Session export: GJW XV Clan Arcona Run On

Fort Blindshot Selen, Dajorra System

Thin pillars of smoke wound their way into the tropical air above the island. Out to sea, in the south, more smoke and occasional pieces of floating wreckage bespoke of a failed direct assault against the base and its concentration of gun batteries. The corridor was clear for travel, and the new Consul took full advantage, flying low to the flame and oil-choked water’s surface, kicking up a shark-fin of spray as she approached the seaport. She was coming on fast. They wouldn’t be happy with that.

<<Friendly IFF, confirm identification number.>>

“Qek-Aurek-one-four-three-six-nine.”

A momentary pause. <<ID confirmed. Welcome home, General.>>

Right. Consul means AAF promotion. “Thanks. If there’s a speeder available, have them meet me at the docks. We have reinforcements coming, and I need to get them to the right places.”

She meant the Arconans who, if they weren’t on the ground already, would be coming in guns blazing all too soon. The flight of LAAT/i gunships just over the horizon behind her carried a company of the Summit Guard from the Citadel; a little extra help to take off some pressure from the defenders at Blindshot. Up ahead, streaks of laser cannon fire raked up into the sky, and down from above. Somewhere beyond the base proper, they were still fighting the air battle.

Her X-Wing drew closer and closer, her navicomputer guiding her in with a little help from her R3, Remee, until she was all but on top of the quay. A small formation of AAF troops cordoned off her landing area as the T-65 touched down, a speeder just within view.

“Ma’am, afternoon,” came a familiar voice. The blonde Selenian stepped forward and helped the Zeltron offload her equipment, eyes widening at the sniper rifle. “Not even sure how you fit that in there.”

“Phrasing, Sergeant Jelenko. And very carefully.” Qyreia glanced toward her droid just as it too touched ground. “You know where we’re headed?”

“War room’s waiting for you,” she said as they walked briskly toward the speeder. “Is your droid plugged into the network?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll give you the codes while we drive then.”

The distance from the docks to the Fort Blindshot main headquarters wasn’t especially far by speeder, but it would have been wasted time on foot. As it was, the mercenary Consul arrived and was ushered up into the so-called war room in very short order. Holomaps were everywhere, with icons showing unit locations here, while over there were numbers that showed casualty figures — including a tally for enemy forces killed. Best way for us to know how many might be left. She was briefly reacquainted with the AAF Fifth Regiment’s commander before they went to the table.

“How are we doing, Colonel?”

“Holding, if only just,” the older Selenian man said soberly. His hair reminded the Zeltron of a hedgehog, and his mustache was almost thick enough to enshroud his mouth. “We’re holding the western line well enough: the gun batteries deter approaches from the Caldera toward the residential areas, and the civilians have been evacuated into reinforced shelters. The hardest fights are here and here.” He pointed to the headquarters itself and the starport.

“Trying to cut off the head and the hand that feeds it.”

“Precisely.”

“I’ve already spun up Celeste Squadron and Zratis Flight out of Waystation 125.” Qyreia’s eyes panned up the map, focusing on a fuzzy red patch in the plains east of the extinct volcano. “That where they’re landing troops?”

“Mostly. There is also the asteroid, if you want to call it that.” He huffed. “The creatures coming from there are covered in crystals, including large carnivorous reptiles. Bipedal. Large claws.”

She didn’t like the sound of ’crystals’. “Casualties?”

“Plenty,” Jelenko injected. “Almost as bad as the soldiers themselves. They’re all thick armor and…”

The colonel waved her off. “That is enough, Sergeant.”

“Crystals is bad,” Qyreia continued. “That’s the Children of Mortis. They were the fracks we took on at Dandoran.” She sighed, hanging her head in thought while her eyes danced over the map. “AEF was out on patrol at Arconae Primus, but they’ll be here shortly. They’ll deal with helping out Dusk Station, and so long as we can hold the starport, we can set down ground troops.”

“Yes, we’ve gotten several reports from Dusk. They seem to be doing better than we are.”

“I’ll get us reinforcements, however piecemeal. What are we facing? What does the enemy have?”

It was the colonel’s turn to sigh. “Sergeant Jelenko had the right of it. The enemy is a mixed formation of mostly infantry, but they also have tanks and other support vehicles, all exceptionally resilient to our fire.” He pointed at the training area portion of the map. “They’re using the undulating terrain to conceal their movements. Our troops only get a clear shot once they reach the flatlands.”

“Explains how they got all the way here.”

The Fifth was effectively all infantry. While Blindshot had a healthy supply of VT-49 Decimators and LAAT/i gunships to fight just such targets, the ongoing air battle meant that they were restricted to the safer bubble around the fort proper.

“Alright,” the Zeltron continued, “here’s the plan. Our primary defensive objectives are the admin quarter and the starport.” Her finger pointed at the holographic runway, her R3 behind her giving a soft whine as it internalized the information. “If need be, we focus everything here. We can’t lose the starport.”

“Understood ma’am,” the colonel replied grimly. “By chance, are the others of Arcona…?”

His open-ended question made her smirk. “Yes, they’re coming. And we’ll try and get them where they’re most needed.” Her gaze went back to the map. “What’s this here? A turbolaser battery? Am I remembering that right?”

“Yes ma’am. There is a small garrison there that has managed to prevent destruction of the gun. However, they are surrounded and liable to be overrun.”

She nodded ponderously. “Hmm… Alright. Then we have our offensive plan, and it hinges on that turbo. Hold off the enemy there to disrupt the Mortis’ advance, take out their staging area, and blast that asteroid-thing into fracking dust.” She looked at the colonel. “If the Children value their lives, they’ll turn tail rather than die fighting; and we’ll give them that avenue. But we need to control the air. Once we do that, we can put troops on the Caldera.”

“You have someone in mind?”

“We just stood up the Eleventh Regiment. They should be able to insert and fight through.”

“Understood, ma’am. Jelenko, relay everything you just heard to the operations staff.”

“Yessir!” As if reflexively, she walk-ran toward the regimental staff, R3-M3 following close behind. The droid’s holoprojector would make the sergeant’s report that much easier, and quicker.

“I’ll relay this along Arconan channels as well,” Qyreia added as she and the old Selenian resumed looking at the map. “Then I aim to find a nice spot with the troops and remind the Children of Mortis that we’re not trapped on this island with them. They’re trapped on it with us.”

Selen - Dajorra System Voidbreaker II 40 ABY

The Minstrel-class space yacht broke through the planet’s orbit to the immediate chorus of klaxons. From the bridge, Mune Cinteroph fretted over a datapad.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about—”

“—Mune!” an authoritative-esque voice called across the bridge. “Why is every single warning light on my ship going off at the same time?” Captain Zig Kaliska was wearing her full beskar armor but had her helmet tucked under her arm.

“Orders just came in from central command,” Mune explained, scratching the back of a canid ear. “I’ve cross referenced the data we have from the DIA and Inquisitorius on the Children of Mortis and pushed it out to everyone’s datapads.”

“Great, where do they want it?”

Mune blinked once and hid a smirk.

“Where do they want Voidbraker,” Zig corrected herself.

“We’re being tasked with securing the Starport. If that falls…”

“…we lose the tactical ability to land supplies or evacuate anyone from the island,” Jor’ana Sang-Kalinor finished the thought.

Mune nodded to the red haired Sephi. Zig eyed the woman, but her mind was already being pulled in a different direction. “Right, that settles it then. Assemble the crew, we’re going in hot.”

Mess Hall

“MEYRATH!” Druzk bellowed as he made his way through the rows of tables. “Answer your karkin’ comm,” the Barabel growled as he adjusted his new Frontier Armor and tightened the straps of his field pack. The urban camouflage pattern matched well with his scaled skin.

Fortunately, it was not very hard to find the Zabrak. All he had to do was follow the trail of smoke coming from the kitchen.

“Hey, spikes!” he called out again just as he kicked open the door to the kitchen. “Time to-”

“WHAT!?” the Zabrak sneered as he untied the food-stained apron he had been wearing and hurled it at the Barabel. Druzk sidestepped with ease.

“I said, check your comm. We’ve got more monsters to fight.”

The Zabrak’s frustration at being interrupted quickly faded and was replaced with an eager grin.

Med Bay

Doon Sulvir grunted as the medic poked and prodded him with various medical tools. “So you already know what the doctors said. This is a bad idea,” Eleceos Aarave explained to the grizzled Shistavanen. “You’ll be able to fight, but the pain will be…”

Doon grunted and pushed his massive bulk up and off the medical table. He’d sat idle long enough. “There will be time for rest later,” he said quietly.

Eleceos sighed, realizing the futility, and scooted backwards on his stool. At the same time, both the Miraluka and Shistavanen’s comms began to flash with orders from the bridge. They both exchanged glances, and immediately grabbed for their weapons and started to report towards the Hangar.

Hangar Bay

One by one, Voidbreaker Battleteam assembled. Zig still kept her helmet off so everyone could see her serious expression. They had been through a lot since she took over as Captain of the ship, but this would be, in a way, their first real operation as a team. And it couldn’t have come at a more critical moment. Their home had been attacked before, but now, more than ever, they needed to come together.

Kathka was one of the last to arrive. The others all gathered together. This was Zig’s chance to be the leader she knew she was supposed to be. Zuza wasn’t there, and she felt that pull at the corner of her heart. But they both had roles to play, and duty came first when their home was threatened. “I’m not going to sugar coat this,” the Captain started. “We’re about to hot-drop into a cluster-kark of a warzone. You’ve already been briefed on the enemies three different factions: Truthwardens, Shadowseers, and Lightbringers - bunch’a fancy names for things we’re going to have to make dead one way or another.”

There were a few chuckles. Better than dead silence at least.

“Our objective is simple though. Secure the Spaceport, repel the invaders. Stick together, watch each other’s backs, and protect our house.”

The Voidbreakers nodded along. She then remembered a holovid, one of her favorites and decided to go for a quote from it. War was about momentum, and hype was a form of momentum.

“We must protect this house” Zig called, her voice ringing loud as it could go as her fist pumped into the air over her head.

There was a confused silence. She could have sworn she heard an insectoid chirping noise. But it was just Mex’s antenna. The Zygerrian narrowed her eyes dangerously at her former apprentice. Mex stared blankly at the captain, clearly confused, but waved.

“I said, We must protect this house!”

There were a few hands and paws that went to cover some of the crew members’ faces.

“We must protect this house,” Mex finally answered, mimicking Zig’s fist-raising gesture.

“Good ‘nuff,” Zig conceded as she lowered her fist and fixed her helmet over her head.

Fort Blindshot Barracks

Aru Law had only recently returned to Clan Arcona. In that short time, he had already managed to find a place to have a drink without Ruka shutting it down. Why that place had been the Barracks on a military base, no one knew. But his comm went off for the twentieth time, he finally decided to answer it.

“Hey, Captain! What’s up?” he smiled into the holocom.

“Aru, Blindshot is under attack, why haven’t you been answering your comm?” Zig’s hologram interrogated the former Aedile.

“Oh. Is that why all the alarms are going off?”

“Yes. Voidbreaker will be landing at the spaceport in ten—rendezvous with us and provide assistance.

“Yeah…I don’t know about that…” Law drawled, his attire completely disheveled and empty bottles littered around him.

“That’s where the rum is stored, Aru. They’re going to try and take the ru—”

“—UNACCEPTABLE!” Aru replied, quickly scrambling to put himself together and closing the comm.

Hangar Bay 10 Minutes till landing

Meyrath rifled through his equipment for the fifth time, checking to make sure everything was still in there. Mentally, he went over his checklist. Knife, other knife, lightsaber, comlink, flask, double-blade knife, hidden knife, blaster, throwing knives, aaand poison… Yeah, everything checked out.

Looking over to his left, the furred Shistavanen caught his attention. “Hey Kath, cup-check,” he said as he threw a bacta canister at her as hard as he could. While it was a bit off mark, it still nailed her straight in the asscheek.

Kathka bit back a yelp as she flinched, whipping around to see the Zabrak crouching there with a stupid grin on his face. She quirked a brow. “Oh yeah?”

She grabbed the bacta can and took a step toward him, arm reared back as if to throw it - but at the last second she kicked out her foot, putting it directly between his legs.

He was not wearing a cup.

With a gasp, he collapsed into a ball of coughs and moans. Kathka’s hand slapped across her own face. “What the- I thought you were wearing one!”

Meyrath peered up with watery eyes, curling up on the ground. “I think… I think I left it in my room…”

“Oh, you think, huh?”

“Mmmhm.”

Kathka rolled her eyes and bent down, grabbing the Zabrak by the arm and hauling him upright. “Quit whining spikes, it’s not like there’s much to damage down there anyway. Now come on, let’s go meet with the others.”

Mune’s Quarters on the Voidbreaker 10 Minutes Before Meeting

“This sounds serious,” Carr hovered around the older Shistavanen. “You only just got back, and that big guy… Doon? He nearly died.”

Mune sighed heavily and turned towards their younger brother to snap something at him in response but stopped. Carr’s ears were back, and he looked genuinely worried. It was true; they only just returned from the station; as a matter of fact, the claxons were doing nothing for the remnants of the migraine they obtained. They knew the snappishness was only because of the situation and still dealing with the most recent events, so they reeled them in and offered Carr a sheepish smile.

“I will not leave you alone, Carr.”

“You can’t promise that!”

Mune slipped their lightsabers into the holsters, then sheathed their sapphire blade and amethyst khukri. They pulled their cloak over their armour and inhaled slowly. “I promise to do my best to make it back. Caleb is already backing up our forces somewhere on the line. I need to do the same. It is my duty.”

“Your duty sucks,” Carr huffed.

“Carr, you are eleven years old; when I was your age….” Mune stopped; gods, they sounded old. Mune shook their head, “It does not matter. You need to accept that I have things I must do.”

Carr’s ears did not come back up.

