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Author Topic: The Gray and the Unchained: Limits of Liberty  (Read 6245 times)
Lord_S_Gray
Knight Commander
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Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #45 on: December 09, 2022, 02:55:05 AM »

Chapter 11 – Broken Dreams - Part 2
Ken
In the emptiness of the room that was once theirs Ken sat, face still muddy and ashen, hands red and raw from gripping his saber so tightly for hours on end, his clothes coated in a mix of bloods, viscera and Vyponin, the death of several hundred slaves like a grinding stone dragging his neck to the molten core of the planet.

Intellectually he understood they were beyond saving…still he knew for certain he would relive those bloody hours in dreams for the rest of his life, and worse it hadn’t mattered, the Akropoli was still lost, the Justicar no doubt captured by now.

A more immediate absence gnawed at him.

Everything logical told him Ry was…even if she somehow survived….Gone

Ken knew it was wrong, selfish, a mistake, that rushing off on the Gryphon to look for someone who might be no more than carbon floating over Hypori was tantamount to a suicide mission, driven by fear of loss, and if confirmed flaming need for vengeance could, and likely had, tipped him over to the dark side and broken the bonds of his Knightly Oaths..

“But Maker damn it, it’s my mistake to make,”

Swapping his boots he tied the laces painfully taught, the sensation barely a ripple on his flesh so intense was the gaping wound in his heart from everything the last days had brought.

He cleaned his saber of the gunk it had collected, changed out the power cell on his blasters, rummaged the weapons locker to collect every explosive, knife, power pack he could carry, a bandolier of frag grenades across his chest probably more danger to him than anyone else, but if he left any piece of kit behind that might be useful he would regret it on the trip.

Armed to the teeth and breathing empty hate he showed no shock when he opened the door to see Black Armour in the doorway.

“Stop me or help me, I don’t care,” he said looking up at the Black faceplate that reflected back Ken's hollow feeling.

“Just do it quickly,”

Black Armour stepped back.  

The enormity of such was lost on Ken in that moment, never before, and never again, did he see the creature or any of its kind take a backward step in respect of an Outsider.

Pointing one oblivion finger the towering Death phantom led Ken on.

Ken had to sprint to keep up as they headed to the empty burnt out shell of Queen Hanagar, an Abyssal spearhead shaped vessel hovering silently.

Without any obvious gesture a glow at an otherwise seamless slab of Oblivion appeared and expanded to reveal a white grey interior, so bright in the dark hangar Ken could only make out the vague silhouette of Black Armour consuming the luminosity.

With neither invitation nor hesitation Ken entered.

<<<<>>>>

Scrubber
“Sires…Sirra’s…” the solemn tone was carried across Eurydice bases semi-functional speaker system as Scrubber spoke - the Togruta himself barely standing held up by Jal’ina

“…my Friends - family in fact.  For over ten years now I have led our band of brethren as First among equals, and in that time we have grown much but…as is clear my leadership and guidance in no longer furthering the Cause.  

In my pride and foolishness I overextended us, and now hundreds of brethren lie dead, thousands we might have saved remain in shackles.

I will never give up the Cause, but I can longer serve in a leadership role.”

Expressions among the Son’s mixed, most were mournful, some resigned to the inevitability of change - none questioned Scrubbers contribution, but many appreciated recent failures had undermined confidence in him beyond repair.

“We were scavengers, scraping by with little more than the clothes on our back, less of a threat to the Hutts than rampant Gizka breeding….Now the full force of the Enemy is upon us - no longer raiding, stealing and building, we are now at war,”

He breathed deeply looking into the Sapphire of Jal’ina’s eyes for confirmation he was making the right choice.

“We need Warrior to lead us.  To that end, while I hope that leadership remains shared among the Council, I pass whatever informal power I held as figure head and first among equals to…to Ravge.”

Now there were gasps, cheers, tears, boisterous shouts of glee, dour shakes of the head.

The Gen’dai himself, hunched and silent, didn’t move a millimeter as he listened to a greater man than he throw an unbearable burden upon him, knowing full well he could not refuse.

Sala’s jaw tightened to the point of breaking teeth on the Unchained’s bridge

“Thank you all, and…my apologies for all the damage I have done to the Cause,”  he clicked the microphone off and collapsed into Jal’ina’s arms once more.

<<<<>>>>
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
Knight Commander
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Force Alignment: 1106
Posts: 4131


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« Reply #46 on: December 09, 2022, 04:50:41 PM »

"Broken Dreams"...apropos sentiments unfortunately.

Tyber Zann has accomplished what no one else was able to do: break Scrubber, a man of vision that was the future of the Sons and everything that they represent.  Not a perfect person, but one whose convictions and intents were both noble and laudable.  A man whose clarity of purpose sought to eliminate the scourge of slavery rampant within Hutt Space, indeed the galaxy.  A man who had the courage to admit when he was wrong...so that he could do better.

And now, a man who has been shattered, stripped of everything that made him the unique and best leader for the Sons.

Which just illustrates Zann's genius: he hasn't attacked the Sons; he's attacked their very reason for even being.  Of course, his Big Score has not yet reached fruition, more needs to be done.  And that's just the backdrop against which the Consortium's enforcer Urai Fen has pledged to find someone worthy of his blades...all the while utterly destroying any that he deems necessary.

But I think it's Ken that best exemplifies the visceral losses that the Sons have collectively suffered: not only is Ry's fate unknown but even if she is alive, what's to say that she isn't already a victim of Zann's machinations?  Perhaps--ironically--enslaved by the very institution that she (and the Sons) have fought so hard against.  Knowing Ken, it comes as no surprise that he would act in such a regard, the courage of his convictions impressing even Black Armor in this regard.  And in that, there is a chance of success...

Zann isn't finished and I would say that he's manipulated almost everything that has occurred, the very architect that has ensured that the Sons have made some of the worst decisions, especially this last: Scrubber's own "abdication" in his role as "princeps" and the rise of Ravge.  Even Ravge admitted that he was not a leader, rather a blunt weapon to be directed and let loose.  I fear that his time as a leader will not bode well.

Deftly and subtly done, but it is most assuredly a choice in which sees the Sons' future as much poorer...while the Consortium grows wealthy.

Meta-note: LSG demonstrates how war in its totality--strategy, materiel, psychology--is potent, and how the unexpected and unseen blade is often times more dangerous than the bared weapon openly attacking.  The spy is incredibly dangerous.  I wonder if the Scrubber (and the Sons) can recover.

...And find the spy before they do worse.
Logged

Sig courtesy of DarthScrub

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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 #47 on: December 15, 2022, 12:45:46 AM »

Chapter 12 – Darkest Hour - Part 1
Ry
“Ensign Yar'lyakomm'tla, CEDF 533617B”

Like a B’omarr monks mantra she repeated it over and over again in tune to the guards that patrolled past the open air cell, the hot winds of Saleucami chapping her skin and drying the blood on her cuts from the ejection.

“Please repeat it again,” a Chalky Palliduvan smiled as he tenderly and deliberately laid out the instruments of ‘interrogation’ on a steel table before her.  His slightly wrinkled white skin was distinct for a single long pure black tattoo down the centre of his forehead and down the nose to the chin, then down the neck, likely bi-secting his whole body.

“I enjoy your Csillan accent, such a logical yet lyrical language Cheunh…I will enjoy translating as you revert to your native tongue…”

“Ensign Yar'lyakomm'tla, CEDF 533617B” Ry repeated breathing slowly, she was bound on an X shaped restraint, arms and legs splayed apart, wrists and ankles painfully locked in metal bindings, her left leg broken from the jagged bouncing ejection.

She’d awakened to a light in her eyes, for brief moments she thought the Sons had picked her up…until she saw the blood red of Defiler armour just as Ken had described.

She was stripped, searched as thoroughly as a ch'atetin'b - a foreigner - on Csilla then chucked into a transport with four other Sons she vaguely recognised.  Two died from untreated wounds on the way here, the other two taken off to separate rooms.

The building was more like a Nobles villa, rooms open to the Saleucami heat, the bright sun of the largely desert planet coarse on her blue skin adapted to a glacial world.

A flick of the Palliduvan’s wrist and the light was cut by metal panels unfolding end over end to plunge the room into complete darkness. 

“Your kind does like the dark and cold,” he smiled, teeth blindingly white as harsh lights beamed heat onto her face.

“I always try to make this as simple as possible for my guests…tell me the names of the senior commanders of the Sons?”

He already knew the answers, but he liked to have some baseline ‘truth’ responses

“Ensign Yar'lyakomm'tla, CEDF 533617B” Ry repeated again, the standard mantra Chiss cadets were taught to repeat over and over should they be captured by one of the dozens of far more terrifying denizens of the Unknown regions.

“Well, if you must make it difficult…”

And So it began….

<<<<>>>>
Ken
His own breathing echoed through his ears. 

He had to wear a sealed suit with its own oxygen.

The air was full of heavy particles, the light highly irradiated replicating a Deep Core world of extremes a human could only endure for a day or so. So Ken sat in pure darkness with only his own rapid heartbeat as company.

There was a minor jolt as the ship entered what had to be hyperspace then the lights returned, but dim and red to Ken’s sight.

Black Armour was before him, gesturing for him to stand, the Mak’Tor did so without question.

“Can you find her?” He asked the question he should have an hour ago.

Black Armour shook his head, then pointed to Ken No, but you can, was the unspoken communication.

The Oblivion solider took Ken’s blasters from his holsters, inspected them briefly then cast them aside, turning to pluck a weapon from a rack hidden in the red gloom, shoving an overly heavy for its size blaster of some kind in Ken’s hand to replace them. 

Ken remembered how Jorya had seen Black Armour’s rifle split Stromtroopers apart with a single shot and hoped this could do at least half that.

Even so his hand trembled with the weight, dropping it to the floor with a clang. 

Ken finally noticed just how much his flesh hand and his whole body, were shaking from the cocktail of adrenaline and fear.

Black Armour stood back, there was a hiss of some kind and a heavy object placed on the ground softly, then as he returned to within Ken’s limited range of sight he had his fists up in a boxers stance, gesturing for Ken to take a swing at him.

The Knights mouth twitching, sweat soaking through his already over soiled shirt he didn’t know what to do for a moment, until Black Armour took a jab at his shoulder.

Trauma and Anger exploded out of Ken in a flurry of punches that rained on Black Armour’s chest, the Oblivion plate removed to ensure Ken didn’t injure himself unduly as he hammered into the still thick body-glove.

He punched out his horror at killing all those slaves.

Kicked his apoplexy at the disaster that had unfolded, clawed and scratched away his indolence at not being there for Ry when she needed him most, the terror of the certainty he was already too late.

The Adrenaline burned through his thrashing futile bashing against a being he could never come close to injuring, minute after minute till his muscles ached as the ‘high’ of his overstimulation wore off and he slumped to his knees, body drained but mind cleared from physically exorcizing so much pain.

<<<<>>>>
     

Ravge
There was no doubt in his neuronal lattice what must be done.  Zann was the Champion of the Enemy, his red-roach delfiers skittered about him seeking to share in his fame and wealth - he needed to be broken.

“We will break his bones,” Ravge growled over Deuce Hangar at the assembly of those few Son’s still able to fight, equipped with the last power cells and grenades they could scavenge from the ruined store rooms

“We will place his head upon the prow of our vessel, then the Masters will see if their Champion can be broken - so can they,”

Harm looked across to Ziach’c, Kal, Ornil and the others, doubt on their faces as Ravge spoke in terms of arena combat. 

Killing Zann did make strategic sense on the surface - his Defliers were personally loyal to him, his Reputation was the glue that held the Consortium together, with Zann very publicly killed there was every expectation it would fracture…

“They will say Zann routed us at Dilbana, Zann chased us at Hypori, Zann made us flee at Glottal - but We will reply ‘And the Sons tore down the walls of his Palace, even his home was not safe from the Sons’!”

 Zann was boastful - but never arrogant, unlike his contemporary Xizor, Zann would have a succession plan in place so the Consortium Survived him - the initial briefings Big Brain had produced on the Consortium explained clearly the organization was Zann’s Life and Legacy, he wouldn’t let it fracture.  Exactly who inherited what they had no idea, but it would certainly be smoother than the chaos that was still rocking the Black Sun. And, arguably, ‘avenging’ Zann would be a goal for a new leader to prove themselves.

“He thinks we will cower.  We with Rage!  He thinks we will Hide.  We will Charge!” Ravge words punctuated with his fists punched into the air brought a rapturous cheer amongst the Brutes and many Liberators, the Rangers, support staff and Volunteers - all toward the back being watched carefully by Brutes - far more circumspect in their applause.

“No,” came the stern reply from Captain Harm,

“We’ve suffered too many setbacks, we need to regroup and consolidate our forces, find a new base of operations,” he pushed through the crowd toward the Gen-dai, the Brute trying to block his way till Ravge allowed him through.

“This isn’t the Arena, revenge attacks and posturing do nothing to further the Cause of freedom - even less so when we have only one functioning weapon per three men,”

Ravge stared his beady red eyes drilling into the confident face of the well postured ex-Imperial 

“Your Empire was cowardly too, hiding behind its many ships,” Ravge finally bellowed.

“Zann wants us to fear, to run and hide.  We MUST stand, we must attack. All True Brethren know this, if you cower beneath the whip you give the master what he wants.  The Masters only language is Violence, our voices must shout louder than theirs,”

“Then you’ll ‘shout louder’ without me, or the Colonel, Rangers or the Unchained,” Harm would not be part to a suicide mission with little to no strategic benefit, it’s dubious if Zann would even be at his Palace.”

“You speak for yourself only Imperial,” Ravge took a heavy step forward, his hot blood stench breath washing over the Officer.   

“We leave on the Unchained immediately, all those loyal and true who can fight will join me,”

“The Colonel will never let you on her ship,” Harm protested - but barely had the words left his mouth and the rushing fist of Ravge gripped his entire torso and lifted him to the air when he realised his simple, but critical, mistake in wording.

“HER SHIP! The Unchained is a vessel of the FREE, not the toy of an Imperial Spy!”

Harm’s face began to turn red as he struggled then blue as the air was driven from him, his arms pressed painfully to his sides.

Ravge only squeezed harder.

“The Loyal onboard will not allow her treason, if that is what she chooses,”

Idly dropping Harm to the ground like a rag dolls Ravge and the Brutes began boarding.

<<<<>>>>
The Extractor
The snaking cord stabbed into the back of her neck, micro drills boring in between her vertebrae just under the neck. The restraints kept her from wriggling or shaking, making her feel even more helpless.

The drills work done, nano tendrils snaked into her spinal cord, mapping itself along the neurons that fed tactical sensation from across her body to her brain.

Though untouched she began to feel needles and knives all over her skin as it grafted itself, laying out via complex learning algorithms a detailed map that would allow him to simulate any sensation he wished her to experience.

In this way he could make her feel the loss of a limb, the stab of a vibro knife, the burn of a blaster, in the same spot over and over again without any physical damage.

The Neuro-Tormentor was the height of technology in the field of Intelligence Extraction at which the Palliduvan excelled. 

It had taken some convincing, but Zann had been swayed by his insistence the best tools were needed for the best results and the outcomes since they had spoken for themselves.

The Extractor, as they termed him had only just disposed of the Son’s Ranger Vyns Qillov, his friend of the last few weeks had been most forthcoming - eventually - providing so many delectable morsels of information.

But now the Palliduvan had many more friends to play with.

“Where are the Son’s TIE vessels produced,” he asked barely a whisper.

“Ensign….” the Extractor toggled Scenario 4 and the Chiss screamed.

Her hand was dipped in molten iron, the heat crawling up her arm, the limb should be incinerated, the tactile sensation burned off - but it continued.

She could look down to see her arm was perfectly still and whole, but every moment she felt it burning, the dissonace of sensation to visual warping her sense of reality.

“Where are the Son’s E11s produced?” he asked

“Ensign…” she gritted out, before Scenario 5 played incinerating her legs, up to her breast.

“Where are the Son’s credits sourced from?”
“Ens…”
Scenario 4 again
“What is the true name or species of the Being Black Armour?”
“Ensign Yaaaaaaaaaah.
Scenario 5 again.
“How long has the Ascendancy been providing the Sons with weapons?”
“En…en…”
Scenario 4, he sighed.

And so on it went…

<<<<<>>>>

Ken
“I understand why…” Ken said as the ship, a few minutes after falling out of hyperspace, drifted along and Black Armour returned to the hold.

After Ken’s explosion of anger he had found a sense of calm at last, focus, the Song no longer muddied by the necessities of the moment, he could see all he was doing clearly. 

The wrong, the right, the selfishness and selflessness of it all - and had no regrets.

“...why you never speak, why you just hide behind the mask, I know your Kind, Artemis or whatever you’re called, don’t have to, but…it’s a tool, an image…like when the Sons see me as a Jedi, or a Knight, it carries a weight of hope to others…but you…your image is more complex - a reminder that the Sons, no matter how bad things get, they will silently endure, and in the end overcome evil. Justice will find the slavers, they can’t hide in the darkness, because you own it.”

He paused considering why he was even saying this, apart from to take his mind off what was next,

“For all the horror the slavers can inflict…you show that the Sons will bring down something even worse, that they are always, in some unspoken way stronger…but maybe I’m just rambling…”

Ken couldn’t be a Jedi like Scaari hoped, not dedicated for the sake of distraction like Wolfe, nor committed for life to a Cause as a living martyr like Scrubber, and he wouldn’t leave his Mak’tor heritage by the roadside like Ash, or become the blood soaked remorseful destroyer like Ravge…and nor could he be blind, mute, Justice like Black Armour...and certainly not the heroic Master Singer like his father.

Whatever his place was as a Man, as a Knight - it was someone else. 

Black Armour seemed to pay no attention to his words as the ship's hatch opened to cold space and a yellow-orange slice of a planet beneath.

He again silently pointed a finger, Ken understanding what was needed.

Seating himself in a lotus pose as best he could in the clunky outfit Ken reached out through his hear, through his love, seeking the other half of himself held so close and yet so far apart.

Ry he whispered with his Soul, his lips humming a tune of connection, the opening bars of that which he had sung to her alone on Csilla so long ago.

Ry, I’m here.  Please be here….Maker Please be Alive

Black Armour watched the boy carefully as he used his ‘Song’ arts to seek his mate.  If the Chiss girl had survived she would be brought to Saleucami straight away, he was certain of that.

