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Author Topic: Remnant of the Aether  (Read 47135 times)
TheDutchman
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Force Alignment: 1106
Posts: 4131


Avatar courtesy of For Tyeth


« Reply #330 on: February 22, 2022, 10:45:38 PM »

Three VERY interesting components of this Aethan Trinity:

Unbreakable-Arryn
Despite the debilitations given him by the Pykes, Arryn's patience is indicative of not only his gene-editing but also the long game that ultimately sees him freed (and the Pykes punished).  I've read many times that the most dangerous person is the one with infinite patience...and Arryn proves such an axiom correct.  One wonders: just what else does he have planned with his Naqxium devices?

Unstoppable-Lysan
If the Vhal'Dan Cataphracts had a berserker in the form of the Hamask Sora, then Lysan is surely the Aethan equivalent.  Despite suffering from hibernation sickness, starvation, and disorientation, Lysan makes short work of BOTH sides, Alphas and Convicts.  And the pathetic attempt by the Zeltron twins to pheromonally "entice" him was laughable in both its attempt as well as results.

...Still, I'm certain that this won't be the last time that we see the effects of a Zeltron's pheromones  Wink

Relentless-Corwyn
I liked this presentation, reminiscent of "Flowers For Algernon" (at least in its exposition).  Plus: it looks as though Corwyn's own quest takes him through the near past through the present and into the near future (relative to the Civil War at least).  And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought that I recognized two familiar faces: the red-eyed Anzat and the "Pure" Jedi...and among the Ssi-ruuk, too...

Hmm, perhaps Soryu and Kazic can convince Corwyn that NOT all Outsiders are targets for, well, Naqxium Bombs  Wink

With this new Trinity, I also wonder what will happen when they finally DO see the Arts of Aphroaeadite exhibit.  Will their adherence to their indoctrination (combined with the horrors that they've experienced) blind them to the truth of their own People's message...or will they become another casualty in a long line since the Devastation?

Meta-note: Wonderful foreshadowing here; and the posters are just BAD@$$  Grin
Logged

Sig courtesy of DarthScrub

Cataphract Triarch of the Vhal'Dan

My sabers:Zearic's Aldrnari, Archon v3 (modded w/ activation box) w/Obsidian, AS; Zearic's shoto, Apprentice v4 w/Obsidian, AS; Graflex SE w/Obsidian, GB; Archon v3 (modded w/ activation box) w/Obsidian, CG; Dark Sentinel v4 w/Obsidian, BR; Sentinel LE v4 w/Obsidian, GB; Initiate v5 w/Obsidian, AS; Sentinel LE v4 stunt, EG; Aeon LE v4 stunt, FO; Dominix v4 stunt, BR; Aeon v3 stunt, SY

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
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Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #331 on: February 24, 2022, 02:47:08 AM »

Chapter 50 — Conflagration — Ignition — Part 1
Galtea
Dutiful though weary under a shattered sky two dozen or so members of the engineering corps loaded the hovering Aertemisaea Class Destroyer with crate upon crate of rare minerals, choice artefacts and the last Kyber Crystals Lus’Phor – the ruined wafting cloud of shattered rock that now hovered dangerous above - would ever produce.

Two figures in Oblivion clad watched the procession of valuable items being hauled away as payment for services rendered. 

They stood in a personal bubble of emptiness that Ryshhk K’rrmerii opposite them envied.

As Kazic began organising relief efforts he had tasked his trusted Wookie friend to ensure that ‘all debts were paid’…though Ryshhk was sure, given he had been provided with one of the last remaining full squads of Sentinels, he was also to ensure the Oblivion warriors did not loiter.

He needn’t have worried, Valens and Jarys had no intention of staying any longer on this wretched world than necessary. 

Their last actions on Hephaestus base,Istic Fortress and Lus’Phor been a shattering near losses, only charitably called a draw - and seen them nearly destroyed by the Thought Bomb that detonated soon after.

As a force they were spent. 

Months of endless combat on every level had taken its toll, of course they were designed for such, but even Aethans had their limits, and the Thought Bombs nefarious effects were a poison they needed to avoid.

Valens stood closely by his brother under the protective bubble of a Null Orb – the Aether countering device rapidly losing charge, eyeing off the Wookie willing the last few containers to be loaded faster.

The backwash from the thought bomb was so intense the others, not even recovered from the attack battle – were sheltering within an re-tuned Aetheric Nexus chamber on the Aethenaea that insulated them from the effects much like the Null Orb.  Even the otherwise Aether Dead Extolled were showing fatigue.

Jarys could only imagine what it was doing to the Wookie who stood arms across his chest opposite him.  The ship over their heads hovered atop the ruined foundations of what had been a residential district, utterly flattened by their own Oblivion Rod Bombardment in the opening hours of their intervention.

A servo-hauler creaked and a heavy shipping container full of the only samples of Naquadah on Galtea nearly fell. 

In other times either the Vhal’Dan or Aethans would’ve used telekinesis to prop it up – beneath the ongoing storm of the vergence that was not an option.

<That Wookie…he’s related to the Sentinel isn’t he…> Jarys noted to his brother
<Yshrrk…yes I smelt it in his ship, a cousin or nephew perhaps> Valens replied

Jarys retained great respect for the Jedi High Sentinel Yshrrk K’rrmerii, their fight on Myrkr had come perilously close to ending in mutual destruction.  While this relation Ryshhk was not yet as strong as the elder Wookie, Jarys suspected it was only a matter of time before he exceeded him.

He had no desire to test the creature.

Ryshhk for his part eyed the Oblivion creatures with equal parts dread and curiosity. 

Kazic had not detailed who -or rather what - they were. Ryshhk had no intention of ever asking.

He felt it better he did not know, from what he had seen there was more danger and temptation than enlightenment in such knowledge…the only fact he did know was that Kazics adoptive Daughter Aresaea had a deep connection and wore their armour.

Two droids laden with carefully sealed boxes marked with the Seal of the Kage’s Vault approached – within each of the boxes Ryshhk knew were unique Force Artefacts of considerable value, a number of them artefacts belonging to Vhal’Dan warriors from the New Sith Wars.  It pained him to see such icons of the Vhal’dans heritage given over to these creatures…

But if Kazic had his secrets on the payment, Ryshhk had his own.

When he left Anson’s service he had absconded with numerous valuable artefacts and hidden them away.  When he first pledged himself to Kazic, Ryshhk had been eager to tell him where he had hidden them in case they were of some use.

“Do Not!” Kazic had suddenly snapped with fear in his eyes,
“That is…” the Anzat quickly tried to soothe
“…it is better that only you know their whereabouts and the content,”
<But if I were to fall in battle…> Ryshhk had protested
“Enough on this, we have other matters to discuss,”

The conversation so strange at the time made clear sense now, if Kazic did not know of the artefacts, the Oblivion Creatures did not know to ask them of him.

Kazic had protected what he could.

<He’s hiding something…> Jarys noted, even without the Aether he could tell from the way the Wookie stood, the way he growled with the occasional order to speed the process of loading the ship.

<Perhaps> Valens replied their communication across instant text on their helmets in the absence of their telepathic connection due to the null field.
<Let them have the dregs tainted by the Thought Bomb,>

Despite their numerous injuries and damage sustained to valuable materiel Valens overall strategic goals had been accomplished.

They had tested their Mark II Armour and Hades Weapons to good effect, the Aertemsiaea Destroyers had proven their effectiveness against a modern and well equipped Fleet, and their overall tactics – conventional, espionage, and Aetheric had been successful. 

There had been failures, Anson had countered Valens disruption of Temporal distortions attempting to blind him to future events, the Cataphracts had proven more than a match for them, and their shock and awe tactics had a far more limited lifespan than expected. 

Now they had months of combat experience and data to review and improve upon all those facets…and on top of that, whilst they had not acquired all they might’ve from Hephaestus base, they had more than enough from there and The Cataphract Sora’s unique armour to begin developing a new Mark III armour integrating Vhal’Dan nanotechnology.

The last of the containers loaded, the Engineers could not get out from under the Oblivion ship’s shadow fast enough.

It was none too soon, the Null Orb would be at barely 5 per cent charge, they needed to get on board beneath the somewhat  protective Blackstone hull quickly, break orbit then retire to the insulated Nexus until they got out of the system.

Ryshhk waited for some kind of communication. 

None came, the two black figures simply leapt in perfect unison the 15 metres into the ships underside hangar – astounding give they were still in a null bubble if Ryshhk sensed correctly…their biological strength and speed even without the Force was a thing to be reckoned with.

Without word or warning the hangar door closed seamlessly into a blank hard surface as if there had never been an opening and the vessel rumbled the loose dust and debris as it began to ascend.

The Wookie remained stone still as he watched the Blue drives push the ship through the dust choked skies till the debris cloud obscured it completely.

By the Ancestors, Trees and even the Shadow Lands he prayed to never see their kind again.

<<<<>>>>

Reeda
Preparations were close to completion, the Ro'ik chuun m'arh was now ready, filled with all they would need to survive for several years as they sought a new home of their own.

Lengthy and thin it was covered in the sand of the ocean floor as aquatic creatures flitted around the Yorik coral lump that served as an artificial reef at the edge of the continental shelf.  Antire micro ecosystems glowed and thrived in the gaps where extranwl boots were now growing to fullness, all would soon be washed away when it rose from sea to stars.

Nerak, her trusted aide, piloted the Coralskipper beneath the waves. He had stashed resources from other tasks little by little to aid the growth already strong due to the verdancy of this world, so much more real than the mouldy too often used growth chamber on World Ships among the Main Fleet of the Yuuzhan Vnog.

That fertility was the only thing she would miss on this world.

The time for them to leave was coming fast, and with great risk.

Under the Treaty with the Chiss, any other faction or beings on Aethas were considered the Aethan’s ‘guest’ and under their protection. She knew these Chiss wanted them - to experiment, analyse and ‘learn’ from them…just as Lucovis and Sicara had.  The moment they left the system they were fair game.

The break had to be quick and clean. She was confident the vessel she gazed at through the eyes of a Occtopi-meld - the pink splotchy biot creature whose visal neural signals were tuned to her own temporarily pulsing seven limbs to propel through the deep water around the vessel - would be able to avoid Chiss sensors and any tracking attempts, their sensors were not attuned to pick them up like the Aethans were.

She could curse her foolishness, she had helped the Aethans develop methods of detecting Yuuzhan Vong vessels when she still fervently believed them to be Avatars of the Gods, believing they would help her free the other Shamed Ones and liberate those held in caste shackles when the Main Fleet arrived in a century or more…

Instead she had handed over the keys to her own shackles.

The pallid green sac beside her thrummed and pulsed gently with muscle contractions that stirred the contents. Carried by a servile reptilian Chazrach she would not let this precious but small volume leave her side.

Detaching her eyes from the gluggy Occtopi-meld tentacle she raised one of her many Shaper fingers to pierce the sac, a sealant fluid around the puncture making sure it did not leak.

The needle like finger suckled in a sample of the condensed heated fluid that would rapidly turn to gas when exposed to normal atmosphere.

Taste proteins in her hand analysed the sample, most of the fluid was a rapidly spreading transmission vector to carry the viral cells within.

The virus was imperfect, pieced together from skin, blood and hair samples flaked by the Aethans while they trained with Yhum, carefully collected by Scor-Beetles that she had re-trained to, instead of merely recycling the organic material, deliver it to her in secret.

With this she had isolated a receptor within aethan pores intended to absorb carbon dioxide for their photosynthetic respiration, typically it reacted only to a pure molecule of the gas, the receptor wrapped it then absorbed it in a small vacuole.

Her virus was structured to hold out a Carbon dioxide molecule with only the most tentative grip to the main viral body, once docked it would compress so it would be drawn into the aethan cell, there it could set to work in an…inelegant…but effective destructive mechanism

The cells consumed proteins to replicate, their waste product a powerful acid that degenerated the current and nearby cells further. 

It was based on a planet killing toxin used by the Vong to bombard verdant worlds from orbit, the most powerful they had brought with them from the main fleet.

It was the only thing she was reasonably certain might overcome the Aethans biological and Aether based healing and immune responses.  Of course there was no way to test it, and she only had one sac, 15 odd litres to disperse.

If they would not listen, if they would not set her and her people free…

She would’ve once prayed it did not come to that…now…divested of such superstition, she merely hoped.

<<<<>>>>

Ar’On’Dir

For weeks, months…nothing but the slow increase in quota’s for the malefic ores matched by extra workers with each rotation and an adequate increase in rations per person.

The ultra-dense black dust was so thick under his fingers by the end of each shift Aron could barely control the motion of his arms when it was washed off as his body felt three times lighter - all the runoff of course carefully collected in grimy vast beneath the shared shower facilities.

He had only managed to make contact with the Jedi Master Tnbu once more, the Legions eyes were everywhere, timing it between changes of guard during a rare and especially heavy daylight electro storm.

The Jedi assured Aron that Kage Odjina had been informed of his plight and the Jedi Council were working with the Mak’Tor to send an investigative and rescue party, but had been delayed - according to Tnbu both orders were stretched thin, and many Knights in the midst of ongoing investigations and missions they couldn’t abandon.

Aron’s stomach had dropped, Odjina, Li and Ho’li - eve Jo - would be working fast as they could, but Aron appreciated the galaxy was bigger than him, there were threats nearer to home, and his own experience was evidence that the Deep Core was a very dangerous place to traverse, obtaining a properly equipped ship, updated star charts and supplies all took time and credits they might not have on hand….And they had likely moved on with with life…

That last thought had struck hard. Would his wife still be just that…or had she…

For months amidst the monotony of his role that thought haunted him, giving him a grim mental exercise to obsess over as time passed. Jealousy, anger and grief were first, but acceptance, understanding followed. 

If Ho’Li had moved on, he would not hold it against her, he had been lost so long assuming he had perished was logical, and he wouldn’t want her denying herself.  They had always wanted a large family after all.

Then one day everything changed.

He returned from the depths of the darkest veins far beneath the surface t find the dusty platforms and tread worn metal walkways a flurry as Legionnaires scrambled and rushed to and fro.

“Wha…” Two Legionnaires bumped past him, Prefect Tharrum shouting commands.

“Pre..Prefect,” he pushed through the throng of plate durasteel moving boxes and rations
“What is happening,”

Behind his plumed helmet the Prefect nodded to the Director of the Mines.

“New Orders, five Cohorts are to return to Prakith immediately…we will leave one behind,”

“Why?”

Tharrum shrugged, of the sometimes cold Legionnaires he was the most talkative on the long patrols.

“A general muster of as many Legions as possible I hear, we’re joining with the 4th enroute, something big is coming Drift, I can feel it,”

Aron could feel it too, in a far more visceral way - the Songs cadence was building fast, the percussive march of a thousand boots to war.

<<<<>>>>

The Shadow Lords

Four hundred and Fourteen humans bowed in silent veneration as six ‘Lesser’ Lords strode past in light eating armour.

Each one of these was still nearly two meters tall and several hundred kilograms, exuding a micro gravity that added physical force to the soul trembling presence.

Behind them came a brief respite in the form of the Ash Centurions - the most decorated and vicious of Imperial Prakith’s Legions soldiers, serving alongside the Lords that had turned a backward deep core volcanic dump stumbling into slow barbarism and starvation into a militarized expansionary state.

The Lesser Lords stood in a semi circle around the ancient Dagger Throne as the very air became dense and rippled with a cold focus unknown in the heated walls of the Volcanic stone crafted Eternal Fortress.

The Shadow Lords of Prakith in their superhuman terror strode past the throngs of their human thralls.

The humans encased in crisp dark uniforms highlighted by brown-yellow epaulettes and ceremonial swords were mere tools for Ninth and the Remnant, living inputs to achieve Purgatio Astra.

The Ash Centurions in Phrik Armour arranged themselves with Electro-Staffs crackling around the throne as the Shadow Lords turned to their servants, Ninth gesturing for them to rise.

The human resources required certain inputs to function appropriately, performing these rituals was for Ninth the equivalent of maintaining her armor.

“Loyal Officers of Prakith, the time has come to take the next step toward reclaiming your Preeminence among the Stars.” standing behind the Dagger throne she flicked her hand to activate an ancient green flickering holomap of the system they would invade.

“Witness, the lazy, indolent inheritors of the once mighty Empress Teta, cowardly, insipid, hoarding their wealth and food.  This world can be yours if you have the Will and Fortitude to Claim it,”

Chancellor Teshk nodded beside the Dagger Throne, the proximity to the Shadow Lords was never comfortable, but he was bearing it slightly better each time. Alongside him were the Eleven Legates, Commanders of the Eleven Legions, Legate Simketh first among them, appointed to lead the invasion.

The Shadow Lords never promised victory, never guaranteed prosperity, they treated their subjects as adults, stating clearly progress was in their own hands, the Shadow Lords could unify and guide them, assist with their divine power, but if the Prakthians wished to advance, it would be by the strength of their own hands.

“This day your Legions march along a Glorious Path,”
The Remnant had adopted the term ‘Glorious Path’ as a single label for the vast social and economic change they had implemented since coming to power, the word ‘Path’ intentional for it would indicate to the petty humans the work needed to achieve Glory was ongoing

She gestured to her fellow Aethans

“Our Power will strengthen your hand, but Victory is yours to claim,”

Ninth’s studies indicated giving reasonably educated adult humans a belief they held agency, and attainable but valued goals achievable by their own efforts with the promise of assistance increased compliance and loyalty far more than outright repression. 

She used this Glorious Path as she would use the right oil for her Gauss cannons barrel, to ensure everything flowed smoothly and efficiently in the direction she desired.

Her hand swept across to the assembled officers, generals and Directors of the Empires variegated civilian arms.

“For Prakith,” she finished, to stimulate jingoism she pushed out a faux emotion of ‘pride’ in the aether, amplified by her fellow Aertemisaeans.

“FOR PRAKITH” the servile outsiders cried with glee.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #332 on: February 24, 2022, 02:49:42 AM »

Chapter 50 — Conflagration — Ignition — Part 2
Milaea


Still cold of the caverns of the Seior, and the gentle rhythmic pattern of the melt water from the glaciers above was meant to be calming.

Instead it irritated her...or rather Milaea irritated herself.  She thought on Yoda’s dictum - most places contained ‘only what you take with you’

Tension, discomfort, annoyance, anger and hurt was laden upon her.

She had spent the last months trying to focus on healing the twelve survivors of the hideous breeding pen on Rorak, tweaking their metabolisms and hormones with carefully measured doses of Shatterpoint healing, synthesised Aethan hormones and nutrient mixes to stimulate their natural regenerative capacity to kick start.

In that she had made progress, but on her own it was incredibly slow, and often repetitive, performing the same three to four hour long operations twelve times over.

All the while the thorn in the back of her mind nagged.

The argument with Ari had hurt her more than she could articulate, more than she had expected.  She didn’t want to say she ‘knew better’ than Ari, she had hoped Ari was wise enough to understand how obvious a disaster Aethan intervention on Galtea would be.

But there was the real issue.  

Of course Ari knew what the People would do there, she could be under no illusions after Dathomir that Karintha and Valens would use another systems war to test weapons and loot knowledge and artefacts.  