Mune grabbed their datapad then, hesitating, “When I get back, I will tell you about me at your age. I will tell you what you have been trying to get at for the last half-year.”

“You’re just saying that….” Carr started.

“No. I should have told you about me before now, but….” Mune shook their head, “I just do not like pity; I especially have never wanted it from those I care about. Mom was right not to tell you; she felt it was for me to share, and then I too refused.”

“I won’t… I.… just come back safe, okay?”

“I will,” Mune turned to make their way to meet the others in the hangar. They stopped at the door to their quarters and called back, “Stay safe.”

“You too. If you get hurt…. I’ll hardcore kick your tail,” Carr smirked. “And Cal will help me.”

Mune returned the smirk and left.

Voidbreaker Hangar 10 Minutes until Landfall

“We must protect this house!” Zig had called out.

Mune fought the urge to cover their face. Embarrassment by proximity, Mune could have sworn they heard chirping. They were glad for their cowl concealing their ears. When she repeated it, the awkwardness deepened. Mune muzzle palmed and sighed softly, losing the battle.

The pep talk adjourned; Mune pulled their datapad from under their cloak and found a quiet spot to review the data again. However, being alone was not their friend and allowed their mind to wander. They could not help thinking about their last mission and how it had cost each of them somehow. What will this one cost us, they wondered. They eyed Doon amongst the other Arconans gathered and frowned some. They thought of Ruka and Sororra, Eleceos and Cole. Mune gave their head a quick shake and growled under their breath. You distract yourself with ‘what ifs.’ Stop being an inexperienced pup about it.

They pushed away any thoughts that would distract them, focused instead on the task at hand, and made ready for battle the best way they knew how. By studying everything, they knew of the enemy by putting their mind to work and trying their best to think ahead. To put their intelligence to work, trying to outthink their foe.

Jor’ana sat on top of a crate fiddling with her rifle scope as the team began to arrive in the hangar bay. She could see the seriousness on Zig’s face and it was likely mirrored by her own. This was not the first invasion that she had experienced in her life, so she knew what horrors awaited them.

Zig’s pep talk and briefing was short but to the point. The Sephi remained silent throughout but nodded to the captain at specific points to show her agreement. This would be a hot-drop into a combat zone against an unknown number of extremely powerful hostile’s. The team would have their work cut out for this one.

Voidbreaker Hangar Bay 30 Mins Prior

The Mandalorian looked around the hangar bay at the transport vehicles they had available for the drop. The Nightfall Prism sat at one end of the bay with several crawlers and repulsor transports parked next to it.

“Hopefully they will be enough” she spoke aloud, not really to anyone in particular.

“Better make sure they are all geared up and ready for the hellstorm we are going to be dropping into.” With that, she waved to the two technicians she had waiting and they started to bring the grav sleds loaded with equipment over to the various transport vehicles and repulsor platforms. Everything from E-Webs to blasters, Thermal Detonators to Med kits, they were going to need everything that they could carry down to that planet, they couldn’t rely on the local armories, no way to know if they had been compromised or not.

Voidbreaker Hangar Bay: Nightfall Prism 10 Mins till Drop

Jor stood at the ramp as the technicians finalized the equipment loading, her ship had plenty of cargo space from the modifications. They were now full. She heard a chirping noise from the direction of the access ladder

“What’s up Number 2? Surely you can’t be getting nervous, you have been through messier scrapes with me and Uncle Rins.”

“Droid chirps and beeps”

“Don’t worry, we will get out of this one and I will bring you home in one piece, as long as you do the same for me.”

She headed over to the access ladder and climbed to the bridge and crew level. As she reached the top of the ladder she called out to her other Droid.

“KC, are we nearly ready for the drop?”

She heard the droid turn around in his pilot’s chair.

“Yes Mistress, we are ready to go, the ship is fueled, our supplies are loaded, we are just waiting for our passengers. The ship is in excellent condition and the armour and shields are at full strength so we should encounter little issue during our landing operations”

Jor carried on up to her cousin’s workbench in the crew space. Her weapons were waiting for her. Edema had done a full service on all of her equipment and had taken special care to make sure her new rifle was in top condition, beneath the table lay four crates of ammo packs, two crates of cryoban darts and enough ammunition for her gauntlets to stop a small army. On top of them was a note written on a piece of flimsiplast.

Thought you would need these given what you’re going into. Stay safe, stay alive and bring your ass back to me in one piece. Love Edema

She smiled. Her cousin was so thoughtful. Without a second thought she began to sort her equipment out ready for the coming drop.

Voidbreaker Habitation Bay

There was a lot of going on. Excitement, fear, focus and motivation could be felt in the air.

Deep breaths… movements of the paws… tight bandages at the body - last drops of the water…

All plants were watered, every small cage in the chamber had some precise food type inside. The room was covered in the shadows, like the nest under the avian mother’s body. The bloody bandages were thrown to the box in the corner, and a new unused pack of them was placed at the table - next to bow, arrows and the Bacta Bomb.

The Shistavanen took off another piece of red coloured bandage, and throw it into its place.

Bruising had almost gone, but fallen concrete wall had wounded his skin hidden under the red fur.

Archian picked up field medic backpack in his right, and with slow careful movement, pushed all items from table inside. Crippling pain shot him lightning lying through his body, but legs didn’t stop and crossed the doors out from the room.

Arcona made the call. Medic would be needed. And their enemies would need to be killed.

Turbolaser Tower 05 Blindshot Island, Eastern Edge

The tower was scarred and marred, but it still stood tall and high, turret top rotating and twin turbolasers occasionally sending deadly fire towards the Mortis forces making their way up towards the main Blindshot facilities. Of the half dozen turbolaser towers that stood on the island, only Tower Five was still doing work.

This was largely due to the dug-in fortifications, manned by troopers from the Fifth Regiment of the Second Selen Legion. They were, at this point understrength, undermanned, and had put a sizeable dent in their supplies as waves of so-called Lightbringers and crystal aberrations crashed upon their line.

Another reason they still stood was the Kaleesh in legion armor that stalked amongst their ranks, a powerful fighter and an absolute juggernaut of a Sith that reinforced the line whenever it seemed close to faltering. Rrogon Skar Agrona was in his element; killing those who opposed his Clan without worrying about the diplomatic consequences of his actions. Between himself and his vornskr companion, Oiche, they’d created a fair number of bodies this day.

But supplies were dwindling, and morale was beginning to fade as the other towers of the island grew quiet. That the tower and its fortifications were built up to the edge of the island, the waters of the Selenian ocean at their backs, meant there was nowhere to go. Occasionally a flight of starfighters would do a pass, peppering the Mortis troops as they regrouped for another assault, buying the soldiers of the Fifth some time to breath, but it was too sporadic to be relied on. Even artillery strikes from the Blindshot base of operations had been fully redirected to defending the main part of the base.

So it was with some surprise to one of the only troopers looking out to sea that the waters did part and a craft emerged from below. A light freighter, fit for the ocean environment, apparently, rose up on repulsors, glimmering in the sunlight as water cascaded off its shining hull. From the front came the rising shouts of another attack, but the trooper just stared as the freighter cleared the cliff, its bow turning slightly as if staring at the approaching Mortis forces, before the quartet of medium laser cannons mounted under its wings spat red death, peppering the charging crystalline enemies.

Coupled with a heavy outpouring of fire from the various gun emplacements that had been set up along their lines, the Fifth pushed another attack back, taking advantage of the newly-arrived ship’s surprise attack. It had been more blinding than damaging, but blinded foes tended to stay still long enough to be gunned down. Even the more resilient Mortis forces. The enemy fell back once more to regroup, leaving a scowling Skar standing on a battlement. He hadn’t even been able to close with them before they fled this time, he noted with annoyance, glaring back at the ship.

The freighter spun in place using maneuvering jets, dropping a rear ramp and hovering in place to show a green-dreadlocked Kiffar sporting an impressive gunbelt leaning against the bulkhead.

“Well, hi there, boys! You look like you could use some freshening up!” she called, waving a hand forward. Almost begrudgingly, an older model KX-Series security droid came stomping out, cargo crates piled against its chest, before dumping them inside the trench lines. “Ammunition, explosives, even some snacks,” spoke the Kiffar brightly.

“You shot my enemies, Diyrian,” hissed Skar from below, glaring up with red eyes. He let his gaze travel over the pile of munitions the droid had brought and seemed to be returning with more. “Though this was…necessary.”

“Who,” he growled, less a question and more an accusation. “You said we.”

There was a burst of smoke, and a flash of chrome as something large rocketed out of the back of the ship, landing near the front of the fortifications. Standing tall, armor shining like silver with a purple, glowing hammer over his shoulder, was someone that the Sith hadn’t hoped to see this day.

”Never fear, soldiers of the Fifth Regiment! You have held admirably, and driven a thorn firmly into the enemy’s side! As such, the lovely Diyrian has brought supplies, and I…I have brought the battle prowess of generations of the Garmis line!”

Stres’tron’garmis stood proudly, an incredibly obvious target to any Mortis troops thoughtful enough to start sniping. He’d also chosen his landing site with a purpose, not just to put himself front and center for the weary soldiers, but upon what had once been an armored vehicle of some kind that had been dragged in place to reinforce the line. The KX and a much smaller floating probe droid disembarked as it left them, sinking back to the sea below, ready to be called for a quick exit.

”We shall hold this tower! We shall not allow the enemy to take Blindshot, and we shall not falter! They come for our lives, and the lives of those we care about. So,” he turned to face outwards from the battlements, ”We shall take theirs first, yes? A glorious battle! With a righteous purpose!”

As he finished shouting, he slammed the end of his hammer down, letting the pulse emitter on it trigger like a gong, before shouldering the weapon and simply…waiting.

“You had to bring Garmis,” seethed the Kaleesh. He wouldn’t admit that many of the troops were seeming to stand a bit straighter in their trenches, perhaps not inspired but given purpose, knowing that the Mortis advance was stalling because they hadn’t failed.

“You think he’d stay away from a fight like this?” teased the Kiffar, waving her ship off. The surprise attack had worked, but the only reason the tower wasn’t facing heavy armor was that it was designed purposefully to tear it apart. Having a ship in place to reinforce would just draw too much heat.

Archian, also known as “Red”, walked out from the darkness of the corridor to the light of the bay. It was full!

Moving one step after another, he located himself (carefully), behind everyone else to listen to what Capitain Zig was talking to different members of the crew that were getting ready. .

While moving the balance of his body from the more painful left side, he placed his arm against a metal crate to support himself.

He could feel bandages starting to humid with fresh blood coming from his wounds.

Archian felt motivated, as saw the same at the faces of Jor, Mune and Kathka with Zabrak alongside her.

The morale of the team was growing. The cumulative emotions could be almost smelled from the air in his wolf like nostrils.They were close to deployment at the Blindshot island now, he could sense it. .

Red couldn’t stop himself from estimating the health condition of everyone around, and comparing it with the insides of his medical backpack, which was full of tools, weapons, and treatment supplies.

He did this not only for better support of the crew in the near future, but also for distraction from the culmination of his own pain.

One, two, three Shistavanen started to count, and closed his eyes.

Numbers would help with the focus of his mind. They will help for strong persuasion to move his body, and take control.

They were close, and he put a smile on his full, sharp canine tooth.

Voidbreaker corridor 10 minutes before meeting

The walk from the medbay to the hangar felt like a long one. Many thoughts swirled through the Miraluka’s head, his failure on the research station being one of them. How was he supposed to help and protect his friends and allies, when he couldn’t even keep himself safe. While his time aboard the Voidbreaker II had been short so far, he had seen so much of his crewmates strength. Aside from some medical relief, Ele didn’t feel that he had much to offer.

“Misiria, I feel like such a child right now, but I wish you were here with me.” Ele always felt such comfort when his cousin was nearby. She was his grounder. The only one able to touch him without his Force powers activating. Without her, he had always felt like a piece of his soul was missing.

“Master Aiden, Master Satsi, you would want me to be strong, and I am trying. But I feel so useless at times. How do I overcome this weakness?” His teacher in the ways of the Force, and his instructor in how to defend himself, had both imparted much wisdom and knowledge to him. He sought out a way to better utilize their teachings, and make them proud.

“Rein, I cannot rely on your protection. You need to rediscover yourself as a free being, and I will not stand in your way of that. My dear friend, I hope to see you again soon.” He hadn’t known the assassin long, and their meeting had not been the picture of grace, but Ele cared greatly for them. He wanted to show them that he could protect them as well. His friend deserved that.

Taking a deep breath, the Miraluka set his sight on the hangar. No matter what happened today, he would fight for his people. Even if it cost him his life, that sacrifice would be worth keeping those he cared about safe. Their lives were precious and worth far more than his. He wouldn’t let them be wasted.

Hagar Bay After meeting

Eleceos walked away from the group following their Captain’s speech, and he couldn’t say it made him any less nervous about the coming conflict. These “Children of Mortis”…he’d been studying up on them, and they frightened him. And the news that they had unleashed crystal creatures on Selen? After dealing with the Caxquette’s, he had hoped to never have to deal with those crystals from Dandoran again.

Regardless of his worries, they had a job to do. They had friends, family, and innocents to save. This unprovoked attack on Selen would not go unpunished by this crew, and Ele would stand beside them in battle. He would shield those who needed protecting, and heal those who would otherwise not survive the confrontation. And he would kill his heart by taking the lives of any who threatened those who were precious to him.

The thought of killing was a parasite within his mind. It grew and fed on his insecurities. Like an insect, he could feel it crawling in his skin. But he held great power within him, and with that power came the responsibility to do what he could to help. His qualms with taking a life meant nothing in the face of war. His clan’s survival meant more. And Arcona would survive. No matter the cost he had to pay.

Voidbreaker II: Bridge 5 Minutes Before Contact

Reports were filtering through the Captain’s comms and she was struggling to keep up. The incessant stream of information was deafening. Wasn’t this why they had intel officers and logistics people?