In the interests of ensuring the Mak’Tor remained on side and Karmack especially, he had been tasked to look out for Ken.

He had watched the young man as he argued against Ravge and the Brutes, stood up for the volunteers, saw the changes being wrought in Scrubber, fought battle after battle with skill and determination. For a mere human, Black Armour considered him reasonably competent.

And so either Black Armour would deliver the Knight to save his mate, or to help him take the head of the one responsible for her death.

Kens mouth moved in undulations of Song, the Force sweeping across the mesa’s and dunes failing to return the echo his love sought.

Maker Please

<<<<>>>>
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 #48 on: December 15, 2022, 12:48:11 AM »

Chapter 12 – Darkest Hour - Part 2
Ravge
The lack of official status among the Son’s had always irritated her, the ‘band of brethren’ and loose chain of command was one of Scrubber's greatest follies in Colonel Sala’s opinion.

This ambiguity continued as she stood on the bridge, neither free nor arrested - but certainly watched over by two large Liberators, the Yinchorri Bussra uncomfortably close in his grey armour that still featured the Brutes insignia from his time there before being assigned to the Liberator regiments.

Cool and calm she waited for the heavy footsteps that pressaged the Gen’dai’s arrival, the large doors at the end of the Command Level above the trenches barely able to admit him through.

“We go to Saleucami, we tear his Palace apart, we rip his head from his shoulders,” Ravge boomed as he walked toward her.

“With you as Captain, or not,” he added in the closest thing he could seemingly offer to continue to work with him rather than against.

“What will that achieve? We need to evacuate the base below, recover any stragglers from…”

“We are not abandoning Eurydice base,” Ravge growled
“It’s been compromised,” Sala countered

“You think me so simple don’t you…” his voice was the rumble of distant thunder.

With a nod he gestured for the other Brutes that had accompanied him to leave them, corralling all the bridge staff as well until only the two of them remained.

Sala stood firm but felt uncertain as to what Ravge intended.

His teeth were clenched and his words were hissed

“Your masters are not allies - they are slavers - they want workers from among those we free and use our blood to pay for them.  They will not allow their plans to suffer further setbacks,”

She might have obfuscated ‘what masters’ but Ravge more than anyone could likely sniff the truth. 

Sala, Harm and a dozen other former Imperials among the Son’s ranks were all on Artemis payroll.  The Company had arranged her fleeing from Coruscant just after the Emperor's death to ensure she escaped the infighting of would be successors, and extracted her lover Harm and many of his men to ensure her loyalty. 

Rather than joining one of the various pretender Remnant factions, they found far better pay as Artemis Military Advisers posted to the Son’s.

If Scrubber knew he never mentioned it openly - but he surely understood that Artemis was not just taking workers from among those the Son’s freed out of charity - they wanted a loyal, motivated workforce - and few were more loyal and indeed grateful than once beaten slaves given safety, an abundance of opportunities, training and pay overnight.

“This is our home, we will not leave it, and if your Masters -” the word was a harsh insult from his vocal tubes
“ - want to keep using us for their ends they will have to protect it and offer more than weapons and credits,”

Sala felt a newfound respect for Ravge, he was more than the brute he appeared to be, mingled with fear he might just kill her.

“Scrubber allowed you to use us - believing more good than ill came from accepting your tainted charity - I do not.  I would see my brothers and sisters dead rather than be re-enslaved by your Shadow Lords,”

His face was right beside her own, a single tooth as long as her tight bound ponytail, he could bite her head off with ease.  She had only the fact he feared Artemis reprisals to keep her safe.

“You’ll get yourself, and everyone else killed because you are too proud to accept help?” she retorted

“Help? This isn’t help, it is a snare.” he growled in her ear, his breath strong enough to send her tightly bound hair loose, the vibrations of his voice making her body quake.

“I will use your masters as they have used us, then when the Sons are strong enough to fight on their own, with True allies and new, wise leadership is ready, we will leave them behind - I will fight until I finally die, but not before the Son’s are truly free. That is my pledge”

She had to admit she had underestimated Ravge, perhaps they all had, his brutality hid subtlety of understanding and a deep commitment to the cause of freedom - a freedom without strings attached.

“We are taking this vessel to Zann’s palace on Saleucami. Will you remain at the helm or not?” he took a few steps back rearing up to as tall as he could in the confines of the bridge ceiling.

She was trapped, refuse and risk Ravge ending her - or worse Artemis ire - or go with him and risk another disaster and loss of her Star Destroyer.

At least as Captain she retained some control.

<<<<>>>>

Ken
Night was cold on Saleucami. 

Screams muffled behind the sealed walls of the Villa were the only sound apart from the high pitched leg vibrations of indigenous ‘hopper’ insects as two dozen mercenaries patrolled the compound.

Occasionally the thick walls let slip the scream of one of the Extractors ‘friends’, the Mercs were used to it.  The Extractors work was messy but it had its perks, they were all hoping the Palluvidan might offer them the Chiss girl as a gift when he was done with her as he had done with others.

Such a thought was like a beacon to the silent figure that had crawled across the dunes following a chord in a Song only he could hear.

His flesh chilled and numb Ken leapt the small wall to grab the first Guard, his arms wrapping around and twisting the neck, as the second was hurled back by an Oblivion Arrow that punched straight through the body and pinned him to the stone wall, before the arrow itself vanished into nothing.

Mak’tor and Aethan swept round the edge of the compound with lethal silence, the Force and Oblivion weapons their ally to suppress sound and curiosity and cut through any resistance.

Ken moved at a constant crouch, an Oblivion dagger that weighed nearly twenty kilo’s in his hand, a tune of concealment humming through his Aura as the Guard ahead hurried to the fallen figure of another.  Before he could reach for his comm Ken leapt, the Force powering his lunge, the Oblivion dagger sinking smoothly through the Qudra-steel plate.

Ken understood why Zearic Vih’Torr couldn’t give up his own Oblivion blades, they felt good to plunge into living bodies.

The Villa consisted of multiple square tiers, long balconied walkways, gossamer curtains to dampen the daylight sun, and small courtyards with water features supplied by the waters of the Oasis upon which it was built.

For Ken these were just more corners to press against and columns to hide behind as he cut through everything in his way.

The Song grew louder - a pulsing drumbeat of pain throbbing through the Force at the top of the Villa, behind thick walls.

That had to be the place.

One after the other he laid five guards low, how many Black Armour dealt with he didn’t know. They came together again on the second highest tier.

So far there was no seeming general alarm or loud alert, but whoever was inside likely knew something was very wrong as earbud comms went unanswered.

Either side of two large wooden doors - the wood a luxury in the sparse unvegetated desert - they prepared to enter.

Rather than the typical style of smashing through, Black Armour gently pried the door open, slowly pushing his Hades rifle through the gap, he held up four then two fingers - ‘Six’, with a shoulder he pushed the door fully open.

Ken snapped the heavy pistol Black Armour had given him up, pressed to the side of the door he pivoted round letting the Force guide his arms to aim, the trigger tough to pull even for his cybernetic fingers - designed for even stronger hands, there was no recoil as the hellfire red shot out slamming a guard backwards.

Yellow counter fire erupted, Black Armour at the other door snapping his shots just as cautiously before rolling swiftly in  behind cover, throwing some kind of dagger mid roll.

Lighting his saber in his off hand Ken followed him in, yellow shots slapping against his blue blade as he fired into another.

For the first time Ken realised he was seeing saw Black Armour actually fight - in every other instance of combat the Oblivion clad Enforcer was ‘acting the part’ of the indomitable enormous killer, making himself a target, showing off overwhelming abilities to terrify weak willed guards and mercs into submission.

This was different, fast, sleek and precise Black Armour moved like mist cover to cover, throwing daggers and firing shots, every single one hitting as inner doors opened and more troops fired in - always where Black Armour had been seconds ago.

He punished them for this with head shots and Force grips that pulled their knee caps out or snapped their necks.

Ken barely needed to do anything but block the occasional shot and shoot off the odd round to keep the Guards from flanking Black Armour, but in all honesty he needed none of Ken’s help.

Less than fifteen seconds later, all the original six and five more besides were dead.

The Abyssal figure checked a few corpses, then looked to Ken to guide him forward but there was a sense of urgency to his ‘gaze’, they didn’t have much time before reinforcements arrived.

Nodding Ken followed the pulsing heat of pain through the rooms up stairs and to a thick set of metal doors he blasted with six shots from the abnormally powerful pistol then slammed open with the Force.

Inside was pitch black, but Ken could feel where the suffering was coming from ahead.

Stepping inside he closed his unnecessary eyes and opened himself to the Song, letting it guide and control him.
 
He spread his arms out, as if trying to make himself large as possible to channel all the Force energy he could - he could almost see the tendrils in his mind, a thread like mist.
 
He wanted to rush ahead and soothe the source of the pain, but the Song demanded he wait, and walk slowly, and he had to Listen to the Singer.

The briefest motion of air on the back of his neck and Ken pivoted to smash the whirring implement aside, then head butted forward breaking the Palliduvans nose, blood trickling down perfectly along his facial tattoo as his attempted ambush failed.

Skittering away the white faced torturer tried to pull a hold out blaster but found his hand suspended and trembling in the air as Ken outstretched his own gripping it tightly with the force.

Closing his fist Ken broke the Palliduvan forearm telekinetically with a series of popping cracks along the bone, stepping forward and stomping on his leg to pin him down.

With a snap-hiss his saber was on and vibrating at the tormentor's neck, the blue light reflected in the terrified eyes of one who had inflicted such pain on so many.

A Jedi wouldn’t have killed an unarmed being.  A Good Knight wouldn’t either. 

No one could say the execution of the Extractor was unjustified, or unwarranted.

But perhaps after all that had happened over last weeks the frightened eyes of the Extractor pulled out of Ken just the type of Man he was.

He was a Gray Knight, he could end those who deserved death without regret or concern.  He was Man, who felt the urge for revenge and punishment, to rebalance the wrong done against his lover.

Ken shut off his blade, the Palliduvan sighed relief, thinking this was indeed a Jedi, bound by oaths that would preserve his life.

Ken allowed that brief moment for his own satisfaction in seeing how quickly the Palluvidan’s expression switched to horror as Ken flipped his grip slamming the raw hilt of his saber into the torturer's face and skull, three bloody and bone cracking times, till the tall thin Extractor fell unconscious and only just alive to the floor.

The moment of frenzied and satisfying punishment forgotten he rushed to Ry, her naked limp form pinned upside down to an X shape frame, Black Armour kneeling behind the sick crucifix inspecting where a messy of semi-organic wires were entered the base of her skull through cauterized cut open flesh.

Ken moved to grab her but the Oblivion Enforcer held up a hand to back away then pointed to the connection, Ken moving round to see for himself.

“Can we take it out?” the Mak’Tor asked, a head shaking negative was the response.

Ken’s eyes followed the cables to a large advanced looking computer system on a hoversled, logs of signals sent to Ry’s brain scrolling in hate filled red on a dark background. 

Black Armour was hunched slightly, one hand on his helm as if talking to some distant collaborator. 

The Neuro-Tormentor was not designed to be removed from a living victim, the interlacing with the spinal cord left jagged breaks in white and gray matter, the nanite tendrils wrapped into her were not intended to be removed, mapped to her neural network specifically, they were simply ‘cut’ from the main Cable once the interrogation was finished and new ones used for the next victim, leaving irreparable damage behind.

“There must be something we can do, we need to get out of here…”

Black Armour, still seeming to ‘speak’ to someone else surveyed the full scene still lit only by Ken’s saber, well aware their time was almost up.

“Can we move her, can you get your ship near here?” he asked, urgently the cold of conflict giving way to the anxiety of imminent loss.  She was so close yet so far away from him.

Seeming to confirm something with whomever he was speaking to Black Armour turned to the side wall. 

In the dark Ken heard rather than saw the metal crumple at the joins to the ceiling and floor, a squeaking, grinding crack before cold air off the desert sands rushed as a vast section of the wall simply peeled outward.

Turning back Black Armour pointed to the still breathing Palluvidian, Ken understanding and lifting the long limbed form as best he could onto his back. Black Armour delicately lifted the devices attached to Ry, placing them on her to make the ‘package’ as compact as possible.

Then he lifted the entire frame and components, the Force steadying each piece in place as he carried it to the torn whole in the wall.

They waited without a word as the wind rushed over them for Black Armours ship to arrive piloted by remote, all the while nervously listening for approaching fighters or transports to recapture the Villa.

It only took four minutes for the Black triangular ship to arrive it’s hatch opening once more, Black Armour seemingly unphased by the weight only annoyed by the cumbersome shape of his cargo deftly leaping on, setting Ry down surprising gently, placing the attached components where they could fit then helping Ken on board.

As the Mak’tor stepped on he felt a ripple in the force, bold and vicious intent that could only be Ravge.

“What is he doing here…”

Black Armour took the Extractor from Ken and clamped what looked like some kind of living jellyfish blob on his arms and feet as a form of restraint, then as the hatch closed headed straight to the cockpit, Ken following.

In moments a holo-representation of the system was up showing Ravge was far from alone, Black Armour nodded to Ken as if to reply

Nothing Good.

<<<<>>>>

Zann
Once more he stood among variegated low level fief holders, Defliers at his back, demanding tribute for ridding them of the Son’s threat.

Nadiem had been handed back to it’s former owners as quickly as the Sons had taken it - absent only quarter of a harvest the Son’s had taken and Zann’s men had burned in Eurydice base - the Son’s had damaged their own reputation for nothing more than ashes.

As the Spice Miners from the North started to pay up Deflier Tahn approached him from behind, a barely audible whisper in his ear

“The Sons have appointed the Gen’Dai as leader, they are already mustering to leave for Saleucami, our agent is requesting extraction,”

His agent had performed admirably, beside Urai the most important asset in this Score had provided the precision impetus at key points to ensure the Sons were weakest when they needed strength the most.

Still Zann’s nose scrunched with irritation - he had long wanted the Gen’Dai to take control, anticipated the ravenous Brute would attack soon after - but not this soon and not there.

Logic and rage said the Gen’Dai would go after the Hand of Damnation try to reclaim it before Zann could get it off Glottal, not attack something as utterly unimportant in terms of material gain as the Palace.

Sure there was symbolic value to be had in ‘wrecking Zann’s Palace’ - frankly Zann hadn’t thought the Gen’Dai capable of such complex thought - but even then it was a minimal potential reputation boost for many better opportunities lost.

“We’ve also lost contact with the Extractor’s villa after an alarm was sounded,” Tahn added.

That was far more troublesome, he had paid the Extractor a lot of credits and spent a lot of effort recovering Son’s pilots and he wanted something to show for it.

“Finish up here,” Zann ordered Tahn trusting in his loyal lieutenant to make sure the patsies paid up.

“Urai we’re leaving,”.

<<<<>>>>
Scrubber

“Are you certain you are well my Adored?” Jal’ina asked over the crack and whirr of tools in one of the Unchained’s many bunk rooms given over to makeshift manufacturing, in this case sappers and demolitions team explosives with whatever they could find.

“Very much so,” Scrubber replied, relishing the nostalgia of it all, scraping together wires and circuits, compounds and power cells to make bespoke charges - just as he had in the old days with Thinker and Anwai.

An abnormal calm seemed to have settled over the Togruta following his ‘abdication’, his last real act to assign himself to the Liberators Sapper corps where he felt he could be of most use.

The ship briefly shuddered indicating the jump to hyperspace.  At this Scrubber paused to breathe a sigh of relief - at last they were underway.

“Flourish my Adored,” Jali’na added, kissing his cheek.
“I must attend to my duties in the med bay,” they were still dealing with many casualties from Eurydice base and Glottal, only more would come after this attack on Saleucami.

Scrubber smiled as he watched her leave, she had made such a difference to his life in such a short time.  It was sad that she did not truly know she was saying goodbye.

His face fled back to grim focus once she was out of sight.

Plunging himself into the task of fashioning charges to bring Zann’s palace down.

The Consortium had taken so much from the Cause the least he could do was wreck the effigy to it’s wealth and power.  A fitting way for Ravge to start his stewardship of the Son’s and…and a way to clear the decks for him.

Scrubber knew his history well enough, it never boded well for a leader when their predecessor was still around, questions of a return and divided loyalties abounded.

To ensure Ravge and the Cause he now led had the best chance, Scrubber needed to remove himself from the situation.

Hydro-drill clicking as the pneuma-screw fixed the control circuit to the block box filled with promethium Scrubber felt the weight in his hand but a lightness in his head.

Scrubber would destroy that Palace and in doing so create his own tombstone. The time had come to give his last breath for the Cause.

<<<<>>>>

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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Force Alignment: 1106
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« Reply #49 on: December 18, 2022, 01:01:41 AM »

Ken's and Black Armor's precise surgical strike is as deadly as it is audacious, the Consorium's agents (as well as the ill-fated Extractor) witness to the brutal reprisal against those foolish enough to abscond with Ry'lak (who, unsurprisingly, is as cool under fire as the icefields of her native Csilla).  Unfortunately, the damage has already been done, the Extractor having performed his tasks of his namesake, clearly responsible for much of the Consortium's intel.

But now we have direct evidence of Zann's spy, the other component of the Consortium's means to thwart the Sons at every step.  The spy is embedded deep, able to help steer the Sons towards their destruction while ensuring that Tyber Zann's Big Score reaches fruition.

Unfortunately, this also includes (if not directly then indirectly) Ravge assuming the position of the Sons' leader.  And despite his insistence as "First among Equals," Scrubber IS (or was) the necessary heart of the Sons, the impetus of their success for their Cause and their subsequent growth.  For him to not only remove himself from this vital position BUT then erroneously believes that his ONLY remaining contribution to the Cause is as a sacrificial (and ultimately pointless) saboteur plays precisely into Zann's designs: he removes both the Sons' greatest asset but indeed the Sons' themselves as any threat (reminiscent of the calamity that befell them several centuries prior when Black Sky all but annihilated them).  And having already lost one of their valuable ISDs, this next action WILL put at risk the very namesake of the freed slaves that the Sons labored, fought, and died to save.

Meta-note: Excellent, savage action between Ken and Black Armor.  The Extractor lives up to his name but gets his comeuppance at Ken's hands (well, lightsaber pommel  Wink) but Ry's life is still in the balance.  Hopefully between our resident Gray Singer and demigod Aethan, Ry can recover.  On the other side though, Ravge proves the difference between TACTICAL acumen and STRATEGIC brilliance; Ravge is an outstanding warrior...but a poor general.  Worse, Scrubber is under the mistaken assumption that he is replaceable.