And Ari didn’t care.  

She believed protecting her parents was an end that justified the means the Aethan force would use, that the Vhal’Dan would be decimated and looted in the process was an irrelevance to the need to keep her adoptive parents safe.  

An intractable disagreement that turned to outright anxiety as Milaea worried for Ari deeply, and…missed her desperately.

Milaea was so used to being near her that her sudden absence, physically and emotionally, had caused a feeling of loss she hadn’t expected, a part of her she had never even known was there was suddenly gone, and its loss burnt.

Her breath trembling, she tried to meditate and calm her mind in the cavern.  Focusing on the here and now, the small pool in the center of the cavern, the pots of ochres and paints waiting for her automatic art should she feel the need.

A half sleep uncomfortable for constantly shifting her sitting position gradually took hold, flashes of the usual images, future wars, green faced emperors, mechanical black Sith, a lone pair of Jedi flashed past.

These she had learned to tune out, the galaxy was big, the future uncertain and running to prevent every disaster she foresaw when every interaction changed them was a path to insanity.

Despite her intent she was unconsciously drawn to peer toward Galtea, toward Ari...just to see how…

As she turned her mental gaze a shadow lengthened.

She ignored it at first but it grew…

Then Blazed….

It was, roughly ‘north’ of her in galactic terms, and it demanded attention.

Almost unable to stop herself, as if the Goddesses themselves were insisting she watch Milaea looked into the nuclear fire.

Images of lustful sport she recognised as being of the Arts of Aephordaea exhibition she had posed for what seemed like a dozen lifetimes ago turned to melted ash, crowds little more than silhouettes around them screamed with voiceless open maws before bolts of black cut them down.

Three figures strode through, slaughtering with righteous glee...but that wasn’t enough behind them...or rather above them…

Six figures, huge black Lords of Shadow unleashed the fury of writhing humanoid flames upon a sleeping world.  

They broke the bonds of six of eight, and they joined them in their hellish crusade destroying the last resistance…

And then they found each other - Trinity, Lost Soldiers and Lords of Shadow met in the blazing ruins.

The smaller beings, now nine in all knelt before the Six as the listless terrified populace was bubbled into pits, their bodies crushed into an undifferentiated blob, the blood - no life force - running upward into the base of Nine Oblivion Columns…

then Eighteen...Then Twenty Seven….

then when these were filled….they went to the next planet...and the next...and the next….

With each conquest the Shadow Lords built more Obelisks, each powered by the death of millions, the rapacious need for more and more meant they slaughtered trillions as the wave of darkness enfolded the galactic North.

She looked hard as she could at the Six giants, their minds were cold as ice, indifferent and calculating but, by the Goddesses, wickedly ingenious.

Milaea was shaking, her body pumping extra blood around her outer dermis layers to cool her even though the cavern was well below freezing as all heat was drawn into her like the aether she was burning.

She knew this wasn’t the inevitable future, but it was highly Probable...and worse it was imminent - days, possibly hours.

Her eyes opening she saw what her hands had wrought in ochre and pigment upon the wall - her hands in a form of 'Automatic painting' had drawn the final scene upon the wall - planets cracked from within spewing by blue-white fire as a substance of incredible destructive potential was teleported by obelisk arrays into their cores.

With a horrified gasp she ran out.

<<<<>>>>

“Where is IT!” she yelled across the comm to a blanching Lyr.

“T...teta...Empress Teta system before we bring the statues back for repainting and repair….”

Lyr was used to his masters making sudden mad demands with veiled threats, but of all of them Milaea had been unfailingly kind, sympathetic even - so far as a demi-god could be toward mortal thralls.  

Something must be very very wrong.  Time for Lyr to cower beneath his desk on Fresia.

Milaea slammed the comm shut rubbing her head.

“What the frell,” Sofa demanded, rushing in having sensed a moving chaos in the aether about her sister.

“We have to go now...take everything we can to stop it…the...the Hecate

“The Hecate? It’s barely ready and where,” she gripped Milaea staring into her mad eyes.

“What is going on?!” she demanded her wet black hair falling over half her face in the rush to get to Milaea out of a several hour long bath.

“We need to get to Teta, something terrible is going to happen, not in the future...but now actually now…”

“Are you sure this is happening and we need to be there,” Sofa didn’t question the veracity of Milaea’s vision, only the need for them to do anything about it when the future was not written.

Calming more Milaea nodded grimly
“The Arts exhibition is going to be attacked on Teta by...I think...some lost People who don’t understand the intent behind it.  They have military grade weapons, Hundreds if not thousands will die...but there are more...more People who are...I don’t know how but huge - physically huge and Old who want to do even worse..harvest millions of life forms to power obelisk weapons.”

“I think I got most of that…” Sofa replied
“But you’re not seeing Us, like Karintha or Selaena are you?” Milaea, out of her tentative hold, was already striding to the hangar of the Mount Aelia complex.

“No...they felt like strangers to me...People yes but not ones I know...they were cold almost…”

She paused briefly reflecting on the image of the giants
“Almost like they were dead, yet still going through the motions like a machine...or by instinct…”

Sofa breathed heavily, when Aethans acted on ‘instinct’ it didn’t end well for Outsiders.

“Then we better go,”

<<<<>>>>


Trinity

Steam hissed from the dead human’s chest.

Coryn and Arryn stepped over the body, Lysan stepped on it.

They had glided the modified Alpha Transport in just under the bulky wing of a luxury liner to a private residence on Teta, Arryn’s extraordinary precision ensuring they didn’t collide on the bumpy atmospheric entry.

When the Lord noticed an extra ship on his pad he had protested. Lysan seeing no profit in interacting shot him, then the rest of the crew, guests and panicking manor security detail.

Coryn was somewhat uncomfortable with the disposable way Lysan treated the Outsiders, he well knew they had their uses as friends rather than corpses.

Arryn seemed indifferent, striding through the Manor to find the opulent terminal to unlock the richly decorated Speeders and zero in on the location of the Blasphemy.

The Arts of Aephroadaea’ Exhibition Final Tour at Seto V Memorial Convention Centre Cinnagar, entry 30 Credits - Warning Explicit Content scrolled through his mind as his mechanical appendages disconnected from the scomp dock.

“I have it,” he said, voice becoming more mechanical with each passing day to Coryn’s ears, even as his body slowly recovered the depredations enslavement had inflicted.

Lysan never smiled, but his face moved a fraction in what might be regarded as conditional satisfaction.

He checked the detonator strapped to his wrist for the bomb that Coryn carried on his back.  The Naqxium Explosive Arryn and worked to develop for the Pykes would be tested first on these Outsiders who blasphemed the Goddesses by appropriating their image and likeness.

“We kill immediately,” Lysan grunted.

Coryn stifled a breath.

“Something troubles you,” the intense elder man turned on him.

“I wonder…this exhibition…perhaps we have misunderstood its purpose, the Outsiders who told me to seek it seemed genuine in believing i was the way to find others,”

Lysan scoffed at the thought

“They were luring you to your death, only by the Dread Goddesses mercy did we find each other,”

The harsh words caused Coryn to glance away,

Lysan realized he had been too stern, he the more trusting man's shoulders.

“The Outsiders mean us only harm and exploitation, if they seem to have helped us or acted honestly it is a mere trick of their perverse insanity, we must not be fooled brother,”

Coryn nodded, allowing the bitterness of his long unsuccessful quest and loss of even his dreams of Yorna to bite.

<<<<>>>>

Aresaea

Rubbing her head Ari groggily straightened out from her half sleep on the floor of the Nexus chamber.

She felt the pseudo motion of a jump to hyperspace and the pressing burden of the Thought Bomb’s shockwave lifted from her head.  

But a feeling that she could only compare to what lesser beings considered a ‘hangover’ remained.

The final moments of her time on Galtea had been an emotionally and physically painful rush.

The scar of her condemnation of her father - or perhaps the admission that the Kazic who had wanted her help on Galtea was no longer the Kazic who had rescued her from Yavin - was fresh and itching.   The fatigue from healing Saani numbed her fingers, the Thought bombs wake scratched at her connection to the aether, only slowly smoothing even light years distant.

A small plate of food and canister of gormin milk had been left for her, after flopping inelegantly to consume both she slowly made her way to the bridge and one of only two other People she could sense on the vast Destroyer, noting as she entered the statue of Aethenaea watching lovingly above the consoles when she had fallen asleep on the Aephrodaea.

Jarys in the pilot's chair turned to see Ari, her hair an utter mess, eyes dark and red, heart swollen and pained.

Without hesitation he went straight to her, her smaller frame falling into his embrace.

“You should go to one of the rooms, sleep some more,” he recommended, ironically in Ari’s opinion, he looked like death warmed up, massive bandages across his neck, a substantial part of his face bacta patched and nutrient drips attached to his back.  

She shook her head
“Where are we? Where is everyone?”

“Halfway along the Rimma Trade route out of the Kathol Sector, we’ll drop out before Eriadu shortly,” He replied as she pulled back.

“Kiraea is asleep in the cabins here, everyone else is split between the Aephroadea and Persephaea, Valens is alone with the Extolled on the Aertemisaea.”

“Any word from home,” she asked a spark of hope he didn’t fail to notice, but had to unfortunately scupper.

“None, the Thought Bomb has interfered with our Link orbs, We’ll need to clean and repoint them when we get back, until then no contact with Aethas,”

The disappointment of not being able to speak with Milaea, to tell her...Ari wasn’t even sure yet...she just needed to talk to her, made her scramble for alternatives.

“What about regular comms?”

“Still a mess from the Ansonites scrap codes, the Chiss Anti-viral software is chipping away and has it isolated, but until Evyn or Adaea have time to finish it off they are off line...at the moment we’re all flying independent,”

She plodded herself in the co-pilots seat, the tunnel of hyperspace a yawning gulf of twisted blue before her on the view screen.

The enormity of everything began to weigh on her as the backwash from the thought bombs miasma lifted.

Milaea had been right, Kazic had given into the temptation of using the People - Ari herself.  All this she could’ve have accepted, understood, forgiven even.

But dismissing them as soon as Anson was beaten

...your People are no longer needed here.  Or wanted…. Kazic had cast her aside as soon as he got the victory he wanted.  

And the elders, Valens, Kiraea, Karintha, had known all along and made sure to harvest all they could in resources and experience from the conflict Ari had brought them into to save her parents.

Galtea, the planet Ari had found a home, was a wreck, the Vhal’Dan who had accepted her for the most part a bloodied shadow of their former self.  All because of Kazic’s failings as a leader, as a man, as a father.

It was painful enough to have lost her father.

Ari couldn’t bear it if she lost her - not friend - she wouldn’t use that euphemism anymore Saani had taught her not to waste time dancing about such - her beloved Milaea as well.

She had to talk to her, tell her how she felt, apologize for how wrong she had been, and pray by the mercy of Aephrodaea Milaea felt the same.

“You want to talk about it,” Jarys said, it wasn’t a question, it was a statement, he knew he wasn’t the one Ari longed to speak with, but he could be there to settle her anxiety until she could.

“About my father,” Ari breathed out heavily
“I said all I needed to him. I don’t want to lose Milaea as well,”

For a scarred battle hardened face his expression was incredibly sympathetic, a hand that had torn heads from shoulders and was missing the tips of fingers - rapidly regrowing - soft as feathers on her shoulder.

“You won’t,”

<<<<<>>>>>

Avatar and Atheist

“We’re leaving immediately in the Hecate, send the rest of the Warriors and a retinue of Shapers and intendants on a Yorik-Trema to the Docks,”

The villip trembled with ruffles of leathery skin in the form of the So called Avatar of Yun-Harla, Milaea who spoke with the righteous assumption of obedience fitting to a god.

“No,” Reeda replied firmly

The Vilip was already deflating back into its resting state when it suddenly snapped back to life.

“What?”

“No we have sent enough of our people to this war on Galtea, we will send no more for your foreign adventures,”

Milaea stared astounded at the refusal to obey, the villip image of Reeda showing a determined expression she had never seen on the Vong woman before.

Milaea was already on a transport headed to the Docks hidden in the accretionary rings around the Gas giant Aephrodaea where the Hecate waited, absent its Obelisk array yes, but still an enormously powerful Super Destroyer that Milaea hoped could, if needed, end the spreading apocalypse she had foreseen by if nothing else shredding the Shadow Giants ability to get offworld until everyone arrived back from Galtea.

“Reeda, this is important, thousands of lives are…”

“Too many of my people's lives have been sacrificed to your wars; it ends now!” Reeda snapped
“Whatever debt we owe you for freeing us from the Prefect and Sicara’s laboratories, sanctuary on your world and protection from the Chiss has been repaid a dozen times over,”

Any other time Milaea would have agreed. But this was not any other time.

“Reeda this isn't the right time...come with me we can discuss the future of our two peoples enroute to Teta…”

“No, you will not dictate a time and place for negotiation, for there will be none, we are not slaves, and you are not gods,”

The fact was one Milaea cognitively agreed with, she was well aware of Reeda’s religious doubts as to the Aethans status as Avatars...yet to hear it spoken out loud was a needle in Milaea’s heel as she ran to avert a larger disaster and made her reaction defensive.

“We do not have time for this argument, if you don't want to go fine, connect me to the Priests and Warriors, I’ll ask them directly as individuals,”

Reeda shook her head.

“None will join you, all those who remain know the Truth as I do, we are forging our own path now, I hope you will not stand in our way and we can part as equals.”

It was a lie, of those on Aethas 36 were still loyal to the False-Gods.  Nerak and his cadre were already en-route to ‘pacify’ them.  Then once away from the false Avatars they could be re-educated in the Secular Truth.  

Accepting she wouldn’t get any further Milaea shifted tone.

“We’ll discuss this when everyone is back from Galtea,”

“We may be gone before then,” Reeda replied, behind her outside of the Vilips visual range the intendants and shapers were collecting up all they could for transfer to the Ro'ik chuun m'arh.

That stunned Milaea even more, Reeda had clearly been planning this for sometime, waiting for when the Aethans were all offworld to make her move.

Both women after all knew full well Karintha and the others would never let them leave, never relinquish a source of such advanced biotechnology and fanatical warriors.  More simply the Extolled knew too much about Aethas and the Aethans to ever be allowed freedom.  

A Truth Milaea had consciously avoided considering until now she was forced to.

“This won’t be without consequences Reeda,” Milaea’s statement was not a threat but a certainty.  

Milaea was not Matriarch, and even if she were she could never build the community consensus upon which the Matriarchy relied on such critical matters to permit the Extolled to leave - frankly she wouldn’t try.

Reeda knew this only too well.

“I know,”

A sad realisation was shared that from this point forward they were on opposing sides despite their best efforts to avoid such over the last few years.  

Milaea’s People could never accede to the Extolled’s liberation, Reeda’s Truth and self worth could never accept servitude under False Gods again.

“Good luck Reeda Kwn,” Milaea finished sadly

“May the Force be with you Milaea,” Reeda replied with genuine warmth as the villips went flacid.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

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« Reply #333 on: February 24, 2022, 02:50:19 AM »

Chapter 50 — Conflagration — Ignition — Part 3
Remnant
The Grand Fleet of Prakith was ready at last.

Assembled from across their burgeoning stellar empire, 35,000 Legionnaires on 500 vessels paused at a juncture on the Byss run.

Years of work would be tested to the limit in the space of hours as the invasion of the Empress Teta System began.

The Tetans had no idea they were coming.

The Mining Guild that had de facto power over the carbonite rich system and still considered the Prakthians ‘raiders’ and ‘pirates’, their intelligence from spies masquerading as deep core traders out of Mamzer on Teta indicated 1000 Ailon Nova Guard the Guild had hired to ‘deal’ with the Prakthians were still in the system - the only true opposition given the lazy state of the Tetan navy.

Before their slumber Teta had been a bastion of the Republic against the Sith mini-Kingdoms of the Deep Core, dozens of Warlords had tried to take the system and falled at its staunch defences.  A curious irony she would succeed where the Sith, who in the end had destroyed the Technocracy, had failed.

The Alion were a competent and powerful force, a species so dedicated to war they sought any chance to fight and lived as nomadic mercenaries the equal of what the Mandalorian had been in the times of the Crusades, not the divided scavenging clans the Republics crackdown had made them.

The Remnants advantage was Kisaea and the other ‘Tribals’ they had rescued from the Ailon. 

Standing in their relatively new Oblivion armour, scraped and battered from the successful defeat of an Ailon force on a Carbonite mining world, the six ‘People’ knew how the Ailon thought and operated, providing an incalculable advantage. 

More than this they burnt with the instinctive need for retribution that would power them through the filthy Ailon.

Even so the poor military technology of Prakith meant it led to an estimated required ratio of 10 Legionnaires to defeat 1 Ailon, a price Ninth did not even flinch to pay to capture Teta and its resources, sentient and technological.

<All units in position> The ever professional Seventh indicated from the Hand of Shadow the secondary command vessel after the Glory of Prakith upon which Ninth was commanding, the bustling staff in the unadorned industrial looking bridge giving the ‘Shadow Lord’ a wide berth.

The ships were purely functional the best that could be made with the resources available, the inside retained exposed pipes and cables to save costs on unnecessary internal cladding, conditions for the soldiers spartan at best.

There was no point investing resources into a fleet that would soon be obsolete.

“Everything is in readiness Lord,” Legate Simketh said behind her after Sevenths confirmation, humans slow as always.

His back straightened further as if he were trying to look her in the eye, but the deference on the hard lined face remained, like all the Legions senior officers he had been appointed on merit, something inconceivable under the old Over-King and Feudal nobility - a tactic that ensured the officer class was utterly loyal to the Shadow Lords - they owed their careers and recognition of their abilities to them.

“The Legions stand ready to make the sacrifices necessary to proceed along the Glorious Path,”
 
Once Teta was theirs they would have a workforce in the millions and access to higher quality shipyards and manufacturing facilities with which to plan the next leap ahead in Purgatio Astra.

“Begin Hyperspace insertion” Ninth ordered at last, the crew across the fleet did not hear the orders of the Shadow Lords, they felt it in their minds as an Ice Monolith of Will that demanded they comply.

And so they did.  turning the spread of densely packed stars into a blinding white tunnel.

<<<<>>>>

Ar’On’Dir

From the rush of activity to a dearth of motion, the suddenness of the change was jarring.

But it offered Aron with an unrepeatable opportunity.

The Legion was almost entirely gone, half a cohort remained on the entire planet - most of those injured in previous engagements, and hunkered around old Vox transmitters listening to the infrequent idle chatter of the Legion.

Aron used the Song to cloak himself best he could, flitting between them as the incessant grind of the ore haulers continued - the mine still mean to operate as usual, but the sense of expectation in the air was diminishing all productivity.

Curving round the small gathering of Legionnaires she snuck once more into the Comms Array, the usual caretakers on the roof of the block building tweaking the transmitters to get a clear signal as possible this deep in the core to satiate their own curiosity.

Aron swallowed hard as he entered the comms room, they had already aligned the dishes almost perfectly for the destination of his message- coreward to Coruscant.

He flickederd on the speaker, awareness expanded to sense anyone coming, poised to pull thrift thoughts with the Force if they did.