“MUNE!” Zig’s modulated voice called out from behind her beskar helmet.

“Yes, Captain…?” the Shistavanen said calmly and carefully.

“I need to check on a few more things before we land, but can you please filter down the comm chatter and isolate it to the starport and its immediate area, not the entire karking AAF?”

“Oh, yeah, no problem.” Cinteroph nodded as they focused down on their datapad.

Zig glanced around the bridge and took note of each of the officers going through their respective procedures. Navigation was shouting at the pilots to anticipate their landing vectors, while the weapons officers were priming the turbolaser array’s targeting systems.

The Zygerrian squinted as one of the officers sitting in one of the chairs who looked a bit too…short to be an officer. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and approached the chair. Sure enough, a young Shistavanen had plugged his datapad into the terminal and was making modifications to the hotkeys the previous operator had set.

“Ahem,” Zig cleared her throat loudly.

“AHH—Oh! Hey, Zig! Guess what? I’ve written a subroutine that should increase the accuracy of the blasters! Isn’t that neat!?”

“Mhm…and then you were going back to the cargo bay to finish your organization assignments?”

“I uh…yeah, obviously.” The younger Cinteroph sibling fidgeted.

“Mhm. Well. If you get held up here…just remember. Shoot the bad guys, not us.” She couldn’t emote from behind her helmet but she did manage to pat the boy on the shoulder.

Zig turned and took one more look around the bridge before making her way back towards the hangar bay. As she strode down the corridor, beskar boots clunking noisily against the plated floor, she pinged engineering from her wrist-computer.

“Talk to me, Pantman,” the Captain said.

“Talk to…we are talking, I thought…Oh. You want me to give you an update,” Nathan Breeze, one of the ship’s top engineers, replied. “And I thought you said you would stop calling me that.”

“If you can make this work, consider it a thing of the past,” Zig countered.

“Yeah, well, the tractor beam was never meant to do what you’re asking,” Nathan sighed. “But yes, we were able to make the modification you mentioned. Avery had to fix part of your schematic…”

“…yeah, well, I was working quickly, and that’s what he gets paid the big bucks for,” Zig shot back. After a pause she continued, “And the other thing I requested?”

“Oh…that was easier. But are you sure it’s necessary?” Nathan said.

Zig didn’t reply immediately, but the two engineers knew each other well enough to know that the Zygerrian had an knowing grin hidden behind her helmet.

Fort Blindshot Spaceport CONTACT The Children of Mortis knew that the starport would be a critical zone to capture and secure. With the Arconan Armed Forces stretched out thinner and thinner in an attempt to fortify and defend the entire island, cracks and openings were becoming inevitable. The Lightbringers, united in their devotion to the Father and his cause, were determined to crush any resistance in their path.

Chains unbound…

The armored transport carrier, modified with bolstered shields thanks to their understanding of the Force crystals, made sure that landing their vanguard went smoothly. Like the renowned Purge Troopers of the Inquisition long since past, the Lightbringer soldiers were clad in impressive looking plate armor that initial reports said could fight off the bite of a lightsaber. Each carried some kind of augmented blaster, kinetic weapon, shield, or baton and showed no signs of slowing or tiring despite their initial skirmish with Arcona’s first lines of defense.

They were prepared for the so called Shadesworn, these phony Force Adepts who did not follow the Father’s ways. Sith, Jedi, Disciple…it mattered not. They were ready for anything.

Or so they thought.

As the Lightbringers started to spread out to secure the starport, one of their Startouched Researchers paused and looked up towards the sky while touching a hand to their headset.

“Incoming ship, is…is that a Minstrel-class yacht? That’s not a military ves—AHHHH”

A shrill, high pitched noise flooded the researcher’s earpiece, causing her to cringe and rip the apparatus off and throw it aside. The other Researchers reacted similarly.

One of the Lightbringer soldiers regarded the Researchers quizzically. “What is it?”

“It’s some kind of…high-pitched…racket! Heavy stringed instruments, pounding…relentless…amplified to high frequency…” she stammered.

“Some kind of trick of the Force?” the soldier asked.

“No…not the Force…sound frequencies…”

Then a new sound altogether started. Turbolaser batteries started to rain down, and it cost the Lightbringers a few scores of troopers before they could deploy their portable shield generators and attempt to fire back at the new threat.

“`

”`

The Voidbreaker II made its entrance to the sound of heavy metal riffs courtesy of one Kathka Torgrim. The modified space yacht had industrial grade speakers meant for entertainment, but the cadre of talented mechanics and engineers gravitated towards the Scavenger-turned-Captain Kaliska. So they had been able to modify the speakers’ frequencies to take advantage of Blindshot’s local communications arrays and broadcast a “screech” targeted towards any local radios.

“Now I get why you insisted on recording my sessions,” the Shistavanen commented towards the Zygerrian. From behind her helmet’s visor, Zig just grinned as she signaled for engineering to cut off the sound.

“Voidbreakers!” the Captain called out. “Cry havoc and let slip the hogs of War! ”

Part of the Battleteam hooted and let out a shout of support, but a few who knew the Captain’s habit of quoting holonet films simply sighed and readied their weapons.

“It’s dogs, by the way. Dogs of war,” Mune whispered the correction to Zig as he sidled up beside her.

“Whatever farm animal of war, Cinteroph, it’s go time!” she countered, bouncing up and down in place to hype herself up and shake off the obvious nerves that were battling the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Mex looked back and forth at the exchange. “Hi, Zig. What is a havoc and why are we crying it?”

“Just keep your head down and shoot the other team that’s attacking us, Mex,” Zig explained as best she could.

Mex nodded once, but Kaliska didn’t have time to check if he registered it. She tapped a button on her wrist-computer, and the hangar hatch opened on the belly of the Voidbreaker II. Then, with a salute to her team, she stepped out into the fast-approaching ground of the spaceport and activated her jetpack.

“Arcona Invicta!” she shouted one last time before turning mid-air and dashing towards the newly formed battlefield.

“`

”` The Nightfall Prism II zipped through the airspace around the spaceport, now detached from the Voidbreaker’s extended hangar bay and free to fly on its own. From inside the ship, Jor’ana Sang-Kalinor peppered the ground with blaster fire while juking and dodging away from counterfire from the Children of Mortis ground forces. It was enough, when combined with the *Voidbreaker II*s array of turbolasers, to give the rest of the Battleteam time to land and establish a perimeter around the ship, using the shipping crates and other obstacles around them as cover.

Down on the ground, Zig Kaliska hunched behind her vambrace’s plasma shield against the initial volley of blaster fire. At her side, Mune activated both lightsabers and assisted with deflecting and parrying bolts away from the others.

Just behind them, Eleceos emerged with his energy bow at the ready. The Miraluka picked out targets with his unique sight as he stretched out through the Force to get a read on the enemy around them.

After Eleceos, Archian aimed to keep his head down, ready to heal or help wherever he could. He would do little good if he got shot, so he was content to hang back. Upon seeing the chaos, however, he immediately turned around and went back towards the ship to get…his own version of reinforcements.

Kathka came out astride Goremonger—her Varactyl—with her energy bow string thrumming as she started to shoot back at their adversaries.

Next out of the ship and moving immediately towards the far side of the ship were Druzk and Meyrath. The Barabel took aim with his new Sonn-Blas F-11D Blaster Rifle, while Meyrath took a swig from a flask and then stretched out his long fingers as they started to crackle with Force-fueled electricity that matched the fire of an impish grin.

Mex exited once the ship had formally landed, but was still fussing with his B1 Battle Droid that they had been working on for weeks.

“Hi Tan,” the Verpine buzzed excitedly. “I need you to help ‘cry a havoc’ and ‘shoot the people that are shooting us’.”

“Roger rog—” Tan started to say but was cut off as a stray blaster bolt whizzed right past Mex and took off the droid’s head. It rolled across the ground a few meters away. Mex made a nervous tittering sound with their mandibles and quickly chased after the rolling head.

Somehow, blaster bolts continued to miss them.

Voidbreaker II: Bridge

Of the few who stayed behind on the ship, Doon Sulivir watched his “new” pack bravely wade out into the thick of battle. He knew he should be out there, with them, but remembered what Marick had mentioned in their initial training.

The mind is as formidable a weapon as a blaster or saber.

Doon took a breathing mask and inhaled bacta before turning his lone eye to the three-dimensional holomap that floated over the table at the back of the Voidbreaker II’s bridge. Perhaps his mind and experience could be of more use than his brawn right now. Fight smarter, and make sure he would not lose anyone else from the pack.

And just like that, the battle for Fort Blindshot’s starport had finally begun.

“`

”` Seeing the efforts of the Voidbreakers sparked a kindling flame of resistance among the Spaceport security officers and soldiers that had been ready to say a prayer and meet their ends in service to the Shadow Clan. With renewed vigor, the brave soldiers of Fort Blindshot’s Spaceport rallied and joined the fight, while the less well-armed engineers and technicians fled towards the ship for cover.

And still, the Children of Mortis pressed forward, undeterred.

Training Sector Fort Blindshot

“Tzzza—at— forces arrived at Tower Five, repeat, General Garmis and reinforcements confirmed deployment at Tower Five, hold for—”

“Hav— zzzZZZTTTRRREEEEKzz — *frakking frak, ow, watch that feedback! Confirm, Tower Five reinforced, Voidbreaker II is en route to the seaport—”

A dark shape cast a long shadow as it ripped by overhead, dangerously low to the treeline, wide berth careening towards its destination while laserfire spat from a single array at its front.

There wasn’t time to watch the yacht make its arrival.

Red plasma crashed into blue, spitting furiously. A moment of struggle, of bared teeth. The light spat and wavered with the tremble of his arm, ready to buckle, even with the Force, even with all the power of the Dark behind it, bolstering it.

But thankfully, Ruka wasn’t alone. Not this time.

Another blade lanced just past his right ear, smashing into the one he pushed back. With an enraged scream of defiance, Socorra was at his back, at his shoulder, dutiful to death, and together their two sabers tossed away that of the crystalline soldier bearing down upon them. Plasma screamed, cried, fell in sparks and extinguished. The hilt rolled into the trim, boot-flattened grasses.

“NOW!” the Proconsul hollered, dropping straight down to the ground, palms slamming, Socorra crouching to cover him as she was wont to.

Blasterfire sprayed right above them, a battered AAF firing line come calling. The bolts splashed and sputtered against the so-called Ascendant’s red-ridden armor, bursting against the clusters of crystal that erupted from their massive body. It didn’t do much in and of itself; seemingly none of their weaponry did. But it did serve as a nuisance, blindingly bright, forcing a defensive posture, the blood and bone beneath that diamond and dogma still knowing, beyond anything training or modification could muster, the response of a flinch, the will to live, fight or flight.

The soldier took a half step, then two, back. With its saber knocked away, they raised one gauntleted hand to block their vision of the salvos’ glare, while the other, emptied, reached for a sword strapped to their back.

In those intervening heartbeats, another duo came from the sides, dancing blades and sabers. Zuza skidded in low, grimace like a smile, smeared in dirt, weapon scoring across the back of the soldier’s knees, right at the hamstrings. Meanwhile, Tyga Orn Nilim went high, vaulting up in a pinwheel to bring his blade to bear stabbing into the chest plate, lekku flying behind him.

For a moment, everything wobbled.

The saber blades didn’t cut all the way through the crystal. The two struggled, teeth bared, blood pounding, ready to die on this line.

“Go,” Ruka ordered his Shadesworn, and Socorra uncurled from around him, raising her beskar spear, and threw it as hard as she could. Its tip crunched into the soldier’s chest, sinking into the score Tyga had cut, and the Ascendant yowled around the rock formations jutting from their throat. They started to topple, Zuza shoving at their legs, and then—

The Mirialan lifted his eyes, focusing briefly on the spear, and pushed.

The give was soft, the sound lost to the mayhem around them. The beskar ripped through like a bullet, quick and seamless, lodging in the earth three quarters down its length. Blood dribbled from the Ascendant’s chest, the fine hole torn right through it.

They toppled. Zuza barely scrambled out of the way in time with a whoop.

Even the strongest of them couldn’t best any of the Children’s warriors on their own. But they had fought monsters. Real monsters. On the ground, under sea, under ice, in the stars. They had taken that experience and those scars and learned, taken it and everything they’d witnessed and fought through on Dandoran and tried to prepare for such eventualities as these as much as they could. Tried to impart onto those who hadn’t been there just how dire the crystals and deadly the Mortis could be.

Not two meters away, Sera launched herself off the ground, the song in her a desert wind, careening her leg into another soldier’s jaw with enough force to shatter crystal outgrows in a spray of shards and blood, hers and theirs. At the same time, their double heartbeats in sync, Karran roared and threw himself bodily at the reeling Ascendant, all his weight and power behind the battering ram of his horn-crowned skull. Between the two, the soldier stumbled, rocking sideways and swaying, and like a ripple of shadow splitting at the seams, suddenly a Human man was there, just behind the behemoth as they fell, sliding his saber between their plated shoulder blades and allowing their own gravity to imaple them on the plasma. The white lightsaber disappeared seconds later before the soldier fully fell, and so, again, did Tameike, cloaked by the Force.

As soon as the bodies dropped, another darted in. The Sephi used a scrap of cloth to quickly, emotionlessly pick over one corpse, done before Ruka even stood up, while his droid twittered over the other.

“Kist, you fried this one too. Stop using lightning,” Jael muttered at his Proconsul without regard, and Ruka didn’t blink or pull a face.

“I’m trying,” he said in return, with a brief hint of frustration, then called, “Ay, everyone! Up and move!”

Their own squad quickly regrouped, backs to backs, watching all angles, the Fifth soldiers with them having never stopped shooting. Covering or suppressing or whatever type of fire, the Proconsul didn’t know, just that there wasn’t a moment, not one, to stop.