The Consortium is close--very close--to causing the implosion of the Sons.  And there is that spy...
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
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Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #50 on: December 23, 2022, 12:49:41 AM »

Chapter 13 – Marginal Gains – Part 1
Zann
He had a chance - a magnificent but slim chance.  The kind he lived for.

White and yellow mist spun as they surged through Hyperspace to Saleucami, at least two hours after the Son’s who had left from nearby Teth, itself an hour or so closer to the route.

Leaning forward on his command throne - wide backed with roaring krayt dragons on the arm rests, the aquarion stone carved into scales imitating the vicious beast he took as a kind of totem - aboard the Merciless, Zann gazed into the black focal point of the Hyperspeed tunnel.

Sykes and the majority of his fleets were over Glottal and Hypori, Saleucami’s Malignance Fortress had been tugged to Glottal for that ambush leaving his Palace relatively undefended.

There wasn’t really much of value there, his true wealth was all in Shadow Banks after all, Zann travelled light and the Palace itself was more a place to entertain guests and a necessary bauble expected of a Prince of the Underworld than a critical facility.

But if he could get there even an hour after the Sons, while they were still rifling through his drawers, he could take them from behind or better still blast them from orbit and knock out another chunk of their forces.

He had the Merciless and two other Aggressors, two corvettes and two Vengeance frigate plus fighters - and just behind them the Keldabe Class Excruciator - enough, if he was careful and the Son’s still undermanned - to potentially cripple the Unchained till Sykes arrived.

Urai let out a low tweet of uncertainty.

“Too bold for your tastes Urai?” Zann noted his doubt.

“If the Son’s send everything they have, we will struggle without a second Fleet.”

“Everything they have isn’t much anymore, and we only need a few hours before Sykes gets here - we move fast, this war ends today and we claim two jewels for the Consortium's Crown.”

<<<<>>>

Battle of Saleucami
With spite and anger Loftharr blasted the Skipray into pieces, his Defender barely patched during transit flying with what felt like wobbling wings over the yellow sand dome of Saleucami.

He was 2 in the reformed Hammer squad with Tu-tu, Shorykam and Meido Llm’ar, the remnants of Sledge and Cleaver squad put under Tu-tu as the spear tip to punch through the air defences around Zann’s fortress.

No one had meaningfully challenged the Unchained’s entry to low orbit, Big Brain had swiftly found Zann’s palace among the dozens of others in the vast white scorched plains, and Liberators and Brutes were following with mixed Advanced and Interceptor escorts to ransack it for all it was worth whilst Zann was - mercifully - elsewhere.

The Wookie Clever flyer kept his misgivings to himself as he pushed into the atmosphere, heated red of entry friction warming the cockpit specially designed to let his tall form fit in all the better.

“Launches detected, 12 Vipers and 6 blast boats,” Unchained tactical advised Hammer, Scythe and Hacker, the three, 4 Defender squads tasked with wiping out anti-air defences in advance of the landing parties.

Loftharr growled, they were outnumbered, but the Defenders should be able to cope as the superior fighters.

“Breaking off to intercept,” Tu-tu replied, “Corridor Besh is clear for landers.”

They didn’t even pause to confirm, Zeta landers flanked by TIE interceptors launched from the Unchained’s bay, preceded by a handful of Advanced with Proton torpedoes to knock out the air defence turrets.

The ISD was alone except for three Raider 2’s - the other vessels of the Son’s remaining fleet too slow in hyperspace to keep up with the rapid pace Ravge had demanded, and would help evacuate Eurydice base if Zann struck there again.

Logically they would be better off levelling Zann’s palace, but Ravge wanted to make a statement by ransacking it and freeing all Zann’s house slaves, hopefully picking up valuable intel on the way, and then blowing the place to fragments.

The Avengers swept down in tight formation, Ornil herself taking the lead as they kicked up sand beneath, flying under the turrets arc of fire, but having to come in at ground level from quite a distance.

The Kel-dor keyed the targeting computer, vertical lines narrowing on her two targets as the hatches for the Torpedo bays opened, the ordinance clicked into place.

Avenger 1, Vulpes 3!,” with a satisfying hard squeeze she fired the first proton torpedo, it burned bright blue against the white hot sands as the Consortium's fortress palace loomed ahead - at least 40 stories widening at the top with the main apartments on an upper platform, built in a thick sandstone native to Saleucami.

The Torpedo wound over the sands leaving a trail of dust in its wake before it struck the turret encampment half a kilometer from the palace, a bright blue flare - the first of six, signalling its demise leaving a crater of molten glass behind.

As she made her first pass she could see small figures running past windows inside, curtains flailing wildly as the TIEs passed dangerously close blowing air and sand in.

Ravge sat hunched as usual in the cramped back of the lander, usually large enough for 40 stormtroopers it could barely fit the 15 Brutes, his ‘feet’ banging a steady rhythm, waiting for the ‘catch’ he knew was coming, hoping he had not made a mistake and overestimated the Son’s importance to Artemis.

He knew how dire this risk was, placing the Unchained and many Liberators in danger to force Artemis out of the shadows, but there was no other way to accomplish all he needed to swiftly - and every minute delay while others suffered the Chain was one minute too many.

But if he knew anything, it was the mind of the Masters of the Gladiator Pit’s of Lirra and Outland Station - a mindset that applied to all the Masters - they never risked their most valuable fighters lives if they had to, more than willing to pay a breach of contract fee than let them be killed in the arena if they thought they could go on to win more rounds.

And like Ravge had been to his ‘master’, so the Son’s were to Artemis - prized fighters too valuable to allow suffer the final blow.

They had been playing them from the Shadows too long, Ravge would force them into the light they abhorred.

TIE’s and Vipers clawed and scratched over the sands, Blastboats tried to pick off the transports but were quickly harassed by the Avengers and Defenders, the superior vessels outrunning the comparatively sluggish blast boats as the first landers touched down just inside the bladed walls of the outer palace compound.

The tall palace featured faux oasis around it’s base, shimmering waters in defiance of the dry desert all around. Around the edge between the water and the outer wall, numerous black and gold out buildings. The tower itself inlaid with bronze featured working areas on the lower levels, tall neck to the main residence atop that looked across the mirage shimmer of the white sands.  Beneath were geothermal springs fed by salty waters of underground rivers that collected minerals on winding paths from distant mountains.

Ravge cared nothing for the aesthetics as he tore a cabana free and hurled it at Mercenaries who rushed to take up position, Liberators beginning to swarm all over the complex outer, Ranger 3 managing to secure two of the Canderous tanks before they could roll out.

The Mercenaries had the high ground on the lower levels of the Palace and numerous fixed cannons, but the Son’s had the air support.

The reformed Hammer and Mallet squads left Vipers and blastboats to crash to the sea of sand as they made runs on the Palace itself, lowering weapons power to avoid too much damage, but still ample to blast chunks from any position the Mercenaries tried to take cover or fire from, the lower levels of the Palace polished red-brown marble becoming a pitted wreck in a matter of minutes.

Droideka’s rolled from storage sheds below ground level only to find themselves under a barrage of fire, the Son’s at last learning the only way to down them with what they had was a steady stream of fire - it depleted their power cells even further, but ensured they were no longer the massacre machines they had been.

All through Ravge and his brutes pushed straight up the main entrance way, a long white limestone ramp over the oasis pool, palm trees seeming to bend in submission to those who passed along it.  At the centre of the vast ramp was a Canderous Tank firing straight at them, Ravge hurled bodies of Mercenaries he had picked up into the energy beams before leaping sky high to land on the top.

his bundled muscle cords pushed into every gap in the hatch stops the tank, then filled with elasticin proteins to expand and pop it apart - his head elongated along the stretching fibers of his body to chomp straight onto the first Mercenary within, then take a shot to the face from the next.

The Gen’dai shrugged and bit the hand that had pulled the trigger clean off.

<<<<>>>>
“Brute squad has entered the Palace, Liberators are securing the exterior, Mallet and Hammer confirm all bogies down,”  Feeni Los translated from the Rodian comms’s officers on the ground.

It was adequate Sala had to admit, the Palace was less well defended than expected and they seemed to have caught them by surprise for the first time - but every moment that passed was one more in which…

“Captain Mmbri reports vessels dropping out…3…4…no… 7 ships and escorts…on sunlight advance,”

In which just this would happen.

“Type and number,” she demanded her feet spread wide as she stared at the yellow and orange mottled sands of Saleucami below here.

“Three Aggressors, Two Vengeance, Two Corvettes,”

Where is the Keldabe… was her first thought

“They are launching fighters and transports toward the planet…”

Now that puzzled her, surely Zann didn’t care that much about his Palace?

“Increase charge on all cannons, bring the Raiders back in close and recall all Defenders and Avengers, task the Interceptors with covering the troops planet side,”

She had the better fighters in the Defenders and Avengers, but not interceptors and had to allocate them carefully to protect herself and the troops ground side.

“And begin plotting an escape jump,” she added.

She felt the pause among her bridge crew and cast a quick stabbing look into the trench, the various aliens working within quickly complying.

If it came down to it, she would happily sacrifice the Interceptors, Ravge and all his troops to keep the Unchained and the more advanced fighters - and in some ways she hoped for just that.

<<<<>>>>

The Merciless held back as the Aggressors lined up, the Vengeance Frigates activating their cloak and slipping round.

With only the Unchained and three corvettes Zann knew he could do this.

“Fighters and corvettes move along the flank, I want it surrounded,” his Aggressors would burst the ISD’s shields while his blastboats and Vengeance Frigates dealt with the escorts and then…then he had something very special in mind.

His Flagship the Merciless would get within a few kilometres of the Unchained  fire it’s Krayt Dragon Claws - Beskar fangs attached to nyal-steel cables that would bite the ISD and chain it to his ship - sure they could jump to Hyperspace - but not without causing the beskar teeth to tear half their ship apart and send it spiralling to death.

Either the Unchained would be his, or it would be scrap - and in either case the Sons last critical asset would be gone.

Then once caught he only had to wait for Urai to finish up on the ground and board.

His only friend had waited a long time for the chance that was now upon them, Zann couldn’t deny him the chance to find a ‘worthy’ match on the ground at last.  He had every confidence Fen could lay the pit cage fighter Ravge and the, in Zann’s estimation over hyped, Black Armour low.

Today the Son’s would die.

<<<<>>>>
Scrubber
“Incoming!” the call came loud and clear through the earpiece as Scrubber rushed along the tunnel, back aching from his pack.

It had felt cathartic, familiar, to be scuttling under blaster fire and out of the blaring sun into the caverns beneath the palace, a reminder of old times when he still had hope for the future of the Cause and his ability to contribute to it.

A trusty Load-Sensor, as old as he was, helped his quickly scan and assess the forces acting on each pillar and beam to work out where best to place his explosives.

He could hear distant echoes of blaster fire coming down the polished ocre tunnels toward the hydro thermal baths, but only silence further in. 

Alone, he hoped this area was forgotten about.

With a laser cutter he sliced a hole in the polish ochre to get at the wire cavity, placing his first charge by a load bearing pillar, then replacing the ochre covering so it was that much more concealed - unnecessary perhaps but thorough before he moved on.

The tunnel winded down further, another charge placed 15 meters from the second where he could hear the bubbling of the waters and taste the mineral salts in the air.

Peering across the natural cavern he spied another large pillar at the far side - a vaulted artificial ceiling above the natural cavern floor - if he took the pillars holding that curved roof down the whole place would collapse down.

The perfect place, deep, secluded, he would plant his charges and hide until he heard the Son’s were retreating and then witness the Palaces collapse from the inside.

Judging no one was around he sprinted between the pools, past the small trays and shelves that housed luxurious pillows and towels when he heard the hiss of an automatic door.

Reflexes took over and he rolled to the ground drawing his blaster aimed where the sound had come from.

Peeking out behind what was likely a Refresher in the side wall were the eyes of Jal’ina.

<<<<>>>>

Battle of Saleucami
At last, all three were within reach - the Jedi Boy, the Gen’Dai and the Shadow Lord.

His talons tapping on the deck, Urai Fen waited for the hatch to open, determined to drink the blood of at least one of the Son’s greatest warriors - by Garuda’s Merciless Claws all three!

The square rim of darkness gave way to eye burning light as the sands of Saleucami hot and itching flew in his face as he dove into the fight.

The Son’s were caught between Mercenaries still holding out deep within the lower levels and at the Turbo lift shafts and Consortium forces now coming in around them, the Liberators forces to take what few positions their own air cover hadn’t demolished to protect themselves.

For now though they still had the numbers, the Interceptors Sala had left able to take out a few of the Consortium transports, but in the end only Fen’s had really mattered.

The Talortai’s back hinged legs tensed then sprung him into the air over the Mercenaries and the thick two storey lower walls of the outer balcony of the lower palace - landing with his arm blades in a Liberator whose twitching form slid messily off,  Urai already moving to the next as his beak caught the tang of the Gen’dai nearby.

Ravge as always was covered in small scars, his rapidly regenerating tissue was watching over with mucosal scabs that dried to new skin in moments as his feet dug into the terrazzo floors tearing chunks off to hurl at the last few Mercenaries inside guarding the turbo lift’s up to Zann’s apartments.

He smashed through the blasters shots and the carbonite launchers they fired into his enormous body embracing the pain knowing it was fleeting, unlike the eternal sentence he had issued the innocent he slaughtered in the ring.

As the last Merc died, crushed in a tangled of his muscular cords he heard the shouts from behind him, smelling the shift in momentum in the air.  The tide was against them and a Blood soaked warrior was cutting the Liberators apart.

“Head up! take all you can, I will deal with this,” Ravge bellowed at Bussra,

The Gen’dai roared as he passed the bodies he had left on the way in, Liberators falling back and rushing past him, fleeing one and all from the nightmare spiral of blades that was Urai Fen.

Like a plasma circular blade Fen sliced through a chunky brute, the massive, muscled limbs flopping liked so much meat on the floor before pausing in a crouched stance Arm blades quickly free of any lingering blood of the unworthy.

“Gen’Dai…At last our Fates entwine,” Urai chirped

Ravge bellowed as he leapt forward to finally decide who was the bigger monster.

<<<<>>>>
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 #51 on: December 23, 2022, 12:51:24 AM »

Chapter 13 – Marginal Gains – Part 2
Battle of Saleucami
The first blazing ball of plasma with pink ribbon tails slammed into the Unchained’s shields as it came about and returned fire with three shots at the Corvettes rather than the Aggressors.

The Aggressors first waves of Ion pulses had little effect on the well insulated ISD, giving Sala time to take out the Aggressors escorts while she weathered their fire.

The Defenders and Avengers were quickly reaching her position, the Raider 2’s in a tight triangle to protect each other from the Consortiums’s cloaked vessels she knew would appear soon, but without the Corvettes his Aggressors would be vulnerable to runs by the nimbler TIE’s - though they had few proton torpedoes and heavy ordinance left it would be just enough.

As Another ream of Ion struck the tip of her ship she noted the Krayt Dragon on the face of one of the Aggressors - Zann himself was here.  

“Fire Port side, same target,” she continued her stance tight as her bound hair and eyes laser focused on Zann’s ship.

Three more heavy turbo laser shots arced into the Crusader corvette, one blasting the last of it’s shields away, the second scoring a lucky hit on the engines before it could manoeuvre away, the green beam sizzling metal and setting drive core energies free to bubble across the rear of the ship damaging it further, rendering it a sitting duck.

“All fighters forward on patter Esk, Defenders target the Aggressors at the side, rounding the corvettes, they will be down by the time you reach their range. Avengers take out those blast boats and vipers for the Defenders runs”

Zann saw the positioning was playing right into his hands, he wanted the fighters to come after his Aggressors, for he had no intention of them staying there.
“Rechna, Svettan, open up!” he demanded leaning forward on his throne, fingers clawed tightly around the carved Krayt skulls of the arm rests as the blue uniformed staff of Sykes fleets made it so.

The unshielded but cloaked frigates mass driver cannons blasted eight bore like projectiles into the Raider II Syffa, the kinetic tuned shields stopped three, but the other two lanced through the hull, causing numerous breaches, atmosphere blasting out with bodies of crew as the bridge was lanced open.

Mmbri and the Liberator were far from idle, the Son’s tech had devised predictive targeting software that kicked in immediately, without the captains even having to order it the Raiders Turbo lasers fired on the computed source of the projectiles, green blasts smashing into the cloaked but unshielded Rechna, one after the other blasting off the port wing and lower section, the thick armour doing little to stop the overpowered automated shots.

Svettan was quick to move, but still took a glancing hit from the Unchained, shuddering the vessel, it’s cloak maintained dampers and stabilisers blow out from the jarring whiplash of the intense shot.

TIEs swung around the remaining corvettes, engines glaring a red mist trail in the far scattered upper orbit, aiming for the sides and back of the Aggressors, Consortium Vipers and Blast Boats lining up to take them on, squad designations forgotten they divided into 8 Defenders under Loftharr and 11 Avengers led by Tu-tu, cannons primed and last few missiles a thumb trigger away from launching.

Zann  watched for a brief few seconds, his eyes darting between the green holographic battlescape projected before his throne, the view screen and the ships chrono.

“Now! Full ahead shields double front!” he ordered.

All three Aggressors kicked sublights at full thrust, pushing them out of the slow inertial motion into a bladed thrust at the Unchained.

“Crazed bastard!” Sala seethed, the TIEs risked overshooting.

“New contact sector 6!” a Twi’leki called from the trenches, the now all too familiar profile of a Keldabe class battleship appearing on the tactical.

“It’s the Excruciator!”  
 
<<<<>>>>

Scrubber
“You…must be Nal’Jia,” Scrubber called gently toward the closed refresher door, a cool cream colour inset into the otherwise natural wall of the cavern.
“I know your sister Jal’ina, I know you helped us!”

There was still no response, and he knew he had little time, banging on the door he tried a different approach.

“We are the Son’s we are here to free y…”

The door slid open and the blaster fired.

<<<<>>>>

Battle of Saleucami
Like a burning comet the spherical pod of an Interceptor crashed into the western pools of the Palace ground complex, the Vipers and Blastboats escorting the Consortium landing parties working in concert with MZ-8 Mobile pulse cannons to bring the fast but less durance Interceptors down.

