There was a smattering of blood on the console, smeared where he had tried to do something to warn them. The body slumped to the side with a wet thud, a pool of crimson dripping down the side of the wall below. Zxyl swung his hammer again, the tool’s beskar head impacting the soldier’s head with a resonant thud that seemed to somehow echo across the airbase, the gore erupting from the impact almost instantly. Quentin raised himself up, the bolts of raw hatred evaporating as dark smoke rose from the sniper at his feet. Hector’s jetpack cut, heavy bootfalls landing next to Korvis not far removed from Socorra’s own landing, surrounding the last soldier left standing.
He threw down his rifle, raising his hands high. He hadn’t signed up for this, whatever this was. Revenge dragged him to these people…revenge for his grown son, ever twelve in his mind, even though they were twenty two when they died, fighting for the bastards on Arx. His eldest. They butchered him, and then he had to explain to his Fana why Sar wasn’t coming home. The girl was barely school age and didn’t know death yet. It was the worst day of his life. Of her life. He dropped to his knees, looking at the Mandalorians as they surrounded him.
“I surrender!” He kept his hands high. They weren’t here for revenge, for hate or for revenge. These were Mandalorians. They were here for a specific reason. For money, for a bounty, for something that wasn’t him. “We can work something out, right?”
Quentin Shadows walks down the ramp his still ignited lightsaber still emitting a eerie glow as he walked toward the surviving trooper who had his hands in the air, “ Ohh you will tell us everything we want to know” Quentin says as he raise one hand up letting sparks of electricity course through his fingertips as he grins evilly at the trooper.
The jets cut and wings folded, boots setting down on the platform. It had been a messy affair; crimson streaked her armor from the arterial cuts. But the instructions were clear, no one could know the Brotherhood was ever there. That was a close call, pun intended.
The woman raised a gloved hand at her side without looking, silently holding Quentin back— and the others. The soldier was desperate, it would not take long to find what he knew, but the less time the better.
“We are looking for Trandoshan named Sserst.” She produced and displayed the bounty puck. “Do you know him or where he is?”
No threats, no guarantees, no lies, just straight up question and answer, the easiest most simplest form of interrogation there was. But as the soldier looked at the holo she dove into his mind as well.
There was blood in his eyes.
The soldier stared, gaze locked on the man as he stepped down the expanded metal gangway. He spit on the ground as if it would take the foul memories with it. He straightened his back, watching the spark fly from the wizard’s hand with his threat, hearing the voice of the white armored woman.
These weren’t just Mandalorians. No, Mandalorians didn’t travel with wizards. No, these were more of the bastards from Arx. They had killed his boy, and apparently it still wasn’t enough. They were here, halfway across the galaxy, murdering his friends, his boss. The people who put food on his table after what had happened. And for what? Some Trandoshan?
“No. Boss didn’t like aliens.” The words were steadier than he had guessed they would be.
It was the truth. The commander had a lot of options on who he could pick from, especially after the winnowing that their cult went through back on Arx. He’d only heard fragments of it, something about a white robed madman and his lackeys…questioners, maybe they were called? It was so long ago. But the commander didn’t want those. Said it cost too much to get the armor sized for aliens. He hadn’t seen anything but humans and droids in months.
“Then who is this boss of yours and where are they now?” Hector enquired
The soldier’s head turned quickly, facing the dark helmet. It took a moment for the question to register. He hadn’t seen the captain since the chaos started, but he wouldn’t have gone far. He turned his head, looking around, eyes gliding over ruined HK droid chassis and fallen comrades alike. “I…” He paused, trying to see around them, “I’m not sure. He was here…”
Socorra shifted her weight, and the soldier could finally see past her. Eyes darted to the corpse that she left behind, its arm dangling off the platform behind the communication array, dripping blood. That would make sense. He would have wanted to get the word out. He couldn’t be sure, not from here, but it seemed right. He raised a hand, pointing in the dead man’s direction. “Pretty sure that was him…”
She peered between the corpse and the blades still in her hand. “Oops.” She silently sighed, chiding herself for not just stabbing his hands or something less dramatic.
“Where is best an alien might hide out here?”