“Come on….” the static built louder and louder as his palms sweated more and more

“......eacon 334…Jedi Emergency Beacon 334…Jedi…”

Yes that was it!

“Coruscant, this is Ar’On’Dir please contact Master Tnbu or Soryu, repeat Coruscant, this is Ar’On’Dir please contact Master Tnbu or Soryu.” So far he had only spoken to Tnbu, the Sullustan always seemed scant on detail when they spoke, he hoped Soryu had arrived by now.

“Knight ‘Dir this is Knight Cvaley Orish, both Masters are unavailable What is your message,”

“This is urgent, the Shadow Lords have mustered their Legions the fleets been deployed for an invasion…I’ve overheard the word ‘Teta’...” he said quickly

There was no response for tense moments.

“How long ago?” Aron nearly swooned with relief his message had gotten through

“Three days I’m sorry I couldn’t contact sooner,”

“Please confirm the Legions are, to the best of your knowledge enroute to Teta,” 

“Confirmed,” Aron replied

In the silent screen lit Jedi Intelligence Command room Master Tnbu stood behind the loyal Orish, another who had taken the Oath of Vigilance against the Aetherians following Ord Mirit.

“Tell him to send any further information immediately, and that the rescue party will be diverted to Empress Teta System to engage the Shadow Lords directly,” the Sullustans high voice at odds with the low exploitation of the desperate lost Mak’Tor knight.

Orish relayed the information and quickly cut the link, leaving Aron relieved and anxious.

“Shall I summon our Sworn Brethren Master?” Orish asked.

Tnbu nodded and Orish instantly moved to send the signal.

“I will return in an hour, I have another message to send…” Tnbu said already halfway out the room his body quivering with dread at what he would now do.

A slip of paper gripped in his hands with what to anyone else was a meaningless jumble was in fact a Cipher in old Sullustese of a Holo-comm channel to Pybus.

A planet far from Courscant or Teta, a planet Taboo to the Hutts, and the source of the strongest force he could raise against the Aetherians quickly.

The Home of the Flesh Crafters. Reviled yet revered Hutt outcasts who bred and cybernetically mutilated vast armies of Klatooinians to protect the Throne world of the gangster race, whose one outpost beyond the Bootana Hutta had been destroyed in mysterious circumstances by beings in ‘Light Eating Armour’. 

His credentials unquestioned in the early morning light of temple he stood before the blank holo and heard the slippery wet Huttese of the creature at the other end.

[Speak]

“Teta, Empress Teta system.  Bring all the Ciy’Keueketka you can muster,”

Tnbu’s soul was sold to the hissing laughter of the Hutts.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

TheDutchman
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« Reply #334 on: February 26, 2022, 10:35:30 PM »

And so we see the parallels between a daughter and her father compared to a (former) adherent and quasi-deity: both have discovered feet of clay at the altar of their fealty, betrayed not only by the sins of said father/deity but also their own loyalties towards them.

Of course, nothing is ever so simple as just that--after all, there are many other facets that even those found wanting possess--but the unfortunate results are nevertheless PAINFULLY the same.  The question then becomes: can there be reconciliation?  Or tolerance?  Perhaps not even that; perhaps there are too many sins between betrayal and forgiveness...

Worse still: Ari (and Mili) have finally realized just how deep a bond that their shared love is for one another.  Unfortunately, it now seems that even as Ari speeds towards Aethas, Mili, and home, Mili will already have left, hurrying to pre-emptively stop the Trinity from their misguided "attrition" for the alleged "blasphemy" of the Arts exhibition...all against a backdrop of galactic domination and wholesale genocide.

Ironically, precisely what Mili was hoping to avert.  Of course, the Remnant's goals are literally a part of them, their mandate of Purgatio Astra a genetic imperative that they absolutely will and must enact.  Now the question becomes: will Mili be able to something to change her Force Vision?  Perhaps the Ailron Six will recognize the kinship of contemporary Aethans (not to mention actually knowing a few of the living ones) and realize that the Remnant's prerogatives are from a Dead Technocracy, their own reinforced tribalism more in line with Mili than the Shadow Lords.  Regardless, I doubt very much that the Prakith Empire will be deterred by even Mili's power (and provenance, goddess or no).

And much like the adage: "For ever result you expect, there will be at least one that you do not."  Well, throw the Flesh Crafters into the mix, and an already volatile situation will well and truly spark a Conflagration  Smiley

Meta-note: Another phenomenal poster, LSG!

...I'm going to have to borrow your's (and FT's) talents for upcoming works  Grin
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« Reply #335 on: March 02, 2022, 07:39:36 PM »

I have to admit, I have effectively lost track of this.   I will re-read before long.  :-)   Life has been to hard recently.

That being said: I love the poster!   

And the Wookie.  :-)
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« Reply #336 on: March 03, 2022, 11:05:24 PM »

Chapter 51 — Conflagration — Invasion — Part 1
Tnbu

Rank upon rank of Ciy’Keuteka - ‘Pure Warriors’, the Unblemished guardians of the Huttese Throne worlds, the unbreachable Bootana Hutta - surrounded the diminutive Sullsutan Jedi master as he walked slowly from his Triangular Jedi Star fighter onto the Hutt Destroyers deck toward the waiting hover sled upon which a grossly obese Hutt reclined.

Try as he might to look straight ahead, Tnbu couldn’t help but glance at the Ketka.

They were abnormally tall and obscenely muscular clad in amour less worn than riveted to their raw flesh long since healed over. Where Klatooinian ended and cyborg began was so impossible as to be a moot distinction for creatures bred solely to be transformed thus under the Flesh Crafters vile fat hands.

The light brown skin that showed was unhealthily pallid compared to what the desert native species should be, simple huttese letters and numbers were branded on their forehead as the only unique thing about each one.

They combined both quality and quantity - each was 2.2 meters tall and broad as High Sentinel Yshrrk, malignant looking weapons on their back and hips. 

In place of Eyes and ears was a rounded sensory band of black that blinked with red lights every few seconds, a slight static haze about them indicated inbuilt personal shields.

He ought not be surprised, every Hutt Kadjic paid a tithe to the Flesh Crafters for the protection of the Throne worlds - by his conservative estimates, it amounted to hundreds of trillions of credits each standard cycle.

But he would not be intimidated by the ranks of hundreds about him, stopping before the Hutt at a yellow line drawn on the durasteel floor.

Tnbu offered a curt nod of greeting and respect.

The Hutt’s skin was more green than brown, and disgustingly moist with a wet sheen of slime all over, two other slaves -humanoid and lacking any heads but small rounded processing units attached at the neck, massaged some form of gross oil into the Hutts skin incessantly.

<As promised….> it gurgled in a jarring high pitch contrasting with its size.

“How many?” Tnbu said with all the arrogance a Jedi could regaining himself against the attempt to intimidate him.

The Hutt smiled best it could as the sheer amount of fat on its face made any expression near impossible.

<Huntodon> it replied

Tnbu’s glassy black eyes widened, the translation of the huttese number - Ten Thousand.  Ten Thousand of among the deadliest slave soldiers in the galaxy.

He had not expected so many, so easily...if this was what they could spare on a punitive expedition...well - Jedi intelligence estimates of a Cyborg army of 5 million was likely woefully underestimated.

Yet…against Aetherians, he would’ve preferred a hundred thousand more.

“That will be sufficient - for now,” Tnbu said the Hutts emotion sparking with spite at the ingratitude, but Tnbu knew better than to ever show respect or deference to a Hutt - it was too much like weakness.

“I have fifteen knights who will need lodging across your fleet, our Battle-meld will strengthen your hand,” Tnbu continued

A third creature Tnbu had barely seen, at first mistaken for a Twi’lek until he saw the four enormous Lekku on its oversized head placed its face beside the Hutt who whispered something in rumbling tones

<So be it…Major Domo will lead you to quarters…> The hutt gestured to the ‘four’Lek’ creation of the Flesh Crafter.

<And Jedi…> the Hutt leaned forward causing the oil that coated its body to drip onto the floor, the near headless slaves applying more to comepnsate.

<...If this is a fool's errand, you and your Knights return to Pybus with me.>

The Hutt very obviously stroked one stubby hand along its mutilated slave offering a glimpse at what the flesh crafters did to those that anatognized them.

Tnbu kept his will strong, reciting the last lines of the Oath of Vigilance over and over in his head.
I affirm that the Aetharians represent an existential threat to the Jedi Order and the Republic.
Oaths to said Jedi Order and Republic may need to be set aside in order to save them both


It gave him strength to deal with this monster and risk his…everything.
“So be it Flesh Crafter,”
<<<<>>>>

Sofa
The enforced break while travelling the kaleidoscope tunnel of Deep Core Hyperspace seemed to have calmed Milaea down.

It was a forgettable maiden voyage for the vast Hecate

Twice the size of the other Destroyers it felt cavernous and empty even in the bridge, where for the sake of a sense of homeliness they made their temporary abode with a few rugs and pillows.

One day it would be bustling with People, but that was many years and a lot of babies off.
 
Milaea stared into the whorl of black at the end of the twisting hyper tunnel, occasionally sipping warmed gormin milk.

“Whose worse?” Sofa asked to break the silence

“Who,” Milaea said with a half laugh she didn't feel
“The Extolled on Aethas, the Extolled with the others, the People, or these Shadow Giants…”

That brought a genuine smile from Milaea. 

“Huh...I’d say whichever one is the bigger problem...but they’re all on par,”

Sofa could feel the impending dread that surrounded them - a feeling she had last felt before Ord Mirit, the growing waves of a storm approaching.

“I’m more worried for Ari…” Milaea said after a brief pause
“I haven’t heard anything from her in so long...and when she left…”

Sofa knew the feeling, spinning her wedding ring with her thumb she could barely feel Valens on the other end, and the lack of communication was unnerving. 

She was confident if anything truly bad happened she would feel it through their linked rings, but what smaller bad things might be happening was what worried her. 

Sofa looked to relieve some of Mili’s worry rather than focus on her own.

“You really care for Ari don’t you…” Sofa paused even as Milaea’s mouth moved for the inevitable caveat
“...and not just as a friend,”

“I...yes but...we argued…”

Sofa scooted over to her, both sat on the floor of the empty bridge, its clean blue greys and adornment making it look like a Chiss mortuary, they clung to the island of the gormin fur rug.

“One argument is nothing, I argue with Valens all the time, it doesn’t mean we don’t love each other,”

“But Ari and I we’re not...I don’t even know if she would want to…”

It was almost funny seeing a woman Sofa had seen turn Jedi to statues and buildings to dust trembling over something as comparatively trivial as worrying whether a girl ‘liked’ liked her.

“Mili its been obvious to everyone but the two of you for a long time you are both aching for each other,” she wrapped her arm around the younger woman who leaned her hair almost as red flushed as her face would have been were that physiologically possibly for Aethans. 

“But the things I said, not supporting her, arguing, and the fact she went there at all still makes me angry…” she looked up to Sofa figuratively and now physically.

“How do you do it, Valens must drive you mad with the things he does,”

Sofa shrugged  “Well he makes up for it in other ways…”

Milaea seemed unimpressed by the innuendo in her voice.

“There are two sides to Valens...the shy but dedicated husband who brings me Blossom wine, Hapan confectionery and furry ewok toys...and then there is the Warchief, the Slayer of Masters, God-Killer.
They co-exist, two sides of the coin.  Ari is the same - think of how much she’s lost, her biological parents when she was a toddler, culture, home, then her Uncle on Yavin...now Anson threatens her adoptive parents...she’s switched from the smart, thoughtful, compassionate young woman to the protective, ferocious, daughter, just like Valens will switch from the doting husband to merciless murderer...”

Sofa brushed back her long dark hair that contrasted so much with her alabaster skin as if to emphasize the dichotomy within them all - Milaea’s own stomping toward Teta a sign of her own ‘protective’ side. 

“I should have thought of it that way…” Milaea conceded, she thought of her biological father Jarys, the gentleness he could show contrasted with near feral violence. 

“It’s an Aethan trait…you learn to live with it” Sofa smiled

“The price Galtea will...Goddess by now probably has paid never mattered…I should have gone…” Milaea went on regarding her other regret

Thought trails of what she should’ve have done always ended poorly for Milaea, her Grandmothers stern warning against such a forceful whisper in the back of her mind for the rarity with which Kassyndra ever spoke harshly.

“But what’s done is done...perhaps I was meant to be here to sense whatever...this is that’s coming…”
“Any more clarity on that,” Sofa asked.

“Yes and no…The vision is clearer each time I try and use the Seior, but there are more pieces to see and I can’t work out how they fit together…,” Milaea shook her head

“Always in motion is Present too it seems, I know its very close and everything is coming together, but not what order or where, and I think the sequence matters a lot,”

<<<<>>>

Trinity
Expansive curved frosted glass filtered sunlight through the vast airy exhibition hall as academics pondered, artists contemplated and simple gawkers stared at the double life sized statues that had caused such scandal across so many systems.

Some felt the unclothed poses of the eponymous ‘Aephrodaea’ practising her ‘Arts’ with her companions were the height of immoral vulgarity, many worlds had seen protests to have the exhibition shut down or not tour at all.

Academics decried attempts at censorship, the importance of free artistic expression and acceptance of all cultures arts paramount, in most systems this won the day, in others unsubtle bribery ensured it was not only put on display but viciously advertised as if the owners of the exhibit desired nothing more than spreading the word of the exhibition as far as possible.

Others considered it a bold, unflinching display of humanoid intimate behaviour.  Still more simply found it stimulating to stare at under the cover of ‘art’.

In the Empress Teta system the sleepy Tetan Imperial Censorship Board had rolled into a lazy compromise of putting an age limit on attendance, the Imperial Tourism Authority desiring the extra traffic from nearby systems to visit the exhibition, other locations it had toured all had a pick up of foot traffic and near sector visits, sometimes up to 3 per cent!

For the Trinity of Aethan men striding through the galleries of the Exhibition Compound all such minutiae held no meaning.

The Outsiders were appropriating their culture, had doubtless tormented Aethan women to extract the secret arts from them and now sold tickets like an Outer Rim freak show.

They strode ahead pushing aside the concierges who demanded their tickets - a brief fit of bureaucratic rage calling security was turned to troubled panic as Lysan simply ripped the bar off the Turnstile.

They ignored the shouts from the flabby security, the stern triumphant face of ancient oil painting of Empress Teta herself above them -  ten times more intimidating, and likely far more efficacious in keeping out trouble.

Sweeping his long synth-leather trench coat back the guards jumped to the ground as they saw the array of weapons he was concealing.

Pulling his Disrutpor rifle he began the shooting as soon as they entered the exhibition proper.

Coryn slipping off to find the most potent place to plant the bomb, Lysan and Arryn clinically strode through blasting every being they saw leaving steaming holes of charred flesh where heads and torso’s used to be.

They expected Police or military forces to arrive any minute, Arryn guiding Vulture-Mines to the entrances.

Already in the plant level and underwork of the Exhibition halls Coryn’s head snapped up as he felt a threat coming from above. 

Not the local force...something far...far more deadly.

And excitingly familiar.

<<<<>>>>
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Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Lord_S_Gray
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« Reply #337 on: March 03, 2022, 11:06:04 PM »

Chapter 51 — Conflagration — Invasion — Part 2
Invasion
Years of peace, neglect, and reliance on the Mining guild had left Empress Teta with a paltry navy - glorified traffic controllers.

The core of the planet's defences were the Mining Guild Droid fleet - second hand from the Trade Federation, a Command Vessel and half a dozen frigates with the old Trade Federation symbols barely painted over with Mining Guild insignia.

Empress Teta had been a credit-bantha for three hundred years sucking out carbonite and small quantities of rare deep core minerals at minimal cost.

Fat and slovenly it now paid the price against an energised zealous force of Prakithians.

The Grand Fleet burst out of hyperspace at entry points away from the common traffic lanes close to the planet.

While the Grand Fleet was, even accounting for the Shadow Lords efforts, technologically inferior, the one edge they did have was their vessels were built hardy to survive the extremes of the deeper core, and could perform otherwise bone liquefing drops into gravity wells.

The Legion already had spies in the system, they knew where all the Guild vessels were.

Sixth moved to attack with the bulk of the Fleet lead by Glory of Prakith

Bolted to the underside of the command vessel were launchers to fire suppression Orbs, half a meter in diameter blackstone orbs infused with the aether energy of thousands of helots to power Suppression Curses. 

Lobbed at the Mining guild vessels they didn’t need to impact to have the desired effect of stripping the thoughts and consciousness from the skeleton crews of humanoids - cost reduction measures paying dividends for the Remnant - before their old battle droids could power up.

In little more than three minutes the majority of sentients on the Guild vessels were unconscious or hallucinating with urgent desires to down shields.

Green turbo laser fire from cannons manned by Droids became sporadic as the Droid Tacticians began to compute the humanoids were [intellectually compromised] and fought to assume control.

It gave Sixth time to draw his vessels up to board the Droid Command carrier, an ugly half circle about a central sphere of metal.

The Prakith Vessels still took many hits, their bulky Deep core capable plating absorbed some, but the more ‘modern’ if still out of date compared to most Republic vessels, weapons of the Guild ships downed nearly a dozen of the Prakith vessels before the first boarding Frigate half crashed into the Command carrier and disgorged its Legionnaires.

Spinning on his heel out of the unadorned raw steel walls and seats of the bridge lit only by dim green of the consoles Sixth made his way to his own shuttle, four struggling Prakith officers racing after his huge legs quick strides, each carrying antenna last blocky devices that serving to relay comms from the four frequencies used, such were the limitations of their technology.

Across the comms he heard the Ailon had been engaged.  Nearly a Thousand Ailon Nova Guard on Three Corvettes were targeted by the Tribals.

A full two dozen ships were sent against them, Kisaea knowing the Ailon would try to board - Six Aethans who knew exactly how to fight Ailon awaited them.

Needle like Felucca ships bored into the clunky Prakith vessels blasting dozens of Legionnaires into space before the sleek Ailon in Chitin like armour leapt out with their precise Korpesh rifles cutting through Prakith Dura-Iron armour.

The beams stopped dead hissing against the Oblivion armour of Daryn and Davys - the Aethan twins surged forward with Oblivion swords that sung gleefully to be wielded by their Master race. 

With bone shattering force they fell on the Ailon, taking vengeance for years of enslavement with bloody dismemberment.

As quick as the Ailon were to adapt, the People struck with their Aether Powers finally set free - Taraea and Lynaea unleashed horrific hallucinations across the Ailon vessels, Varan blasted lighting from his fingers into Ailon chests causing multiple organ failure and rib crushing muscle seizures.

Kisaea guided the whole group supported by Seventh as they tore into the Felucca’s to back them back out and counter charge the Ailon ships, waves of Malacia curses preceding them along with suppression Orbs that set the weaker minded of the Ailon into frenzied states tearing at their faces or shooting phantom enemies.

The ground invasion was over before it had begun.

A week in advance of their Legions, the Fourth and Fifth were in the system.

For beings 3 meters tall and averaging 470 kilograms before their ultradense armour, they were potent infiltrators.