Consortium reinforcements from Eanna fleet now had the Sons trapped in the lower levels of the Palace compound, their mechs more than happy to damage their employer’s symbol of wealth to kills his enemies.

E11-s fired down red, GLX Fire Lances and red rapid shots from droideka’s fired back up.  Furniture was thrown into gaps, plinths with ceramics toppled to block holes, scorching sun sizzled cauterized blaster wounds and soaked both sides in sweat.

In the centre of the slow bleeding destruction a vast mass of pink grey flesh thrashed about on an ever changing number of limbs that defied classification between leg and arm, elastic cords of muscle fiber send piston like clumps of flesh ‘fists’ into the ground trying to splatter a deft bird of prey.

Ravge bellowed and gnashed his teeth at Fen, the Talortai too quick for him to catch and crush out right, Fen in turn slicing through the muscles cords that comprised Ravge enormous body one by one, faster than they could rebind and repair.

His feathers' natural oils beaded off the white neural and milky yellow fluids that were the Gen’dai’s equivalent of vital fluids like the thick rain on Tarlotia, his slow dissection of the Gen’dai proceeding inexorably toward its conclusion.  

Ravge was strong, skilled and nigh on indestructible - on his own he could’ve wiped out half the Consortium landing forces before being shredded apart - but Fen was simply that much better.  He had prepared for this, learned the weaknesses of the rapid healing Gen’Dai species, watched holo’s of Ravge’s battles as a pit gladiator on Lirra, and nothing in the Brute’s techniques had changed - he had after all little need, never having faced an equal in the ring or open war till now.

Like scalpels Urai sliced the cords apart as he jumped, rolled, dove and wound between the thrashing limbs - to kill a Gen’Dai he used a death by a thousand cuts - bleeding Ravge of the fluids needed to ensure his changeable forms turgidity, the Gen’Dai losing mass and pneumatic force of his blows as more and more fluids were spilt.  

More Droideka’s and Mercenary shock troops began clambering up into the airy terrazzo floored rooms of the Palace, Liberators holding their positions as best they could but unable to push back as the tanks secured the exterior, explosions from the last of the Sons own vehicles matched only by a single rippling wave from a Canderous tank Ranger 3 managed to blast apart.

Shuffling from fallen palm trunks, on cracked white tiles around shimmering pools now filled with rubble, blood and bodies, Ranger 1 lined one of the Pulse Cannons, Scarri and Yekeht bearing an over size Charric Cannon between them as Hosto and Harm kept a close eye to ensure all the merc’s attention was on the Palace and they had an out.

With a whirring sonic boom the Charric cannon fired, a blue white wave grinding into the side of the long durasteel frame of the deployed pulse cannon, its long barrel aimed high - a purple plasma glow around its cannon exploding outward as the notoriously unstable weapon was rocked, blasting its front apart and half the Canderous tank beside it.

Ranger 1 swiftly retreated back as Merc’s turned to the sight, Droideka’s, rolling toward them, Harm regretting not putting a bullet in Ravge’s skull, though from what he could just make out at the top of the white promenade ramp to the Palace proper, the Gen’Dai didn’t have long to live.

But the Sons it appeared wouldn’t long outlast him.

From the upper apartments high above the ground level battle Bussra could see the Mercenaries pushing in further and further, around him the Eurydicen guard, techs and hackers were looting Zann’s apartments for all they could, stuffing sacks made of zsinj silk fabrics stripped rom Zann’s many beds with artefacts, credits, datapads, micro-drives and servers.

Grabbing the nearby Rodian Comm officer of the Los clan he issued what advice he could from his position on high but already felt the same sickness he had at Hypori, this was a losing battle.

Even higher Excruciator heavy Ion cannons unleashed in perfect synchronicity with the Aggressors Ion Pulses against the Unchained’s shields as the Raider II’s pulled back, the Defenders and Avengers tied up with the ever expanding number of Viper’s and Blast Boats as more left the Keldabe Class Battleship.

Loftharr roared as one of his Defenders was taken down, a brief burst of yellow then fragments of solar collectors flying in all directions as the TIE’s quality was outweighed by the quantity of Vipers. The wookie was soon pulling dangerously close to Shorykam to avoid one missile lock, then speeding past Ornil’s Avenger to dive out of a Vipers quad linked fire as they were increasingly boxed in.

Sala could only watch as her shields reached a critical low point and the Aggressors pushed right up toward them forcing recalibration of a Jump vector.

“Now,” Zann commanded.

All Three Aggressors fired their Plasma overcharge shots, the spiralling balls of energy cracking what was left of the shield and scoring heated divots into the upper hull.  The Merciless jetted reverse thrusters to compensate for the launch of the Krayt Dragon Claws.

Four taloned hand crossed the kilometres as the cables unwound on huge spools within the thick frame of the Aggressor, precision sensors and micro thrusters ensuring they curved perfectly across the front of the ISD, then with plasma jets drove their beskar nails into the Doonium hull, dragging back till they found purchase on the buckling and warped metal.

Her face twitching with annoyance and defiance Colonel Sala smoothed out her insignia absent light grey uniform, her eyes still on the painted maw of the Krayt dragon ahead of her as the Excruciator and other Aggressors kept up the Ion bombardment, systems dying, consoles sparking arc of blue into operators faces.

In her breast pocket, what appeared to be a standard Imperial Code Cylinder vibrated a warning.

You were right Ravge, she thought as her second officer called for direction and staff began to abandon their stations as screens went dead, and on the surface the Gen’dai himself stumbled to the ground as Fen sliced clean through one of three vast bundles of muscle cords he had been anchoring himself to the ruined terrazzo with, Ravge now haemorrhaging fluids.

They won’t let the Sons lose everything.

“Shut everything down, prepare for a full system reboot!”

<<<<>>>>

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 #52 on: December 23, 2022, 12:54:27 AM »

Chapter 13 – Marginal Gains – Part 3
Battle of Saleucami
Their shots were lined up - clearance to blast the apartments atop the palace given the Viper pilots clicked their missiles to launch.

They exploded into fragments that shimmered under the white sun before they could loose them.

A stain upon Light itself roughly diamond shape, but hazy to the eye as it absorbed virtually every spectrum of visible radiation sliced through where they had been firing its Hades weapons into three more Vipers.

Ken felt his stomach do loops as he watched how calmly Black Armour twisted and pivoted the Oblivion Assault Transport at speeds which would rip even a TIE interceptor in half, its weapons cleanly blasting through anything they caught.

Even if there were some trick with their nefarious oblivion stone, Ken still had to admit the telekinetic precision with which Black Armour could pilot his ship whilst standing on the opening rear hatch, was incredible.

Ry was in one of the four small rooms of the vessel, unconscious and hooked up to a simple drip, the Extractor tied and placed inside a crate with enough air, Ken figured, for at least a few hours.

Ken firmed his stance as the rear hatch opened fully, eyes blinking in the glare of the white sands as the Oblivion ship scorched round the Palace tower, Hades cannons blasting into the Consortium mechs and troops on the ground, the powerful weapons incinerating the lucky outright, the unlucky left burning with half a body in impact craters from the maser weapons that delivered huge kinetic as well as energy blasts.

The ruined pools and gazebo’s flew past beneath him as Ken swallowed deep and delved himself into the Song, trusting in the Maker as he jumped.

The Oblivion ship zoomed off into the sky as the Mak’tor and Black Armour hurled kinetic ‘cushions’ to buffer their landing and crush any mercs immediately beneath them, behind them 4 Dark Trooper Mark IV’s that were kept in Black Armour’s ship flared their proton jets.

Ken landed in a roll on the tiles near one of the numerous spa’s within the Oasis pool, Black Armour laned through a Canderous Tank blade first, the entire vehicle exploding outwards with a blast of Force lighting beyond anything Ken had ever thought possible - worse for the Mercenaries each piece of harp scrap seemed laser guided into the backs of nearby Consortium Troops as Black Armour rushed forward sword in one hand, Hades Rifle in another spreading death wherever he went.

The Kage Killers pounded the Droideka with their micro missiles and Plasma Assault Cannon, shredding dozens of the comparatively weak machines apart. Each of the Dark Troopers two Shatter Speed Proton Missiles slammed into Canderous tanks and Infantry support platforms.

The response was swift, but even shooting the Mark IV’s out of the air only set the among the Mercenaries themselves.  the Four Kage Killers were destroyed, but not before seriously denting the Mercenaries armoured core giving the Son’s within time to reposition.

Ken lost himself in the Song of battle, saber in his right, Hades pistol in his left, leaping over the wreck of and infantry support platform firing three Force guided shots, his saber coming down into a Droideka, cutting it in two.

To a heavy beating rhythm the two warriors sliced and shot through the rear of the Mercenary forces, guided to the pounding heart of the battle at the top of the ramp where Urai sliced another chunk from Ravge’s body, the Gen’dai roaring in frustration unable to land mode than glancing blows on his foe, feeling his strength ebb to a new low.

Calm, strong and focused Ken cut through anything in his path, his saber moving in time to the chords that guided his hand, his mind on nothing more than surviving the moment.

A knight, a Jedi, spy, son, lover, friend, soldier, hero, fool, all those things he might think he needed to be or avoid becoming were lost as he simply fought for what his heart told him was right in the best way he knew how.

An unspoken understanding at last reached within himself - do Good, and do it Well. 

That was all he needed, what others made of his actions was theirs to reckon with - he had no conflict - this was his path, the means of walking it had and would change with time and circumstance, but beneath it all the simplicity to do Good and do it Well remained.

It did not make him a hero, certainly not a Saint, just a Man doing what he could with what he had.

Today that meant he fought with a saber, knife, fist and pistol, he cut through chests, he staggered back from deflected shots, he punched and headbutted those who would stab him up close, kinetically pulled down those who shot at him from a distance. 

He was shot, punched, kicked, knocked to the ground three times, tasting his own blood and the salty grains of Saleucami’s sand, the copper tang of the smoke from burning vehicles in the air, the sweet slats of the oasis pool water, but the Force, the Song kept him moving, kept him fighting for what was Good.

It had taken longer than expected but the inevitable victory was nigh, Urai Fen’s breast puffed with glory.

Ravge stared limbless, gushing fluids from his stumps at Fen whose beak creaked open in what was the equivalent of a smile, a whistle in the chiming sharp language of Talortian

Such is your Fate

As his arm blade came down Ravge felt himself dragged back, the blade slicing through only his front lip rather than neck fibro-bundles.

One hand outstretched with a kinetic grip on the Gen’dai, the other deflecting a blaster bolt back to its shooter Ken stared up the cracked body strewn white path, saving the Brute leader from certain death.

Strengthening his kinetic grip Ken hurled Ravge away as far as he could, the Gen’dai splashing down into the blood and wreckage polluted oasis pool but the Mak’Tor certain his incredible healing abilities would ensure he survived. 

Both hands on his hilt Ken strode forward, each step upon the body of one of the Sons Urai had sliced apart before Ravge had stopped the massacre, they carpeted the ground and squelched with blood and viscera. 

The Talortai was the fulcrum around which the Consortium's Battle Song was rising, if he was not stopped here and now those arm blades would cut the Sons heart out.

“Come face me Jedi!” the beaked Talortai screeched over the din and thrum of battle, bristling with excitement to face a second worthy foe.

This was not the Jedi Boy he had watched surveillance footage of, no, at last this was a Man.

Grim set eyes in his carbon soot covered face Ken tightened his grip on his saber and took one heavy step forward before a weight pressed down on his shoulder.

Snapping round ready to intercept an attack he was far more shocked than had it been an actual enemy.

Black Armour held his shoulder, behind him smoke, blood mist and ruin, hardened merc’s running in terror, screaming no amount of credits was worth such hell.

The nefarious helmet that served as a blank remorseless visage was gone, blasted away by anti-tank weapons turned on him in desperation, and Ken saw the walking Dreads true face. 

Of all the things Ken had imagined lay beneath that helmet, he was dumbstruck at how…ordinary…the truth was.

A man, handsome and fair skinned with dark neck length hair and matching stubble, perhaps forty or so, with unnaturally perfectly symmetrical features that had not visibly aged for centuries, eyes of a dull green that drilled like adamantium bores into anything they fell upon.

“Ken’A’Nia’Mack,” Black Armour said, voice natural and unremarkable as any Ken had heard only heavily accented on the vowels to make it distinct
“You have my respect as a warrior…”

Black Armour eyed Urai Fen
“...but this is not a fight you can win,”

Loosening his grip Ken nodded with respect in return.

Ken moved aside to fight elsewhere, Black Armour strode forward, Urai glaring at him, beak twitching.

“Shadow Lord,” the centuries old Talortai chirped
“So our fates are thus. Do not disappoint me.”

Black Armour didn’t offer the slightest reaction before his Oblivion sword cut molecules of oxygen in two as he burst forward, a shockwave exploding outward from the pair as he smashed into Fens arm blades.

<<<<>>>>

Scrubber

He looked down on his own body from somewhere above himself as the Zeltron, Twi’leki and Nagai ran over him and vanished.

He was lying bleeding, hand over his stomach staring into the murky red depths of the ceiling. 

Had they not understood? Had they thought he was lying? Why would they shoot him…but then…Where would pleasure slaves get access to a blaster?

I didn’t matter, he had fought and thought long and hard enough, the detonator in his pocket would bring down the Palace and serve as his tombstone, he could hold on just long enough for that…

<<<<>>>>

Battle of Saleucami
Tu-tu spat in annoyance despite himself as the pressure built, for every 2 Vipers they took down they lost one TIE - the problem being there were three times more Vipers and Blastboats.  He could hear the chatter over the comm but had no time to pay attention to what ‘Harpooned’ was referring to.

His Defender was pulling up lame on starboard turns, his shields half strength and lower cannons blasted off, his last torpedo he had saved for one of the Aggressors but more than likely would need to use it just to survive.

Another defeat, another ISD lost and the Cause Twenty-Two - the name he had taken to never forget his purpose, never relent his commitment to stopping any other sentient being experiencing reduction to a barcode -  had pledged himself to set back so much further than just an hour before.

Still he fought on pulling the stick hard to round on a Viper’s tail, his upper cannons piping out shots, but without the full spread of fire power he could only clip its upper wings.

As the yellow burst from the impacts died and the Viper spun out of his reticle the stars above him suddenly vanished from sight as if the black void between sun had swallowed them at last -

- replaced a half second later by purple squares and rectangular flickers - then red trails that followed hyperdense projectiles fired from magnetic accelerator cannons that shredded the Viper into strips of metal.

17 other such cannons guided by advanced AI targeting and super-human minds likewise punched through the Consortium ships, destroying half their number in the few seconds the 350 meter long black vessel cut through the midst of the dogfight.

The blot on light continued on cruising at over 3000kmph across the top of the Aggressor Destroyers mere seconds later, it’s presence undetected by the capital ships’s crew, only the sudden thump of objecting impacting the Aggressors.


Ultradense ores fashioned into whirring bores and given momentum by eldritch power drilled into the Ravager and the Reavers rear sections, seeking out the largest power source and only now activating its jet engines.

The torpedoes chewed through the comparatively soft doonium and durasteel of the vessel with ease, chips of the blackstone teeth only slowly being shredded off as it shredded through letting in void before reaching the ships power cores and detonating their proton payload.

Two blooms of blue white erupted within the Aggressors as a heavy thud rocked the Merciless bridge, Zann’s flagship rocked by the shockwaves from the nearby aggressors as they split apart.

The Black Dagger had not stopped - now over the back of the Excruciator, the battleships shields double front. The ships were barely 10 meters apart, collision alarms blaring across the Keldabes bridge as four Hades Mega Maser Cannons fired point blank into its rear section - unshielded and intense the beams disintegrated a chunk of the ships mid length, cutting it near in two before the Black vessel, having not slowed a meter per second vanished back into the Abyss from whence it had come.

Ravge was vindicated, Artemis had been forced to intervene with their usual lethal speed and secrecy, devastating Zann’s ships in a surprise run so quick most sentients did not realize it had even happened before the ship was gone. 

But the price was the blood of hundreds of Sons bleeding life into the faux Oasis of the palace.

Zann staggered to his feet as the Merciless Rocked and the tactical Holo became a sea of red for his own side.

“Well that’s unexpected,” his eyes creasing with annoyance

The smile on his face was bluntly wiped by a strange thud somewhere above the Transparisteel viewport he was looking out of.

Then what sounded like heavy mag-locked footsteps heading toward it.

His bridge crew in Sykes personal flavour of blue with orange trim stared looking for something - only realising too late they should’ve been looking for the absence of stars and ship that marked the figure out.

Zann jumped onto his throne, gripping the arm rests then quickly flicking two switches to cause a shimmering blue shield to appear around him just as the ghost-like figure plunged an ultra-dense molecular-sharpened blade into the Transparisteel.

The crack was quickly pried further open with Shatterpoint energy that streamed red and fast an instant before a quarter blasted out into space,

“What in the Seven Hells…”

Air blasted out of the Bridge along with the crew as the Shadow Lord leapt inside before the emergency void barriers could close around the breach.

Safe in his Shielded Bubble Zann drew his custom shotgun and reached for his void capable helmet only for his entire body to slow.

An invisible battle took place and Zann’s neck felt like it was burning as a Tarlotian Shamanistic totem around his neck reeled against the Black Armours powers.

Urai had given Zann the totem when they first began to work with the capricious Nightsister Silri - a check against her witchcraft that became infinitely useful now.

The Black Armour’s head titled in curiosity as the Telekinetic Deflagration she had intended to inflict was blocked by some form of Magicka - But she immediately raised her hades rifle and opened fire.

Enormous blasts of maser energy sheathing phirk projectiles slammed into the bubble shield as Zann struggled to bend to flick a trigger on his throne, all the while the Black Armour was walking straight toward him, a constant barrage of Hades fire causing the shield to flicker, the woman’s own witchcraft rapidly unbinding the Tarlotian Wards.

Sweat pouring down his face, his body feeling like it was moving in tar his hand finally slapped the emergency ejection button just as the shield died.

With a vacuum whoosh the floor in front of the throne burst open and he was sucked down very inelegantly, bouncing and clanging on the descent tube, his shoulder cracking in one impact, and flopping hard into the Viper cockpit of his escape craft - multiple doors sealing the ejection tube to the hidden hangar bay behind him.