How very curious. Hector walked over to the corpse. Dead men could tell tales, if you possessed the correct talents. Placing his hand on the body, the Kiffar activated his psychometry. It was time to see what secrets the past held.
The echoes of the past flooded his senses, his mind pushing through the mist to see the hand reaching for the console, keying in the trajectory of the code blast. The vision shifted, watching the minute adjustment of the directional antenna as it aligned. Hector paused, a little bit of nausea tickling the pit of his stomach as he could see himself, rocketing from his initial landing to Korvis. Fingers not his own typed in the message, four words.
“Brotherhood here. Evacuate now.”
His finger…no, not his finger, but the one under the well-worn gloves reached for the send button when the dull roar of rockets came to him over the sound of blasters. Then a white blur, and then a rasping cough as her knee pushed his chest to the ground, his sidearm battered away, a spray of blood on the grip. Hector watched the man’s other hand reach for the console as he fell, the flash of Socorra’s steel blinding as it dug into the flesh of his throat, spraying blood across the transparisteel. Hector pulled back his senses, knowing better than to be drawn into the man’s death.
“Hide out?” He spoke slowly, confused. “There’s woods to the west, I guess.” The soldier was back to watching Quentin intently, having settled back as Hector investigated. The wizard had to be the one in charge. He was the only one not wearing armor.
“Wait…you’re not here for us?” He paused, eyes darting around the carnage, the pool of blood from the speared man reaching to coat his knees. He knew him. Rahos, Jevin Rahos. His wife’s name was Mira, their anniversary was next week, and he had gotten the leave approved to go home to spend it with her three months ago. It was all he had talked about the last few days at mess. How much better her cooking was than the rations they had to ship in from the core. He was glad the man died with his helmet on, so he couldn’t see his eyes. His shoulders slumped as he looked at them in turn, before turning back to the wizard.
“Why?”
“Our reasons for being here are not for you to know. But if you hand over any communication equipment that you have and continue to answer our questions I see no reason why we can’t let you go free.” Hector told the prisoner. Turning to his companions he informed them of what he had seen. “I was able to pick up a bit with my Psychometric abilities. The leader of this band attempted to send a message that we had arrived and to evacuate. But Socorra got to him first. We can take advantage of this. Edit the message to an all clear or something similar and try to track the message from there.”
“You need not join them, tell us what we want to know, and we will release you.” Quentin says empathetically “ We just want the one you have been shown, no one else needs to die” says as he deactivated his lightsaber and hung it on his belt
The soldier paused, confused. He had already told them everything that he knew. He clipped the commlink from his shoulder, the wire to his helmet snagging before disconnecting as he handed it to them. It was just a local, short-range comm, standard issue with the armor he was issued. “Like I said, I haven’t seen any aliens, let alone a Trandoshan since…‘ he paused, clenching his jaw for a moment. Looking up, he saw them staring at him expectantly. "Since my son’s funeral. A year ago, in the Core.”
The Regent of the Brotherhood had remained eerily quiet throughout the interaction since they finished dispatching the men and droids enveloped outside the base, letting the others take the lead on their “interrogation” of the man. He had watched them - and Ricmore - do their stuff, arms crossed, waiting until they were finished and had gathered all the information possible.
It seems like they were at the end of their line of questioning, however, and time was of the essence to find this lizard before the trail went stone cold. General Bes'uliik nodded for a moment, before staring directly into the man’s eyes from behind his helmet.
“It seems your usefulness is at an end,” he declared as he nodded to Socorra.
Without pause or question, the woman stepped closer and sent her blade across the soldier’s throat with a quick and clean slash. As part of the fluid motion she stepped to the side and out of any spattering range.
“I was always taught death is a release not a punishment” Quentin says full well knowing he already planned to end the soldiers life.
“I would appreciate if we discuss such decisions before such measures are taken. There are times when mercy can open even more doors than might.” Hector stated. It wasn’t the first time his allies had acted suddenly. Such things did not bode well given recent events, including the misadventure on the planet Dathomir. Hopefully this journey would not end in losing a ship due to an attack from an ally once again.
The Regent unfolded his arms, turning his head fully in Ricmore’s direction.