Making planet fall on a rebadged trading vessel hijacked from the Byss run, they had scouted planetary orbital defences, past listless peace softened guards they planted ion charges sufficient to bring the weapons that covered the Iron Citadel offline for an hour.

Other spies set off EMPs to scramble traffic control at Cinnagar Galactic Space Port where Legate Semketh was first on the ground as dozens of bulky landers crammed with 50 Legionnaires each smacked down on the ferrocrete.

In heavy Dura-Iron emblazoned with the Red Gargoyle of Prakith - symbol of the predominantly Volcanic planets ancient past when such creatures actually existed, long since hunted to extinction, though rumours persisted some survived deep in coole tunnels beneath forgotten mines.

The stone like skin of the Gargoyle represented to Semketh the true strength of the Legions - not Dura-Iron armour, but unyielding discipline and unflinching obedience to the Shadow Lords who had raised Prakith from a dying feudal still-born state to a burgeoning military power.

“Maniple Forward!” he ordered gazing over the glass and concrete towers of Cinnagar, modern structures interspersed among more ancient stone giants built when the system as still a true Empire. The Glorious Path, he realised, was not just for Prakith, but a path to renewal for Teta as well - The Legion was not invading but liberating them from stagnation!

A combination of mind suppression, illusion and buried presence techniques took Ninth and Fifth deep into the Iron Citadel. Like so much of the systems of the deep core, it was a sad, aged shadow of its former glory. 

The seven storey high statues of the eponymous Empress Teta that flanked the bridge across the vast moat that separated the Citadel from the near planet wide city scape seemed to weep verdigris tears for the fallen state of her once glorious Empire.

The Royal Guard were the only semi professional, or at least alert, force on the planet apart from the Ailon.  Clad in baroque anachronistic armour they walked the vast empty halls of the Citadel as the Keto Imperial family idled their time with feast, booze and gossip.
 
The Remnant had learned from Byss that cutting off the head was all that was required, ever dedicated to efficiency in their operations they intended nothing more. 

From Prakith they had learned the bulk of the population did not care who their rulers were so long as their quality of life, if not improved, was at least not diminished. 

They could not have launched a full scale occupation of a planet of 2 billion citizens - they did not need to.

The shrill of laughter and the swish of whispers in the galleries decorated with tarnished gold given over to table gambling games was broken by the entry of the Shadow Lords of Prakith.

Stunned nobles looked up in horror as the Royal Guard activated their Tremor-halberds only to be hurled by invisible hands into the wall unconscious.

“Emperor Setas VII,” Ninth said her voice filtered to a genderless empty tone by he now fully repaiared Aegis helm.

A sweating middle aged man stood warily from the table, attempting to look nonplussed and dignified even as she felt his sweat terror in the aether.

“You know who we are,”

He nodded

“We’ve...we’ve heard...the Shadow Lords of Prakith...your attendance here was not...was not announced,”

“Your handful of spies decorate the Dagger Throne,” Ninth explained the fate of the Tetan’s half hearted effort to peer into the political changes in the deeper core they had neglected for decades.

“What do you want,”

So there was a hint of spine there after all

There was no emotion on her face as she replied, only the clear objective of Purgatio Astra in her mind.

“Everything,”

<<<<>>>>

“Still no response,” the Velite Radio officer reported from the Iron Citadel.

Third stood at the window of a quickly occupied building watching the Mining guild Headquarters across a long avenue that featured at its center a monument indicating where the old Hyperspace Navigators Guildhouse had once stood - the ancient structure, a treasure of galactic history had been removed piece by piece to make way for the cities growth in bette times.

They had the Emperor ‘invite’ the Mining Guild Regional Elder to attend the Iron Citadel to discuss ‘changes to the governance of the system’. 

The Elder was a more canny operator, well aware of the fact his Droid Command Carrier was now occupied by 500 Legionnaires, and the Ailon Corevettes were fighting off a counter boarding action.

Prakith Vessels prevented any ships from leaving, and they now had control of the orbital defences in largely bloodless coup of Defence force command. 

So far the populace was blithely unaware of anything but additional traffic around the Iron Citadel and staring at the sky wondering what the odd explosions were.

“Proceed” Third ordered.  This was the Elders third refusal in as many hours, a fourth offer would not be made.

Five hundred Battle droids stood before them, and within the Mining Guild HQ at least 100 Ailon.

Legion Engineers deployed mobile cover positions, blocking traffic and slowly moving forward.

Mindlessly the Droids marched forward with a steady stream blaster fire that ate into the Dura-Iron of the Prakith Legions too quickly - upgrading their armour would be the first thing they did with the Tetans wealth of carbonite.

Las Carbines were fired in return, the slow firing balls of energy hitting hard on the skeletal dorids knocking them down by the dozen. 

Third strode in the midst of Legion unworried by the droid's fire that he effortlessly bounced off his Oblivion blade, then raising it on high called down Aether lighting upon the machines.

Blue energy coursed through their centre causing the near ones to explode, the outer ones to seize, and emboldening the Legionnaires to charge forward faster, the rousing shout of ‘Prakith!’ on their lips.

Ailon snipers in the HQ rained shots on them from above taking a vicious toll before shields could be brought up.  More Nova guard heavies opened up their advanced weapons from the roof and windows cutting through the Chort decimated in minutes.

“FORWARD!” Third demanded reaching out with the Aether to rip an Ailon Heavy weapons team from a window telekinetically, the insect like armour cracking as it hit the plaza.

The scenario was repeated high above them, the Legion bleeding rapidly and solidifying only around their Shadow Lords whose malefic powers gave them hope they could win against the far superior Ailon.

On the Ailons own corvettes the Legionnaires died by the dozen, cannon fodder to allow the Aethans under Seventh and Kisaea the freedom to use their super human strength and speed to eliminate the Ailon warriors without being overwhelmed.

The decks of the Corvettes were soaked in Legion blood, dura-iron scented the air as Kisaea bashed another Ailon commander into the ground, a regular thrust a Scimitar at her, she caught it under her arm feeling the vibro weapon cut in under sher shoulder, Daryn quickly intervening to ram his broken sword through the Ailon gut.

Seventh came behind them, his sheer bulk barely fitting in the corridors designed for lithe Ailon. His Aegis armour sported a cut from every Ailon he had killed.  And he had killed dozens.

“Droid Command Ship is captured,” Sixth confirmed as he stomped another head in on the bridge, the floor cluttered with dead droids and Legionnaires.  He gazed across the orbital battle, the Prakith ships in the first wave had taken a beating due to their inferior shields and armour, a disadvantage superior Aethan tactics could not fully compensate for.

“The citadel is ours,” Ninth confirmed, “Support moving to the Guild HQ,”

“Copy,” Third responded as the slow grind toward the building built momentum, his own Velites managing to snipe a few of the Ailon as the next cohort clambered over their fellow dead, pushing past the Mining Guild Logo in the plaza strewn with bodies.

Sheer volume of las-Carbine and portable Plasma Culverins was taking the facade of the building apart, forcing the Ailon to retreat back inside.  Finally reaching the door Third kicked the durasteel open, a wave of fire from battle droids inside stopped dead in the air and hurled back into the machines by her Aether powers as Legionnaires flooded in behind her.

On the Ailon Command Ship Varan and Taraea shifted quickly around the Sekhmet’s - Elite Melee guards of the Imyr who lead the Ailon Force and sat unmoved on his command throne.

The Sekmet’s Vibro-scimitars worked fast and fluid against the Aethans Blackstone blades - but Varan and Taraea knew the forms they used, they had been forced to learn them and practice them over and over and over - they used this knowledge now to sweep low and under the weapons, driving their genehanced fists and elbows into the Ailon to stagger them, then blast their torso’s into molten messes of armour and flesh with Aether lighting that crackled from their fingers.

The Sekmet collapsed in heaps as Legionnaires followed the couple in as the Imyr rose brandishing his spear like Djdam Tremor weapon.

Kuffuk, KREE!” He shouted at them, Kuffuk a curse and insult added to the challenge.

The Aethan couple sheathed their blades on their back and lifted their hands, Taraea gripping the Ailons limbs, Varan drawing energy for a burst of righteous flame.

The Imyr fought a losing battle against their powers, trying to trudge forward - his Will was strong, their hate for outsiders stronger. Aether flame smacked him in the chest, melting his chitin like red armour into his flesh slowly and painfully.

He writhed, gasped, but never screamed or begged for mercy denying the Aethans that modicum of satisfaction before the utter incineration of his organs caused his body to fail, the Legionnaires behind the Aethans bellowing “SHADOW, SHADOW, SHADOW!” in zealous praise of their supernatural masters.

<Corvettes secured,> Varan announced.

Floor by floor Third, now joined by Fifth worked their way to the Executive offices of the Mining Guild, gaudy yet aged furnishing blasted apart in the cross fire as Ailon hunkered behind filing cabinets in shoot out with Legionnaires, entire floors blasted apart by Incineration grenades.

Shouldering the sealed door to the Elders office open Fifth took the Ailon shots on his pauldron before snapping up the professional soldiers ankles with his mind lifting them upside down for Third to decapitate with smooth swings of his sword.

The COO and elder were cowering beneath the desk frantically hitting buzzers on comm seeking a signal.

Dragging them out by the hair Third wasted no time pressing into their warbling weak minds.

Shut down your droids, contact the Ailon stating you no longer require their services and will compensate them  for all losses

The Ailon were too much of a threat to remain, fortunately they followed credits as much as war, without the Guild finance they would happily abandon this backwater world for greater conflicts.

The fat face COO eyes rolled back in her plump head, Third barely able to control his desire to throw the disgusting overweight perversion of flesh out the window - he might later.

Dropping it to the floor it complied muttering into the comm as soon as Fifth signalled for the jamming to be lifted.

<Guild HQ Secure,> Third finally confirmed.

Ninth standing before the trembling, and self solid Emperor of Prakith felt as close to satisfaction as possible.  However this was only the beginning. 

Chancellor Teshk of Prakith was beside her reading in his aged droning voice the new Constitution of the Empress Teta System before the Emperor approved it with his Seal.

The Remnant had no desire to destroy the Keto Dynasty, nor the Mining guild, they would, like Prakith, become two tools in building their capacity, Teta would supply physical labour to build and man warships, and soul energy to power the Obelisk array, the Mining Guild would operate under their control, shipping out excess carbonite in exchange for credits and other minerals not easily accessible in the core.

Just as her instinct driven mind was confirming the completion of the current objective the Aether spiked with uncertainty, a red crack almost visible to all of them, emanating from a point some thirty two kilometers away in the ‘Entertainment District’.

<We will re-route immediately,> Fourth signalled from the Palace Bunkers sensing it too.

<No, I will deal with this myself,> Ninth ordered.
<Solidify our gains,>

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #338 on: March 03, 2022, 11:06:45 PM »

Chapter 51 — Conflagration — Invasion — Part 3
Milaea

“Are we too late?” Sofa asked uncertain as the Hecate, Stygium Stealth Drives active the 650 meter vessel slipped unnoticed past the outer picket ships of the Grand Fleet of Prakith whose insignia Milaea had to consult the database Valens had ‘appropriated’ from the Jedi years before to recognise.

In Orbit the only military vessels were a Trade Federation Command Carrier - with Mining Guild Symbols painted on - listlessly swaying amidst damaged Frigates, and three Ailon Nova Guard Corvettes surrounded by the bulky outdated looking Prakthian ships. 

Somehow the otherwise awkward deep core vessels had managed to extend boarding tubes to each of the Ailon ships, deaths dribbled out in the Aether as the fighting aboard intensified.

“Can’t tell...it's strange…” Milaea replied

There were deaths on the planet itself, but they were few and concentrated to two locations -

A carefully planned invasion by the Prakthians, guided by someone - or something - with exceptional strategic skills and tactical nous given the Prakith ships looked - despite having a new sheen to the hull - 500 years out of date in terms of construction, the Chiss scanning systems of the Hecate confirming it with the readouts on radiation and energy profiles that matched vessels not seen in generations.

“They want the ships intact…” Sofa said taking a closer look at the damage profile on the Mining Guild Vessels

“Especially the Ailon ones, they lost a few ships trying to board when they clearly had the skills to blast them…”

“They’re upgrading…” Milaea realised as she began to feel more and more precisely the currents of the Aether on the planet

“Enhancing…Perfecting...The Prakithians are just a stepping stone, they want the Guild and Ailon Technology - The Prakthians are the cannon fodder…”

“Wait who is using them as cannon fodder?” Sofa asked, Milaea slipping into the habit of forgetting even fellow Aethans couldn’t see as deeply as she could,

Milaea’s eyes narrowed slightly seeking out across the crevice lines in the aether the next point of crisis and critical decisions.

There were two Shatterpoints on the surface, the fight in orbit was all but over.  It was too dangerous for her and Sofa to split up, she had to choose one of the tipping points to intervene on.

Dipping tentatively into the future streams of the Aether she looked to which one could blend the most threads in her favour.

“I know where we need to go,”

<<<<>>>>

Trinity

Coryn stared to the sky through the Exhibitions frosted glass as Lysan stomped the last suffering outsiders to death, Arryn arming the Naqxium bomb that would not only deflagrate the blaspehmous statues, but turn the larger part of Cinnagar to a glass filled crater.

“Someone is coming,” the youngest of the Trinity said, cradling his Crossbow at the ready.

Lysan growled as he kicked the blood and bone from his boots.

They had all sensed the fighting elsewhere on the planet, but given they intended to turn it to ash it hardly mattered what outsiders were fighting among themselves.

The Exhibition hall ceiling began to vibrate, the Trinity dove for cover ready to engage whatever came through.

Moments later a rippling in the air resolved into an Oblivion Black dagger shaped ship.

Leaping out of the Transport Sofa’s blade hissed on cutting a hole in the roof before leaping down the four storeys to the ground amidst the recently dead that lay in between the explicit statues she had helped pose for years before.

Milaea drifted down more elegantly with red glowing Aether Flight.

“Shavit…” Sofa sighed as she surveyed the massacre - she could pick just over three hundred boided throughout the exhibition hall, probably a few more hidden beneath the others, the majority had blaster wounds, a few more grisly decapitations or telekinetically inflicted neck crushing.

Coryn snapped out first, Crossbow tense and ready to fire its vicious Projectile, Sofa’s guard snapped up, Lysan curled out from behind a statue pillar rifle at the ready, Arryn peaking out with his bespoke hand rifles.

Sofa quickly snapped her saber off, the women raising their hands fingers spread to show they were not a threat in a Jedi motion they had down by rote.

“No need to shoot, we’re not here to hurt anyone,” Sofa insisted exuding a sense of calm and safety best she could to the blood covered murderers.

“We just want to talk…” Gently she unclasped her helmet, the metal scent of blood hitting her olfactory senses hard, but mingled just within notice were more familiar smells unique to People.

Expressing a small stream of low intensity pheromones Sofa continued
“You’re People, We’re People…these statues…this exhibition was meant to be a signal, bring everyone who was lost back together…”

the presence of the dead once more bit into her consciousness

“You might have misunderstood what was going on here,” the former Jedi used all the tolerance Soryu had instilled in her to keep an even non judgemental voice.

The three men shared odd looks, they could smell she was a female of the People - but not one they recognised the heritage of.

Lysan tightened his aim at Sofa’s head.

“Outsider lies! You have no link to the Tribe!”

<Damn it…> He was right, Sofa was not born Aethan, her scents weren’t connected to any family lines they might recognise.

<...let me try,> Milaea intervened, unclasping her own helmet, her lustrous golden red hair shuffling free.

“I am Milaea, daughter of Cilina”, her voice firm and resolute

“Granddaughter of Kassyndra, Lyssia, Amrys and Old Andis the Guardian, trained Guardian myself by Jarys and Kiraea, acknowledged by Melron, Karintha, Taran and Valens,”

She made sure to only use the names of those other survivors would know from before the Devastation even as she projected her aura outward so they could smell and sense her place in the People was genuine.

Coryn was inclined to believe her, the names Kiraea and Karintha, Yorna’s sister and aunt, gave him hope that Yorna too might be alive – a hope that may well be clouding his judgment, but one he was willing to take.

Arryn knew fewer of the names, it seemed plausible to his logical mind, but no greater likelihood than this being some kind of ruse to lure out People to destroy them completely.

Lysan took Arryn’s concern and turned it to paranoia.

This was simply another Outsider trick, they had taken the sacred names and images of their Goddesses and put them on display for outsiders to gawk at - to spew the names of a few Guardians was trivial in comparison.

<But they look, smells, feels like People?> Coryn countered in the group mind to Lysan’s budding rage fuelled scepticism.

<The Outsiders surely have the ability to devise such a glamour!> Lysan replied swiftly

“We will not be deceived!” He spat back

“If you are who you say then where are these Guardians, why do they allow you to leave without an escort among the Outsiders?”

“The Other Guardians are…engaged in a conflict far from here, but will return soon, unit then you are welcome to come with us and await them on Aethas itself, we have the navigational coordinates, a safe route and ships to traverse through the deep core,”

“So convenient they are absent!” Lysan replied with snide disdain

“I understand your suspicion,” Milaea tried to soothe

“I can see, feel that your journey here has been long, hard and painful, loss upon loss in this strange hostile galaxy…please listen to me.”

“Not before you have heard my words,” a deep vaguely feminine echoed through the hall as pouding steps followed it.

The Trinity snapped round as dozens of Prakith Legionnaires scrambled round them las-carbines charged, at their head a Giant in Oblivion armour of a design Milaea only recognised from her inherited memories of Aethena’s life - Technocracy Aegis Armour.

Ninth gestured for the Legionnaires to remain on guard, she had concealed their presence and her own approach till this last moment, Milaea hid the shock she felt at that.

“What is this!” Lysan barked feeling ever more trapped but flicking signals to Arryn to prep the bomb.

“Your Liberation,” Ninth explained, removing her own helmet revealing an oversized stern face of a woman.

“I am Ninth, Commander of the Aertemisaean Squad of the Glorious Technocracy of Aethas - I know you are Lysan, former slave of the Ailon Nova Guard, your comaptriots led by Kisaea followed me in the invasion of this world after we freed them.”

She paused as the Trinity glanced between Ninth and the equally perplexed Milaea and Sofa.

“Legionnaires leave us, these matters are beyond your comprehension.” Ninth ordered, the Legion obedient to their masters backing out slowly.

<Who the frell is she?> Sofa asked telepathically
<I don’t know, even Aethena never heard of her,> Milaea replied as the last Legionnaire left.

Ninth briefly glanced up to the Karintha Class transport above them

“Your vessel is impressive, it seems some of the Tribals have prospered.” Ninth commented

“We’re rebuilding - gradually,” Milaea said

“Then you will be pleased to hear we have also been building, the conflict around this world has secured us this planet's resources, and now brought us together with two more bands of survivors of the Devastation. A day to be long celebrated,”

Milaea was not so certain.

“What are you doing with these resources,”

“What is natural,” Ninth replied with cold assurance
Purgatio Astra

The Cleansing of the Stars, the Technocracies ultimate solution to the ‘Outsider Question’, they never seriously had the time or resources to attempt it of course - it seems this survivor of that dead society had.