The heat and pain eased and he righted himself in the sea, the cockpit closing and pneumatic pistons positioning the Viper over an already opening exit into space, the Viper’s engine pulsing as he settled himself in, the navi-computer programmed to constantly compute escape routes even when not in use reading out a string for him to make a jump almost immediately - the half a million credits to set up the escape route feeling like the best money he had ever spent.

Docking clamps disengaged as the metal thump of the tubes doors being blasted open caught his attention.

“How the Shav!”

Immediately Hades shots began hitting the Vipers sublight engines, the Phirk bullets lodging in as the maser energy super heated the metal.

The last docking clamp disengaged and the Viper launched forward 10 meters out of the Merciless before coming to a dead stop shuddering against an invisible chain.

The Tarlotian Totem might protect Zann - but it didn’t extend around his fighter. The Black Armour woman gripped his ship in her telekinetic grasp ‘squeezing’ hard buckling its outer wings as her projectiles ran out and she hurled her implosion grenades at the vessel.

Jinking the vessel hard the best Zann could do was twist the Viper up - two soundless explosions rocked the ship in the void, ripping the lower port and starboard wings out and twisting them into mangled blobs of metal - he’d lost his wings but saved the engines.

The ship shuddered once more as she leapt onto it Oblivion Blade first, slicing straight into the hull, the enchanted sword leaving an azure eldritch fire in its wake as she cut toward the cockpit needing only a small cut to breach it and expose Zann to the void.

“KRIFF FRELLING DREN!”  Zann yelled, without sublights and wings he couldn’t re-position to face the jump vector - he was left with one choice.

Sensing the danger the Oblivion clad woman pounced off and hurled an Oblivion Marble at the Viper a mere second before Tyber Zann blind jumped into hyperspace.

<<<<>>>>
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 #53 on: December 23, 2022, 12:56:10 AM »

Chapter 13 – Marginal Gains – Part 4
Battle of Saleucami
The pressure had been relieved, there were no more troops coming, but they were still hard pressed.

From ruin to ruin Ranger 1 was winding it’s way through the airy lower levels of the palace, the battle lines were no login clear, groups of merc’s and Son’s interspersed between each other, bending round columns, sniping from internal balconies, leaping over furniture - there was no strong point to hold, no objection to claim, just constant motion and close quarters fighting.

Hosto pounded shots into the back of one Merc, freeing a Liberator who was being strangled, Safari’s repeated pounded an unshielded droideka’ to pieces,
“FORM UP!” Harm yelled trying to bring some order to the chaos, to re-establish a firm line around the turbo lift shafts - the most likely avenue of escape from this unplanned farce, his eyes never stopped moving under a constant squint from the harsh Saleucami sun reflecting off glossy cracked surfaces and slick shiny blood, spying the Merc’s reforming far across the large open plan ground floor, opposite the frenetic clash between Black Armour and Urai Fen.

The pair were a whirl of blade and beak, fist and feather, talon and terror, Fen’s arm blades slicing clean through marbled columns carved in the image of Twi’leki dancing girls, the Oblivion sword cutting canyons in the ground that rippled cracks outward when he missed the Tarlotian.

Anyone that got near the pair ended up on the floor from the intense shockwaves that blasted out when their blades met or a knee or elbow connected.

Harm had no time to look, as he ducked for cover, the Merc’s were advancing, roughly circling round the Son’s on the ground level, the Liberators too sparsely divided on the upper two overlooking levels to fire down on them.

Repeater shots began smacking over the rangers and the Liberators who had formed up’s heads, droideka’s rolling toward them.

“Charge the EMP’s, get the Charric’s!” Harm demanded forgetting they had neither of those in supply anymore.

“Overcharge you blasters and aim for the legs!” he demanded instead.

Three of the rolling machines came to a stop ten meters away about to pop open - then stopping paused in the air.

Harm held up a small mirror to see over the makeshift barricade of ruined marbles and bodies to see a blue saber slice through all three in a strong but swift series of cuts that flowed effortlessly one to the next.

Deep in the Song Ken cut apart the last of the machines before turning his blade to block the shot’s from the Merc’s, slowly backing toward the Ranger and Liberators.

How the hell he had got here, Harm didn’t want to know, didn’t care, he knew only the morale boosting effect a warrior wielding a lightsabre had on a good half of the Son’s and used it to his advantage.

“Ranger 1 Form up, Liberators FORWARD!”

<<<<>>>>
Scrubber
As his mind slowly sank through, he heard the words of surprise, panic, elation and determination come through his ear piece.

The words didn’t make much sense,
Unchained is online all cannons open fire! Avengers escort the transports, Defenders take out that Frigate,” Sala would see them safely out he knew that.

“Ranger 2 we have Ravge, he’s hurt, but alive!” Nothing could kill that Gen’dai Scrubber knew with grim empathy…nothing but Ravge’s own self hatred. 

“Steer clear of those two, round on the East, keep the pressure up!” Harm had things well in hand.

The Son’s battered, bloodied would fight on, could fight on without him, he could rest.

No…No, he could rest.

Thought mingling freely in a state of hypnagogia he castigated himself for the arrogance to think he had the right to choose when he had given enough to the Cause.

No…the Cause demanded every once, every beat of his heart, and it still had at least something left to give.

He had made mistakes, paid in the blood and freedom of others, but that surely only gave him more to atone for, more impossible wrongs to set right - but how could he give up hope now when, in the cages of the Flesh hawkers waiting to be measured in kilo’s and sold - he hadn’t lost hope then?

With a guttural scream he pulled his hand from his wound, fingers stick with blood and grainy with charred flesh, fumbled to grab a bacta patch, his last and only, tore at the santi-plas with his bare teeth and slipped it down hard on the wound, crying for pain and life.

He’d bring down this palace, but it would be the tomb of the slavers.

Not his - not yet.

<<<<>>>>
Battle of Saleucami
The Consortium fleet - or what was left of it was rudderless and crippled, the last functioning vessel the Vengeance class frigate pursued by the Defenders, Loftharr just waiting for their combined laser fire to bring it out of its cloak long enough to nail it with the last proton torpedo they had.

The Keldabe class Battleship was listless, its engine blocks slowly creaking off, Sala desperately wanted to pummel it with everything she had - but with so much Ion damage every pair of hands was working to get the hyperdrive back online.

Bussra, half a dozen brutes and the specialists teams rejoined the fight on the ground level, what little of worth they had found in Zann’s apartments in thickly walled crates, the Merc’s beginning to fall back as Ranger 1 and Eurydicen Guard tore at them with a renewed sense of confidence as word spread over the comms that Zann’s own ship had been blown up.

Urai was too busy blocking an Oblivion blade to pay the slightest attention, his wings straining against the incredible force of a being who was physically stronger than him.

None of his Force Ripples seemed to make the slightest difference - the Shadow Lord was all their whispered reputation spoke of and more -relentless, indifferent to the pain of the sliced off cheek and bleeding thigh Urai had inflicted - seamless in blasting apart any lingering Merc who tried to shoot at him - more than capable of handling Urai ramming him through a statue or wall.

Black Armour barely even knew where they were anymore, they had demolished room after room, slammed each other through floors and doors, their blades covered in divots and superheated from the intense speed at which impacts came.

Fen spun high aiming for the neck, Black armour thrust in low, the avian dived back into a vibro knife Black armour summoned from a dead Liberator, the blade scraping on the Tarlotians back armour.

It caused no damage, the thick Tarlotian Aves Steel easily able to deflect it, but it signalled a dire development for Fen - his enemy had adapted to the Force ripple.

Somewhere above and around them the Son’s began to leap onto their ships, TIE Avengers runs blasting the last of the Consortium mechs apart as the see-sawing aerial superiority fell to the Son’s once more.

With a howl of triumph Loftharr loosed his last torpedoe by sight alone as the Vengeance Frigate's cloak was made redundant by Shorykam’s rapid laser fire into its thick armour, revealing it’s location to him.

The white proton trail ended in a blood of blue that shattered the ships drive core and sent it cloak flickering off, easy prey for the Raider II’s turbo lasers to finish off.

Across the face of Saleucami a lone dark figure keyed in commands to retract the Krayt Dragon claws back into the Merciless, behind her a dozen dead bodies of Zann’s guard who had tried to retake the bridge - unfortunately for them they lacked any defence against the Force - their necks simply snapped with a thought as she took command of the Aggressor Star Destroyer having narrowly missed getting Zann himself.

Systems flickered back to life on the Unchained, sections exposed to the void by the Krayt Dragon Claws were sealed off and an escape vector plotted.

Sala breathed somewhat easier, they had taken a lot of losses and some nasty damage, but overall this was a win - a slim one at best - but better than what might’ve been - forced with the prospect of losing the Unchained  Artemis had been forced to intervene directly.

Ranger 1 - Harm, Scaari, Yekeht, Hosto, Dhul and Ken - all bleeding, all cut, all injured, lead the last advance against the few Merc’s holed up behind their own ruined tanks, Ken sweating in the heat gave his last to lift the smoking remains of half a Canderous tank telekinetically to expose them to Ranger 1’s concentrated fire, the E11S with barely a dozen shots left cutting the stunned merc’s down.

Urai flickered his active cloak on in a vain attempt to gain advantage - it made no difference to a gene-engineered species that had thermal, sonic and mass sensory organs.  Frustrated her ducked the Oblivion blade and grasped his last two sonic pulse grenades detonating them on his belt. 

Ultra-sonic waves that caused Bith heads to explode outright and demolished the hearing and vestibular systems of almost every non-avian humanoid species buffeted Black Armour over the lip of a broken balcony, the heavy warrior landing in a defensive stance cracking the pavement around a nearby rubble filled pool as Uri leapt at him.

Talons splayed, Fen’s blades connected and foot claws grabbed Black Armours unarmoured forearm, digging into the body glove and piercing the hyperkeratin spin.

Like an opportunistic carrion feeder Urai was perched on his arm hacking even biting down with his beak at the Oblivion warriors face, squawking in a state of adrenaline fuelled madness, Black Armour punching the beaked face, wresting his arm free at the price of long gaping lacerations to his right fore arm.

Fen’s blade came down once more, Black Armour pivoting so it hit the pauldron on his left shoulder, temporarily stuck he wasted no time swinging his Oblivion blade up.

Urai’s pulled back and misstepped, blood spurting from where his right arm had been severed at the shoulder, the limb still clutching the arm blade stuck in his enemies shoulder pauldron. Heated shock flooded him even as he surged ahead with his left blade - Black Armour parried, dropped and twisted his still bleeding right leg tensed to the full and hammering out like a piston into the Talortai’s chest.

The Avian enforcer was sent flying with a crack as his rib cage was crunched by the impact, his body crashing back into the Palaces lower level.

Still not defeated Fen rose up to see Black armour tear the Talortai’s lost arm free, the demi-god warriors face a mangled wreck more meat than skin, one eye barely in its socket from the pecking, the taste of that rich dense blood still on Urai’s tongue.

Beside him though was a Togruta with a grim countenance, the blood seemingly drained from his face making normally orange skin near white -  one hand on a bacta patch on his stomach, the other holding a detonator.

Scrubber stared into Urai’s eyes with utter hatred for the murderer of hundreds of his brothers and sisters, sires and sirrra’s. Heroes, all.

Urai tensed his wavering bleeding legs and leapt forward - only to stop still in the air, Black Armour's hand outstretched holding him with the Force as Scrubber, watching through the open plan Palace as the last of the Son’s ships left, hit the trigger.

A rumble.  A Crack. 

Urai Fen and the lower levels of the palace vanished into the ground with an upswelling tsunami of rubble, sand and water, then clash of thunder as the dozens of upper levels of Zann’s Palace telescoped down onto him.

<<<<<>>>>
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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Force Alignment: 1106
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« Reply #54 on: January 03, 2023, 08:01:42 PM »

Incredible.  The battle between titans finally occurs...and it is NOT a disappointment!

Fen has met (more than) his match in Black Armor, the Sons' own enforcer repaying the Talatori's savagery in dividends in their Fight For The Ages.  But perhaps the best part of this reckoning is that--before Fen is buried under Zann's own destroyed palace--he now knows two things of certainty: he is NOT the lone apex predator amongst the demigods AND that the Sons WILL survive...because the very heart and soul of the group, Scrubber, lives.

But it's Zann that reaps the rewards of his hunger, that his next Big Score is also his Big(gest) Folly: in calling the Sons out, in putting them to the test, he has also brought down upon himself and his Consortium the wrath of said demigods.  Ironic, given Zann's unparalleled access to intel on the Sons, that he missed (or ignored) one of the more important and poignant pieces of data: that Artemis Industries would not let such an integral investment be destroyed.  Of course, when all things are counted and the bill comes due, I'm sure that Zann will more than contemplate that very fact and perhaps for quite some time...IF he survived the blind hyperspace jump.

Speaking of irony, interesting that it was Ravge who figured out what was required just to make the Sons' benefactors appear to protect their investment.  Perhaps though it is also more than merely a transactional relationship between Artemis and the Sons, perhaps even they recognize the value--the benefits--of friends for the sake of friendship.  Perhaps the demigods have learned to change, even if it is infinitesimal.

Regardless, if such lessons have been learned, than it has been done so at the cost of countless deaths, loss of blood, and crushing sorrow: the Sons' rosters are a shadow of their former numbers, lost materiel but most importantly people, with countless casualties (not the least of which is Ry).  Hopefully Ken can find a way to cure his intended (and further realize that, while he is his own man, sometimes asking his father for help does not compromise his own identity or agency).  Either way, "victory" has hardly ever looked so bleak...or hopeless.

Meta-note: Outstanding action in this particular story-climax!  And I love how you've incorporated a literal (as well as figurative) Deus ex Machina (or, more appropriately, Chekhov's Gun Wink) within the narrative, one excellently foreshadowed early in the story.  But more importantly, the arrival of the Aethans isn't just some unexpected solution but instead the proof of both the fact that they WILL help out Friends"...and that they'll need many, MANY more of them to survive.  One of the reasons that Zann lost was because he did not account for them in his Big Score plans and his Consortium is paying the price.

But the Zann Consortium is but a (relatively) small organization within the galaxy.  What of other, more powerful, more...deadly threats?

THIS is why Artemis MUST adapt to the new reality of their existence.  Fortunately for them, "adaptability" is germane to their species  Wink

Some of your best writing yet, LSG!  Looking forward to what comes next  Smiley

Oh and the pics of Fen and Black Armor are AWESOME!!!
Logged

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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
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Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #55 on: January 05, 2023, 12:13:12 AM »

Chapter 14 – Aftermath - Part 1
The Spy
[Where?] was the first question, the conversation short to account for the extended time to send the binary code of dot and pause for each letter.
[ISD] the spy replied
[Scrub]
[DK] - don’t know
[Rvg] - Ravge
[DK, NNI] don’t know, ‘no new information’ the spy insisted
[Find Out]
the ‘T’ ended with a definitive final heavy ‘dot’

<<<<>>>>
Ash
One of the great perks of being left behind and still limping was time to poke around Eurydice base.

Sons were still cleaning up, it was a big job undertaken with resilience. She could help out a little, but decided she would focus on something else.

Ravge and his Brutes blunt ransacking hadn’t found the spy among the Son’s, she hoped the Force would.

She moved room to room in the dormitory section, saber at her side once more despite herself, her progress slowed by her crutch, the injuries from Dilbana not helped by her recent overexertion during the attack.

Ash was no expert in techniques or Singing, but she’d been on the fringes and survived enough scrapes to have a good instinct of when something was out of place, even without the Force to nudge her.

The blind spot of Ravge and his brutes had been the former of freed slaves - the Gen’dai didn’t seem to think any of them could ever betray the Son’s - a limited imagination for sure.

Hobbling around she searched for any mildly chilling melody, the kind that told her danger was lurking near. 

It wasn’t always the easiest thing to do for her.  As a young Teidowan her danger sense had been too underdeveloped, and cost her…cost her a lot…after it had been far too sensitive blaring at the slightest result of fabric.

She pushed it away - for a little while longer - as she ran her hand over doors and walls of the partitioned bunks, stepping over as far as her injured leg could the odd chunk of battle droid still on the floor.

There had to be something, somewhere, and if only to relieve the boredom of bed rest otherwise, she would find it.

<<<<>>>>

Zann

“The Aggressors are beyond repair, but the Excruciator may yet survive…”

This and other details floated in the air about Tyber Zann as he leaned heavily on the beams of the End of Days bridge Transparisteel viewing window, the dark side of Saleucami a slack stain upon the tapestry of stars, his arm in a sling, shoulder crunched back in place, but the pain rippling through in waves still as he refused any suppressants.

Sykes' fleet had arrived shortly after the Son’s got away, a Corvette dispatched to pick up Zann whose signal had come from somewhere between star systems on a dying Viper, slowly drifting in the void.

Jeryd was running off the tally of losses, men, ships, the Palace itself.  None of it mattered to him, all of it was perfectly replaceable. 



A sting in the tail was the Merciless was still whole and, based on the Consortium’s tracking system, had left with the Unchained - the bastards had stolen his flag ship.

“The Fleet is ready to advance on Eurydice base, on your order,” Syke finished.

Zann remained silent, staring, his hair and clothes still dishevelled, from his narrow escape, burn marks around his neck where the Tarlotian totem had saved him by a hair's breadth from the Black Armour creatures Force powers - said totem had cracked from the heat soon after he exited his blind jump.

He was perfectly free to give the order, to crush the Son’s with brute force of numbers. 

But the Risk reward trade off had changed.   

“Has Urai been found yet?” was his only reply.  He felt exposed without his companion, the Black Armour’s attack on the Merciless had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. 

The wyrd powers of Force users always made his skin crawl - and it was still itching from that ‘thing’s’ pursuit of him.

“No word yet,” was Defiler Tahn’s response,

The Talortai must be off sharpening his blades or feasting on some worthy foe Zann figured - still it was odd for them to have heard nothing.

“Give him another three hours then we move,”

He was procrastinating to really consider his options, hoping most importantly for his Spy to make contact and advise just how extensive the Black Armour’s and their ‘Face’ Artemis Industries involvement would be.

The intelligence he had gained before launching his Score had been that Artemis Industries was supplying the Son’s with Imperial grade weapons in exchange for workers - they’d dug up numerous records of nearly 4,000 liberated slaves passing through Artemis Technical college on Fresia, in perfect time with shipments of weapons and fighters back to Teth. It seemed a purely commercial arrangement.