Their enemies kept coming, and they were on the front line. They would hold it until they fell.

The Mirialan thumbed at his wedding ring, muffled under his glove.

Jael’s milicreep droid beeped as it skittered to rejoin them. It held up a communicator in its forward pincers and beeped again, louder.

Jael perked instantly. “An intact one? Give it here, S-TINK.”

“Don't—” Ruka began, reflexive, but was waved at.

“I’m not going to test it, I’m going to copy its frequency before they drop this one too.”

Sera had picked up a comm herself off one of the Children’s other foot soldiers and nearly had it in her ear before her Aedile had screeched a warning about bicoded miniature bombs or spikes. A little discussion between their teams and Command, with input from Sulvir on Voidbreaker, had decided that expecting any of the enemy weapons or equipment to be trapped was safer. It was the only reason they weren’t using the Children’s lightsabers against them. The slices taken through Socorra’s Mandalorian beskar armor were testament to their strength, but they didn’t need to blow themselves up either.

It was doubly wiser, really. They were trying to minimize direct physical contact with any of the enemy items or organics as much as possible, just in case the crystalline infection could spread. Sera’s constant battlemeld was a comfort, bolstering their minds, should the whispers start creeping up.

The Proconsul tabbed his own earpiece, barely even sighing at the code name, “Green Cresh to Command One. Anything from Driftwood yet?”

“Command One to Green Cresh. Negative, sir. Last communication stated he was still en route to his position.”

“Copy. Transfer me to Red Qek.”

The line buzzed. Signal scrambling was a problem thanks to the Truthwarden technologies.

“—n’t let…ese schuttas win. Green. Frackin’. What’s your status?”

“Holding. Any angels for us yet?”

Qyreia’s growl was audible and familiar right in his ear.

“No, and it’s gonna be fracking a minute before we can even try a sweep. Just hold down.”

It was all they could do right now. Hold and defend. He’d thought to ask why they didn’t press on the meteor site to stem the flow, and the Zeltron Consul had had to explain, with detailed profanity, just how bad of an idea that was at the current time.

“Will do. Green out.” He dropped his hand. “Serami, how’s that leg, I saw blood. Karranmi, your head too.”

The Zabrak grinned at him, one-eyed, bright with a dimness behind it. Zuza had already torn her shirt to tie a bandage despite the medpacs the field medics carried.

“Check check! I—”

“Three o'clock, incoming!” an AAF Corporal warned, and there wasn’t any more time to analyze, to think, to breathe, not now.

“Form up,” Ruka snapped, gesturing. Karran and Sera flanked him with familiar ease, his apprentices both. Socorra stepped out in front of him, ripping her spear from the ground and taking the point of their formation. Jael fell back, and Tyga and Zuza fanned out. Uji would be coming up behind the next wave.

Except it wasn’t even waves. It was drowning. An ocean of crystals and blood on their ocean world. The enemy just kept coming. And coming. And coming.

And them.

They’d keep fighting.

Together, or not at all.

Fort BlindShot Spaceport

Mune’s cloak whipped and snapped in the wind that blasted past them. Their approach was greeted much as any would welcome a hindrance to an otherwise looming victory. The Shistavanen wore their Inquisitorius armour in its entirety, even over their usually bare feet, to avoid picking up shrapnel in their pads. Zig launched herself past to take to the field. As the ship came closer to the ground, Mune followed, drawing on the Force to land safely among the contingent of soldiers from the fifth they were to reinforce. 

Mune landed in a crouch among a group of soldiers under heavy fire. Without rising, a corona of protection surged to life instantly with but a thought. Multiple energy bolts flashed across its surface; the energy spread and dispersed harmlessly before the barrier faded. Heads snapped around to see the Shistavanen among them. There was no need for them to thank the new arrival for a split-second save; it was understood. They had enemies to push out of their territory, and the Voidbreaker breathed new life into the soldiers holding the port. Mune’s lightsabers flashed, the cloaked Shista deflecting several blaster bolts away before darting forward. The soldiers behind them back them up with their blaster fire. 

Their mind calculated the influx of precognitive feedback from the Force, building on their visual perception of the enemy before them. Mune closed with the nearest enemy soldier. In an instant, past their guard. One of their sabers came up, cutting through the barrel of a blaster rifle. Mune registered a fist coming at their skull and ducked fluidly. They quickly somersaulted out of its reach, and a hail of blaster fire slammed into the enemy trooper. A grenade was thrown, and Mune grabbed the enemy’s feet from their position, the Force ripping its legs out from under it. The denton charge landed on its prone shape and exploded violently, the blast’s energy dispersing over Mune’s protective barrier.

A fist slammed into the field from behind, cracks forming on its surface. Spinning around, a mighty second fist burst through those fractures and Mune managed to block the blow with both forearms, skidding backwards. The impact sent a jolt of pain through their arms, reminding the Shista just how strong these soldiers were. The soldiers of the fifth Mune had protected were already focussing fire on Mune’s new opponent. 

”Mune! Get away from it!” came a call out over comms in Shistavanen.

Mune ducked the third swing, then bolted away just as a short volley of heavy turbo laser fire slammed into the enemy trooper. They found themself wondering how well they withstood the firepower of a ship’s turbo laser, but there was no question when the soldier was obliterated. The next question they verbalized over the comms in their native tongue. ”What are you doing on the Voidbreaker bridge?! Wait. Why are you on comms?! Wait… why are you firing a turbo laser?!”

”The Captain said I could!” Carr answered back.

“Oh, gods …. Protect us all.” 

“Why would you need their protection? You have mine!” Came their brother’s reply.

“Shoot the bad guys! And if you break anything on her ship, you better hope Zig does not get a hold of you!”

“I’ll just tell her you broke it,” Carr answered snarkily.

Mune hurried back to the soldiers, kneeling to heal one of those that took a hit. “Nice grenade; do any of you need immediate medical attention. Do not let up even for a moment. We have lost enough fine soldiers already, and I refuse to let any more fall if I can help it.” 

“Yes, sir!”

“Cinteroph is fine….” Mune turned back towards the fight and snarled. “Let us show them what it means to set foot on Selen and threaten her people!”

Fort Blindshot Spaceport

As the Barabel exchanged fire with the aggressors, his attention snapped towards the Verpine that broke away from their engagement to chase after the head of their B1 Battle Droid. “MEX!” Druzk shouted out frustratingly towards them.

The lizard growled as he broke away from his positioning to chase after the damned bug that was unintentionally pushing forward, providing them with covering fire without aiming at any of the particular foes that dotted the landscape. Thankfully, the head of the droid stopped behind a pile of crates; Mex ducked down behind a box before a bolt caught them square in the head. The body of the B1 droid came soon after.

The Barabel panted as he slid in right next to them, shocked by their aloofness to the dangerous situation around them. “Hi, Druzk,” the Verpine casually chirped as they retrieved the now-stationary head to replace it back onto their droid’s body. Druzk stared at them in disbelief.

“You don’t just run out like that to chase after your damned droid’s head!” he hissed as the heavy blaster fire directed towards them was replaced by the sounds of heavy footsteps headed their way. Druzk drew in a deep breath and fumbled for the Tostovin Munitions Micro-Grenade Launcher strapped against his back.

A quick check of the weapon later, and Druzk was on his feet, firing a hail of explosives towards the quad squad of Lightbringers surprised by the sudden attack. If these guys were anything normal, the conflict would have been done. But, of course, they weren’t. As the Barabel lowered his weapon, he watched with wide eyes as all four of them stood right back up as if nothing had happened.

“What the—”

He quickly cut himself off, ducking right back behind the crates as a hail of blaster bolts started right back up again. If Druzk and Mex were to remain here, they would be decimated completely. “Shit!”

Mex stood up to see what was going on. Their awkward movements made it difficult for the Lightbringers to anticipate where they’d be next, and their shots missed them completely. “Hi, Druzk. There are bad pe—”

“I KNOW!”

The flustered Verpine stopped talking and returned their focus to repairing their droid. The Barabel swiftly reached for his belt, pulling ammunition to reload the grenade launcher. Despite it not having any noticeable effect on damaging the Lightbringers, at the very least, it’d help to slow them down. Druzk placed his attention back to the Verpine, eyes narrowed.

“Mex, we need to get back to the others. If we stay here, we’ll be ripped to shreds.” Druzk wasn’t one to give up, but he wasn’t dumb either. If his most potent weapon could not eliminate these damned things, holding their ground would be suicide. He stood out of cover with another deep breath to unleash another hail of explosives and pulled out his DL-44 handgun as the foes knocked over against the ground.

“MOVE!” he yelled and started a frantic sprint back towards their allies.

Fort Blindshot Spaceport

Busy working away on Tan, Mex ignored Druzk’s urge to retreat immediately. Re-soldering the primary connective wire and re-linking Tan with their head and additional sensors, the Verpine chirped victoriously. “Hi Tan, I have repaired you.” With their task done, Mex rested their tools for a moment and took stock of the situation. Standing up for just a fraction of a second, they got a good look at the squad of Lightbringers marching their way with weapons drawn. Also noticing that they left their tool on the floor instead of on their belt, they quickly bent down to grab it just as multiple blasters fired on their position. “Oh hi, tool. I am sorry.”

“Threat level critical,” Tan announced, attempting to fire on the approaching forces to no avail. The blaster rounds almost seemed to be getting absorbed by their foe’s armor.

Noticing Mex had failed to do the simple task of following him back to cover, Druzk doubled back, cursing under his breath at the idiotic bug that he felt responsible for. “Kark! Mex!” He made it back to the position just in time for the Lightbringer squad in question to be practically right on top of them. “Hi again, Dru—" was all Mex could get out before the Barabel had grabbed them and snarled, “Move. Now.”

But before they could actually accomplish the order, they were flanked by two of the Lightbringers. “Frak!” Druzk exclaimed, pushing Mex back and using his tail to trip the individual behind him. Pushed into another Lightbringer, Mex and the enemy both tumbled down, with the Verpine resting on top. Seeing their moment of opportunity, Druzk took his chance. “Alright, let’s go!”

Scrambling up off the enemy, Mex followed suit after the Barabel finally. “Okay Tan, tactical retreat! Back to friends!” to which the droid promptly replied with a, “Roger roger,” and opened fire with their E-5C Heavy Blaster Rifle. Thankfully, the attention Tan generated was enough to focus some enemy fire onto them instead of the two scurrying back to the more defensible positioning — but not without a few snags. Druzk had taken a grazing shot to the arm, causing him to hiss as he endured the burn it caused, and Tan was riddled with holes. Fortunately with the redundant systems it was not enough to cause a critical shutdown, but Mex would have their appendages busy with repairs for the time being.

Reunited with the intended defensive line, Mex grabbed some multi-purpose repair gel to utilise on Tan. “Continue crying,” was the strange order the Verpine gave to Tan, evidently still unsure of what Zig had requested of them. As the order was invalid, Tan resumed standard covering fire routines while they remained dug in alongside friendly forces. With the rest of the Voidbreaker squad in combat, the Lightbringers that they engaged took the position Mex abandoned, but they did not resume pushing yet.

“Kark, Mex, are you trying to get us killed!?” Druzk scolded aloud as he quickly checked his wound, evidently displeased with the Verpine’s rash actions.

“No. I was trying to retrieve Tan’s head. Mission successful,” Mex responded, sounding almost proud of themself.

With a sigh of exasperation, Druzk simply shook his head as he readied his next volley of explosives to slow down their aggressors. Hopefully the others were having better luck than them.

Turbolaser Tower 05 Blindshot Island, Eastern Edge

“Stay away, no. Go to the base where he could inspire more troops, yes,” snarled the Kaleesh as he looked at the stacks of provisions and ammunition that the pair of Arconans had brought. He inwardly sighed to himself. They needed this boost to morale however small and while he disliked the present company, there was no doubting the level of combat prowess they brought to the defense of the turbolaser tower.

Turning away, the hulking Sith barked out to one of the men manning the defensive line.

“Sergeant Beck, get over here!”

A young Selenian trotted over from the trench line, his ruddy brown hair caked with mud and dried blood, sunken and hollow green eyes more than reflecting the harsh reality of the situation he and his men had gone through.

“Sir!” he said briskly and while not snapping to attention or saluting, it was clear that he viewed the Kaleesh with a fair amount of respect given what they had been through.

“Make sure these supplies get distributed to the rest of the line, we don’t need anyone going hungry or running out of ammunition. It may well be we are going to be out here for a few days. I’ll see if we can’t get more supplies as well,” Skar said in a calm but commanding voice. There was no reply from the Sergeant but he immediately shouted out to two of his fellow men, calling them over and issuing orders of his own on where and to who needed what. A small well of pride burned in the Juggernaut’s chest as he watched his men move like a well-oiled machine, he had trained many of them in the years prior while serving as Aedile of Galeres.

But his momentary lapse of calm was short-lived as a frenzied voice called out to him or anyone that could hear.

“Medic! I need Medic over here!”

The cry came from the northern trench line that had been hit the hardest in the last attack. In a blink of an eye, the hulking Kaleesh was moving his instincts kicking into overdrive as heslid down into the trench proper the first thing he saw was one of the men kneeling next to another a large crystal protruding from the man’s chest. There was no telling how it had gotten lodged there or when.

All he knew is that the man’s life was measured in minutes maybe less. Kneeling down, the Sith placed a hand on the trooper’s shoulder and used the other to lift his chin so he could look into his eyes. They were glazed over, just still holding some sediment of life to them however fleeting it was. His breath was shallow and rough, interlaced with sputtering bouts of coughing. There was nothing the Sith could do for the man before him other than being there in his last moments.

It was a harsh reality of the war they faced, men died by the thousands. Yet, seeing life slip away from one before your eyes without the ability to do anything for them was always frustrating to the point of anger. There was a cold pit of grief that the Kaleesh pushed deep into his chest far enough away to where it would not bother him, somewhere where it could not cloud his judgment or mind.