“Someone,” Lysan said through gritted teeth,
“Explain to me what is going on, or I will turn us all to ash!”

Arryn primed the Naqxium bomb a gentle chime on the large device brought all eyes to it.

<Oh Shavit…what is that,> Sofa said knowing the answer

“It’s alright, this is…we just need to go somewhere else and talk this through,” Milaea insisted,
“I have a ship in orbit we can talk there until the others arrive,” she looked pointedly to Lysan
“Once Karintha is here you will know what I’m saying is true,”
She then looked to the Titan of a genehanced woman
“And we can discuss exactly what this all means - but you need to deactivate that bomb before anyone else dies needlessly,”

Anyone Else” Lysan spat back at her as Milaea realised how devastating an error the offhand comment had been.

“No Person has died,” Ninth intercepted even as she stood among dozens of bodies, none of them counted, they were Outsiders.

“And every Outsider death is Necessary” Lysan affirmed his choice made
“A True Guardian would know that, would help us to destroy the degenerates,” 

He turned fully to Ninth

“We have Naquadha-Coaxium bombs, capable of levelling cities…” Lysan explained
“...We ask nothing more than the chance to use them,”

Opportunities to combine the bombs with the Obelisk array flared possibilities across Ninths mind, Purgatio Astra would be accelerated by decades.

“You shall have it and more,” Ninth promised as Milaea’s face fell, images of countless systems rendered lifeless by teleported Naqxium bombs from Obelisk arrays.

“No, I can’t let that happen,” Milaea said firmly as her eyes flashed red, the wave of her incredible energy hitting everyone like a tsunami, Arryn and Coryn both buckling, Lysan nearly toppling over, only Ninth stood unmoved.

“By the Authority of the Three Goddesses in me you will submit to my authority,”

“Tribal superstitions,” Ninth dismissed as the men cowered, Milaea’s Tribal-Divine Domineering power utterly ineffectual against the Technocracy age Aethan.
“And Outsider lies,” Ninth took a single step forward.

“Don’t try it,” Milaea warned the enormous Aethan

“We will not tolerate interference in the pursuit of Purgatio Astra” Ninth said drawing her enormous Shatter-Sword.

<Shaaaaaaavit>
Sofa snapped on her saber again as Ninth exploded forward like a bolt of Black lighting.

Milaea’s kinetic wave intensity could’ve have liquefied doonium, it slid round the Remnant soldier as the Shatter-sword crashed with the force of thousands of kilograms onto Sofa’s blade as Milaea hit from the side.

Crushing grips, blast of eldritch chains, Dathomiri binding circles and Aethan curses were unleashed as a single torrent from Milaea’s depth of Aether power onto the Remnant, the Aegis armour built to resist Sith magicks deflected much, but the Hollowness of the Reactivated giants connection to the aether distorted the rest.

A purple and blue saber cracked hot and white against a Shatter-Sword built in another age to fight Sith warlords whose ancient sabers were far more energy intensive. Arms as large as Milaea’s torso gave Ninth greater strength, neurons twice as myelinated as Sofa’s gave her greater speed.

Barely three seconds and the pair realised the almost inconceivable - they were fighting a being physically superior to them.

Decades of practised Jedi saber forms mixed with more grounded Dathomiri and Aethan techniques gave Sofa and Milaea out’s and a few opportunities against the Aertemisaean that rained an avalanche of blows heavy as the women themselves falling at terminal velocity.

Ninth adapted quickly using her bulk with concentrated blasts of kinetic energy to wear the pair down. Milaea felt the strange not quite living aether presence of Ninth more fully, this was a being that was not quite alive, not fully dead, a powerful but hollow shell that, while it limited Ninths aether abilities to fairly conventional powers of telekinesis, telepathy, lighting and fire, mad her resistant to metaphysical attacks as quite simply, there seemed to be no soul for Milaea or Sofa to aim at.

The Men could barely see what was happening, Oblivion armour and saber brightness was surrounded by Milaea’s red glow as the chosen of the Goddesses relied on Sofa to buy just a few seconds to readjust her aether power to better counter Ninth.

The former Jedi bit back the red haze of warning in her somatosensory cortex that indicated her limbs were already straining against the extreme blows, she needed only seconds, filling her limbs with the Aether Sofa hit back with solid Niman strikes, the flexible form she had learned with Soryu’s grace allowing her to push Ninth back to give Milaea space, and even come under the massive Ninths Shatter blade to strike, however ineffectually, at the massive Aegis Breastplate.

Ninth was playing her own game.  Behind the whorl of blades Fourth, Third and Fifth arrived at a run,telekinetic arms gripping Sofa’s wrist and ankles in an instant.

<Shav Shav Shav!>

A delayed block let Ninth shoulder her, Sofa flew backward as the vast weight of the remnant warrior carried unconscionable momentum into her smaller frame -sending her straight into a kinetic whirlpool that drew her into Fifths massive arms.

Already summoning up a Lightning shield to burst out, the Remnant warrior clamped her in a bear hug and extended a Null field that was replicated by all the Remnant who positioned around Milaea, trapping the powerful young woman in a Null zone, frustrating her Aether attacks in an instant.

Without the Aether Milaea was no stronger than any other woman of the People. She knew the remnant couldn’t sustain such a large Null field for long, but they didn’t need to.  Third and Ninth pounced at her, the red haired Aethan spun between the two vast warriors, her saber using Soryu’s defensive forms drawing the combat out longer than Ninth had anticipated as Sofa struggled against Fifths grip.

<Fourth!> Ninth ordered her into the fight.

Time passed in crucial microsecond as three Remnant fought to physically grind down one demi-god, all the while sustaining a Null field to deny her god-like powers as long as they could.

Milaea inched between the blades, dodging the elbows and knees, feeling out the slowly diminishing radius of the Null field. 

If she could outlast them physically she could suppress them Aetherically. Ninth was well aware of the strategy and the limitations of their fight.

Regardless of their conflict they were all Aethan, fundamental to the Super-Species was the inability to truly harm another - every strike they made was softened as if they were sparring. 

Under Third’s sword Miaea rammed her knee into Fourths side, a slight opening Ninth took, allowing Milaea to strike down hard on her head with the pommel of her saber - it rattled but did little damage to her ultra-calcified skull - in exchange the enormous Technocracy soldier crash tackled Milaea into a pile of dead humans, shattering their already dying bones. 

Her opponent pinned they could narrow the null field as Ninth and Milaea traded close blows.

Coryn couldn’t watch as the Giants crushed down on the young Aethan woman, Arryn too seemed uncomfortable, Lysan somewhat indifferent still convinced they were Outsider tricks.

Her arms pinned by Ninths weight Milaea felt the Null field begin to recede, her powers tingling at the tips of her fingers….

Yet she also sensed a vile oily shadow growing somewhere at the edge of the system.

The girl went limp, Ninth stopped still worried she had harmed the girl.

“I surrender,” Milaea said “We don’t have time to fight among ourselves…we need to leave, now,”

Ninth stood slowly wondering what she was speaking of.

<<<<>>>>

At the edge of the Empress Teta System Space was ripped and twisted ina shimmering wave as Five Hundred bulbous, sleek, off white boosters resolved into real space.

Drawing a breath on the Bridge of the largest of the Vessels Jedi Master Tnbu stood beside the hover sled of the gross oiled Hutt Flesh Crafter.

The Sullustan steeled himself as the sick mutated creatures that served the Hutts began their deployment of their cyborg soldiers, heralding, he hoped, the end of the Aetherians.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #339 on: March 03, 2022, 11:09:55 PM »

Chapter 51 — Conflagration — Invasion — Part 4
Second Battle of Teta

They were barely on board the Glory of Prakith when the dingy utilitarian metal bridge lit with warning signals and alarms.

“New contact at Z302 Y1148 X 29776,”
“Tracking three..four…no how…”
Systems decades out of date compared to the Ailon tech she was used to showed dozens of blips at the target coordinates, then - overwhelming the sensor's finesse - a single blob.

“An Ailon relief Force?” Seventh asked her.

Kisaea shook her head
“They would come in closer to the planet with interdictors, and not in that number, not for a low value client like the Mining guild.”

“Get me long range visuals, I want to see what these ships…” Sevenths orders were cut off as half the ‘blob’ vanished. 

“Micro jump,” the icy tactician of the Remnant murmured
“All ships Red Alert!”

<<<<>>>>

“You need to evacuate the system,” Milaea insisted on the planet below even as she stood gripped by Third, Sofa held by Fifth beside her.

“And lose all our gains,” Fourth countered
“Better than our lives,” Sofa snapped back

Ninth took in all the information coming to her

<Approximately half the mass of the unknown vessels micro jumped, if they are headed to us we have fifteen minutes before realspace translation,> seventh cooly informed her from the Glory

<We’ve just received a visual of the enemy ships…> he telepathically expressed the image on the grainy pixelated black and white screen from the outdated long range radio-scope the Prakthian fleet had no better alternative to.

<I’ve never seen anything like it,> Kisaea added

Ninth broadened the Mind meld to include the three males.

Lysan instantly felt the presence of Kisaea, Daryn and the others, his choice of Ninth vindicated.

<Kisi!>
<Lys you’re alive how…doesn’t matter thank the Goddesses! But we can talk later, do you know this ship?>

Lysan shared it in turn with Coryn and Arryn.

<It’s a Hutt Vessel, - A Voy’Di’Cee - Chariot of the Pure, the preferred vessels of the wealthiest Hutts, they never leave the Throne Worlds that I am aware of> Arryn had analysed them for the Pykes during his confinement

<Hutts, what business have they here?> Ninth asked

None had any answers, she turned to Milaea and Sofa opening herself to them as well, albeit on a very confined channel, not trusting Milaea’s surrender.

“Do you Know this?” she shared the image across the Aethenaea Cortex.

Sofa zeroed in on a symbol on the hull she had hoped never to see again, three yellow lines that branched and twisted to a bloated sphere with a Huttese ‘Penth’ equivalent letter in the middle.

<That’s the Pohna Kakea - Flesh Crafters,> Sofa explained
<We had a run in about a year back…are they following us?>

<Can’t be us,> Milaea said in reply <We’re not using any of the ships we took to Rorak, if they had a tracer they would’ve gone straight to Aethas long ago>

<Flesh crafters…Ciy’Keueketka> Varan realised
<The Pure Warriors, Cyborgs, mostly Klatoonian, We never saw their ships but we encountered them when the Ailon were hired in the Neimoidian Civil War - the enemy bought 1000 of the ‘Unblemished’ to counter the Ailon, sent them straight into our lines…>
<Yes Ct’chunak Ridge, we barely made it out alive, nearly 3000 Ailon dead against barely 300 Ketka> Taraea affirmed
<They’ll cut the Prakith Legion to shreds.>

<Whatever their reasons for being here we cannot lose the Legion,>  Ninth decided hearing all she needed to.
<Seventh order a full retreat> she turned to the Trinity
<You three do you have your bombs nearby?>
<A short skiff ride,> Lysan answered
<Fifth see they are collected immediately, we leave now,>

Ninth paused before Fifth released his grip on Sofa.
“I trust you won’t interfere with the evacuation,”
“Lady, I want out of here more than you do,” Sofa said.

“Our ship is on the roof, we can get you and the others out of the System on our ship, it's faster and stronger than anything you have,” Milaea offered.

<Do you really want them on the Hecate> Sofa chimed in privately
<No, but from there we can try contact the others easier,>

“We need to ensure the Glory of Prakith makes it out, not only are our People on there but also a full Obelisk Array,” Ninth noted even as they begun to move, Arryn sweeping up the Naqxium bomb.

“You have an Obelisk array…shav…Aethan minds do think alike,” Sofa said with, for once, genuine exasperation.

“How long to make a jump?” Milaea asked as their super human strength and the aether allowed them to leap four storeys up over the dead exhibition hall to the Karintha Class Transport, Fourth assisting Arryn as Third issued orders to the Legion Occupation forces on the ground to hunker down and keep the Tetan Emperor and critical infrastructure under their control.

“Eighteen minutes 32 seconds from calculator,” Ninth replied as she steadied on the Transport taking in the cool blue grey of the Chiss based design, idly noting that this Assault transport was more powerful than a Prakith Destroyer.

“Then there is no time to waste.”

<<<<>>>>

The Legion worked quickly as it could within the choking confines of outdated technology.

The Invasion of Teta was meant to grant them access to better resources and modern technologies, fulfilling the Shadow Lords promise their sacrifice today would give future generations a far better quality of life, no longer living in a feudal scraps sneered at as a back water by the Core systems, but advancing to a semi-modern state.

The Full retreat order lanced that hope painfully, grim loyalty and trust in the Shadow Lords kept them working.  Their masters never promised unmitigated success, were clear losses would be numerous, the Glorious Path was neither smooth nor flat, but beset but jagged traps.

Belief in this Path and the cool headed oversight of Legate Semketh and Admiral Kurzon ensured as smooth a fall back as possible, the Fleet coming about to the Hyperspace exit orientation, captured vessels coming about, rescue crews for their own destroyed ships furiously working in the few minutes they had to secure those most likely to survive.

The Aethans were just as swift, stopping at the Manor the Trinity had depopulated, Sofa felt a wave of revulsion at the corpses still lying there, killed for no other crime than being of no use to the three men.  Her and Milaea’s antipathy only grew as the Remnant using their superior strength even by Aethan standards hauled crate upon crate of Naqxium aboard.

“Is this stuff stable?” Sofa queried as she fit another box in the increasingly cramped hold, noting Fifth was already tinkering with a Hades rifle when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“At current temperatures yes,” Arryn said, allaying none of her concerns.

“Admiral how much longer,” Ninth demanded as the hatch sealed and Milaea pushed the transport at maximum acceleration into the lower atmosphere, leaving the oblivious city behind her, a handful of flashing lights now surrounding the Exhibition hall as confused emergency services found the massacre.

“Another 8 minutes to complete calculations,” he replied from the Glory of Prakith.

The estimate for the Ketka ships that had jumped returning to real space was 5.

“Form a defensive perimeter around the Glory charge all weapons,” Ninth demanded
“Already underway Lord,” the studious Admiral replied.

Ninth stood behind Milaea as the sky gave way to void and the sparkle of distant ships.

“Can your vessel provide covering fire?” the Remnant leader asked

“If we can get to it in time,” she pushed the afterburners as the HUD showed the most direct course back to the Hecate
“But the ship is empty, we’ll have to rely mainly on automated targeting,”

“I think I can assist in that,” Arryn interjected from behind
“My…” he glanced to the mechanical stumps that had been hands
“...I believe I can interface with this technology if it has a universal connection port.”

The tension built as the passed the Glory of Prakith, Hand of Shadow and Honour of Ashken, the three Super Destroyers that formed the core of the fleet which was slowly repositioning.

“Four minutes till they…”

The Ketka Advance Fleet arrived early.

<<<<>>>>

Twenty Four whasoka, Eight pahdipa, three Capa and four Kapa Teesaw cut out of hyperspace cannons firing on predetermined arcs at the Prakith fleet.

“That is not enough ships,” Tnbu complained beside the bloated flesh crafter, the noxious scent of hyper-hormonal perfumes in the air.

Comprising 24 Frigates, eight Corvettes and three heavy and two medium cruisers it was a substantial force, but still dwarfed by the hundreds of Prakith vessels.

The Flesh crafter said nothing but in a single withering blink of its glassy brown eyes indicated the Jedi should leave the strategy to him.

Within seconds Tnbu had to eat his words as the bulbous Hutt ships weapon lanced through a score of the bulky rectangular enemy ships leaving them floating burning wrecks.

The Hutt murmured a laugh.

[These do not seem to be the Shadow Lords who assailed Rorak] The Flesh crafters sick high pitched voice echoed in the wide rounded bridge
[Their tactics are adequate but the technology is woeful…I fear you may have wasted our time and resources Master Jeeeedai]

The last word was less speech than an extended lick around the gaping max by the Hutts meter long tongue, as if salivating at having Jedi to ‘play’ with.

But Tnbu was certain, he could feel even from the edge of the system, the familiar tremors of the Aetherians twisted powers.  No Jedi who had lived through the Night of Madness on Coruscant, the Jungle Slaughter of Myrkr, or the Murders of Ord Mirit could forget.

More of the slow Prakith ships burst apart, their return fire using antiquated Plas-Bombards a tickle on the Ketka ships shields at best, the most advanced in Hutt space few species or factions in the galaxy possessed better technology - certainly none had access to as many resources.

The Pohna Kaeka took a tithe from every single Hutt, from Kadijic Elder to two bit death stick dealer, of 8 per cent every 8 years. 

Reviled and feared in equal measure, the Flesh crafters were ‘outside’ normal Hutt social structures, yet integral because of it - as the only truly neutral party given the faction riven Hutt High Council, they were entrusted with protection of the Bootana Hutta - the Hutts Paradisal Throne worlds inaccessible to outsiders where the richest and oldest Hutts retired, and, if  rumours were true, most Hutts were birthed on their Clans Palace World.

With near limitless credits, access to any resources they requested within Hutt space hundreds of vessels and ten thousand Ketka - a force that could conquer a dozen core worlds - were a trifle to the Flesh crafters.

Even so they were never wasteful, the advance force was there to ‘test the mud’ - as the Hutts adage went - before ‘slopping in’.

Decks were breached, medical bays blow out, bridge turned to molten slag and a full fifth of the Grand Fleet of Prakith was reduced to rubble in mere moments as hundreds of single man boarding torpedoes were launched from the Ketka ships, ramming into the larger Prakith vessels that in vain tired to hurl plasma balls at the rapidly repositioning enemy - the Ketka fleet never static for a moment.

Klatooinian by mass breeding, made Ciy’Keueketka by regiments of hormonal stimulants and cybernetic implants the Ketka in void capable modular armour ripped into the larger Prakith ships, Legion soldiers prepped to counter boarding operations decimated by the psy-implantation trained super soldiers.

Dura Iron was split apart by Ketka Tremor blades with ease.

The Third Maniple of the Fourth Cohort of the Eleventh Legion stood staid in the aft section of Spinal Corridor of the  Glory of Prakith hearing nothing on the Vox but the cries for reinforcement and bitterly futile attempted last stands. 

The Legion was inferior to the Ketka in every possible way.

The yellow lit dinge of the main thoroughfare along the vast Battleship was broken green as blue cutters seared through the dura-iron on every side, a half dozen heavy rounded chunks of metal fell as the Legionnaires charges their Las-Carbines and readied Shock-Sword.

Six Pure Warriors in off white armour leapt at the maniple of forty.  Shots rung out in the dark, blood hissed from quickly opened necks, the Cyborg soldiers vibrating with combat stimulants shredded the Prakith soldiers two or three at a time under the guidance of a mix of direct Cyber-Tac input from mechanical implants and psy-surgery ‘training’.

In 20 seconds as many Legionnaires lay dead. The Centurion grunted in his yell “FOR PRAKITH” fully convinced he would die for the Glorious Path until the Ketka he was driving his Sword at was hauled back as if by a chain round its waist.