Additionally the Sons had been involved in ‘liberating’ a mine controlled by Prakith Despot Foga Brill that produced the same ultra dense ores Artemis - via its Mining arm - tried to maintain a monopoly on.  Again all things with perfectly commercial reasons. 

Artemis was known for inexplicably odd business relationships, funding archaeological digs for hundreds of millions of credits, selling high end battle droids to the backward system of M…M…Zeegon? He couldn’t even remember the name. And the link between the Black Armours and Artemis Industries was murky at best, his Infocytes best guess was they were especially skilled individuals, possibly former Jedi drawn to the Son’s cause, supplied with Prototype Ultradense armour by Artemis Industries to use in ‘field testing’.

“Do we know anything more about the ship that hit our fleet?” Zann added hoping to pry out some detail he had missed or rather misunderstood   

“Our Techs have analysed the sensor data from the Excruciator and the black box on the Reaver, many of the readings are…contradictory…but from what we can confirm the vessel was travelling at just over 5000 kmph and had a mass of around 45 million tonnes…as much an ISD…” Sykes shook his head at the thought of a vessel that large travelling that fast, something that seemed nigh on impossible.
“The Aggressors were destroyed by some kind of High Payload Proton torpedo crossed with an…’industrial grade mining drill’ to quote the tactical officer - that burrowed through their hulls to the reactors…the Excruciator was hit by six blasts from an energy weapon with radiation profiles similar to Charric based weaponry used by the Chiss - but the spikes on Gamma Radiation are much higher - likely a heavily modified, arguably re-engineered form of Charric Turbo-cannons.”

There was no way the Son’s possessed a vessel like that Zann knew - they would’ve used it before now. 

It had to be Artemis themselves. And how many of these high density, Charric wielding cloaked vessels did they have? One? Fifty?

It was one thing facing off against crazed, occasionally lucky abolitionists isolated to the Baxel sector - it was quite another to take on the might of a multi-billion credit corporation whose reputation - what little of it there was as they kept a low profile - was of murky deals with Imperial officers, unusual ‘suicides’ of coprorate opponents, and connections from Fresia and the Deep Core, Muunilist and the Corporate Sector, to the Unknown Regions.

Still Zann couldn’t comprehend why they invested so much in such a seemingly trivial and doomed venture as the Son’s of Kessel - sure it was nominally a good way to field test ships and weapons and get some workers in return - but the Son’s were doomed - if the Consortium didn’t end them sooner or later the Hutt’s would - why not jump ship once the Son’s star began to dim?

The unknowns were multiplying, and his certainties were vanishing.

“Damn it Urai, where are you,”

<<<<>>>>
Jal’ina
Covered in the blood and grime of a hundred different beings, Jal’ina sighed heavily sinking down her back pressed to the cold column in the annex outside the Unchained’s med bay, the constant demands on her time and availability beginning to grate.

She had no idea what was happening, Doc Wolfe’s eye had been on her ever since Eurydice base.  That the Unchained itself remained unboarded, and those who brought in the wounded did so with a sense of relief rather than gloom indicated to her that things had gone relatively well for the Sons in the latest battle.

Whether Scrubber had survived she was unsure.

The whole situation was draining her, far more than she had ever imagined.  Time with Scrubber was easy enough…but the rest of it…

“Nurse Jal’ina Bay 12!” Wolfe demanded

“Yes doctor,” she grudgingly complied.

<<<<>>>>

Loftharr
The mess hall was a buzz of rumour and assumption, the wookie clever flyer was not especially interested in hearing any of it, his stomach growling too loudly to be ignored, and the heated Calorie-Portions doing little to quieten it.

Still he heard the talk - the ‘Black Triangle’ that had wrecked three of Zann’s ships with a single fly by, Ravge beaten by a ‘bird-man with swords for arms’ who in turn was thrown into the explosion of the Palace by Black Armour.

Whispers Scrubber had been killed in the explosion.  Some even said Zann had been killed when the Merciless was boarded by beings unknown.

The utilitarian metal chair beside him scraped and Ken Mack slumped down into it, every time Loftharr saw him he seemed to have aged five years, the boyishness of his features cut away by sleepless nights of worry and hungry days of fighting.

The latter Loftharr could at least help with pushing his plate toward Ken.

“I don’t think I could eat…”
[You still should] the wookie growled, Ken offering a concessional grin and taking an omi-spoon from the utensil box in the center of the table and digging in, the human’s face scrunching at the extraordinary blandness of the ‘meal’.

After a few spoons Loftharr spoke again

[I heard you went AWOL?]

“I did…I found Ry,”

[Ry’lak is alive!] the wookies roar boomed so loud everyone turned to stare at him, his arms raised up as if in a cry of hope and joy.

“She is,” Ken replied as Loftharr sat back down
“But…not well..Black Armour’s people took her - well I think they did, she was on one of their ships.”

[His kind has powerful…but dark…magic] the wookie conceded before continuing to eat from the same bowl as his comrade.

Ken listened to the talk around them.

“I saw the Avian-Sentient that near killed Ravge, that is true,” Ken nodded to a conversation at a nearby table, voice loud enough for them to hear and turn toward them, beings all round crowding in to hear him.

“I don’t know what species, but it had arm-blades of some kind, had cut through a lot of our brothers and sisters, even Ravge…” Ken went on as more beings crowded, all species, volunteers and ex-slaves seeking to hear what had happened.

“I managed to get him out of the Avians’ way, I’m sure he’ll survive…then Black Armour went at him, I’ve never seen anything like it,”

“They were like a whirlwind,” one Pau’an noted of what he had seen
“He got him in the end,” a Gado noted, “I saw him boot him into the Palace just before it tumbled, I’m sure Scrubber was with him,”

The name brought mixed feelings among the group, this wasn’t a time for those conversations.

“Loftharr,” Ken asked to turn the conversation to the stories  and share the sorrows and the victories of his brothers and sisters in arms about him.

“How many of those Vipers did you scuttle?”

<<<<>>>>

Scrubber

Moments like this were both too few and too many.

Rarely did he see his Brother, his friend without his eponymous Black Armour - but every time it was because he was injured.

Even so his friend's face was already healing, malefic tendrils of red energy combined with raw nutrients being drunk down by the litre to effect nigh on miraculous physical restoration.

“I’m amazed you didn’t lose that eye,” Scrubber noted in the small but well equipped med-bay, a tiny floating curved droid of white and chrome attending to his own wound with delicate hair thin micro-staples.

Even as the Togruta’s hand and face twitched with each staple followed by anti-septic sealants he continued to type into a data slate, a fervour of energy seeming to have overtaken him as in days of old.

“Regrowing one is not pleasant,” was the gruff reply of painful experience
“takes days to realign my sight,”

“Others should be so lucky to have that problem,” Scrubber noted offhandedly engrossed in his work, reminding his friend of the blessings of his incredible physiology compared to ‘lesser’ beings.

Two black and one red marble were flicking between Black Armours fingers, the strange means of communication of his species Scrubber had discerned.

“Zann escaped - just.  He will never be more amenable to negotiations.”

“I’m not the Princeps...” the Togruta reminded him dismissively, falling silent, continuing to type.

There was no reply, whether that meant Black armour and by extension Artemis accepted or rejected Scrubber abdication was left hanging.

For a time neither spoke, the med-droid finishing it’s work, the red eldritch power still coursing over his friend repairing cuts at a far faster pace. And still Scrubber type.

“What are you writing?”

“I’ve made many mistakes, this one at least perhaps there is still time to correct. Will Ry’lak survive?” Scrubber skirted the question.

“I don’t know, the device she is attached to…was not meant to be removed from the living. We will do what we can.”

<<<<>>>>

Zann
They found him.

A handful of engineering crews assessing the wreckage of the Palace detected a single life sign in the ruin.  Grav-beam lifters, repulsor bins for the rubble and plasma cutters freed him over the course of hours.

Urai Fen had by some miracle been preserved within a void in the wreckage. Zann knew the Talortai had used his Force powers to protect himself in some kind of kinetic bubble.

That being said, the Consortium’s Enforcer had not been completely spared.

Urai Fen was little more than mangled pieces of blood slicked meat, barely held together by sinew and skin.

Tyber watched the full view on holo-feed from his workers, unwillingly to leave the relative safety of the End of Days.

A gruelling half an hour passed as a med-stasis pod was ferried down to place the Talortai within.  Zann was waiting for him on the deck of the Keldabe class battleship.

He could barely see Urai within it, the bacta fluid a murky brown with his blood, the medics quickly attaching pipes to filter the bacta.

“Will he survive,” Zann kept his tone as cool as possible as his heart thumped and palms sweated at the sight of the ruination of his only true friend and ally.

[It is too early to tell.] The Ithorian doctor boomed from his double mouths, the pacifist healer species still happy to take credits for their healing arts in the Consortiums employ, seemingly feeling everyone was worthy of healing, so long as the credits flowed.

“Spare no expense, whatever you need you’ll have it,” Zann’s voice held a slight tremble as the pod was placed on a hoversled and taken to the med bay.

Zann stalked back through the quiet overly clean corridors mulling the turn of events, wondering who could possibly inflict such grievous harm to Urai…

The Black Armours…it had to be.  His stride was sour and slow as he passed the odd tech or crewman, taking the internal turbo lift up. 

Alone in the small space his fists balled.

“FRELLL FRELLL FRELLL!” each expletive was accompanied by slamming the panel beside the control, doing far more damage to his own hand than the plas-steel.

<<<<<>>>>>

There he was.

The little human had escaped her once, he wouldn’t do so again.

Set was floating in zero gravity as her ship drifted dead and unpowered amidst a small cluster of asteroids that had never quite formed into a planet further  toward Saleucami’s sun.

Every ounce of her considerable aether powers, enhanced by Runes and Orb’s focused on finding Tyber Zann.

She had his scent from their first brief chase, short of a null field, he couldn’t hide from her Aether senses now.

Cross referencing the ‘distance’ in her mind’s eye with passive scans of the system she pinpointed him to the End of Day’s Battleship, surrounded by half a dozen other ship’s, their sensors keen, too dangerous to try and get close physically.

She had alternatives.

He was with another man, she could use them both as ‘anchors’.

Before her floated a small mechanical device, barely the size of a grain of Ryza, yet containing micro fragments of some of the most potent explosives available to them.

It had to be small - teleporting an object was an intensive drain, the cost exponentially increased as an object's mass and the distance increased - without a vast Array to assist, this tiny fleck would take all her power.

But she only needed to succeed once.


<<<<<>>>>

Sykes was waiting for him in the War Room, as always impatient to launch the next attack.

“Every hour of delay gives them time to prepare,” his Admiral reminded him unnecessarily.

“I’m not sure if it’s worth it,” Zann said bitterly, his blood up but mind at least clear.

“You’re winning the war…” Sykes replied surprised

“And I just lost my right arm!” Zann yelled back slamming his fists on the nearest holo-projection control panel sending the image of the near Saleucami orbit scans shuddering.

“I don’t care about the ships, the palace, burn them all to the ground, but without Urai…”

He had never appreciated how much of his confidence and bravado was built on the pillar of his enforcer until it was gone.

Zann was alone, every solider, every pilot, every Deflier was there because he could bring them profit. Urai was the only one who he could truly rely on. If he died…no amount of credits could buy that back. 

He sneered at irony, loyalty was the one thing the Son’s had always had - and he had hoped to undermine. How successfully was yet to be seen.

“I want nothing more than to blast those fools into molten glass, but that Artemis ship, that Black Armour, changes the game too much.  They wrecked four ships in as many seconds, damn near killed me. Frelling Force users, Inquisition didn’t do it’s job properly… There aren’t enough ysalamiri on Wayland to cover all…”

He stopped dead.

There was a puff of air from the displacement, a tiny dark-metallic object suddenly between him and Sykes.

He had time to blink as if trying to remove a mote from his eye.

When his eyelids opened the universe was a wall of blue fire.

<<<<>>>>
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 #56 on: January 05, 2023, 12:19:45 AM »

Chapter 14 – Aftermath - Part 2
Scrubber
Barely had he stepped onto the Unchained’s deck than Black Armour's ship vanished back out of the Star Destroyer and into the dark of space.

Ken was waiting for him.

For the first time the Mak’tor had ‘felt’ Black Armour approaching, the silent enforcer intentionally allowing Ken to sense his presence, with an underlying sense of meaning that Ken was to ‘take care’ of what he left.

And that was Scrubber himself, the Togruta visibly drained, shirtless, added to his many scars were med-tape bindings around his stomach.

“Ken my…” he might’ve said ‘Boy’ but he saw that was clearly no longer the case
“..My friend, if you could help me…”

Ken quickly went to Scrubber’s side helping the injured Togruta to walk.

“To the bridge, I need to speak with the leaders…” he explained
Ken simply nodded and headed on though a question burned in his throat.

“They will take Ry to their best healers,” Scrubber pre-empted
“The device she was attached to is…not intended to be removed from a living victim…but they will do all they can,”

Grimly Ken walked on.

<<<<>>>>

Sala
He was alive.

Sala wasn’t surprised. 

They had just left Hyperspace, catching up with the faster Raider II’s that had secured the drop zone, a few smaller vessels docking and departing.

So far no sign of pursuit, when Ravge - quite literally half the monster he had been, patched all over with bacta and IV tubes shuffled along the bridge.

Harm beside her kept his face neutral, but she knew he too had hoped the Gen’dai would get himself killed.

“Zann’s palace is broken, and I hear his ship is ours. Is that true?” Ravge’s voice was quieter than ever she had heard it, but already she could see before her eyes his muscle-cords regrowing and binding, pink and fresh like newborn skin.

“I can confirm an Aggressor class Star Destroyer, ID Merciless was captured by one of our agents and is en-route with us to Teth.” Sala replied
“Did they kill Zann?” Ravge pressed
“Our agent didn’t say.”

He huffed out of his nostrils, specs of blood splattering on her uniform.

“Keep that ship away from our’s until it’s thoroughly checked, when we reach Aestis the work begins anew,” he ordered

“The work? We’ll barely have an hour before the Consortium fleet…”

“Will not come!” Ravge boomed
“Zann is a parasite, a blood-leecher. He has taken much from us, but he will remain no longer now your masters have threatened to swat him…just as I knew they would.”

He was still dripping fluids, leaving a trail of foul smelling fluids behind, voice wetter than usual as vocal tubules repaired.

“We still have ships, we resupply then take them immediately to Glottal, reclaim the Justicar,”

Sala’s lips were so tightly pinched Harm feared she had bitten her tongue off.

“We don’t have the men!” Harm said for her
“We were depleted before this pointless raid, doubly so now, we have a handful of grenades with no heavy ordinance!”

“We strike while Zann is at Saleucami licking his wounds!” Ravge insisted

“Glottal will be undefended, we take the ship back, we demolish his gains with rapid attacks, force him to chase us,”

“And deplete what fuel and resources we have left while doing so!” Sala cursed back
“The Justicar couldn’t jump to hyperspace before, that was why Zann was able to capture it, what makes you think it can now?”

“We march to Glottal, we claim the prize he coveted from him!” Ravge boomed seemingly indifferent to the logistical problems
“With or without you Imperial cowards!”

“ENOUGH!” the resonant voice boomed behind them all, followed by a series of coughs.

Scrubber held up by Ken Mack shuffling along toward them.

“This division is destroying us, and must end,”

Ravge turned swiftly bitterness in his gargled tone
“You made me leader, I led,”

“And that was both a mistake and a boon,” Scrubber countered holding his wounded stomach staggering free from Ken’s grasp, the Mak’Tor keeping close behind as the Togruta approached Ravge.

“You did what I could…would not have…and forced our Allies to truly step up…but at a great cost,” Scrubber’s eyes held Ravge’s with each word, a deep seated regret for the losses in both their hearts, a grief that bound them ever closer - both bore the black weights of others lives lost upon their souls, and every minute those chains added links.

For now though, survival took precedence over reflection.

“More importantly I never had the right to confer leadership for I never held it legitimately in the first place.”

Scrubber moved back to Ken’s supportive grasp, speaking to the whole of the small group and deck officers nearby.

“The Son’s are a band of brothers, they should choose their leaders, and this..” he held up the hand not around Ken’s shoulders, a datapad in it.

“Is the answer, a new constitution for the Son’s, a new formal governance structure…We stand at a critical moment, we need unity behind leaders who have the confidence of all validated by a democratic vote,”

“Scrubber, as welcome as these ideas are, this is hardly…”
“This is exactly the time!” Ravge cut into Sala’s complaint

Scrubber continued with a nod to Ravge, well aware the Gen’dai never wanted the burden of leadership and was ill equipped for it, a loyal and powerful warrior, but too divisive and blunt.

“Send word to Eurydice, Kal can set up a quick program on the ‘pads across the fleet and the base…I propose every member of the Son’s who can casts a vote in the form of a name of who they would like to lead until a more formal process of establishing a constitution and leadership can commence.  Let the Sire’s and Sirra’s choose whom they will to lead them out of this crisis.”

He looked to both Sala and Ravge, polar opposites in so many ways.

“Will you abide by such a vote?”

Ravge spoke first
“I serve the Cause, I serve our brethren, she serves her Master’s,”

“I know,” Scrubber said with grim clarity
“Only those who are Freed Brethren or Volunteers will vote, not those paid by Artemis,” he added firmly

“Volunteers…” Ravge growled

“Like me,” Ken interjected pointedly to remind Ravge of how they had fought together on Glottal, and how the Mak’tor had saved him from the Talortai.

“Volunteers.” Ravge repeated after a pause as a concession.

“Then it is settled, get me in contact with Kal,” Scrubber concluded a sureness in his voice that had been absent too long reborn from his recent sufferings.

<<<>>>>

Ash

“Damned weird time for a vote,” Ash rolled her eyes even as she pressed her thumb
But anyone is better than Ravge she mused as her ‘vote’ was locked in, the pair of Liberators rushing onto the next person.

Sighing she kept up her seemingly futile search.  Three levels of dorm’s and nothing so far.  This was the last one, the rooms here allocated to the most recent recruits from Nadiem and a few from Glottal.

The partitions were thin, fold out bunks and shared lockers, part of the reason she had chosen this last there were few places here to hide anything.

Her hand hovered over the cold mattresses, thermaweave blankets, synth-leather bags of scant possessions, plasthread clothes.

Only at the point of giving up did she feel a shot of ice in her spine.