The man’s breath finally began to slow as his eyes closed for their final time, his head rolling limply to its side as he lost the strength to keep it up. Bowing his own head, the Kaleesh said a silent prayer for the trooper before reaching down to his identification tags and ripping them off. Rrogon placed them on his belt next to where several were already hanging, a reminder to take ten for the everyone they had lost.

“Private, move him and lay him with the rest of the fallen. Strip him of any gear you and the others might need, it’s no good on him now,” the Juggernaut said quietly, rising to his feet once more. He exited that part of the trenches as the trooper began to do as he was told, the silent stoicism served him well in this rough time. Looking over back to where Strong and Diyrian were, he called out to them.

“If you got working comm equipment, put a call to the command net and see if we can’t get more men down here. Ready yourselves. They will be coming soon, it doesn’t take them long to regroup.”

Fort Blindshot Spaceport

As soon as the Voidbreaker’s door was open, Meyrath charged out headfirst. Electricity was already charged at his fingertips, and he was more than ready to give these ‘mortis’ fellas a piece of his mind.

One single target had caught his eye - a ‘purified ascendant trooper’ or whoever, standing on the rooftop of the shipment processing building. He hadn’t been paying too much attention to the briefing. It was their fault, really. A slideshow? Everyone knew slideshows were boring.

Regardless, Meyrath ran in at full speed letting loose a horrible battlecry, only once tripping when a blaster shot missed his foot by an inch. He clambered up onto several crates, lept over a gap, and finally made it onto the roof.

“Oi, asshat!”

The ascendant trooper turned to meet him. The head beneath the helmet turned slightly, and Meyrath could imagine a very confused expression behind that glassy black helmet.

He let loose a torrent of electricity, engulfing the trooper completely, and…

Nothing?

Meyrath frowned and looked at his own hands, shaking out one of them as if his Force could somehow be blocked.

Then, several things happened seemingly all at once.

The trooper somehow materialized in front of him. An armored fist reared back, and then plowed directly into Meyrath’s jaw. One minute, the Zabrak was standing on a rooftop. The next, he was sailing through the air with more than a little confusion evident on his features.

…

Beneath the building, Druzk and Mex stuck to their cover like bugs in a glue trap. The Barabel hissed as he checked the wound on his right arm again - still throbbing. He opened his mouth to bark something at Mex, but a crash cut his thoughts completely as his head snapped in the direction of the source.

There, about half a meter away, a body had landed in the crate next to them, effectively shattering it into splinters. He took one look at the person and immediately recognized them, much to his surprise.

“Hey guys,” Meyrath said.

“Hi Meyrath!” Mex piped up from behind him. “We are taking cover. You are welcome to join us down here!”

“Yeah, yeah I think I will,” the Zabrak said, wincing. “Might stay here for a sec. Or two.”

Druzk just sighed. “I’m gonna die down here, aren’t I?”

Training Sector Fort Blindshot

The open battlefield wasn’t the group’s preference for combat. Between the stealth tactics most commonly used by several of them and the overwhelming forces on top of it, it was grim at best.

Uji sank into the background as Tyga flanked right and Zuza flanked left. Within moments of separation, a sweeping blow from behind took a slice from her flyaway hairs. The Human had been moving with enough speed and randomness to evade the blow. She took the brief stumbling moment from the Lightbringer’s miss to spin ‘round. Her lightsaber made contact with the crystalised armor and sparked up into the trooper’s eyes. It didn’t hurt the trooper, but the moment’s breathing space was enough for the short Human to balk left and keep fanning out.

Taking down those Ascendants had been a huge feat, but it wouldn’t be the last. Hadn’t been the first either, the roaring death growls of the rancor earlier still haunting the group’s ears.

Monsters.

Zuza ducked and weaved her way through, glancing at the enemies for helmet straps and any gaps in these so-called Lightbringer’s armor. The straps were strengthened, but a lightsaber could still make their way through them, unlike the rest of the armor.

She could take on one, the strap was so obvious, tugged out and easy to access compared to the tucked and covered helmet straps of the majority.

It snapped with a quick slash. The trooper stumbled backwards and in panic at sparks of the saber flashing in his eyes, shot blindly for the Mercenary. In failure, however. She had already swung herself low between his legs, not bothering to try and weave away from curling bolts. She flicked the saber off for the maneuver at the last second. Jumping back up, Zuza took advantage of his distraction to use a piece of debris as a jumping pad, propelling herself up onto his back.

His neck became her anchor, legs squeezing. She didn’t bother with trying to snap his neck, nor with suffocating him. The high-powered gun suddenly shooting upward at her was enough to encourage quick action. The Human stuck her lightsaber at the base of his skull and turned it back on, going straight through the Lightbringer’s now unprotected head. Having seen these karkers heal like nothing else, Zuza rotated the saber, twisting it as the trooper screamed and the smell of flesh filled the air. Get all the brain, and it can’t get back up.

Hopefully, anyway.

Shots began focussing toward her, and on an unexpected instinct the Mercenary loosened one leg to slip around the corpse as it fell forward. Shot after shot slammed into the back of the advanced armor, but didn’t slash straight into Zuza’s back. It fell atop Zuza and she grimaced before shoving it aside, but the temporary blockade disappearing gave her time to slip away again.

Where was Tyga? Or Ruka…

A flash of red sparking soon identified the Mirialan, as Ruka and Socorra bore their way through the line. Although distance had built between Zuza and the group, it wouldn’t take too long, so long as she kept moving.

Onboard the Voidbreaker II

Nathan’s fingers diligently worked the communication system, one hand tuning into broadcast frequencies in search of coded chatter to start cracking. The other hand was noting chatter between the squads in the field, keeping an up to date list of events as the battle began to unfold. The pressure was on, and he could feel it. But as long as he could concentrate on his job, everything would be f—

“Officer Breeze, sitrep.”

The growl tore Nathan’s focus from his station to the massive figure leaning over the holo-console at the back of the bridge. The Pantoran-Human hybrid could feel his face turn an even darker shade of blue at the command, his own rank being brought back to the front of his mind. He had a duty.

“Uh, the portside, err, left flank is uh… retreating.”

There are a few moments where nothing happens. Nathan begins to internally panic. ‘Did he hear me? Was I too quiet?’ But as his mouth opened to repeat what he said, the black shape moved. The hologram reflected in the armor of the Shistavanen as he raised his head. A single golden eye glared at the Comms Officer.

“Losses?”

“None confirmed. Ah, not yet at least.”

“Why are they pulling back?”

Nathan glanced back down at his screen, then read off the list of info he’d been picking up on. “I-it sounds like they’re coming across some unexpected resistance in the form of shock troopers? Dark armor that appears extremely damage resistant.”

Doon’s attention turns back to the holographic map. With a few swipes of his paw, small symbols shift on the map, drawing a frontline through the hologram. Whatever they were doing on that side could be costly if they weren’t organized. And whatever they were facing needed to be identified and countered as soon as readily possible. He clenches a fist. Every instinct he has wants him on the field. He goes to release a growl, but it comes out more as a muted whine as the wound in his chest sends pain shooting through him.

Reluctantly, he lifts the breathing mask to inhale the bacta it exuded. Finally, a proper growl escaped him, carrying wisps of bacta out from his snout. He toggles his comms on, projecting to the entire field crew.

“All operatives. Seaside flank is facing a resistant threat. Support units should route there for further assessment. Fall back to the projected coordinates, use ambush tactics if they pursue.” He pauses, giving them time to digest the first bit of information. “If there continue to be major threats, we will need to consider alternative methods. We need a team to set charges on the Shield generator and wait for a detonation order. Once the charges are ready, I will coordinate positions to hold, hopefully draw those hard targets into line of sight of the Voidbreaker. Everyone else, continue as planned. No major risks. Stick together. We. Will. Break. Them.”

He toggles the communicator off, then glances over at Nathan. The young man looked like he could keel over at any moment, but he wasn’t showing any cracks yet. He couldn’t say he felt differently. This was his first engagement running command for the Voidbreaker team.

He wouldn’t let them down.

“`Fort Blindshot

Spaceport”`

Mune remained with the small group of soldiers, watching for opportunities to leap back amongst encroaching enemies to halt their advance where they could. Their lightsabers slashed and cut into the mob repeatedly, but they were far more resistant than Mune had believed they could be. They knew from data that their weaponry would not be nearly as effective as it otherwise would have been, but this was worse than they had initially understood from the reports—data versus firsthand experience. They hoped to support the troops they had found themself among, to distract the enemy so that they may focus their fire upon the crystal horrors. Distract and draw attention, it did. Mune was panting hard when an enemy got close enough to engage them in close-range combat. Mune dodged one attack to barely parry another, the blue plasma of their lightsaber crackling wickedly as it danced against the crystal-laced arm of the brute upon him. 

“Cinteroph!” 

Mune’s head snapped around to see from the corner of their eye, another of the monstrosities looming to strike at their back. 

The soldier that yelled the warning jumped in when blaster fire failed to back it down. It was, however, in vain, and the man was struck down in his attempt to protect the Shistavanen. Mune barely disengaged from one enemy before the new enemy slammed a crystal-empowered fist into the Arconan’s stomach. The air exploded from their lungs, and only by virtue of the Force did Mune manage to keep their body from blacking out even for a second from the shock of pain that erupted through them. The blow had them up off their feet from the sheer power of it, and their arms came up reflexively in a block, protecting their chest from the attack they glimpsed coming. The collision was as brutal as the punch, and there remained no ground on which to brace, so through the air, they were sent.

Mune twisted acrobatically, the ground rushing up to greet them, and as luck had it, they would land amongst crewmates. They hit the ground on their feet, knees bending to absorb the shock as much as possible, reinforcing the muscles to avoid any serious injury. Dust whipped their cloak around them. 

“Oh! Hi, Mune!” came a cheerful greeting.

Mune dropped both lightsabers and, with power, reached out. Ears back, they focussed and directed the Force through gestures of both hands. Shrapnel and broken duracreet scraped and rumbled before slamming into a makeshift barricade between the group and the immediate enemies before them. It protected them from blaster fire for the moment. 

Defence handled, Mune stood up from their crouch and then, with a wide grin, waved at the Verpine, “Greetings, Mex! Excuse me.” Mune doubled over and coughed, clutching their midsection in pain. Bloody spittle spattered the ground at their feet. “Gods… that one was unpleasant… Damn it…” They winced at the image of the man cut down in their defence. That one would stick with them for a while; there was no time now to dwell upon it.

Their gaze took in Meyrath and Druzk, nodding to them in acknowledgement.

“Hi, Mune, are you okay?” 

Mune shot the Verpine a pained grin before nodding. They were already drawing on the Force to heal the damage their body suffered. Healed, they approached the Barabel without being asked and released that healing energy through him. “They are tough….” Next, they took care of Meyrath. “I assume you lot have not had much luck yourselves.”

“My grenades are useless,” Druzk answered in a growl of annoyance.

“It appears my lightsabers are useless as well.” Mune reached out, grabbing a crate with the Force and hurling it into the head of the first enemy trooper to poke its head around the barricade. Their breathing only grew heavier with the effort.

“You’re looking half-dead,” the Zabrak noted.

“Healing others one after another has that side effect… all of the barriers and other things I am sure did not help. Buy me a moment if you would be so kind.” Mune knelt in their meagre cover without waiting for a response. They drew on the Living Force and began the task of channelling it back into themself.

“You’re going to nap right here?!” Druzk was incredulous, disbelief painted all over his face.

“They are not napping, they are meditating,” Meyrath commented.

“Same difference!”

“The bad guys are coming around the junk wall.” Mex flailed their arms to get their attention. 

Distantly, Mune heard the Verpine’s warning and Doon’s communication. They filed it away for after they recharged some.

Fort Blindshot Spaceport

Mune really wasn’t looking so hot, and Mex’s words did very little to instill any confidence in their current position. Thankfully, the Shistavanen’s use of the Force had fixed the feeling of his lungs collapsing.

“The Hells are they expecting us to do?” Meyrath hissed. “Did they realize these guys were frackkin’ invincible when they tossed us down here?”

But there wasn’t much time to ponder that question. Mex frantically pointed at a looming shadow behind the wall of junk they were currently using as cover, and the shadow was only growing closer.

Aw kriff…

Meyrath launched himself from the crushed box he had been sitting in, and over the junk wall. There, standing only a few meters back, was this crystallized creature staring directly at him.

“Oh. Hey paaal. I think your buddies are over there looking for you. Might wanna go check to see what they want?” Meyrath said, pointing faaar away. When the creature didn’t budge, Meyrath rolled his eyes and drew his saber. “Alright fine, let’s do this.”

The creature didn’t respond. Well, not in any language Meyrath understood at least. It let out this sort of crackled gurgle as it cocked its head, and from its right hand, drew its own weapon.

Ah yes, great. Another lightsaber. A weirdly long one too… Was his that long?

“Uh… guys?” Mey called back. “We might need to–”

He was cut off by the saber flying forward, nearly coming down on his head before he put up his own lightsaber to block it. Had he been half a second later, he’d have lost part of his shoulder.

This creature was strong – that much was obvious as Meyrath struggled to keep his lightsaber stable. Slowly but surely, the blade inched toward him. As much as he hated to admit it – the creature was stronger than he was.

Gritting his teeth, he made a gamble. One hand came off his lightsaber’s hilt to help him focus, projecting a stunning effect at the creature. Without all of his strength keeping it in place, the blue lightsaber came down and embedded deep into his shoulder, though the pain of which was thankfully muted by his own Zabraki physiology. He shoved the creature off him before the weapon could cut off his arm entirely. The stun worked as intended though, and Meyrath briefly paused to look at his own wound before drawing one of his many daggers.

The stun only lasted a few seconds, giving Meyrath just enough time to coat said dagger in a toxin before the crystal creature was upon him again, slashing at him from the side. He was able to deflect a few blows, if barely.