The Ketka flew into the skewering blade of Seventh as Aether lighting hammered the other five into the ground, then running along the wall Varan and Davys drove their sword through the Cyborgs as they landed.

A cheer rose in the Maniple even as more Ketka arrived, the Prakith warriors now grinning to see what the Shadow Lords made of these latest enemies to the Glorious Path.

Across the Glory the Aethans ran point to point fending off the seemingly endless stream of boarding Ketka, Kisaea, Taraea and Sixth moved between increasingly void open sections around the bridge, Seventh Varan and Davys kept them from the engines and generators best they could, Daryn and Lynaea protected the main docking bays.

Driving her blade through a Kekta chest Kisaea didn’t have time to pull it free before having to duck another's blow - the head of her attacker was used like a handle for Sixth to lift then crush with his enormous strength, the Aethan giant drawing Ketka attention away from the Legion maniple who did their best to try and shoot or stab the far faster Ketka.

The Flesh crafters machine and stimulant abominations while not as strong or fast as an Aethan were individually superior to even Ailon soldiers, and ebetter equipped with the best armour billions of Hutt credits could buy.

“How long till the jump!” Daryn yelled as he swept between piles of legion corpses and burning fighters to use as cover against over a dozen ketka, Lynaea opportunistically blasting them with Telekinetic fists when she could.

“Imminently,” Admiral Kurzon replied, the gaunt elderyl man with black hair peppered gray bent over the navicomputer that was slowly locking in a confirmed gravity map to ensure they were not instantly obliterated by some recent deep core gav-flux.

Nine green lights in a row, the tenth and last flickered yellow…then white then…

The board went red.

“Shadow Curse it!” he snapped round to the navigational officers bench
“What happened!, did the enemy get to it,”  The three officers scrambled about as Taraea hurled bodies into Ketka firing lines to soak up shots, Kisaea hidden among them.  As Taraea rounded the corner the Ketka, thinking Kisaea another dead body rushed past, she sprang straight into their back with Aether powered stabs.

“We’ll check the lower levels, but we haven’t seen any get that close to the bridge,”

Overhearing everything through the Aethan Telepathic meld Milaea quickly checked the sensors on the Transport as it neared the Hecate, just as another sweep completed the entire vessel buckled and on the Glory’s bridge the Navicomputer board went blank entirely.

“Were we hit?” Ninth asked behind the young Aethan woman.

“No…they have a gravity well generator, it scrambled every navicomputer calculator you have…” Milaea explained as she divided attention between inputting clearance codes to dock with the cloaked Hecate and looking for the source of the interdictor field.

“I can’t get a lock…its somewhere among the Ketka ships but I only have a broad area, it must be cloaked,”

Through the viewscreen she saw the Prakith fleet now ubiquitously burning, air escaping the vessels allowing the fire to take hold, while others sprayed metal, fuel and water into the void through pierced metal skin that crackled with electrical sparks.  Bodies in Dura-Iron floated stone, or worse desperately scrambling, in between the dying ships.

They didn’t have time to try and pinpoint the cloaked ship, Milaea wasn’t sure even the Chiss technology of the Hecate could.

“Sofa, can you buy us time with the Hecate, I need to get to that obelisk array on the Glory of Prakith,” Milaea said with cold focus

Ninth instantly understood what she intended

“The array takes over fifteen minutes to activate and target we don’t have ti…”

“I can do it,” Milaea cut her off with a flash of red energy in her eyes, giving Ninth a quick taste of her full potential.

“Third and I will go with you,” the Remnant leader quickly agreed, taken aback by the intensity of the Aethan woman's power then turned in the cramped ship to look through the cockpit door to the Trinity

“One of you will be needed to prepare your unique explosives,” she said referring to the Naqxium bombs

“I’ll go,” Lysan volunteered

<Well go fast,> Varan grunted to them from the Glory as he struggled in a blade lock with two Ketka, rolling back then blasting a wave of kinetite to get some breathing room.

<We can’t hold out much longer,>

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #340 on: March 03, 2022, 11:10:39 PM »

Chapter 51 — Conflagration — Invasion — Part 5
Second Battle of Teta
[My pure warriors report encountering vast beings in light eating armour…] the Hutt mused as Tnbu watched the sterile holo image of a battle far from here where symbols represented vast metal craft that once plied the stars quickly turning to mere detritus for solar winds to blow.

There was nothing ‘pure’ about the Ketka Tnbu briefly thought, the sick amalgams of flesh, machine and drugs were vile to say the least, exceeded only by the horrific creatures that populated the Flesh crafters vessel - some kind of twisted fusion of - it appeared - Siniteen oversized craniums and Xexto six limbed bodies operated the ships controls as vile overly voluptuous vaguely feminine green tinged humanoids with no real heads incessantly massaged the Hutt with the disgusting liquids that constantly coated him.

“It is them, I can feel it,”

[We shall see,] the Hutt gurgled contemplative 
[We wonder - how many of your Jedi did they kill that you hate them so to come to us?] the Hutt asked seemingly paying no attention to battle, Tnbu hadn’t heard him issue a single command - though Force only knew what cybernetics the Hutt possessed beneath that wrinkled wet skin.

Tnbu remained silent for some time, the accusation of Hate, an emotional anathema to a Jedi Orthodox as he was, striking too close to truth for comfort.

“One is too many,” the Sullustan replied quietly.

<<<<<>>>>>

One moment they saw a vast expanse of stars on the deep core side of the Teta system - the next with vision jarring speed the interiors of a blue-grey hangar as the Transport finally reached the Hecate.

“Stay safe,” Sofa said quickly kissing Milaea’s cheek before rushing to the back and leaping out with Fourth, Fifth, Coryn and Arryn onto the Hecate, each telekinetically taking a few crates of Naqxium with them leaving Lysan arming the bomb as Milaea sped the transport back out into space.

Coryn briefly marvelled at the size of the cloaked vessel

“Yeah big,” Sofa said, “This way,”

They ran at full tilt to the turbo lit of the Malefic class super destroyer, the giant Fourth and Fifth having to duck slightly as their 3.2 meter height scraped on the ceilings.

“This place, feels - not familiar - but logical,” Arryn said as they reached the Bridge level
“I understand the design already…”

“Well built by Aethans for Aethans,” Sofa mused as the turbo lift doors open and they set off again
“Using some Chiss, and stolen Mon-Cala and Kuati tech,” quickly through the large blast doors to the bridge the Aethans who had never set foot on the vessel before seemed to instinctively know where to go, Fifth taking control of navigation, Fourth tactical, Coryn engineering, Arryn straight to weapons.  The command consoles used a Chiss style interfaces but also featured Aethan blackstone and grey-sleet under controls.

“I know this…” Fifth said as he quickly worked out what every button and lever did
“These designs are much like Technocracy craft…”

“Huh you’re surprised Aethans all think alike and make things the same way?” Sofa said jokingly as she took the captains chair, as a relative outsider she more than any other Aethan had observed how their mono-cultural and mono-genetic heritage meant they all made physical artefacts in the same way - that Adaea, Kiraea and Valens had built these vessels in a way similar to the Technocracy was no surprise at all.

“You Tribals are not as different as we thought,” Fourth elucidated in a way Sofa found slightly insulting.

They had bigger problems though. 

Arryn quickly connected his ‘hands’ to the universal connection ports, the patterns of the control systems flowing through his neurons, the ugly legacy of his enslavement mapping weapons pathways that once controlled his fingers.

Part of his mind rushed through the technical specification of weapons the Pykes he had been forced to serve could only dream of -

 24 Hades Megamaser (Charric)Turbo Cannons, 36 Point Defence Maser Energised Phirk Magnetic Accelerator Turrets , 8 Shikkar Torpedo Launchers each with 12 Blackstone Drill tipped torpedoes featuring Proton Bomb Cores. And weapons of true slaughter - 16 Chiss ‘Void Silencer’ Thermonuclear Torpedoes, two at each launcher.

Sofa looked with troubled astonishment as Arryns eyes flitted about in his head taking it all in.

“What did they do to him,” she whispered to Coryn

“Nothing good,” was his solemn reply as the ship began to move on Shadow Drives under cloak.

“Ok once we come out of cloak we’re probably gonna be in for it,” Sofa said as she positioned the ship behind the Ketka force.

“And I have no idea how well things will hold up…” she glanced to the tactical map which showed Milaea transport nearing the Glory and every few second another energy signal that was a Prakith ship dying.

“Everyone ready,”

“I have control,” Arryn said with mechanical certainty

Aethnai vincit omnia” Fourth and Fifth echoed with equal automation

“Ready,” Coryn added
“Frell this whole thing, here we go,” Sofa finished.

<<<<>>>>

650 meters long and black as the void between stars the Hecate shrugged off the Stygium cloaking with a shimmering black-blue oil like sheen replaced by an invisible shell of Tri-Repulsor shields.

The Siniteen like creatures integrated into the Kapa Teesaw - Medium Cruiser - at the rear of the advance Ketka force barely registered the appearance before 8 Hades MegaMaser cannons fired upon it.

Arryn unleashed with perfect synchronicity the full array of the Hecates vast weaponry on the Kapa Teesaw, four Hutt Frigates, Two Corvettes and another of the smaller Cruisers the Capa Teesaw - all twenty four Megamasers, half of the magnetic accelerator cannons and 16 torpedoes cried silent death across the void.

The Kinetic and energy based megamasers hit first, the advanced Hutt tabhatadi shields - Huttese for ‘indontiamble’ took the first two rounds of the Chiss weaponry - that would’ve shredded any lesser vessel - remarkably well.  The third broadside just as the Hutt ships began to pivot cracked the shields just as the magnetic accelerators shots and torpedoes arrived.

Energised ultra-dense phrik bullets tore into the hulls, the double armour plating of the Ketka vessels sparing them much internal damage until the whirring blackstone drill tipped torpedoes began to bore in. 

Too many to direct with the aether they defaulted to seeking out the closest largest power source, eating through deck after deck before their proton bomb core detonated with white blue intensity.

In its opening salvo’s six Ketka ships were destroyed outright, four more crippled. 

On the Aniahiooy - the Dreadnought - at the edge of the system the Flesh crafter was finally interested.

[That vessel looks familiar…] he mused as a handful of plum kidneys were fed to him, the Pohna Kakea enjoying making the Sullustan Jedi nearby uncomfortable as possible.

While far larger the overall shape and initial scans indicated beyond coincidence similarity to the one that had rammed their outpost on Rorak.

Surprise was fleeting.

The Ketka advance force swiftly came about even as they continued to disgorge Single Man boring torpedoes at the Prakith ships, their cannons warmed and ready tearing jade cuts across the crest of Teta’s night side below and bursting into rippling waves on the Hecate’s shields.

The entire bridge rocked with the kinetic impact of the shield tremors caused by the shots, the thrum of the Carcsatto noaz Solar Ionization Reactors intensifying just under Sofa’s expletives as Coryn intensified forward shields and Fifth tried to steer them out of the overlapping fields of fire.

“We can’t take too many of those hits before we lose shields…eight maybe nine…” Coryn called out

The Chiss and Ketka Hutt tech were irritatingly on par, and while the Blackstone hull could probably take far more shots than regular doonium Sofa didn’t want to test it.

“Try and pick off the smaller one and draw them away from the Glory <and dammit Mili hurry up!>” she finished telepathically

They landed in the middle of a fight - Third and Ninth leapt into Ketka backs crushing them with their weight then tearing them off Daryn and Lynaea in the Glory’s port dock, a vast stretch along the side of the vessel crammed with clunky Legion transports and littered with burning fighters and bleeding Legionnaires, ten per Ketka.

“Get them to the Array.” Ninth ordered Third as Daryn struggled up, his leg broken, scalp bleeding, a bloody hand gripped up Lynaea who was nursing a deep wound to her abdomen.

Following Third, Milaea could barely spare the Aethans a glance, Goddesses she wanted to send a bolt of shatter point healing energy their way, but she didn’t know how much power she would need.

Lysan behind her gave his former comrades a quick nod as he hauled the Naqxium bomb on his back.

<We’ve cleared a path as best we can,> Seventh said as Third bashed a Ketka into a wall four times, the armour cracking and cybernetics spilling out mingled with blood that stank of Hyper-Testerone.

Temporarily relieved the Prakith vessels began firing back at the Ketka ships in noble defiance at their own damaged state and fierce determination to eliminate any impediment to the Glorious Path.  The Ketka were unconcerned about their shields more than able to bounce off the blobs of Plasma.

The Hecate’s Mega-Maser fire was a different matter.  The Hades class weapons punched through and shattered half a ship at a time when Arryn was able to concentrate nine or ten shots on a vessel within a few seconds of each other, a task made difficult as Fifth constantly maneuvered the Super Destroyer to avoid the Overlapping killzones the Ketka ships kept trying to herd them into with their cannons.

All the point defence weapons were alive blasting at Boarding Torpedoes the Ketka began to fire at the Hecate, taking up much of Arryn’s incredible concentration. 

“The Nexus!” Sofa yelled grabbing Coryn, content that the others had the ship under control and she was hardly an ace at void warfare.  They blitzed to the Bloodstone chamber, Coryn again briefly marvelling at the construct.

“It amplifies our Aether powers,” she grabbed his hands feeling the rough hewn callous of the young man
“Arryn give us some Torps!” she called, the fromer slave obliging firing off eight more.

“There grip em,” Sofa guided Coryn who quickly understood.

“Just like a cross bow bolt,” he said, taking control of four of the torpedoes hurtling through the cross fire at speeds well beyond sound, the aether Nexus allowing precision control as if it were a simple arrow from his crossbow.

Manually controlling them they were able to avoid the Ketka anti-missile defences more easily, half of their torpedoes getting through striking three different ships, but the Ketka were quick studies, activating EMPs near the missiles to deny their proton core explosions on two, allowing them to only blow one Frigate apart.

Third in front and Ninth behind Milaea and Lysan leapt over Legion bodies, ducked under fallen ceiling panels and shoulder past sparking cables and pipes, only occasionally having to finish off a Ketka Third didn’t demolish, Milaea’s sabers slicing through the neck then leg of one, Lysan’s power claws eviscerating another.

“Through here!” Third called slamming a button on a vast doorway emblazoned with the Tirquetra of Aethas.

The door didn’t budge.

Ninth was immediately beside him as the sound of thumping boots was heard on both sides.  The two vast aethans filled their body with the hollow but intense power they wielded, fingers ramming into the door as they wrenched it open by brute force.

Milaea leaping in barely a millimeter to spare, Lysan pushing in the bomb behind her then crawling in himself as a blaster shot struck his leg.

“We’ll hold them, be fast!” Ninth demanded as the door slammed behind her.

Milaea finally looked at her surroundings and felt briefly disoriented. 

It looked exactly the same as the Obelisk array the People had on Aeda and the empty one on the Hecate -, it seemed every resource the Remnant had was put into this.
“What is…” Lysan said awestruck at the immensity of the Nine Blackstone Obelisks that glared down at him, pregnant with power, aether lighting sparking between them,

There was no time to explain.

“Just stay back,” Milaea said sweeping up the bomb herself, two blue lights indicating it was primed.
“This one the timer?” she said pointing to a button, Lysan nodded
She pressed it, a digital green 10 appeared indicating how many seconds they had before it exploded.

Lysan flinched away, still untrusting and confused about the situation, understandably so.

She sat in the midst of the array drawing the power the Remnant had infused into the Obelisks to her, the sick backwash of how they collected it - through plinths that passively absorbed their ‘citizens’ life force making her cringe to use such.

Pressing her mind out she saw in the ethereal plane the spread of life around her, each being not simply a life sign but a complex mix of emotion, intention, shimmering echoes of their past, hazy possibilities of their futures.

The Ketka stood prominent for their absence of both.  They were blunt crafted things, twitching half-souls with pain in their past and death in their future.  She had to guess, best she could, integrating what she saw here with the tactical maps she had seen on the transport to pick out where the cloaked interdictor was…it wasn’t still…moving..somewhere among the ketka ships…

She couldn’t be precise, but Godesses willing with this Naqxium bomb she didn’t have to be. biting down and pushing out her body glowed red and she turned the baryonic universe to her Will.

Lysan was about to reach out as the timer hit ‘2’ when with a gaping blow of displaced air the whole thing vanished in a flare of red, the young red haired woman slumped to the floor.

Shields failed, turbo laser shots hammered the Hecate’s upper hull blowing off point defence cannons and cutting into the mid tier decks, chunks of blackstone flying off.

Tnbu staggered as he felt the Force unnaturally rip the laws of Physics just before it happened.

A pure white flare that bled into a teal sun exploded in the centre of the Kekta advance force, six of the closest ships disintegrated completely, another two heated and hit with so much radiation the biological crew died instantly, cells exploding out water as steam.
 
The edge of the wave shattered the shields of the rest, ate into the hulls, and the kinetic force sent them spinning uncontrollably.

The Flesh Crafter leaned forward as he witnessed the annihilation of his advance force with a secret glee and growing hunger to know the how of it.

Milaea’s eyes flicked open, the hard scruffy face of Lysan before her calling out her name.

More shouts and words that meant nothing to her, doors opened, Third staggered in pulling Ketka blades embedded in his chest, Ninth hand to her helmet issuing orders.

The weight of her eyelids too much Milaea’s world went dark.

<<<<>>>>

Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #341 on: March 14, 2022, 09:52:54 PM »

Chapter 52 — Conflagration — Inferno — Part 1
Aresaea
Subdermis coolants pulsing beneath her skin Aresaea bolted upright from her bed, body shaking, every cell screaming as her head burnt.

Her eyes spun round as her hands swept over the bed looking for…looking for someone not there.

Her breathing was still jagged as the door opened.

“Ari, what's the matter my love,” Kiraea said sweeping to her side with a protective hug.

“Mili…something…somethings wrong with Milaea,”

That surprised Kiraea, since leaving Galtea they had heard nothing, their Link orbs rednered all but useless from the Lus’Phor Thought Bomb wave, which also stymied their native telepathic abilities, conventional comms rarely reliable in getting a signal as deep into the core as Aethas was.

“Did you get through to her?”

Ari shook her head
“No I just…I just know she’s in danger…”
Kiraea’ straightened eyes focused
“Where? Aethas?”
Ari crumpled in her adoptive older sisters arms
“I don't know…I should be there, should never have left, I can’t…if anything happens to her,”
Kiraea cradled her tightly kissing her brown-red hair even as she pinged her husband telepathically.
“Nothing will happen to her, we’ll be with her soon,”
Ari could only hope she was right.

<<<<>>>>

Milaea
Light, scent, heat, mass and sound filled the void of nothingness as Milaea awoke to the familiar surround of a room that could be onboard any of their ships given they all looked the same, but the mass and radiation profile told her was the Hecate.

“Goddesses, at last,” Sofa said hovering over her a red healing glow on her open hand.

“You were out for hours,” Sofa passed her some Gromin milk, the creamy slightly pink liquid wetting Milaea’s dry throat.

“How did I…”

“We dropped out with the Prakith fleet - well what’s left of it - about three hours ago, moved all the People over here before another jump to their rendezvous point, just got in a few minutes ago…”

Sofa stood so Milaea could sit up.