“You’re a bastard,” she muttered to the Maker, having led her on a wild ronto chase for the last few hours only to find something now.

A cylindrical off white transparisteel container that popped its lid down and twisted open as usual, she rummaged through finding little but a few soaps and underclothes.

Determined she felt around the base of the container…then felt the small ‘lip’, just wide enough for a finger to lift the false bottom from the container.

She didn’t lift it, Maker knew what traps might be in place.  But she did know who to call.

“Big-Brain…” she said into her comm as she looked among the underclothes for any names or indication of whose these belonged to - not that that was a guarantee of the owner of the secret compartment, most likely the Spy was using someone else's storage cylinder.

“Call the BA’s,” - better they trigger any trap than her.

<<<<>>>>

Jal’ina
She stared blankly at the datapad handed to her, the touch pad aurebesh keyboard awaiting the entry of a name - any name she wished - to have, as Colonel Sala had explained over the comm just before the latest jump to Hyperspace, full strategic and operational command of the Son’s of Kessel up to and until the immediate crisis was passed and a formal Constitution could be adopted.

The parameter for the crisis ending was the cessation of hostilities with the Zann Consortium for a period of 2 Months, how that was to be achieved would be left to the emergency leader.

Out of the Chaos Scrubber’s diversions from his role had created, Order, and a democratically legitimized order at that, was emerging.

Seemingly the exact opposite of what the Son’s enemies had intended.

Her fingers quickly typed the name, her thumb printed on a scanner linked to her ID confirming her vote, and the Liberators moved on.

She turned back to her droll nursing duties for a time, before a touch interrupted her.

“Ja;’ina,” Scrubber whispered, the Togruta, ever scarred and weary looked - physically - worse than ever, bloodshot eyes, damp patches from bacta pads seeping through an oversized loose shirt, being half carried by the young Jedi.

Yet his face held the boundless energy and Conviction she had seen when first she saw him. 

“Scrubber, my adored,” she paused tentatively, reaching to embrace him.

“Please we need to speak privately, if you can,”

“Of course,” she agreed, taking Ken’s place gingerly, the Mak’tor’s expression toward her one of puzzlement and wariness, as if he saw far too much with his inner eye.

They hobbled to an annex away from the main med bay as Ken took up a pad to vote.

“Jal’ina…our time together has been…is…magnificent, truly fulfilling, but…” Scrubber looked down

“I dedicated my life to the Cause, and though I am the author of too many deaths and painful failures…there is a chance I will be called to lead once more, I cannot refuse if the Brothers and Sisters choose me,”

“No Hymra,” she was certain to use his first name
“Don’t you’ve done enough! Look at you, what is that a blaster shot wound? This will kill you!” She moved close to him exuding her pheromones from her rich deep blue hair, Sapphire eyes sparkling with intentionally shed tears.

“Let Sala take command if Ravge cannot, she is even tempered from what I hear…and let us retire from this place for a time, to bond, to tend to each other’s pains…”

Scrubber looked at her strangely, there was none of the passivity he usually showed when she tweaked her pheromones and used all the charms her species were known for.

Then she smelt it, a strange combination of what must be anti-septics, stimms and other medications, ones she didn't recognize, not Bacta…where had he been treated?

“I cannot leave while others suffer,” he refused her for the first time,
“I will not refuse the call to serve…on Saleucami I was shot by, I think, your sister…” he chuckled but the act caused him pain from his wound
“She must’ve misunderstood the situation and…”
He saw nothing in her face for a brief moment, no sign of concern or worry

“...had her own escape plan she enacted…I hope she made it out alive…”

“As do I,” she said writing the necessary emotions on her face, but the Togruta had noticed the delay, almost as if Jal’ina had forgotten completely about her sister enslaved to Zann himself, the source of intelligence he had used for the disastrous raid on Hypori.

“But while I lay there I realised it is not up to me to choose what the Cause asks of me and when I have given enough…” he cupped her hands in his.

“But for my own health I cannot give every moment, I understand that more now thanks to you.  But those few moments between are all I can offer…I understand if that is not enough.”

Was he…pulling away from her!? How could that be, even accounting for her Pheromones inability to draw him to her, how could he possibly still consider the suffering and stress of his role a better alternative than to leave with her?!

Perhaps he truly was the incorruptible, if imperfect, leader the Son’s spoke of him as.

As in that very moment, across the Ships over Aestis minor, every level of Eurydice base, and across the Unchained, the Freed and Volunteers alike entered his name.

Doc Wolfe without hesitation, all Three Celegian’s of Big Brain, Ken, Loftharr, Shorykam, Tu-Tu, Ornil, Kal Etsp, Ziach’h, Yrnas.
They knew Scrubber.  He was ingenious, indefatigable - he could push too fast, or act too rashly - he made mistakes, they cost lives - but what was never doubted by any was his dedication to the Cause.

He never took the lives of those who fought with him for granted, he bore every loss heavily and with utmost regret, and admitted his failures openly and endeavoured to correct them.

Many disagreed with his policies, his accommodations to Artemis especially, but they trusted in his judgement - even after all the recent losses and reactive decision making, they still believed there was no one better to lead them.

And so Ravge keyed in the word ‘Scrubber’ to the pad, hoping now the Togruta was at last back to his old self, as Jal’ina tried desperately to drag him away.

“My Adored, no more of this, it pains me…” she pleaded gripping him, her tears a rich mixture of pheromones potent as any she could exude to keep him undoing all she had tried to accomplish.

“...you said yourself you could not lead just a few days ago, that a warrior was needed…”

“I was depressed, shocked by the losses…I made a mistake, one I hope it is not too late to correct,”

“It was no mistake Hymra,” she pressed his hands to her breast,  “Stay with me, tend to me my adored,”
He pulled away.

He. Pulled. Away.

“Scrubber is who…what…I am,” he said with finality that left her cold.

<<<<>>>>

Zann

His eyes opened to the blinding white of an Ithorians Med-scanner, his skin felt parched and blistered as if he had been sunbaking under Tatooine's twin suns.

With a start he leapt up.

“Wha…where…”

[Messer Zann, you are awake…your personal energy shield countered the majority of the explosions Kinetic and Thermal energies, however the radiation …] the Ithorian boomed out quietly as it could.

Zann fell back, his body feeling sluggish.

He hardly needed to ask how it had happened - the Black Armour’s damned sorcery no doubt - his skin still tingled from their wyrd - but how had they gotten on the ship? Was nowhere secure?!

More importantly
“Sykes? Where is Sykes?”

[The Admiral…is in a critical condition]

Zann’s face would’ve fallen had the skin not been seared and glassy with radiation burns.

He had lost both his ‘arms’ now.

My boy you can have everything this world has to give
 
None of his Defilers came close to Sykes skill in commanding the fleet, his talents vastly exceeded Zann’s own.

His gut suddenly churned as if a rathtar was loose in it, turning his head he vomited all over the Ithorian.

but you can only hold it as long as you live

His ears were ringing with a tune of his birth world Anaxes, the ‘defender of the cores’ nursery rhymes were all about duty, diligence and not wanting too much…often with morose warnings of the inevitability of Death, and that in death men were remembered for honour, not wealth.

Zann’s hands, his whole body was shaking - from adrenaline, from the injuries…from fear…

chained as a King, or free as a slave

He didn’t often recall his childhood, but sometimes it intruded, the dour tune pushing now with a message that he needed to heed.

[You will require anti-rad treatments, cellular cleansing and skin cultures…] the Ithorian continued. 

The Black Armour’s had missed - just - twice.

Zann couldn’t rely on his luck holding a third time.

the fortunes you win you can’t take to the grave

He loved the Game, the risk, the Thrill and enjoying the rewards - and he was a good player.

But the one thing he would never stake was his own life.

“Get me Tahn, then I need two channels, one to Talon Karrde and one to Canto Bite - Erisia Casino,”

<<<<>>>>

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
Knight Commander
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Force Alignment: 1106
Posts: 4131


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« Reply #57 on: January 10, 2023, 10:25:00 PM »

One wonders if Zann really appreciates just how lucky he is, especially to have survived not one but two assassination attempts by demigods.  Perhaps he'll have to ask Urai...or Sykes... The question now is: what does he gain by contacting smuggler "king" Talon Karrde or the Erisia Casino?

But if Zann has suffered, so too have the Sons.  Hopefully, the people at Artemis (or, more appropriately "behind") can help to save Ry.  If not, Ken's own experiences and realization of his identity might have a much different (read: worse) mnemonic associated with it. 

Ash's own time at Eurydice Base seems to have been one of serendipity, both for her and the Sons (let's hope that nothing triggers the device prematurely).

But it's Scrubber's arc that is at the heart: although he might claim to be "first among equals" or, as he puts it Princeps, he now knows that his worth is so much more than just him as an individual but rather as the face--the soul and symbol--of their Cause...something much more difficult to defeat.  The fact that Zann (and his spy) recognized just how important that fact was is paramount to his entire offensive against the Sons.  And the fact that he came damned close shouldn't be lost upon anyone within the Sons...

Which brings us to Jal'ina.  For her part, let's hope that she is rewarded as she so richly deserves.

Meta-note: Scrubber has long been one of my favorite characters within the Forumverse, and these latest chapters only reinforce my interest.  He truly is a disciple of his Cause, calling upon the Sons to let their will be implemented by their vote of Princeps.  But unlike the emperors of old--from Augustus to Marcus Aurelius--where their claims as "First Citizen" were merely to make their actual role of dictator more palatable for the Senate to swallow, Scrubber believes wholeheartedly in the role.  Just how he plans to rebuild the Sons is something that I'm looking forward to reading^^
Logged

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Lord_S_Gray
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Force Alignment: 428
Posts: 1903



« Reply #58 on: January 16, 2023, 04:18:54 AM »


Chapter 15 – Rolls of the Dice – Part 1

Scrubber
Like a wounded animal the Unchained limped out of Hyperspace toward Eurydice base, the wounds from Zann’s ‘dragon claws’ still deep in the upper hull, pieces of debris occasionally bouncing out as their sublights brought them closer.

Over Aestis minor were the remnants of the Son’s fleet - barely a half of what it had been two weeks before, and a transmission from Kal Etsp.

“Big Brain has tallied the results…” he said to the assembled leadership on the bridge the Siniteens usually neutral tone betraying a hint of excitement

“The vote for interim leader is from 3,418 votes, 2,153 for Scrubber, 581 for Ravge, and 512 for Colonel Sala, 170 for various others.”

There were muted applause, but no cheers on the bridge.

With just under two thirds Scrubber felt now he truly had the legitimacy to lead the Son’s once more.

“Sires and Sirra’s…” he spoke to the bridge and the whole of the Son’s
“...I thank you for your confidence in me in this most dire of times.
Nearly 600 years ago, Keison the Bold faced a similar situation, he and his brethren had captured a vessel known as the Freeblade, a large Orbital Space station, the Son’s of Kessel 10,000 strong on the verge of forging a mobile nation-state.
 
It took the Combined Forces of the Black Sun Vigo’s and Hutts, and a shocking act of treachery to delay that Dream - but it was never destroyed.

Many of you will Remember or have heard of Thinker, a mentor of mine who carried the tales of Son’s with him, passing that Dream to us.”

He breathed deeply imagining the faces of those to whom he spoke across med-bays, workshops, cockpits, bunks and armories.

“I know I have made many grave errors of judgement in pursuit of that Dream, friends, family, have been lost to us as a result.

Please know that my dedication to the Cause remains steadfast, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure that we do not fall prey to the desolation and scattering of prior years.

With your legitimization, I will ensure the Cause prospers Long term

It will be costly, many may not agree with the actions and agreements I suspect must be undertaken,, but know I will bear all responsibility for what must be done and when the immediate crisis is past - as it will pass - then I will happily submit to the judgement of the United Brethren of the Son’s as represented by a new Council.”

He bore himself more upright, his wounded stomach causing a sharp bolt of pain to ratchet through his core as still unclosed wounds cried against the motion.

“It is with a heavy heart that I must order the immediate evacuation of Eurydice base, it is only a matter of time before the Consortium attacks again, we must give them no targets.
My Friends this is a dark hour, make no mistake, but we will survive!  Hold fast to the Cause, to Hope and most of all to Each Other!.”
He finished closing off the comm on a gentle rather than rousing note, Sala and Ravge waiting for him

“You expect Zann to attack?” Ravge asked incredulous “He will run afraid,”

“I understand why you think so,  but we cannot assume it,” Scrubber replied

“Your Orders for the fleet then, First Liberator Scrubber,” she used the title proposed for the head of state in his draft Constitution, whether of endearment or sarcastically was uncertain, regardless he knew she would perform her role with the diligence that was the best of the Imperial Navies legacy.

If he were Zann…then there was only one prize left to claim and that was the Unchained itself, after that the Consortium could let loose on the rest of the Son’s fleet and Eurydice without having to tiptoe around avoiding risking damaging the ISD further.

It made the Unchained itself the most valuable, and also the most fragile, piece on the board.

“Colonel, I want you to prepare the fleet to defend Eurydice while the evacuation is underway, as I recall Big Brain had a time frame of 3.5 hours for full evac, given our depleted resources that will likely be longer…Use the Unchained as a shield where you can, it is the only piece the Consortium won’t obliterate on sight.”

“You are aware we lack the hyper matter fuel for another jump to hyperspace - we haven’t been resupplied since Glottal,” Sala added
“Added to the Ion and hull damage taken at Saleucami, it’s virtually dead in the void already.”

Scrubber could only nod

“I know, but the Consortium won’t know that for certain, use that to your advantage…and this…”

Reaching from his tatterend pocket he produced a single black marble size object.

“Artemis is gathering a strike force nearby, grip this and command ‘attack’ when you need them the most, they will intervene based on what they consider the most optimal tactics,”

Scrubber turned to the Gen’Dai well aware of how best to use the blunt gladiator, the Togruta’s voice taking on a dark edge as his raptor like gaze glinted under the faux light of the ISD’s ceiling globes.

“You as well Ravge, the Consortium will send it’s best men to capture this vessel, make sure they wallow in their own blood for every inch.”

“What of the ship, are we simply to lose it?” the Gen’Dai grunted,

Scrubber held up a small marble around which light seemed to warp and vanish, the means by which he could communicate with Black Armour and his People.

“Artemis are sending additional Coaxium and reinforcements to assist us,” he said loud enough for all to hear.

“But they will not arrive in force for some time until then we must hold the line, my hope is we can bottle Zann’s forces on the Unchained, keep them focused on that instead of the evacuation - then the Unchained will be the last to leave, with us on it.”

With a guttural hiss Ravge stomped to fulfil his duty, the blunt weapon set on his task. With each heavy footstep Ken felt the drumbeats of a martial Song intensify.

“You’re staying on the ship?” Ken asked
The Mak’tor had stayed stuck to the Togruta leader of the Sons like glue, gently humming a healing motif to help Scrubber recover after the change in dressing on his wounds, but whatever medicine he had taken before reaching the Unchained seemed to be working almost miraculously fast.

Black Armour still hadn’t returned, and Ken felt a sense of responsibility that in his absence, and with Ash planetside, Ken needed to step up and act as half body guard, half advisor to Scrubber, offering any insight he could from what he could sense in the Force.

He had to work to push his worry for Ry to the back of his mind, but he knew it was the right thing.

“It is where I must be,” Scrubber said without a hint of pride or arrogance, simply stating the fact of his role.

“If we are fortunate, we could be gone before Zann’s ships even arrive.” Sala added between re-positioning her fleet. 
Scrubber looked over the foliage covered mountains and Mesa’s of the curve of Aestis minor ‘beneath’ him

“The God’s are not so kind,” he noted flatly.

<<<<>>>>

Zann
Zann wore a sleek gloss black and gray business suit, his long white hair tied back in a neat tail.

The only parts of his attire out of place in the upmarket section of the Canto Bite Casino was the nutrient frame on his back, on which an especially pungent Ysalamiri half dozed, and the glossy sheen of his radiation scarred face.

After the attack on the Merciless and his inability to procure any more Tarlotian Totems given Urai’s unconscious state, Zann had to pay a small fortune over to Talon Karrde to obtain the creature at very short notice and delivered just before he headed planet side to ensure he wasn’t subject to another ambush by a Force user-  much like the one that awaited him.

Nimmin Cha, Vice President of Artemis Industries which owned the Erisia Casino on Canto Bite to which Zann had been granted ‘safe’ passage.

Tanned skin and a precisely trimmed stylish thin dark brown beard, Cha  lounged in a deep red crushed velvet jacket over an equally deep blue  Yureh silk shirt and trousers - very costly indeed - if Zann recalled such was only produced on Anzat Prime by the mysterious and meticulous artisans there and fetched hundreds of thousands per square centimeter.

It might seem odd to head straight to the leadership of his real enemy, Artemis, but Zann figured he had little to lose. 

The explosion on the End of Day’s proved nowhere was safe from their Wyrd-wiedling warriors - and Zann refused to hide with a stinking Ysalamiri on his back for the rest of his life, at best the annoying animal protected him from the malicious mental manipulation of Wyrd-wielders.

In his enemies Casino the rules of Parlay gave him more protection than anywhere in the galaxy.

“Please sit,” Cha gestured to the plush sofa opposite him, an array of colourful liquids in sensuously curved bottles on the table in between, Cha taking careful note of the Ysalamiri and Zann’s scarred features.

Clearly Zann had been spooked and marked by his near fatal encounters at Saleucami, and the loss of Urai Fen made him feel especially vulnerable.

“We’ve much to discuss,”

<<<<>>>>
The Spy
[Where?]
[ISD Over Eurydice]
[Status]
[Scrub in command, defensive positioning]
There was a pause
[Need Extraction, Influence Diminished]
the Spy waited anxiously for the reply.
[Execute] was the terse order.
[Repeat Influence Diminished] the spy insisted
[Diversion approaching, Execute]
With a deep breath the Spy knew Control would not be swayed.
Amidst the spies long dark hair were coils only slightly thicker than the natural strands, each of which could, be detached, activated with a small magnet into a thin sharp needle that once piercing skin would inject a powerful neuro toxin into the target.

Scrubber was already injured from his blast wound, the instantaneous effect of the poison, a small seizure, would surprise none, and ruin all.

<<<<>>>>

Ash
The false container bottom had been trapped.  But not with anything immediately toxic.