It was at this point where he realized he was probably going to lose if he didn’t think of something crafty. It was also at this point where he stopped moving and projected all his concentration and most of his hope into forming a barrier around himself.

Luckily, the creature took the bait. Unluckily, the barrier was not strong enough to withstand the full force of the lightsaber strike. The barrier shattered upon impact, but Meyrath was able to use the opportunity to take that poisoned blade and plunge it into the creature’s gut.

“Yeah that’s right, I–”

The force of a sledgehammer colliding against his head cut him off as he went flying backwards into several crates. When he finally came to his senses, Mex’s beady red eyes were staring back at him.

“Hi Mex,” he wheezed, and then pointed to the creature who was slowly closing the gap on the group. “Kill.”

Fort Blindshot Spaceport

Kathka’s bow lit a beam between the grip at her fingertips. The charging energy whirled and built at the tip of the freshly formed projectile, primed for explosion. How such a high-tech tool felt so natural in her hands seemed almost like cheating, but now wasn’t the time to be a purist about it, especially as even a weapon this powerful was hardly making a dent. Her best shot yet connected with one of the crystalline monsters’ heads, only for the energy projectile to deflect and nail the ground some meters away. The explosion hardly fazed the soldier over the point of impact that should have been blown to bits; what flesh he lost in the damage grew more crystals out from within in replacement.

She growled in disbelief. “For the love of…”

Off in the distance, the turbolasers were visibly taking out chunks at a time in the sea of glinting red foes, with what had to have been a hundred times the firepower that she or any foot soldier could carry. This wasn’t a fight they were going to lead on the ground.

The communication she got from Doon right about then confirmed it. Her flank was overwhelmed and retreating.

The beastmaster quickly whipped at Goremonger’s reins before the swordslingers caught up with them again. Kathka had seen enough lightsaber damage these past months — one swipe, and she and her varactyl were done. Much as she wished Gladitusk were at her side, the anooba would have been a Mortis meal at first contact. The rest of her pack still would be, if the front line kept pushing up. If she could just get them to back off, a moment…

Kathka glanced back. There was a minor break between their lightsaber-wielding pursuers and the rest of the front line. She pulled the reins for a sharp turnaround. “Mong, jump!”

With an acknowledging squawk, the varactyl took one preparatory leap forward, then coiled and sprang herself high. The landing was rough, but she’d cleared the swordsmen.

A bit shaken, Kathka pointed with her bow ahead of the varactyl’s eyes, back to the rest of the enemy front line. “Knock ‘em down!”

Several Mortis soldiers caught the approaching beast in their peripherals, but few had enough time to turn or raise a weapon before a massive, scaled leg swatted them off their feet. Goremonger’s tail swiped behind on their run to clothesline the ones she’d missed, leaving a trail of floored crystalline troops in their trail.

That was when the blaster fire focused toward them. A shot burned through the feathers on the back of Goremonger’s head, earning a frightened chirp out of the varactyl. The hang glider on the back of the saddle was shredded.

Kathka ducked low and whipped the reins. “Go, go, go!” They’d bought as much time as they could risk.

As the pair pulled back from the crystalline army, a new set of pursuers became evident: raptors. Kathka slid the reigns down her arm to draw another shot from her bow and pointed it directly in front of the nearest one’s feet. The blast tripped it up, if nothing else. As Goremonger made a beeline, it was clear she was faster than these creatures, but that would only get them so far.

The rest of the seaside team came into view ahead — mostly on their asses and back feet. The enemy unit that had reached them threw Meyrath at the ground, but not before the damned idiot had staggered it in turn.

Kathka whipped the reins up, and Goremonger leapt. The enemy didn’t even notice the encroaching shadow before the varactyl’s entire body mass stomped it into the ground. What fleshy bits had yet to be overtaken by the crystalline growth throughout its body burst across the ground in a pulping sputter of blood and viscera. Goremonger’s inertia carried her another few steps while Kathka pulled back for her to stop.

Mune and Druzk recognized a ride out when they saw it. Mex just turned his head as casually as ever. Meyrath immediately threw his hands at the flattened soldier.

“Ass!” the Zabrak shouted. “That was my kill!”

“Keep whining, schutta!” Kathka pointed over their heads at the charging raptors. The front line wasn’t far behind, and closing in. “You got about ten seconds to get on before you’re raptor meat!”

Mex waved like nothing in the world was wrong. “Hi, Kathka. I am nearly finished with rep–”

Druzk grabbed the verpine by the vest and yanked him toward Goremonger. “Finish it later, or you won’t!” He grabbed the damned droid, Tan, before it drew Mex off on another wild chase, and then threw it over the varactyl’s back before climbing on.

The sound of crystal growing back into the remains of the flattened enemy soldier drew Mune’s attention. One way or another, the time for rest was up. “Doon’s ordered a retreat,” they clarified. “Let’s get out of here!” With renewed energy, the small Shistavanen leapt all the way onto Goremonger’s back with a graceful landing on his feet.

While Mex was helped up, Meyrath was still grumbling. He was just about ready for round two with the guy holding his dagger in his gut, regardless of the crystals necromancing him back to life, until he caught sight over the squad’s makeshift barricade of the charging creatures Kathka was talking about. The reverberating shrieks they let out as they prepared to pounce at him was all he needed for his fight instincts to kick fully into flight.

“HOOOO FRAK–”

Goremonger’s tail slapped into his chest, a last-ditch effort to grab the man before the party bolted. Meyrath’s arms and legs flailed and wrapped for grip with a shriek as he was yanked along.

Something tingled in the back of his mind while he fought to hold on, like a sudden epiphany of common sense, or that funny feeling just before getting decked. By the instincts he’d been developing, his lightsaber came out and whipped over just in time to smack away a blaster bolt headed for the varactyl’s back.

Mune sensed it too; without looking back, they knew the ranged Mortis soldiers were filing around their barricades and lining up shots. The Shistavanen’s footing atop Goremonger’s back held firm with supernatural balance as their lightsaber reignited. “We’re not out of it yet!”

“No kidding!” Meyrath screamed between being flung about and swinging his lightsaber like magic at the incoming fire.

Druzk growled and twisted back and took aim with his launcher. On a moving varactyl, nothing was going to be precise, but he could work with that well enough. “How’s this for raptor meat!” A volley of micro-grenades let loose at the charging raptors, slowing them slightly with the explosions.

“Hi, Tan,” Mex said amidst the jostling ride. The Verpine was just trying to keep his tools contained. “Keep crying!”

Still uncertain how to proceed on that command, the B-1 droid maintained its primary function, attempting to calculate the mount’s motions and return fire.

Kathka kept her head low and steered Goremonger into the most unpredictable movements she could manage. They weren’t as fast with so many people; it was gonna be close, if they got anywhere safely. Kathka managed to thumb her communicator. “The seaside flank is in full retreat, but we’ve got a lot of them on our tails! Now would be a great time for a save, a new plan — something!”

Fort Blindshot Spaceport

The enemy was not letting up; the crystalline raptors were doggedly chasing the Arconans while the crystal-infused soldiers relentlessly fired upon them. Blasterfire slashed the air violently, only kept from hitting their intended targets by the combined efforts of Meyrath and Mune. The Shistavanen’s two lightsabers deflected enemy fire with practiced ease. Meyrath’s with a strange, wild flailing that somehow managed just as effectively to keep them safe from the plasma’s bite. The Voidbreaker opened fire, turbolasers sending a rain of death down upon their pursuers. The enemy, outside of their shields, was no match for the extreme power of the ship’s armaments. Lasers intended for blasting holes in other ships would have been overkill if not for the crystal enhancements to these creatures – as it was, they were just killed.

“We need to turn this ride around and get close to those shield generators as Doon said,” Mune called up to Kathka.

“Are you daft?!” Druzk yelled.

“If you do not like that part, you will hate this next bit…” Mune grinned. “Druzk, you are with me. Meyrath, you need to get up here and continue to defend. Mex—”

“Hi, Mune,” Mex chirped.

“Hi, Mex. You keep that droid of yours firing in the right direction. Remain with Kathka,” Mune explained.

“Crazy’s right.” Kathka grinned back at the smaller Shista. “Perfect! They won’t see it coming.”

“This is the plan then? Suicide by crystal freaks?”

“I do not know about you, Druzk, but I do not intend to die. Nor do I intend to allow you to die.” Mune’s gaze fixated on the Barabel, filling their expression with confidence to put their fellow Arconan at ease.

Druzk, whether latching onto that confidence or not, growled and loaded his grenade launcher. “Forced to trust a furball that takes a nap in the middle of a battlefield. You people will be the death of me.”

Kathka used the reins to redirect Goremonger. With the varactyl in mind, she maneuvered the beast to skirt parallel the line rather than charging through the enemy. Mune pulled Meyrath onto Goremonger’s back; the beast’s was broadside exposed, so they both set to work defending their approach.

“Oi! Don’t I get a say in this plan?” Meyrath huffed.

“Do you want to go over the shield wall instead?” Mune asked with a grin.

“You can go in my place,” Druzk muttered.

Mune had already begun to focus, gathering the Force through them. They concentrated it on their legs. Their eyes scanned the enemy line and shield generators, searching for that weak spot. Their mind calculated. They had a goal. “Kathka, have Goremonger launch Druzk over the wall as soon as I am over. Druzk, brace yourself; I promise I will catch you. Mune to Voidbreaker, we need some cover fire on my position.”

“You had better, or else I am shoving a grenade up your—”

“As close as we’re getting, Mune!” Kathka called back.

The Voidbreaker II’s turbolasers were firing past them into the enemy shields. The crystal-enhanced shields flickered and crackled with the force of each salvo that flashed across their glowing surfaces. It caused a break in the enemy fire, and Mune took the slim opening without hesitation.

Mune leapt. Into the jaws of the beast… The Force concentrated precisely where they needed it, the muscles in their legs bunching. Goremonger’s tail whipped around and met Mune’s armoured feet at the right moment. The Arcanist was launched up and over the shield wall. Enemies not bereft of their minds because of the crystals stared in confusion, taken completely aback by the strangeness of the maneuver. Druzk, cursing, followed a moment after, allowing the varactyl to launch him over the enemy line of shields.

Mune landed on the other side, the Force reinforcing the muscles of their leg and joints.. They skidded to a halt, whipping around and grabbing the nearest two enemies with a gesture of their hands and launching them into their surrounding companions. Mune did not let up their concentration, focused on their surroundings and the sudden confusion they had caused. They pressed their advantage; crates, bits of metal, and even bodies unceremoniously left upon the ground were thrust up and back to create a makeshift barrier. They reached out, arrested the Barabel’s fall, and lessened his impact to land safely.

“You almost let me hit the ground!”

“I had to clear some space,” Mune commented with a shrug.

Kathka was already getting Goremonger away from direct danger, with Meyrath managing to keep their group from harm. They did not retreat; instead, they kept close by so the enemy’s attention was not wholly on the two that made it over the shield wall. The Zabrak devoted all his focus to deflecting blaster fire, his lightsaber moving in quick parries, knocking the blaster bolts harmless away from the party. Mex flailed about, calling out encouragement and cheering for their droid, who kept firing away, constantly readjusting for the varactyl’s movements.

“That’s right; you cheer them on!” Kathka called back to the excitable Verpine.

Goremonger stomped another soldier, her tail whipping around to send another flying back into a charging raptor. The Voidbreaker II kept the enemy on their toes, backing up the group’s position with their turbolasers.

“Do not hold back with those explosives!” Mune shouted as one of the smaller crystal monstrosities turned towards them.

Druzk fired the whole volley of micro grenades into the crystal raptor. Mune reached out with the Force, taking far more concentration than other powers. The raptor slowed, seemingly marred in thick molasses, then exploded. It was not dead, but bits of its crystal biology were blown apart, sent through the thick air around the beast. In the same instant, Mune released the field and plunged all those broken shards, like jagged lances, back through the monster. If they wanted to use the crystals as weapons, they could too, only with more style—and without touching the evil things. Mune bristled, concentrating on the task, driving those lances through the target and ripping it to shreds. It finally dropped to the ground, a death rattle escaping its jaws.

The enemy began to organize again as if only realizing the threat that had landed in their midsts. Mune did not hesitate. They whipped another large chunk of crystal from the raptor’s remains into the skull of another nearby soldier, taking its head off in an explosion of helmet pieces, crystal shards, and messier things.

Druzk readied a Denton Charge in each hand and threw both into another enemy. They attached as they were intended, tapping the detonator; they went off in a brilliant blast that sent dust and shrapnel flying past. “Now what?”

Mune caught bits of crystal flying through the air, the Force holding them aloft before, with a roar, the Shistavanen sent them hurtling into the nearest shield generator. The crystals-turned-deadly spears plunged into the durasteel. The steel stood no chance against them, and electricity lanced off their surface.

Druzk got the idea and removed a thermal detonator from his belt, activated it and then threw it at the weakened generator. The ensuing explosion sent dust in every direction—the explosive’s power combined with the erupting generator to incinerate the enemies nearest it. The eruption caused a chain reaction in two more generators down the line, the surge from the crystal enhancements working against the enemy. There, amongst the chaos, were Druzk and Mune, shrapnel and bits of crystal bouncing off the Shistavanen’s barrier. The two Arconans wore matching grins, though in Mune’s ruby eyes danced a mischievous delight.

“Think that shook them up?” Druzk laughed.

Mune laughed with the Barabel.

They turned to see Goremonger coming in hot.

The Nightfall Prism II Fort Blindshot Spaceport

The sun was high in the sky, and the hunter used this to its advantage. It may have been a slow, less maneuverable beast, but it still had plenty of teeth with which to engage its prey.

Muttering at the gunners station about how the Spaceport and the entire so called fort was incredibly under equipped to repel invaders, no trenches, no hardened bunkers or landing bays, not even a multi ring network of anti infantry or anti vehicle defenses! It was sorely lacking, and the few turbolasers the fort had were located elsewhere, so the port itself didn’t have much in the way of anti-ship defenses. It was a travesty and one she kept chuntering about throughout their flight.