“Take a bit of time, everyone is waiting in the Strategium…a lot to discuss…”

Milaea nodded

“Have you heard…”

“From the others, no…all I get is a weird static when I try and use the orbs…” Sofa lifted her hand, the blinding white wedding ring on her finger.
“This lets me know Valens is still alive and ‘moving’ closer but nothing more precise than that…I don’t know if it’s us or them but something has majorly jammed out Aether communications.”

Milaea suspected it wasn’t them, if the Flesh Crafters had any devices to disrupt force users they would have used them at Teta.

But that only worried her more.

“Ari…” she whispered a half effort with her tired powers to reach out to her, but she was too far or unreceptive leaving Milaea cold from the effort,

“Hey I’m sure she’s fine,” Sofa said unknowingly mirroring the sister in law she loved but couldn’t stand Kiraea at that very moment a fifth of a galaxy away.

“Take some time to shower, eat then join us,”

<<<<>>>>

“...don’t have the ships or time, ground is faster,” Ninth insisted as Milaea entered the Strategium.

All the People were there, at the far end from the door behind the the three tactical holo displays in the center of the table that was engraved with a Triquetra, were the Remnant, six giants in full Heavy Aegis armour of another Era, all standing as the chairs were too small for their size.

Milaea quickly noticed two had taken the large Hades Repeaters from the Hecate armoury, all had some implosion grenades and other weapons. All bore scars from the fight against the Ketka on their faces, Third in particular looked more skull than skin.

On the left were the Ailon six, four seated, two of the men standing, their light Aegis Oblivion armour the best they could make with the technology Prakith had available. A few had pieces missing replaced with large bacta patches on dark blooded injuries.

To the right the Trinity of Lysan, Arryn and Coryn - the latter the only one to smile as Milaea came in.

And just past the door was Sofa alone with an empty seat beside her for Milaea.

The men all stood and nodded deferentially as she sat - a sign they all finally acknowledged her legitimacy as a woman of the People.

“We were just discussing how to get the Array onto the Hecate,” Sofa explained
“The Glory is way too beat up, and it's the best weapon we have against the Ketka if they follow us,”

“They will,” Kisaea said
“We found sixteen tracking beacons on five Prakith ships, I’m sure there are more we haven’t found.”

“Are all the Ketka boarders dead?”  Milaea asked

“Finally,” Varan huffed “Took most of the three hours on the first jump after you sent that bomb into the bastards giving us time to make the calculations….”

“The wisdom of the technocracy has been proven in that you instinctively built this vessel with the intention of carrying an Obelisk array,” Ninth redirected.
“We don’t have the cranes or tugs needed to move the Obelisks in space - we will need to land. From this point the closest asset is our primary Blackstone mining colony, head planet side and use their equipment to transfer them.”

“That will not be sufficient,” Arryn said cold as his tactical analysis
“The Ketka fleet still numbers over five hundred vessels, assuming optimal use of the Obelisks power we have energy for only four teleports at close range or two at long range perhaps destroying fifteen vessels each time if they are in close formation.”

“And the Prakith fleet is no match at all, over a third has been wiped out, another third is hobbling,” Kisaea explained.

“Do you have other ships like this one?” Ninth asked Sofa and Milaea

“This is the only Super destroyer, but we have four 300 meter destroyers with half the guns each…but…”

“They are with the others,” Lysan growled

Arryn ran the scenarios quickly into the tables holo-tac-computer…no matter the number of Aethan vessels the Ketka’s numbers and technological equality to their Chiss based ships made defeat inevitable.
 
“Our best course is swap the Obelisks then retreat with the Hecate to Aethas, they have no tracers on this vessel, and - considering the technological superiority of your vessels, the Prakith Empire is now redundant to Purgatio Astra,” Ninth said with marital authority
“We will dominate these ‘Chiss’ instead”

“Wait, you’d leave Prakith to the Flesh crafters?” Sofa retorted learning forward eyes momentarily dark as her hair
“I’m all for ‘when the going gets tough the smart get out’ but that's cold even for Aethans,”

“The Flesh crafters will soon lose interest in Prakith when they cannot find us,” Ninth offered

“Not before tormenting the populace,” Milaea finally spoke
“And it still leaves unresolved how the Flesh Crafters found us, and why they felt bold enough to come all this way with so many troops…there is another force at play here and until we know who and how I doubt we can escape them.”

“We will deal with them in due course, the objectives are clear, land at Providence, transfer the Obelisks then retreat to Aethas and await the others before infiltrating and dominating the Chiss.” Ninths tone brooked no argument.

“Hey you’re not in charge here,” Sofa countered “And you have no idea what the Chiss are like or the larger situation in the galaxy, - Goddesses beyond the galaxy with the frelling Vong - the Chiss won’t be ‘dominated’ like a backwater deep core system like Prakith at the first sign of aether powers. We have a long term alliance we aren’t going to break, Karintha and the others will agree,”

Purgatio Astra...” Ninth began

“Died with the Technocracy 700 years ago,” Milaea now spoke forcefully
“It was an arrogant idea then, suicidal one now. “ She looked to the other People of the Tribe.
“There are only 45 of our Tribe left including everyone here, twelve of those are still unconscious rescued from forced breeding pens the Flesh crafters kept them in - that is why they are after us…”
Milaea backed her words with freely shared memories of healing the six men and women from the vile state they had been found in on Rorak.
“We need to focus on rebuilding, we have twenty cloned infants that are just waiting for parents to adopt them, Lysan,” she turned to the gruff leader of the Trinity
“I recognize your scent now, from Lyaea and Lydan, your children and your wife are alive with the others, Kisaea your cousins Kiraea, Karintha and Yorna are alive,”

“Yorna,” Coryn perked up
“Yes, and more, Arryn I can smell the similarity to Aresaea, the mining village families, Daryn, Davys to Evyn and Evaea, Taraea your uncle Melron - we have lives to live farms and villages to rebuild, Goddesses to honour, children to raise, if the Outsiders step foot on our world, they die - but trying to Cleanse the Stars? No, that ends here,”

Ninth’s suspicion was correct, the Tribals were far too invested in their backward abomination of a culture to be reliable assets to advance Purgatio Astra efficiently.

Regardless they needed them to deal with the Ketka.

“This is strategically irrelevant to our current environment,” was Ninths dismissive reply, the words utterly lost on her even as they bolstered the other People sense of purpose with, for the first time in decades, concrete evidence of what they had to live and fight for - motivations that had no place in the Remnants neural pathways.

“Maybe so but it needed to be said,” was Sofa’s acid rejoinder

“Do you have any alternative method for eliminating this threat?” Ninth pressed argument irrelevant

“No, swapping the Obelisks over and retreating to Aethas until the other arrive is the best course,” Milaea conceded, having already made the point she needed to.

“Sofa why don’t you get the coordinates to this ‘Providence’ and get everyone up to speed with our Hades Weapons and Mark II armour…I need to talk to Ninth alone,”

<Are you sure you’ll be alright> Sofa asked privately knowing the last time they had come into conflict had ended poorly for all concerned.

<I’ll be fine>

With uncertain glances the others all left till the two women remained opposite each other.

“What are you?” Milaea asked bluntly
“I know about the Technocracy, I have Aethena’s memories - and more power than she ever had,” the last words an unconcealed warning.
“And there is nothing in those memories that features gigantic Aethan Soldiers that have been imperfectly raised from the dead.”

Ninth had revealed that fact to none of the Tribals, Milaea must’ve deduced it from a superior ability to analyse aether aura’s.

“We are Project Aertemisaea,” Ninth said equally direct
“You know of Project Aethenaea already,”

“Yes,” Milaea agreed “The Technocracy aim to accelerate the ‘perfection’ of the Aethan species, it produced Valance and Aethena, more powerful than any Aethan before them,”

“There were other Projects, Aethenaea focused on breeding beings with maximal possible aether power, enhancing physical features a secondary goal to ensure their bodies did not collapse under such power. Project Aertemisaea focused on physical enhancement,”
Ninth stretched out her overly long muscular arm
“As the war with the Sith worsened it was reoriented - the Genetic enhancements developed were too extreme for living subjects to endure the rewriting - and the pressing need for more soldiers as our numbers dwindled,”

“They used dead, or dying soldiers from the war, recycling them,” Milaea deduced

“That was the intention, Project Persephaea provided the Black Altars to revive us - ‘imperfectly’ as you term it - Aertemisaea the gene rewiring to give us these enhanced bodies - the process left our connection to the aether and memories of previous life…damaged, the former settled into the state you sense now, powerful but ‘Hollow’, lacking genuine life force, the memories where problematic were removed and replaced with more direct cognitive systems.”

“Making you like machines,”

Ninth could not disagree, though she didn’t understand why Milaea’s tones indicated she thought it a negative - was she not another carbon based machine.

“Only Nine of us succeeded in ‘Reactivating’, but the facility where Project Aertemisaea was located was abandoned or destroyed - by the time we reawoke from our Cryo pods erosion had destroyed three of our number, and all evidence of what occurred - we tried to contact Aethas using Technocracy codes,”

“Which none of the People would know to look for,”

Ninth nodded
“Then reverted to default orders,”
Purgatio Astra,”
“Correct,”
“The Other projects, what were their goals?”
“Persephaea aimed to extend our life spans indefinitely and resurrect the dead,”
“The Blackstone Altars,”
“Indeed.  Project Aephrodaea sought to drastically increase Aethan fertility and genetic variation to avoid inbreeding and enhance regenerative capacity. Aethas small population has always been our greatest weakness, even during the Technocracy.”

Milaea had other views on what the Aethans greatest weakness was, but Ninth was hardly the type to be receptive to such a discussion.

“And everything died when the Sith reached Aethas, you wake up 700 years late with the last order Purgatio Astra locked in your head…and I’m guessing my claim to Aethena’s legacy isn’t enough to countermand that order.”

Ninth shook her head.

They were little better than the Ketka, Milaea realised.

Well aware all Aethans were slaves to their instincts at the best of times, this Remnant of the Technocracy was mechanically so, bereft of the stunted emotional range and procreation drive that left the People with some semblance of civilization and culture.
Uneasy silence filled the air before they left.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #342 on: March 14, 2022, 09:54:44 PM »

Chapter 52 — Conflagration — Inferno — Part 2
Ar’On’Dir
From lethargic routine to panicked frenzy his world changed in an instant.

Orders had come through the Vox-Gram harsh and clipped
[Clear PSLA. Transfer of OBESK Req.]

For Aron still as Director of the Mine it meant clearing the PSLA - Planetside landing area of every craft and cart and having his full teams woken from their rest cycles to haul the massive cranes and moving equipment that had placed the hideous black Obelisks into the Glory of Prakith back into place.

“...get it to the far side behind the 30 meter line!” his voice called in the rote words of his ‘occupation’ as the Knight it concealed wondered what had happened on distant Teta to cause such a treat.

He thrust his finger through the air hollered at the groggy workers and helped shove half full carts of dense ore off the pitted ferrocrete.

Had the Jedi counterattack forced the Shadow Lords to retreat?  Would they follow them here?  Should he keep acting as spy or turn full on saboteur. 

Until he knew more he had to keep acting the role of Mining Director he’d had for years on the rocky thin atmosphere world.

The itching heat of the dull orange sun began to rise over the southern horizon, while not deadly the days heat was slightly less uncomfortable than the lightless depths of the mines.  Working on anything on the vast shadeless expanse of the landing zone would be horrible, shifting the malefic obelisks arguably the worst of all tasks.

Legion troops scurried about in formation not sure where to stand at attention as the hours passed.  They had no further signal to go on, no indication of when the Glory would arrive or what would arrive with it.

Within four hours they had done all they could possibly do to prepare, a fretful hour passing in anxious suspense, workers hudling in the shades of bulky cranes and hauler-trucks.

His thoughts boiled endlessly as he stood in the mines mouth, wondering what to do, if the Jedi arrived, should he take up arms, try and get onto their side, would Odjina be with them? Soryu? Tnbu at least surely.

Never had he been so close to freedom, and never more at risk of losing everything.

Breathing out deeply he hummed a calming tune on his lips, letting the Force soothe him, trusting in the Maker.  He had waited over a decade for this day, what was an hour more.

<<<<>>>>

Providence

The Hecate slid and the Glory stumbled out of hyperspace.

They had made one additional stop to clear the Glory of any tracking devices and send the rest of the fleet on to the Outpost at Yevish V where they could, if not repair, at least refuel and prepare to launch an attack against the Ketka from behind if they arrived.

The Glory of Prakith was by now barely functional, sheer obdurate effort would get it planetside in one piece, but it would never break the atmosphere again.

It hardly mattered, they now had access to a far superior force, Ninth need only confirm the extent of the Tribals resources before determining her next step. She briefly extended her senses to just brush on the two Tribals at the helm of the Hecate as the other Tribals and her own squad equipped the Chiss Tech based weapons the ship had a small store of.

If the other Tribals were as sentimental as Milaea and Sofa there would be difficulty, however Ninth strongly suspected these two were outliers, the Hecate itself evidence that more military minds existed among the Tribals Ninth could potentially reason with.

“That thing gonna survive the burn?” Sofa gestured to the Glory annoyed she was unable to read the Giant Remnant commanders thoughts - not for want of trying - they all seemed so very ‘algebraic’ following in perfect sequences depending on input, lacking personality to Sofa’s aesthetic sense.

“We will ensure it does.” Ninth replied patching into Providence Orbital control to arrange for Tugs to help lower the sputtering ships that confirmed its terminal decline as a stabilising nacelle ripped free.

The process was slow and painful, the Hecate using its powerful tractor beam to help guide the already tug tethered ship to the ground slow enough to avoid extreme re-entry burns while also fighting off the planet gravity that sought to bring it to the jagged mountain peaks at 12 meters per second.

It landed with a thud that sent dust blasting on every side.  The workers however were one and all cowering at the immensity of the Hecate.  While only a third of the size of the immense Glory its hull was made almost entirely of the ultradense blackstone they sought in the depth of the planets crusts - even these men and women as inured to the materials effects as any mere mortals could be were overwhelmed by the sheer gravity of the vessel.

Aron trembled even as he issued orders to reverse the painstaking process that had placed the Obelisks in the Glory, no idea how to transfer them to this beastly vessel.

It oozed the Malefic darkness of the Blackstone, but while the Obelisks and Plinths of the shadow lords made Aron fear for the Galaxies soul, this abominable ship made him fear for its very body.

Out of its large portside docking ramp a collection of Shadow Lords emerged, the usual Large and a number of smaller ones all coated in their dense armour, but this time there was one in armour of fresh-red blood, another whose black plate featured squint inducing white inlays.

As he kept his face low and strode toward them with Prefect Tharrum, he tried to understand what was happening.  There was no way this vessel could belong to the Shadow Lords of Prakith - he had been in charge of the mine since it first broke ground, they had not mined half of what would be needed to make such a ship in all those years, let alone in such large seamless pieces - it was hard enough finding solid blocks the right shape for the Obelisks.

Maker it could only mean there were other Shadow Lords with access to vastly superior mines and ship building technology…

Maker forgive me if I’ve led the Jedi into a trap he prayed silently suppressing his Force presence before the Lords, the Prefect offering customary greeting to the Lords, exalting the Glorious Path and affirming his dedication to it.

Aron mumbled along as the inconsistencies grew in his mind If the Shadow Lords had such ships why bother with the Glory of Prakith, why use this outdated technology to mine?  He could only hope the Jedi understood the situation for he was flummoxed.

“...transferred immediately, no resource is spared,” the machine tones of the Shadow Lord echoed in his ears as he returned to the conversation.
“How quickly Lord,” Tharrum asked in obedience.

“Within the hour,”

Aron finally baulked at that.

“A problem Director?” The Lord’s eyes turned to him, a physical weight upon his very souls

“I…I mean it took nearly two days to move them into the Glory and I need to check the installation side, see how best to move them to the new vessel…”

The gaze turned to lead dripping on his mind.

“I just need a little time to figure the best way, all the workers are dedicated, Lord,” he quickly rambled to seek relief from the Lords attention.

“Very well,” she gestured to one of the nameless Lords

“Show him the path from the cargo holds to the Array,”   

Third duly complied taking the Prakith menials into the Hecate

“The Ketka could arrive any moment and we are exposed,” Ninth said among the Aethans as they headed toward the Glory where cranes were lifting panels off the top of the nearly two kilometer long vessel.

“We still haven’t been able to contact the others,” Milaea said, certainly not for want of trying.

They paused at the side of the towering starboard face of the Glory laser burns the width of a hover car etched into the side still steaming from re-entry.

“Together we should be able to speed progress,” Ninth dictated.

Even with 17 Aethans assisting it was a slow process to move the nine vast Obelisks, telekinesis was not an option Obelisks instinctively ate any aether energy directed at them to recharge, the Prakith equipment groaned at the weight of the rest of them as they moved the first three, a number of crane cables snapping delaying things further.

Aron worked out as best a way to get them across the short gap on the ferrocrete and into the new vessel as he could with the tools available, still it relied more on brute strength than mechanical advantage and took a toll accordingly - every Legionnaire, officer and staffer from Providence and the Glory heaving and pulling on harsh steel cables that cut into palms as they shifted the Obelisks on a track made of bulky thick ferrocrete cylinders lubricated with machine oil.
The Aethans still account for over half the work, a demi-god joining each ‘grip gang’ to pull the devices forward then push them up into the Hecate.

After the first three the process was, if not perfected, then at least worked out, giving Aron brief time to take in the interior of the Hecate, the color palette cold, the technology smooth and advanced.

Surely they must have a Hyper-Comms array…

A cold sweat of fear mingled with the hot sweat of exeterion as he considered - every Shadow Lord was helping the movement, there were hundreds of bodies all around, he could slip away and no one would notice.

He still did not understand the situation, only that the Lords were desperate to move the Obelisks and the Glory had taken an absolute beating.

The simplest scenario he could come up with was the invasion had gone badly, the Glory barely escaped, somehow different Shadow Lords had arrived and now they sought to salvage the Obelisks, and doing it planetside quickly meant they were afraid they were being followed.

He swallowed hard catching his reflection in the glossy interior panels of the Shadow Lords vessel, the face of a weary man who missed his family - and yet accepted adn trusted the Maker had put him here for a purpose.

This had to be it, this had to be the moment.

As the Legionnaires cried out ‘Heave’ and the fourth obelisk cracked another ferrocrete cylinder he vanished into the ship.

<<<<>>>>
 

Yeshiv

Yeshiv V was not a battle, it was attempted retreat then slaughter.

Ketka vessels jumped at eight points around the Prakith fleet, their sheer numbers now greater than the Deep Core natives combined with superior technology - no longer mitigated by the Shadow Lords superhuman tactical brilliance - to devastate a quarters of what was left in moments, leave another quarter burning, and watch indifferently as the remaining half of the Prakith fleet retreated.

[They were not here] the Flesh crafter mused as Tnbu glared across the tactical maps for any trace of them, his senses felt none of the Force trickery either.

“They have abandoned their slaves,” Tnbu deduced “Perhaps they returned straight to Prakith,”

The Hutt burped wetly, the equivalent of a sneer of incredulity.

