two scouts. It was all concealed by acrid smoke through which Davenpore and Evanalder placed three rounds from their weapons at varying arcs and angles. Once the smoke cleared, what came next would be a mystery.

 

(3 post duel?)

 

Squad Layouts:

 

 

Grenadiers of Foy

 

Leader: Hadran Narraghmore

 

Armor: Shoretrooper Variant Armor: Maroon Plastoid, with environmental protections, combat HUD.

 

Weaponry: Standard Issue Gear (as blocked out in Squad Layout), Thermal Detonator, DL-44 sidearms, one LXR-6 concussion grenade, one sonic grenade,

 

Squad Primary Weaponry

 

NCO: SE-14C blaster pistol

 

Assistant Leader: Stouker Concussion Rifle

 

3 Riflemen: DLT-19D heavy blaster rifles

 

2 Scouts: FA-3 flechette launchers

 

2 Assault: Imperial Heavy Repeating Slugthrowers

 

1 Heavy Ordinance: BB-23 heavy blaster cannon

 

1 Medic and Ammunition Specialist: E-22 Blaster Rifle, Ammunition, Medikit

 

Imperial Commandos: Kildare

 

Leader: IC-426

 

NCO: DL-44

 

Assistant Leader: RT-97C heavy blaster rifle

 

5 Riflemen: E-22 Blaster Rifles

 

2 Sweepers: Scatterguns

 

3 Grenadiers: HH-4 grenade launchers, Repeating Heavy Blaster Pistols (variety of grenades)

 

[Emma Three Nine]

Mother kriffing stormtroopers!

 

The E-Web shot bright red hot plasma in cascading streams towards the breach. The high powered lasers cutting through the thick acrid smoke like a sabre through bantha butter. Hopefully nailing troopers in the head chest or groin. Or was it blue milk through carbonite? He never knew what the human phrases meant other than he used them to garner laughs from imbeciles. When he saw the pure white blade of an Imperial knight he laughed loudly, emitting a stream of blaster bolts from the E-Web to pepper around the blade in a never ending hailstorm. The E-Web’s shield absorbed the slugs and flechettes fired his way,

 

The throne room was large and shaped like a pentagram with Kalimore in the center. Providing multiple cover points for the defenders where the Imperials were being forced into a false bottleneck. One where he and his slaves could pour fire into.

 

One of the slave girls in the corner let loose with a PLEX missile launcher into the blown open breach and the recoil knocked her a meter into the luscious spread of slimy pillows. The rest of the mercenaries and slaves let loose a storm of weapons fire some shouting curses, some praying to gods from around the galaxy. A trandoshan let loose with a stereotypical concussion rifle.

 

In the front lines a few kids died like rats on a sinking ship. Or at least to say they drowned in their own blood, wallowing around like worms in the slime of their entrails. A pity such pretty flesh would be wasted. But he could always buy more. Captialism was kriffing awesome. And kids were cheap.

Death to Fascism!

 

((1))