The landing had gone well.As well as can be when you are landing a ship into a heavily contested area full of crystalline beasts and their super soldier handlers. The team had done a grand effort in pushing back, but waves of the raptor beasts kept coming, goaded by their masters. The Voidbreaker II’s weapons had done some good, but their angles of fire were limited. The Prism had a little more flexibility as she swooped down like a lumbering bird of pre. She was a terrifying sight to behold, wings spread and weapons ready to rake across the enemy like the talons of an eagle. Looking at the holographic targeting matrix before her, she plotted the targets of their first sweep. A large group of raptors was beginning to bear down on her team followed by a cluster of the crystal frackers and their fancy lightsabers. Jor had read the brief of how their armor was super resistant to energy weapons and that they could predict almost any attack. It was time to see how good this armour and prediction was.

The Mandalorian primed the laser cannons and readied the launcher. There was a slight whir as the hatch opened in the underside of the ship allowing the launcher turret to slide out. The magazine had two twenty round concussion missile clips in it and they were carrying another twenty clips in the stores section of the hold.

The targeting system highlighted the greatest threats and she passed the flight adjustments to KC—her droid—the troopers would take the first pass, and then they would move onto putting holes in the raptors, with luck this assault would cause the raptors to pause a small amount. The Nightfall Prism II soared in from the sun, her black hull almost absorbing the light. Once they were in perfect range, the weapons fired, and the sounds of the four forward lasers and four heavy lasers firing in synchronized bursts rippled through the hull. The troopers clearly had some forewarning of the attack, but it did little to save them as the heavy plasma bolts slammed into them. Several tried to actually deflect the bolts with the sabers but to no effect, and when the plasma bolt was the size of your hand, it was kinda hard to block all of it.

Two of the troopers were still standing after the initial barrage. Jor zoomed in with the ship’s targeting systems only to realize they had large sections of their torso missing, crystal fragments and smoking armour littered the ground around the targets along with multiple plasma burns on the surface of the landing spaces.

The gunship swooped up and away. Return fire from the enemy hand held weapons fizzled against the shields. There was little that the enemy had on the ground that could actually touch the gunship and even if it did, the hull armour was just shy of capital ship grade. Smoke drifted from the barrels of the lasers and on the way back up she left the enemy a parting gift from her rear lasers, a burst of bolts scattered into the ground where they had just been attacking, just to make sure they were all dead.

The Prism circled back around. This time, they had approximately forty raptors to engage. They were in close packs and were in no way as well armored or resilient as their masters, so they should have been easier to eliminate. The initial attack and devastating blow dealt to their handlers had caused some confusion among their ranks and even through the ship’s targeting systems, Jor could see they had paused and were barking and snapping at one another. This at least gave her friends a breather on the ground.

The Prism swooped down to begin its next attack run, multiple long range laser bolts slammed into the shields and the sensors picked up a reinforcement convoy of armored vehicles, troopers and more raptors, they would need to be dealt with but first things first. The launcher turret under the ship made a thudding noise through the hull as it spat out concussion missile after concussion missile, ten in total flew towards the raptors in a dispersed pattern. These were not the micro ones that you find in fighters rather they were full sized missiles. Only the best for the Prism. The concussion barrage had been timed to impact just a few moments before they were in laser range. Through the holoviewer, the Sephi watched as the missiles hit home, blast after blast either turning the raptors into red mists with scatterings of crystals or the concussive forces and shrapnel from close impacts just tearing them to shreds. The plasma bolts from the lasers that followed tore great chunks out of their numbers. Their hides were no match for the heavy weaponry and they stood no chance.

After three passes, the raptors were either dead or struggling to find new targets. Jor left the gunners seat as KC began to set course to intercept the reinforcements. She slid down the ladder and headed to where the launchers’ magazine hatches were. She tapped a few buttons on the wall, and the floor before her opened up and the now empty clips lifted up ready to be removed and replaced. She was glad for her cybernetics in this instance because the empty clips were heavy. The full ones were even heavier, no normal person would be able to lift them without assistance. She hoisted the empty clips from the magazine housings and carried them over to where the full ones were stored, she always kept the clips, it was cheaper to get them refilled than buy new ones. Grasping two full clips, she carried them across to the waiting magazines, the Force helping her with her task. Telekinesis was useful at times, especially when things weighed in the ton range. The magazines, now full, slid back down into the floor and the hatch closed. With that task done she quickly grabbed a flash of caf and some rations from a store and climbed back up to the cockpit deck.

The reinforcements were close. The holo display showed four armored vehicles of some kind, repulsor tanks with light anti-vehicle and multiple anti-infantry laser weapons, according to the sensor readouts, followed by a dozen troopers and a lot of crystal creatures. The sky lit up with laser fire as the tanks began to open fire on them. The weapon’s fire was nothing impressive. Jor suspected they didn’t plan on encountering a ship like the Prism, against fighters these weapons would probably have been more effective.

The ships targeting computer wasted no time assigning targets for the launcher. The droid brain let fly a quartet of missiles fly towards each of the tanks. The missiles would impact long before they got into laser range, but that would eliminate the heavy armour, allowing them to focus on the lighter armored troops. The missiles impacted, the first pair hit some kind of particle shields, but their warheads detonated, eliminating this defense system. The following missiles punched into the armored hulls as the penetration warheads on the missiles easily defeated the armour and the dual charge system blew apart not only the hull, but the crew inside.

Smoke billowed from the smashed vehicles. The intensity of the attack had almost used up a full clip of concussion missiles again. Leaving the targeting computer to deal with the ship’s weapons, the Mandalorian headed back down the ladder to grab some more clips, this was going to be a long day.

The attack runs had been successful. While they had not been able to eliminate all of the enemy, they had smashed a huge hole in their reinforcements. Jor needed to have some fun now. She was itching to use her new toy again. She walked over to the hatch and shouted up to KC.

“Bring us over to that line of trees and hover us just within a mile of those raptors. I’m in the mood for some sport.”

The gunship slid towards the trees and stopped in a hover. Jor grabbed her rifle and pushed the button that lowered the main access ramp. The system would not normally allow this but she had her cousin make some special modifications to allow it to work. Laying on her front, the rifle set on its bipod, she lined up on the roaming groups of raptors that were still making their way to the spaceport, her helmet sights and targeting computer plotted firing solutions for a dozen of the beasts, she slowed her breathing and heart and settled herself, then she pulled the trigger.

Fun time over, the gunship lifted away, back to the spaceport. They needed to refuel and rearm before they could carry out any more runs. On the way back, however, they did manage to take a few potshots at things that were harassing her friends. The gunship headed over to the main landing bays, KC having com’d over their requirements on route and they could see the crew droids had the supplies ready and waiting.

Voidbreaker Squadron Operation: Spaceport Part II

Fort Blindshot Spaceport Continued

The portable shield in the Zygerrian’s left vambrace flickered as it reached the end of its resistance threshold. So at the exact moment when the ring of protective plasma faltered, a blaster bolt skipped off the beskar plating of her pauldron. Because, of course it did. With a sneer, Zig made a blind sprint towards the closest Lightbringer soldier wielding a blaster pistol. Two more bolts bounced off her armor, but before the shooter could fire the third, the Zygerrian’s electrified fist smashed into the soldier’s helmeted face.

The visor splintered, aided by the discharge from Zig’s shockboxing gloves. Thin rivers of blood ran across the exposed soldier’s face as they coughed and sputtered. Her second punch connected with the bottom of the soldier’s chin, violently snapping their head backward and exposing their neck. An armored elbow followed with enough force to collapse the Lightbringer’s trachea, and a final grapple sent the battered body hurling into one of their fellow soldiers.

She ducked under the swing of an electrostaff, sidestepped a stab to her chest, and then punched the shaft of the next Lightbringer’s weapon back into their own guard. The soldier staggered backward but remained balanced. Before he could attack again, however, Zig activated her jetpack, lurched forward, and drove a flying, armored knee into their face. The soldier flew backwards and was, for the time being, repelled.

Rock ‘em, sock ‘em robots… Zig hummed tunelessly to the song from an old holonet commercial. She was fully aware that there was flesh beneath the Children of Mortis’ foot soldiers, but she had no control over the soundtrack that often played in her head.

In truth, the chaotic din of battle made it hard for the scavenger-turned-leader to focus beyond her immediate struggle. In leading the charge, she had put herself in the center of the fighting and only remained standing because of her determination and survival instincts.

A crystal infused mastiff phalone (which she preferred to call a raptor, like its fictional depiction in the holos) leapt at her blindspot. Zig spun, caught the creature’s bite on the gauntlet of her left forearm, and growled as she fought to keep it at arms length. She quickly brought her other hand towards the creatures gnashing teeth and shook her clamped gauntlet free.

When the raptor sinuously snapped its neck forward, it was met this time with Zig’s right fist, which wedged itself firmly between its rows of razor teeth. Before the creature could clamp down, however, a cone of concentrated flames burst free from the Zygerrians’ vambrace. Guttural growls turned quickly to shrieking cries as the flames shifted in hue from ochre to a blazing blue.

While the raptors scales were reinforced with crystalized armor, Zig had a hunch that the same didn’t apply for the organic organs. It turned out she was right. The raptor writhed and wormed as its insides were liquified to pulp.

Before the modified component could overheat, Zig deactivated the flamethrower and kicked the now dead creature into the ground. For the moment, nothing was attacking her—a first since they’d landed.

Perspiration plastered the hair trapped beneath her helmet to her forehead. Streams of salty sweat stung her eyes, forcing her to blink them rapidly, or squint, anything to try and keep her vision from blurring. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding a staccato rhythm in her ears, chest heaving, muscles taught and teeming with twitching adrenaline.

Captain, a low voice growled over her helmet’s comm system.

Right. She was supposed to be leading this operation. She had left… Doon on the Voidbreaker II to coordinate. He had updates for her. She had almost forgotten.

”Captain—”

“—I’m here. Talk to me, Doon,” Zig replied curtly, falling back slightly as a squad of Arcona Armed Forces soldiers pushed back against the encroaching wave of Lightbringers and Shadowseers.

”Three shield generators down,” the Shistaven explained. “Mune and Druzk managed to take them out. Kathka, Meyrath and Mex are on approach to pull them back so we can regroup and focus on the last remaining generators.*

“Understood,” Zig said as she checked her HUD and saw five green lights on her overlay that indicated the members of the Battle Team. A wave of pride washed through her, followed immediately with relief that they were okay.

“Jor'ana managed to cut off reinforcements from the north, but we still have more enemies spilling in from inside Blindshot from where the crater landed. There’s also…”

Sulvir’s voice cut off, and Zig tapped the side of her helmet to make sure her comms were still working. They were. A few moments passed before Doon continued.

They planted a bomb, he stated flatly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

”A bomb. One of their Force Users, I assume, cloaked and got past our vanguard.”

“Oh. Well, can Jax go…um, diffuse it?”

“Sorry Zig, the Voidbreakers demolition expert chimed in over the comm. “We’re stuck to the ship, but I can talk you through it…”

Zig looked around as the momentary reprieve she had been granted was slowly wilting away as more of the AAF soldiers went down. She felt her stomach churn as, to her horror, the Lightbringer soldier she had thought she defeated lurched back to its feet and started to shuffle towards her like a zombie out of the horror holos. Joy.

“Negative, I need to hold here. Who else is close!?” the Captain asked frantically.

“…Eleceos. He spotted the wraith that planted it and chased them off.”

Zig smacked her gloved hand over the front of her visor and let it slowly slide down the front of it.

“So our only hope at stopping the bomb is our Miraluka. Cool, cool, cool…”

At least things couldn’t get any worse? Right?

Fort Blindshot Outside Voidbreaker II

Tick tick tick

The sound echoed in the Miraluka’s mind. His brownish skin dripped with sweat, and the intense heat from the flames on the ground licked at his nerves. Eleceos had been in fights in the past, but this was a warzone. He could feel the terror in the soldiers hearts. He could sense the fear of the ones returning to the Force. So many lives on both sides, taken before their time. The sizable loss was in many ways too much for him to handle.

But at that moment, he was needed. His Clan, his Battleteam, his family. They needed him. They needed him to be strong. To be with them, even if this was to be their end. The Jedi would answer the call.

Standing over the box-like object that had been planted underneath their ship, he stared. The sound was like a hammer in his head.

Tick tick tick

“I can do this,” he told himself, bending down.

His gloved hands felt the outside, careful to not touch anything that could prematurely set it off. As he did so, the Force flooded his thoughts. The memories of the bomb’s maker filled him. He could feel the fury against the Clans. They wanted to kill as many as possible. The thrill of creating an instrument of death. He could see the wires being connected and soldered in place, special intention being placed on one. The wire was wrapped by others and hidden behind the rest.

“Ele…Ele…Eleceos!”

Ele was pulled back to the present. A voice was calling him over comms, and the Miraluka took a breath before answering.

“Sorry, I’m here.”

“Are you with the bomb?” The voice came from Jax. Ele could hear over the comms that the Demolitions Officer was struggling to figure out how to diffuse something remotely that he could not physically see. For Ele, that was an everyday thing, but for non-Miraluka, he imagined it might be frustrating.

“I’m touching it right now.”

“Careful!” Jax warned protectively as he walked the young Jedi through opening the device without setting it off. A series of crystals were attached to the detonation device, clearly intending to be the explosive substance that destroys the Voidbreaker II. As the wires became exposed to the Miraluka, he found the ticking growing louder.

TICK TICK TICK

“Ok, now, I need you to look at the wires, Eleceos. With the description you’ve given, there should be several different colors of wire. You’re looking for a red wire. It might have some white stripes along the length. That’s the one you want to cut.”