“All you do is whine and bitch,” the Regent said sternly without delay to the man in the massive clone wars-era armor, “Enough with the talk. This organization is not a democracy. The man had nothing further to offer us, and was a loose thread that could have come back to bite us. He was going to be a dead man walking either way. So we eliminated him. We have a job to do. That was part of the job. Mercy is not.”
The General was tired of this nascent moaning. They needed action, and to find this target before things escalated. They had already received information on the forest, the only information the man had to offer, and that was their best lead.
Socorra bent down and wiped her beskar blades on the soldier’s uniform.
“This black ops for Brotherhood. If Darth Ashen say no one can know, then no one will know.” She pointed with the dagger towards the ship. “If you disagree, feel free to chat with him.”
“I agree, we can leave no witnesses ” Quentin says in agreement with Sorcorra
The Regent looked down at the soldier, reaching down and closing his eyes. He returned to his full height, staring at Ricmore from behind his helmet for whatever reaction awaited before they headed out…
<@476595775187451913>
“Ricmore, we have discussed this before. The contract is the contract. whether we like it or not. You agreed to Ashen’s terms, it would be….. unwise to break that.” Korvis said from his spot watching the entrance. Hopefully, the message would get through because Muz was not exactly the most forgiving person.
“Perhaps. I’d be happy to take it up with Muz either way. Allowing one to escape gives us the opportunity to track and keep tabs as such an individual. If the enemy is greater than just this installation he would lead us right to them. If not, we portray the Brotherhood in a batter light by showing mercy. Our foes will never surrender to us if they have the knowledge that they will simply die anyway. But now the opportunity to ensure that the enemy is entirely defeated is lost.” Hector proclaimed. “And as for you Zxyl. It’s fitting that you call yourself a Mandalorian. You’re as toxic as the so called holy waters of Mandalore after the bombings.”
Zxyl simply shook his head. If Ricmore did not want to follow the terms of the deal he made, why was he here? Every other member of their entourage had made clear they supported the rules as laid out.
“That is General Bes'uliik, Naur'alor, to you. Mercy on his mission is not your decision to make. It was made before we left. You agreed to it, yet you would rather be without honor and break your word and the Creed. You insult me. You insult the holy waters. You are dar'manda, and have no right to beskar. Your assumptions on what this one would have done do us no good. Follow the task as it has been set or go crawling home before Ashen flays the muscles from your bones. I would cut you down myself if it were not for your relation to the true vod here.”
The Mandalorian General looked to the others in the room for a moment, a rage building inside of him. Nobody insulted the holy waters. They were as pure as ever. He had seen them, below the mines of Manda'yaim. After a moment he simply shook his head. This insult would not go unpunished, the Creed demanded it, but now was not the time for such actions.
He turned a head in Korvis’ direction, “Deal with this,” before leaving the room with a small flourish of his cape-robe-thing without waiting for the others and beginning to make his way towards the forest the man had talked about.
Korvis glared angrily from behind his helmet. Hector Von Ricmore had gone to far this time. Insulting the Waters of Mandalore, deliberately suggesting a breaking of an oath, not to mention the personal insult to Zxyl.
“There will be repercussions for this. I can’t save you from everything. The Creed demands it.” Korvis responded trying to keep his cool. “The regent is right. What you have done labels you a Dar'manda. You must atone for this and quickly.”
Of course, that would have to wait until after the mission. It took priority and would have to be completed. The oath was already placed. Their honor was at stake. Korvis honor was at stake and not even his friend would come between Korvis and the Creed.
Socorra stood, sheathed her weapons, and removed her helmet to meet Hector eye-to-eye. Her one arctic blue to his sulphuric yellow orbs.
Do not get involved, she told herself. Do not get involved. But that was yesterday. Today she was a Proconsul, a second in command of a karkload of people. It was easier and far more safe to stay quiet, to stay anonymous. Even as a praetor she was relatively unknown and everyone had all but forgotten she had been a Dark Councilor a long, long time ago.
She mentally growled at herself.
“Insult aside, you are thinking like Sith—that is good. Intelligent, I respect. But I read his mind, nothing left of use. He has deep hatred for Brotherhood for killing family. Compelling that mind to comply would be too time consuming for me anyway and we have to drag him through all that.” She gestured to the trees. “So lessgo,sah? We big target here.”