[If we do not find them there Jedi, I will be most displeased…you promised to tell me where they were, you were correct once I grant - do not be incorrect twice]

Tnbu’s glassy eyes blinked and ear involuntarily curled in Sullustan fear response.

He had the Nexu by the tail and it was about to turn on him. 

Force! He needed a miracle.

His comm vibrated. He lifted it to his ear, confirmed his infinity then had a familiar voice patched through.

“Master Tnbu, its Ar’On’Dir - I’m on the Shadow Lords ship,”

He got one.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #343 on: March 14, 2022, 09:56:59 PM »

Chapter 52 — Conflagration — Inferno — Part 3

Inferno

“...on Providence, DC_10004568, just over six hours now,”
“I know it is much to ask but can you delay them further?”
“I’ll do what I can, please Master is Odj….”

Aron’s words stopped dead as ice cold metal pressed against the back of his neck.

“Knight Dir?” the whistle like voice of a Sullustan came over the comm

Raising his hands Aron stood dead still as a hand passed him and switch the comm off, the wide cool ring of what he recognised as a light saber emitter never leaving his neck.

Sofa knew that high pitched whistling voice, what she didn’t know was who this ‘Knight Dir’ was.
Aron spoke first.
“Ask anything you want, but I don’t know anything,”

“Pretty deep cover for a Jedi, what happened? Your quantum-comm break down?” Sofa asked noting his well worn outfit, calloused hands, the dust from the mines that could never seem to be washed from his rough hair - if he had to sneak around the Hecate to contact his bosses something had gone wrong.

“I’m not a spy, not a saboteur…” Aron sighed accepting that his life was now over then straightened his posture even as the saber waiting to cut into his throat pressed on his skin.
“..Just a lost Knight of Mak’Tor who wishes he could see his family one last time,”

He closed his eyes waiting for snap hiss that signalled his execution.

The Emitter vanished from his neck.

“Your Maker is watching out for you Mak’Tor,” Sofa replied at last, the lost knight blessed to have been caught by one of only two People who would spare him.

“How long do we have?” she asked as he slowly turned around to see nought but the blank Mark 2 helm inlaid with thin lines of Whitescar marking it as unique to Sofa.

“I honestly have no idea,”

“Too bad,” swifter than he could see she smacked the hilt of her saber into his temple dropping the Mak’Tor like a sack of rocks.

<<<<>>>>

<It’s Tnbu,> Sofa said bluntly as Milaea and Ninth gritted, pulling the fifth Obelisk out of the Glory using cables and pulleys.

<He knows we’re here,>

<Tnbu? a Jedi would never work with the Flesh crafters?> Milaea replied incredulous

<That big eared plate faced little quim is no Jedi, just an Orthodox Abnegation tragic,> 

Milaea disliked Sofa’s quick retreat to racial insults of the Sullustan but it was Ninth who telepathically replied next.
<Who is Tnbu?>
<Head of Jedi Intelligence on Courascant last we knew, he was one of the more moderate Masters, respected, orthodox but not dogmatically so, it seems the Night of Madness, Myrkr and Ord Mirit have hardened him more - but to the point of working with the Hutts…where did you find this out?> Milaea explained

<An unwitting agent I caught, dealt with, but I don’t know how long we have.>

<Then we redouble our…>

<Contact from Yeshiv> Third interrupted
<The Fleet has been hit again, half their number lost, the rest routing>  details and numbers flowed in the group mind.
In 75 hours they had gone from a Fleet of 500 ships to barely 100 functional, hundreds more escape pods and lifeboats scattered across systems.

<How far is ‘Yeshiv’> Sofa asked quickly

<For our ships eight hours> Ninth replied, Sofa quickly calculated based on the Hecate speed assuming the Ketka were just as fast

<Then we have four hours - maybe three>

<<<<>>>>


They had far less. 

Ketka boarders had long since taken the navigation computers of a dozen Prakith vessels, the Flesh Crafters Siniteen spliced living computers analysing rapidly the best paths through the winding safe jump routes of the Deep Core Scavenger Zones that fringed the Danger Zones.

The Hutt ships better shields and stabilisation systems allowed them to cut hours off the trip as they could jump far closer to the Stellar giants than the rickety Prakith vessels, and the Flesh Crafter was unconcerned if a few dozen vessels were lost on the fringe of the convoy.

Tnbu stood firm as he could as the Aniahiooy pushed through a swirl of stars more pink and green than the usual blue, busying himself from the unmvoing Hutts dripping gaze by ensuring he and the other Sworn brethren of the Oath of Vigilance were ready to deploy immediately. 

He had 15 Jedi with him and 10 Seinar-Mech Batlesuits to give them mechanical enhancement to counter the Aetherians genetically abominable strengths.

They would still need the numberless brutes of the Ketka to wear them down.

There were only three more Obelisks to move on Providence, backs were sprained, equipment ruined trying to move the vast dense objects between ships.  The Aethans were divided between moving the Obelisks and installing the ones they had properly - Aethan similarity of thinking meant they were compatible, but the Remnants need to power the Obelisk with harvested Force energy from millions of their subjugated populations meant core aspects of feeding power in were different.

Milaea was the expert but still drained from the teleportation, Sofa, Taraea and Arryn assisting.

The Seventh Obelisk had barely been lifted from the Glory when the Ketka arrived.

Again holding his largest ships back the Flesh Crafter sent his ‘smaller’ vessels forward to surround the planet.

“We should bombard,” Tnbu demanded “Recover fragments later,”

The Flesh Crafters lips bubbled the ubiquitous slathering fluids that dripped from him about to reply but remained silent as the landing craft packed with Ketka began to descend, effortlessly sweeping away the limited orbital defences.

The Hutt had his own agenda. 

Destroying their outpost on Rorak hardly bothered his maligned order of Hutts, the death of one of their number irritating as it meant another had to leave the soft bosom of Pybus to maintain a ‘presence’ outside the Bootana Hutta. 

The True irritation was taking the genetic samples of the meta-humans before the Flesh crafters had time to fully digest the chromosomal delights they offered - certainly their species reproduction was too finicky to ever produce units on a large scale compared to the easily grown Klatoonians, but their unique adrenal hormones could have provided excellent combat stimulants.

That and he now wished to possess one of those magnificently dark triangular ships that had been able to vaporize so many of his own with an explosive of a kind his vast reference library had no match for.

The Hutt simply leaned back as his servants massaged the preservative moisturisers deep into the fatty folds of his body, squelching out clogged pieces from early applications that had gone mouldy.

Unlike the agitated Jedi he was in no hurry, time and resources were on his side.

The very things the Aethans lacked.

“HAUL!” Seventh demanded, the focused Remnant skidding from cable to cable past the smoking ruined mechanized carts substituted now with human muscle.

Still two more Obelisks to shift then get the Hecate off the ground and into space, it would take at least another hour at this pace.

<Ketka craft incoming> Kisaea on top of the Hectae confirmed moments before the sirens cried over the mines landing pads, the upper side of the Hecate had 12 point defence turrets they could turn on the bulbous landers - the Ketka pilots were no fools coming in below their firing arcs before approaching closer.

There was almost nowhere they could fortify, the few Legionnaires not on the crowded cables pulling or rotating the ferrocrete cylinders were shifting the ruined machinery to barricade the traffic control tower and around the Legion Outpost and Bunker - it was unlikely to last long against a force as well armed as the Ketka.

A third of the Seventh Obelisk was inside the Hecate - better to lose two Obelisks than their lives.

<Start the engines and get the last one in then we leave,> Ninth directed, there was no argument, only efficient motion among the Aethans as the common drive to survive synchronized their efforts.

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
*

Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #344 on: March 14, 2022, 09:59:34 PM »

Chapter 52 — Conflagration — Inferno — Part 4
Inferno

Head popping from the cramped access tunnels beneath the Array Sofa helped the handless Arryn up, the tech savant would be needed to pilot the craft.

The Ailon Six, Coryn and Lysan lef the humans to push the Obelisk in and took up positions around the Hecate as they felt the blunt life force of over 800 Ketka warriors narrow on them in groups of 80, another 1000 or more coming from the sky.

Fifth, Fourth and Sixth leap behind the obelisk pushing with all their might to get it in, inch by slow inch.

As the Hecate Repulsors began to blast dust and air from around i, knocking over the exhausted sweat covered miners by the dozen the first mortars began to hit the ground.

Red-yellow electricity crackled through the air as the shells exploded overhead raining down charged particles that burnt human flesh, sniper fire began picking off miner who scrambled for over abandoned efforts to lift the Eighth Obelisk.

Held up by tenuous pulleys and cranes it wobbled and crashed back into the Glory with a dull thud that was replaced by the buzzing hiss of Ketka rifles as they neared.

Legion troops charged and blasted their Plasma Scorpions back into the white armoured Cyborgs that ran at them with mindless ferocity. Bordered on one side by the mountains vast gravelly expanses punctuated by sharp rocks and hills. 

Though absent any meaningful cover the Ketka rushed forward, Swoops and Hover platforms offering support with beam weapons that lanced through the Legion positions.

The Ketka were coming in groups of 80 from every side, over the Ore bins to the north, the workers dormitories south, and through the landed ore haulers west, avoiding the Legion Outpost and comms array. their fighters began to swarm over the battlefield, not firing but surveying the Aethan positions, Arryn only just managing to fire off a few shots from the Hecate deck guns but not in time to hit any.

<They want to capture the ship,> Ninth realised, a fact that worked both for and against her.
<More than that they want to capture Us> Milaea added having seen all too often how covetous Outsiders were of Aethan bodies.

As if he had never left Lysan joined the ranks of the Ailon Six as they raced round the bulk of the Glory, tearing chunks of the hull to make their own cover on the otherwise empty ferrocrete expanse, Varan fired the first shot from a Hades rifle taken from the Hecate nailing a Ketka head, Coryn leaping up the Glory to snipe them down one at a time with his crossbow.   

They came from every side at a run over 30 kmph, utterly indifferent to the handful of losses to Legion las carbines, cybernetically enhanced targeting enabled them to inflict five times the casualties in a quarter of the time.

Panic took the miners who fled to the mountains, the Legion Centurions screamed in defiance as they were shot to pieces, the Ketka grenades and missile launchers demolishing any cover they had scrambled behind.

160 Ketka swarmed the Legion Outpost, desperate soldiers hunkered in their moats and behind crenellated duracrete undone by the Klatooinian cyborgs incredibly athleticism, leaping over the defences and dripping their thermal grenades to boil the Prakith soldiers in their Dura-Iron.

In moments the Ketka reached the Aethans, the united People hurling vast blocks of metal from the Glory into the packs, crushing a few as the others broke into smaller groups of eight instantly. 

Hades and Ailon rifle fire burnt and scratched a score of Ketka helmets from off white to carbon black, telekinetic and lighting blasts floored dozens. 

There were still a hundred more.

Lysan roared and leapt over the makeshift barricade, his vibro claws humming to rip into the cyborgs, viciousness and speed on his side slashing through three in as many seconds until their horde surrounded him, Varan and Davyn reaching his side to create a melee front as the others fired into the mass of plas-steel coated armour.
More arrived from the North, most of the Remnant leaping from the nearly inside Obelisk to shore up the few dozen Legionnaires before they were overwhelmed.

Fifth tore the head clean off one as three more stabbed their termor blades into his Aegis armour, Third lifted half a dozen from the ground telekinetically, compressed them into balls and hurled them into the others.  Still more came.

With a desperate final pulse Ninth and Seventh nudged the Obelisk just inside.
<In, begin take off!> She ordered
Arryn compiled quickly as the Repulsors reached sufficient polarisiation to repel the planets gravity, the Hecate slowly staggered 10 meters off the ground, then buckled and shook, invisible tethers pulling it back to ground.

Mind connected to the ships sensor sweep via his cybernetic ‘hands’ he ‘saw’ the leashes being thrown round them.

<Four Tractor beams at 1.233 meter NNE, 677 meters SW, 1190 meters WSW, 811 meters SSE>

<Shavit> Sofa hissed next to him as the Hutts plan glided as smooth as huttlet in birthing mud.

The Flesh Crafter had expected they would try to lift off as soon as he arrived, and while he had interdictors and ships in orbit, it would be much less messy if the ship remained on the ground.

Four whasoka Frigates had their tractor beams stripped and taken to the surface to pin the vessel as soon as it tried to launch ensuring a flood of his Pure Warriors could smother the tasty little bio samples.

Arryn doubled the power on the repulsors the Ketka countred in turn with their own generators.

<We’re at the limits without risking a drive overload>
<We need to take out those tractor beams,> Ninth determined

<Easier said than done!> Varan hissed as he plunged his fist into a Ketka chest, two tremor blades in his thigh already as their dead piled up.

Each Aethan could easily take on 2 or 3 Ketka at a time, the gigantic Remnant 4 or 5 -  there were now over a thousand on the ground and only 17 of them.

<I can take one, the furthest west> Milaea said, already rushing out of the Array, leaving trails of red even as her head still felt the scratch of aether exhaustion from the teleportation.

<We can get the ones south> Kisaea hissed over over her own rifle fire as she crouched beneath Tarae’s kinetic shield, Daryn behind them tumbling with Ketka trying to flank them knives and fists punturing armour.

<Fourth will assist you, we will deal with the ones north> Ninth confirmed.
<Arryn lock the Hecate up,> Sofa called as she blitzed to the exit <I do not want to be mopping Ketka blood from these floors>

She turned the corner dodging the seventh Obelisk just as Milaea arrived, the pair squeezing hands before they parted, Milaea all but flying on red energy mists over the battlefield.

Lysan briefly looked at her pass over in stunned silence before having to avoid another Ketka thrust to his neck, turning the blade aside and ramming his claws, already two broken off in Klatooinian bodies, into the Ketka chest - the creature simply stared indifferent and tried again before he bashed it down in a frenzy of blows, staggering off the corpse to join the others as they waded through in a rough chevron piercing the gang of 60 or so to make a run for the ore haulers where a tractor beam was hiding in the midst, Fourth coming in on the flank bulldozing two Ketka into the ground, one grabbing at her heel, the Remnant warrior blasting the head off with three shots from the Hades repeater in vicious overkill.

Ciy’Keueketka were enormous by humanoid standards, 2 meters tall at least, overly muscled from adreno-stimms pumped through their bodies from spawning and covered in armour and cybernetic servos to enhance that strength further. 

The Remnant, dead Aethans reborn into super sized bodies smashed through them with sword and shoulder.  Built to kill Sith Knights of ancient wars these aether less abominations were little match one on one, only in numbers did they pose a threat to the products of project Aertemisaea.

Numbers they had.  The air was full of beams, the soils churned by quick aggressive stances, every centimeter of Aegis armour scarred by Tremor blades.  They killed with each passing second, but more still came.

Third was suffering semi-concussion, Seventh was limping, Sixth left arm hung inoperable and bleeding.  all this and they were not even at the Ore bins.

It reduced their combat effectiveness drastically, their right flank faltering until a blue white blade cut through half a dozen ketka waists followed by a runic energised circles that levelled four more into writhing messes of twitching nerves.

Sofa leapt into the midst of the Ketka catching her thrown lightsabre and moving seamlessly into Soryu’s smooth Niman variant that was all but impenetrable in defence true to her Jedi fathers peaceful nature.

Yet even she suspected he wouldn’t hesitate to cut down the monstrous Ketka as she did now, moving out of her defence to lance them in joints and necks where she could - but each attack left her incredibly vulnerable and disrupted the flow of Soryu’s form.

<I’m better to soak up attention,> Sofa grunted to the Remnant who used her charge to regroup.  Ninth used her for just that reason, weaving her squad's weakest members near Sofa so they could cut into the backs of those trying to pierce the former Jedis' implacable guard as they slowly advanced.

<This will make a glorious tale> Taraea said amidst crunching Ketka throats with her mind while using a crane operator box door as a makeshift shield against concentrated fire
<If we survive> she added kicking a grenade back at the enemy the thermal device spraying molten energy that glassed the ground.

They were only just at the edge of the parked mining tugs, the Ketka swarming all over the tops of them firing down.

<No sure thing we will,> Davys sniped as he grabbed one of the tug with his mind, too exhausted to lift it his aether power just enough to make it sway and tumble to the side, the Ketka on top losing footing and falling into a furious Lysan and Varan. 

No sure thing at all Milaea knew as she wove through the fire from below, a Red Angel descending from the heavens onto a hundred and sixty daemons that surrounded the Tractor Beam and generator.

Her arm reaching out, red flames flung from her fingertips, aether turned to kinetic, thermal and electrical energy in each bolt that struck the bulky rounded device, shearing through the metal and blasting the circuitry and vibrating mass synthesisers beneath.

The Hecate lifted another dozen meters as one of its chains was broken, but the others increased their strength to compensate.

Milaea landed in a crater of flaming energy sending dozen Ketka flying, tensing already to leap into the air again when for just a moment the fatigue flickered her defences - shots got through.

Bloodstone armour took the brunt, but the opening was exploited, the Ketka she had knocked recovered quicker than expected leaping at her, servo and stimm strengthened digits grasping at her keeping her pinned to the earth.

Her saber quickly in hand she sliced at the arms but found the ‘Pure Warriors’ armour slow to cut through even with her highest energy setting.

The Ketka punished any slip and exploited every chance, in moments she was surrounded and battered from every side, the aether kept her fast enough to turn her saber to a blazing moving shield against the plasma and tremor blades but little more.

The teleportation had taken more out of her than she realised.

Size and unflinching zealotry of the Remnant, coordination and fierce survival instinct of the Ailon Six and Coryn, Lysans berserk rage, Sofa’s obdurate defence, Milaea’s determination - all handfuls of sand thrown against the tsunami of the Flesh Crafters Pure Warriors that were poised to envelope them completely.

They could kill dozens, hundreds even, but not the thousands the Flesh Crafters profligacy threw against them.

Milaea had already played her ace card to escape Teta, the Hecate was grounded, People spent, Remnant toppling.

Tnbu’s ears twitched as the Orbital footage came through, images grainy at the extreme zoom but the tactical feedback clear, as dead Ketka numbers rose one by one the ‘Enemy Unit Estimated Stamina' levels decreased exponentially.

Milaea’s arms worked quickly, but the Ketka were outpacing her. Waves of kinetic energy blasted Ketka off their feet by the dozen, she rushed into the gap but it was filled with bodies faster than she could sprint - the tide could not be stopped.

Tremor sword found her, artificial strength smashed the blades into her shoulders and back, the momentum ricocheting through her limbs as she staggered down, balling her body energy closely for another push.

Not for the first time she felt the cold breath of death on her neck, an imminence to her own downfall, the warmth and light that unconsciously rose to push back the darkness was a face in her mind's eye, the aqua green eyes that curved just so over smooth cheeks, red-brown hair that framed a face she longed to see once more.

<Ari…> Milaea spoke with the pure voice of her soul through time and space as she felt the gnawing hunger of unfulfilled desire more keenly than the blaster needles that cut into her side,

Cries of desperation from the others were drowned by regret of their love never to be consummated - the blades of the Ketka seemed the lesser pain.

<...I Love You…>

<<<<>>>>
Logged

Lord_S_Gray

Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

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