The more ‘youthful’ of the three Black Armour’s she knew about had gotten an abyssal face full of some gas - he had been holding an air scrubber to capture any such contingency in an over abundance of caution.

“Is it safe?” she asked behind her own mask and a heavily scratched 2 meter high breacher shield in case there were explosives.

The BA nodded, plucking out the contents with what was as close to a ‘quizzical’ look a faceless helmet could achieve.

There were a number of small transparisteel vials with sterilization caps, containing milky pink fluids along with two injectors with empty docks for the vial's contents.

“What in the Maker’s great Galaxy is that?” Ash asked as the Song beat drums in her head.

<<<<>>>

Brakhest Tahn

The full force of the Consortiums two fleets, Ereshkiga and Ishtra, were at his command.

With Zann absent on a key negotiation, and both Sykes and Fen on death's door shuttled off to Corporate sector Medicae Centers for treatment - if there was anything left to save - Tahn was placed in operational control.

Even Tyber himself had suffered some fairly serious radiation poisoning and grave skin damage from his latest run in with the Son’s agents.

“Commander Tahn,” the First officer of the End of Days addresses him with a salute, the blue and orange of the Consortiums naval uniform in contrast to the Red and black of Tahn’s Defiler armour on the grim gun-metal and yellow hazard stripe bridge.

“Coordinates are locked in, our scouts confirm the exit point in the Teth system is clear, we will launch at your command,”

Twisting his arm round to look over his scrolling messages he saw no update from their agent among the Son’s and nothing new from Zann - only the small green signal that indicated Tyber life-signs were still stable.

On the vertical was the Universal Coruscant standard time ticking toward the deadline for launch in the absence of further orders.

“13 minutes, then - unless we received further instruction - we launch,”

<<<<>>>>

Zann
Zann took his time looking around the room, replete with suggestive and some outright explicit artworks from across the galaxy, Dathomiri Fertility talismans, Togrutian Fourth Mallal Dynasty Hedonistatic Movement pottery, Chandrillan Erosinta paintings.

Yet Zann noticed one key fact about them all.

“An impressive collection,” Zann replied as he settled into the couch which moulded itself around to support his form.
“I’ve never seen such fine reproductions,”

“I commissioned them personally,” Cha replied pouring out drinks, first a blue liquor then a yellow solvent, they mixed together to form a vibrant bioluminescent pink that frothed with a mist at the top.

“Far more durable, and less costly than the originals,”

“Indeed,” Zann agreed quickly sizing up Cha - the man like his artworks was a fake - a mirage - but he revelled in the fact and had no shame in it. Zann could respect that.

“Have a drink, and a girl,” Cha added then clapped his hands, a thick opaque screen sliding open to reveal the ‘live’ entertainment.

“Business first,” Zann insisted genially regarding the girl
“But I’ll take that drink,” he reached out, Cha offered it with a self satisfied smile.

“To Co-operation,” Cha toasted, both men drank down the spicy bubbly liquid in a single gulp.

Reaching into his pocket Cha placed a small holo-disk on the table.

“I just received this before you arrived,” he clicked the activator, Zann quickly recognized what it was and stared at his own picture.

It was a Bounty Hunter Guild Verified Contract Marked in shimmering red ‘PRE-DISTRIBUTION’. It showed Zann’s face  -not his best pict it had to be admitted, doubtless intentional on Cha’s part - a short summary of his details and the price.

50 million in IntraGalactic Banking Clan and Bank of the Core certified Corporate Sector bonds for a minimum of 55 per cent of Zann’s verified known bio-mass to be delivered to this very Casino on Canto Bite - whole or dispersed. A solid threat to start negotiations to be sure.

“I’m insulted it’s not 100 million,” was Zann’s response,

Cha chuckled at the reply then deactivated the holo.
“Well, we aren’t seeking the whole body,”

“Can I claim it now, save you the time of posting it?” Zann asked with as much of a grin as his burnt face could manage.

“If you like, but you’ll walk out less than half the man you are now,” was Cha’s equally faux banter reply before a small buzzer in his pocket vibrated,

Taking out a sleek flip-comm Cha’s eyes scrolling over the message he spoke on

“Ah so there is your ante - your whole fleet a 45 minute jump from Teth, a lot to risk that we won’t simply put clip your birds wings like we did at Saleucami,”

The unsubtle stab at Urai made Zann’s teeth grate, but he kept his cool.

“You’re that intent on saving that rabble from complete destruction? And that arrogant to think you can take on my fleets now that we know what to watch out for?”

Cha leaned forward, one hand squeezing his girls thigh painfully

“Tyber Zann, there are not enough Ysalimiri on Wayland to protect that fleet from what we have prepared if they impinge further on our investments,”

Cha was too much a cipher and unknown for Zann to tell if he was bluffing.

Zann altered the tone before it descended too far into antagonism.

“Let me be frank, my Consortium can provide you with everything the Son’s can in greater quantity and at far lower prices- workers, manufactures, equipment, black market goods, access to huge arrays of stolen artefacts and antiquities - I know your company has a great interest in such relics.  My Defliers will happily pay for prototypes of your weapons and armours and perform field tests.  Ditch the Son’s and we can cut a deal,”

Cha’s face didn’t alter a fraction, the same self satisfied oily half grin staring back at Zann’s mutilated visage.

“You think we would abandon our comrades so easily?”

“What can they possibly offer your company that I can't do better on?” Zann countered once more
“Your main pay off - Workers - are not hard for the Consortium to come by,”

“But obscenely loyal ones are,” Cha noted
“As I’m sure you’d discover were that little bounty to be posted,”

Zann couldn’t deny that a potential 50 million payday would make many of his Defilers waver in their allegiance - to say nothing of how many dozens of Bounty Hunters and Mercenary companies would pour out of Socorro and Nar Shadda which could make life very difficult indeed.

“As you say, let us speak plainly. The survival of the Son’s is non-negotiable, our arrangement with them is based on friendship not strictly commerce,” Cha explained

Of course ‘Friendship’ meant something very different to the ‘Artemis Girls’ and their Oblivion soldiers than it did to most Sentients. 

The Son’s were akin to a ‘beloved pet’ of Cha’s employers, and they retained a sense of obligation to them for support given in centuries past, creating a curious loyalty to the lesser beings in his otherwise amoral, ice hearted Demi-God masters.

And though impractical, Cha was bound to ensure he negotiated their survival - if he could not, then…well…if Zann thought his face a radiation scorched mess now…

“You already know your chance at an easy victory over the Son’s is long past or you wouldn’t have come personally, ysalamiri on your back. What do you want to call off your Defiler’s, in addition to us not taking your head?” Cha asked directly.

Tyber took another drink, contemplating his words carefully.

“I wanted three things from taking on the Son’s” Zann replied, gesturing for the last girl to come to him at last, the taller of the three with short cropped blonde and blue hair over tanned skin.

“Prestige, Credits and at least one Star Destroyer…so far I have the Star Destroyer, I’m breaking even on the Prestige after Saleucami…”

He wasn't too proud to admit the loss of his palace, flagship and severe damage to his Eanna fleet was a blow.

“And as they say two outta three ain’t bad. Enough credits, some guarantees I get to enjoy said credits for many years, and I’ll move on to the next Score.

Cha reclined into the embrace of his toys
“I think then, we might be able to reach a mutually beneficial arrangement,”

<<<<>>>>
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 #59 on: January 16, 2023, 04:20:22 AM »

Chapter 15 – Rolls of the Dice – Part 2
Ken
“There, on a perpendicular vector to the systems plane, past the 5th planet,” Sala zoomed in on the ships that had just arrived
“And we’ve just lost comms to Eurydice, they are already jamming us,”

“Zann’s entire fleet,” she swallowed, but still quick to analyse their position and the likely time to reach them.

“From there they could micro-jump to the outer gravity well in about four minutes, sub-light from there three more. Most of our systems are still recovering from the Ion blasts and the hull is still a wreck from the claws, we wouldn’t last ten minutes.”

“Evacuate the ship of all non necessary personnel, Space fighters, transports, Liberators and all equipment we can get out in half an hour.” Scrubber ordered, though much of the work was already underway, Ravge, the Rangers and Eurydicen Guard setting up traps all through the Unchained in accordance with Ravge’s plan to repel boarders.

Sala nodded,
“I’ll direct some of the tugs we have to Teth VI, pick up some extra cannons,”
 
Ken recalled that location from his first posting with the Son’s, he had detected what must’ve been an Artemis ship there what seemed a lifetime ago.
“Isn’t that where Artemis keeps their emergency vessel?” Ken asked

“It was, now it serves as an emergency fall back position - twenty, somewhat outdated but still perfectly functional, turbo-lasers on mobile platforms hidden in the Gas giants atmosphere,” Scrubber explained as Sala leaned over the trench to issue the orders needed.

“No doubt Sala has plan’s to make use of them in the event of an attack,”

“There isn’t much time,” Ken said, feeling out when the Crescendo would be reached based on his prior listening to such tunes in the Force.

“There rarely is,” Scrubber added with a tight smile and a small wince, his stomach injuries still paining him.

“Ken, you should head to Eurydice,” The Togruta advised

Even the suggestion made Ken wince as the Song pushed against the very notion.

“I think I need to be here…but I’m not sure why,”

Scrubber just nodded, he understood little of the magic and Force powers of his allies, but knew enough that they should not be doubted.

The ISD lurched as Sala executed her final maneuvers, repositioning her vessels as the Consortium fleet micro-jumped.

The Song doubled in volume.

<<<<>>>>

Brakhest Tahn
The Son’s latest move was irritating.

The Unchained was on its side relative to the rest of the Son’s fleet, the smaller vessels crowding the edge of it where they could making it hard to target them without risking hitting the already damaged ISD.

“Any modifications to the deployment pattern?” the Tactical officer for the whole fleet asked.

“Increase the precision of all targeting solutions, I don’t want that ISD hit in the crossfire.”

The only question in the Defilers mind was what additional traps they had in store.  Fortunately he had multiple sources to call on.

Pulling the leash in his hand, Argeni, the Mirilan woman once leader of Ranger 11 choked as her throat was constricted.  One the deck, barely clothed to ensure she was viscerally reminded of her place he pulled the slave over to him.

“Aestis, what defenses does it have?”

Beaten, used, and humiliated since her ill fated mission to rescue ‘Alliance Prisoners of the Black Sun’, a snare concocted by Zann, planted by Urai Fen and executed by Tahn, there was no resistance left in the woman whose skin was more bruise blue than its natural lime green.

“Cannons Ground to Space…ten maybe twelve…don’t know where,” her voice a gravelly whisper from repeated chokings

 Tahn squeezed her neck her for more information,

“Defence platforms…old Republic style, don’t know how many, anti-fighter…”

“Very good,” he sneered at his increasingly boring toy, she had been retrained thoroughly beyond any attempt at deception.

He turned back to his tactical Officer.

“Load the Dekard’s, full droid and Sarex, send them at the ISD’s bridge and those wound’s” he ordered

“Have the Coverttes provide covering fire against any fighter screens, but keep the capital ships out of their Trubo laser range.  Then have our Navigators prepare jump solutions to slice into the ISD’s computers as soon as we capture it, and prepare one boarding party with Coaxium cells, the first thing I would do on a ship targeted for boarding do is purge the hyperdrive…”

With crisp salutes Sykes blue uniformed naval officers set to work, short shrift orders and fast clicks on control board across the Keldabe class battlecruisers drab dark grey bridge.

His plan was simple enough, use the ISD ‘shield’ to his advantage as much as the Son’s - board it first with disposable droids and gas, capture the bridge and jump it to hyperspace. 

Then with their ‘shield’ gone he could move the fleet up to bombard the rest of the Son’s cowering vessels to pieces.  No doubt their orbital platforms and Ground to Space cannons would provide some annoyance, but not nearly enough to deal with all his ships.

Across the decks of the Aggressors and Keldabe Battles ships a score of RZ-52 Dekard transports, were loaded with swift efficacy by the Sykes crews with Mark II Droideka’s and Sarex Neuro-toxin canisters.

The minutes were ticking by, Tahn had orders to take the Unchained by a fixed deadline with minimal casualties and expense before Zann would make contact with subsequent orders, and Tahn would see it so.

Rolling on by the dozen Dorideka’s filled the bulky Dekard’s that sported pronged ‘Teeth’ on the fore of the ship to drive into other vessels before blasting a breach to allow boarding. Between the droids and the Sarex gas they should easily whip out whatever Son’s remained on the damaged vessel.

Beneath the Chrono on his wrist screen was a scrolling line of pixels where any messages from his spy would appear. 

Hopefully the agent would know the optimal time to strike and end the Son’s leadership once and for all now that the Spies, ability to influence them to the Consortiums’ ends seemed diminished.

“Full sublights on the Dekard’s I want that ship taken in twelve minutes,”

<<<<<>>>>

Jal’ina
The already irritating workload intensified as they rushed to load every damn bleeding Liberator onto gurneys and hen down the cargo lifts to the transports, nurses scuttling, people tripping, Liberator Sergeants yelling to ‘move move move,’

Faces were anxious, limbs jittery and fumbling in the tumult.

The perfect chaos for her to slip away.

Bustling around with IV bags in one arm as she pushed a hover gurney with the next she raced to jam her patient into the next elevator with the barest of room left, Doc Wolfe pulling it in.

Jal’ina swiftly dumped the IV’s on the Duro patients chest
“You can just squeeze in,” Wolfe insisted
“I’ll get on the next one!” she replied, the heavy doors already closing shut.

With Wolfe’s eyes off her and all other attention on stabilising the last patients she slipped round the corner and into an access corridor.

Taking a small micro-injector from a pouch around her waist she jammed it into her inner thigh, biting down as the Zeltron Estrogenine pulse through her body, unnaturally enhancing her species innate pheromones volume and intensity, and sharpening the nascent telepathic powers Zeltron possessed enabling them to ‘push’ emotions they desired onto others.

With that enhancement and an old map of the Imperius - as it had been before the Son’s capture - access ways, she would soon reach Scrubber.

<<<<>>>>

Ash
“Estrogenine? What does that even mean?” she asked leaning on the repaired Consol as the three Celegians of Big Brain pulsed anxiously in the Cyanogen tank that was even now being disconnected as the evacuation continued, Son’s techs pulling out board after board from Big Brain’s Server’s locking them away in battered off white plasteel cases for transport.

Even amidst the evacuation this was hardly the most pressing concern for Big Brain with Analysis requests on likely Consortium tactical response to Sala’s positioning of the fleet.

Ash waited for the text response to scroll past, but her Black Armour Companion was already stepping to the side seemingly engrossed in some telepathic conversation she could only ‘hear’ whispers of the tone of with the Force.

[Humanoid Reproductive Hormone: Found in Species including Falleen, Zeltron…]

She had read enough already, the pieces fitting into place.

“What does it do when injected by a Zeltron woman?”

[Taken as hormone replacement in latter life stages during and following menopause.]

Scrubber's girlfriend certainly didn’t look that old to Ash in the few times she’d seen her in the med bay.

“Taken by a young…a reproductive age woman?”
[....Accelerates fertility cycle, increases resting heart rate, increases pheromone production and emotional-telepathy potency]

“She’s been doping up on this stuff…to control Scrubber,” Ash said a loud turning to the Black Armour.

“We need to warn him, I’m guessing the Consortium has jammed the comm’s?”

Moloor tensed and blobbed in a Celegian gesture of affirmation.

“Damn…” At best she could try to contact Ken with the Force…but she could only send impressions, at best vague images not precise meaning…

<I’ll Go,> the Shadow Warrior whispered in her mind like a black wind racing out the door.

<<<<>>>>
Zann
“Mutually beneficial…How so,” Zann leaned back, actively flicking and toying with his girl’s features, while Cha passively had his two fawn on him.

“The last thing you need from this venture is credits, we can provide that - and more besides…”  Cha leaned into his ‘toys’, the girls faux giggles all too familiar to Zann.

“Your Defilers Slavery operations are quite profitable, 15 per cent of your income at the moment if word is to be believed, the main throttle is the competition, Zygerrians, Pykes, Black Sun, Hutts, even the Remnant factions - it’s a crowded market…I propose the Son’s help to ‘soften’ your competition.”

Now Zann was genuinely interested.

“The Son’s need to revert back to a raiding style for a while and revive their brand by expanding beyond the Baxel sector - I propose your Defilers identify opportunities to scuttle their competition in their Territories, pass it along to us, we will direct the Son’s to make the raids.  The Son’s get their recruits, prestige and purpose, your Defliers get to step into the gaps in the market left behind, and you skim the profits…”

It was certainly appealing, the Defilers could indirectly have the Son’s to break up their competitors and avoid repercussions for doing so. 

“The obvious problem,” Zann cautioned
“If the Defilers pick up the extra slave trade, how long before the Son’s target them on their own,”

Cha nodded understanding the concern
“We can handle that, make sure your slave trade thrives unhindered.  In fact to sweeten the deal…perhaps I could swap 30 million of that bounty to purchase slaves - of adequate quality of course - directly off your Defliers?”

That was quite the sweetener Zann had to admit, his Defilers could immediately clear a lot of old inventory, free up warehouse space and make large profits to boot.

“Why not go a little further,” Zann suggested,

His intention was to steer Cha toward the idea that working with the Consortium - with himself as head of course - was more beneficial to Artemis than removing him and continuing the fight - after all Zann strongly suspected he could make far more credits by resupplying the depleted Son’s with Artemis bank rolling it than the minimal looting opportunities left in continuing to harass them. 

“The Son’s biggest vulnerability and constraint has always been supplying their troops - I could arrange a new supply network, 30 or 40 ships, and provide access to Grey and Black Markets across three dozen nearby sectors and many local pirates are already on Consortium payrolls reducing interceptions - The Consortium could provide a far wider variety of goods much closer and at lower cost than their existing supply chains,”

Cha’s fake smile widened, well aware of the irony considering Urai Fen had eliminated a number of the Son’s key suppliers.
The man was a Cipher, Zann knew, but he was good at it, and understood how to do business.

“We couldn’t use Consortium branding of course, but that’s hardly important, I don’t need the advertising,” Zann finished.

“Of course, and Artemis could certainly make use of your connections to Black Markets for stolen technology and archaeological artefacts” Cha’s replied, reaching forward to pour another drink for them both.

“A Gamorrean Blood Bite?” Cha offered

“A double,” Zann replied

“To a prosperous partnership,” Cha toasted.

<<<<>>>>
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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