“The red wire…right. Stripes…”

“Do you see the…” Jax voice cut off, but Ele could hear the slight groan over the comms. If he had to guess, the demolitions expert probably just realized that he was describing colored wires to a Jedi with no sight.

“Don’t worry Jax, I can do this.” Eleceos tried to sound confident, but didn’t know if it worked.

A thought went through the Miraluka’s head replaying his vision from several moments ago. The wire that the bombs creator put so much thought into. Ele had to trust his feelings and began to search.

TICK

He ran his gloved hands across the exposed wires, searching for the cluster.

TICK TICK

He found a small gathering of wires that he carefully pried apart, revealing the wrapped wires behind it.

TICK TICK TICK TICK

Gently, he unraveled the grouping, until the wire in the center was exposed. His brow was sweating as he put the clippers close to it. This was it, he knew that if this was wrong he would have failed his team, and they’d be destroyed in crystalline fire.

TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK SNIP

Everything was quiet. Ele didn’t feel pain. He felt no heat, no fire. Pulling his hands out of the bomb, he realized that the ticking was gone. He’d been right.

“Eleceos to Voidbreaker II. The bomb has been successfully diffused.”

Turbolaser Tower 05 Blindshot Island, Eastern Edge

“Last I ask, are you certain you want to proceed forward on aiding the battlement?” 4R-7H3R, the security droid, spoke, looking down at the smaller organic.

Gazing out across the lines, the trenches and the field littered with the corpses of the enemy, Diyrian took a deep breath. Flashes of Dandoran and crystal monstrosities scratched at the back of her mind, joined by the echoes of the caxquettes and their terrors upon Selen. Every single one of those events she nearly abandoned her companions, those she had promised to watch the backs of. Not this time. Not again. Diy nodded to the droid, hesitantly at first, then more firmly as if reaffirming her resolve for the umpteenth time. “Sure as blasters ‘n’ creds, Artie. Though…kinda wish ‘was behind the ship’s guns still.”

“L4-C1A is wise on insisting it remains out of this conflict.” The KX-series rotated its arm up and around, releasing the electro-ripper staff attached to its back with a hiss and click. It looked once more at the Kiffar-fauxZelosian before swiveling its head forward, noting the Kaleesh climbing up from the trenches ahead. “Since you are insisting on engaging the battle, than I will stand and protect you.”

“…Thanks, Artie—” the rumbling voice of Rrogon Skar interrupted her and she pivoted to see what he was calling about. Her golden hand raised and activated her headset comms, hearing the beep as it connected on through the Krestel Transport’s communications array before even replying to the Kaleesh. “On it!…Rose Gold to Command. Do ya copy? Requestin’ some more guns at Turbo’Five, big ones if ya could…”

On the forefront of the battlement, deep crimson eyes scanned the battlefield before them, once just a training ground meant to prepare oneself for such conflicts. Stres’tron’garmis hoped, no, believed it had and would carry these men to victory. His gaze fell upon one corpse, what was left of its blaster mutilated body threaded barely together by bits of crystal was dragging itself feebly across the grass. It moved not even a foot when a short array of blasterbolts peppered the somewhat skull of the ill-semblance of a soldier. The Chiss started to glance towards the trio of Arconan men responsible for finishing it when Agrona’s advice drove his attention back across the field.

Several masses had shifted from the Mortis’ encampment. A line of walkers skirted for the ground’s edge, looking to circle past the turbolaser’s defenses and towards the Fort’s base. A futile course of action that the partial transport platoon and a ragged TIE/SK trio, split from their squadron’s skirmish with the Arconan own starfighters west of Isambam Island, speeding towards them seemed to try and account for. Glints of red crystals under the Dajorra sun came from the backs of aberrant humanoids and beasts charging behind the vehicles.

“Attack incoming! Arm yourselves, men!” Strong bellowed across the rallied regiment, unshouldering his electrohammer and activating his personal energy shield.

Rrogon Skar growled, head whipping and red eyes narrowing behind his mask towards the enemy. He signaled to the turbolaser already rotating to aim. Two long viridescent streaks shot through the sky with a pulsing boom, clipping a TIE/SK fighter’s wing and sending it pinwheeling to the ground in smoke. Blaster fire awakened across their lines, peppering out over the fields and into crystal atrocities. The Kaleesh lunged forward to put himself in line with Garmis, hunger rising to shed more blood of those who dared challenge them and spill their own. His blood red spear posed to meet the forces pouring from what transports survived the approach.

Meters behind them, 4R-7H3R barely crouched behind a metal container, head and shoulders poking above it. The KX-series waited with its bladed staff for threats to approach its ward beside it. Diyrian fumbled with attaching the final line to the power generator and cooling system she had quickly drug over to their cover. With a final frustrated yell, she managed, twisting around and thrusting her heavy repeating rifle onto the tripod. Adrenaline fed off her fear, her usual grin replaced by an angry scowl as the faux-Zelosian laid into initial wave, determined to keep them from getting any closer. Pew-pew-pew-pew—

Plasma bolts ate into the bounding forces, barely chipping away from crystals and enhanced armor. Those Mortis soldiers that did fall contorted and erupted crystalline structures overtaking their corpses, rising and charging once more. An arc of purple swung forward, Garmis’ hammer connecting squarely into an Ascendent Trooper’s chest and inching the crystal embedded there. With a burst forward with his jetpack and might, he drove the stone clean through with a holler as Rrogon pushed past. The Kaleesh unleashed his own rapid-fire chain of aggressive, biting blows into his foes. Inverting his grip and plunging his spear into a former human turned crystal’s skull, he rose and turned with open arms beckoning another.

Streaks of crimson answered his call, striking into the hull of a Mortis’ dropship transport and scattering the troops using it as cover. The Alpha Xg-1 responsible buzzed overhead and circled back and around the turbolaser encampment. At its controls, its pilot hissed at his successful attack, his breath rushing over the large bone piercing the Trandoshan’s septum. Grot reached up and flicked several controls, preparing for a round two. His slitted pupils narrowed on the clustered swarms of prey for a moment till a short series of soft thuds on his starport side alerted him. He had heard similar during take-off for his flight out here, but no mechanical malfunction alarms had triggered. Considering it a moment and hearing nothing else, he returned his focus to the hunt.

The thud, however, had straightened and stood from her crouch upon the starfighter’s wing. Wind cutting into her deep red and tattooed skin, the tall Zabrak walked two steps and let herself drop freely into the air. Her black braids whipped against her skin while she fueled her legs with the dark tendrils of the Force, hitting the platform around the turbolaser and rolling safely from a height that would kill the mundane. Bouncing to her feet and making for cover behind a container, Vreva’s golden gaze glanced about the battlement landing upon a nearby pair, outcasts from the uniformed and gritty soldiers present. An emerald-haired woman in a stripped flightsuit manning a heavy blaster and a shiny silver and gold security droid.

“Heeey!” The Zabrak called. She had to cup her hands and shout a couple more times before the KX alerted the other woman’s attention. The Kiffar dropped back behind cover and tossed a look towards her. “Need some help, sister?”

“I ain’t gonna say no!” Diy yelled back, chest heaving with exertion from maintaining aim on the mounted gun. She wiped her cheek, smearing grease across it, and nodded. As she shifted to return to her gun and Vreva rested her cycler rifle across the metal crate she knelt behind, a large shattering bellow echoed across the battleground, animalistic yet near crystalline.

Hovering meters away, the DRK-1 Probe Droid that had exited the Krestel transport zoomed its lenses towards the wooded areas to the northwest. What it focused on, and what the Zabrak and other Arconans spotted near heartbeats afterward, was an overly large Rancor covered in an exterior skeletal armor of crimson crystals and near toppling a walker in its way.

Vreva grinned, honing in on her sights and uttering to herself amusedly, “Bloody hell of a fight you’re missing, Paum.”

Voidbreaker II: Hangar Bay - Livestock Pens

It took him longer than he expected. Injuries had slowed him down, but all stripes and both saddles were ready.

Not professionally-made pieces of shield were hanging from the sides of the creatures. One of them was blood thirsty, almost untamed, the other one ready to follow its Tamer. Archian set up the riot shield to the right side of the mount, while his bow was still strapped to his own back and his arrows were hanging next to his leg at the mammal’s left side. The whip was attached to the collar around the neck of the Ronto - easy and fast to reach. All medical supplies were in the sack just below the collar between reins.

The reinforced metal knuckles at the Jetaz fists were sounding the rhythm of war, everytime it supported them at the floor. On the beast’s chest was a striped metal plate with an Arcona emblem to avoid friendly fire. At the back was a settled saddle, which could be used either to stand or lay on it.

Archian got on the mount’s back. “Alrighty - time to go!” The Shistavanen smiled, and with a feeling of small pain in his ribs, he moved the reins gently. Jetaz scratched his jaw and didn’t move.

The red-furred Shistavanen didn’t stop - just made a warning gaze in that direction. The carnivore’s eyes showed small hesitation, and after that started slowly following the rider and Ronto to the exit of the ship. Archian’s last words to the creatures were to be:“ I will feed you when we come back”, and they followed the noises of battle.

Spaceport

Archian gazed at the battlefield, and spotted Zig listening to the communicator. The leg of the mammal gently stepped next to the busy Zygerrian.

Archian looked at her from above “What can I do for you Captain?” He directed his yellow eyes at her, but his ears were still standing up to the battlefield direction.

In the meantime Jetaz stopped quietly, a few meters behind Zig, and stared at her and the dead crystal raptor’s body laying close by.

Fort Blindshot Munitions depot

While the battle raged along the defensive lines and the fort’s walls, another battle of a much more mundane nature was unfolding within the armored warehouses of the fort’s stockrooms. Burly men and women in blue coveralls hauled crates of spare weapons, power cells, heavy repeaters, and countless pieces of ordinance out of stockpiles and onto waiting hoverskiffs, ready to be blitzed to the troops at the front. A ceaseless enterprise of hands, haulers, and heavy swearing ensured the fighting troops at the front got what they needed to stem the tide.

But the enemy was unlike any they had faced before and the sheer attrition of materiel was astonishing to behold. Blasters that should have lasted months of use were being worn down in hours, power cell reserves intended to supply a company drained by a single platoon and the constant cries for more drowning out all efforts to feed the insatiable appetite of war with all the implements of destruction Arcona had stocked up within its fortress.

In short, it was organized chaos.

And the chaos was winning.

Standing amidst the turmoil of roiling emotions and criss-crossing palettes of weaponry, Tali Sroka did her best to stay calm. The sheer weight of distress and palpable desperation hung so heavy she could taste it, and had she been thrown into this but a few scant years prior, she would have been consumed by it. But not now, not after all she’d learned of war.

“Commander Sroka, how may I be of service?” the young lieutenant’s voice strained for politeness. It was obvious she did not want any superfluous people interfering with the resupply effort. Let alone someone like herself.

“I von’t needt much, lieutenant. Just show me an office andt an aide. I vill liaison vith the DIA andt ensure our troops get vhat they needt,” the purple Twi’lek replied calmly. “Please keep up the excellent vork. Reinforcements shouldt arrive shortly, you only needt to press on a little further.” She raised her voice subtly, enough that those passing nearby might overhear.

The lieutenant, running on fumes of caf and cigarras, nodded and pointed for one of the junior aides to accompany her to one of the warehouse offices. With all hands on deck, they suddenly had an abundance of desks.

The room was spartan, functional, and littered with shipping manifests and inventory notes. A blacklist of junior officers to whom nothing should be loaned adorned the wall above the caf machine, next to some titillating calendar art depicting a Twi’lek gripping a heavy repeater in a distinctly non-standard manner. Tali felt a faintest tug of disgust on her lip, but said nothing.

The aide, busy clearing out a desk for her by gingerly moving stacks of paperwork onto the floor turned towards her. “Will you be needing anything else, ma’am?” the bright-eyed aide inquired, his blues contrasting with the native tan of his Selenian complexion. He held out a chair expectantly.

“I trust you know how to parse into the comms aroundt here,” Tali said, calmly sitting past the chair and instead taking a seat on the floor, legs crossed. “Communicating vith the DIA is strenuous. It vill require concentration. Vhat I tell you may not always be a direct commandt. I trust you can figure out how to turn it into an order.”

The aide, utterly perplexed, nodded with the look of a man who had absolutely no clue what he was getting himself into.

Unfurling a map, Tali placed it upon the floor before her before taking an elaborate comms device and attaching it to her earcone, seemingly patching through to the DIA network with a few taps. Her eyes darted to meet the young man’s, amber yellow ensnaring his ocean blues.

“I trust you to do your best, cadet. Arcona Invicta.”

“A-Arcona Invicta, ma’am,” he stuttered.

The Twi’lek closed her eyes.

Tali felt the roiling ocean around her. She was an island, surrounded by the deep. Lashing waves lapped at her shores, eroding the beaches that had formed when the planet was still young. The waters raged, but were still within, devoid of life and bereft of sailors. The skies above her were dyed a violent crimson, crackling thunderbolts dueling in the heavens.

Upon her lay a broken fortress, its walls breached and towers crumbled. Only the wind still passed within its duracrete halls, whistling in the bones of the long-dead carcass.

No.

Her brow furrowed. This would not do. This was not the future she had seen. It would not be.

Tali felt the roiling ocean around her. She was an island, surrounded by war. Her body trembled under marching feet, her skin torn by blossoming explosions. A fortress stood, battered but unbroken, upon her southern shores. A piece of perverted heaven pierced her in the north. All in between was gore soaked carnage.

A bead of sweat ran down her brow. The aide shifted uncomfortably.

Dark shapes ran across her pockmarked skin like ants, skittering in craters of their own making. Fleets of vehicles dueled along her eastern expanses, shields flashing brighter than the sun, steel running molten under blaster shot and shell. The insects crawled closer to the fort, big and small and all as repulsive as the last. They arrayed in formation to breach the walls, like dancers for a grand choreography. With a singular command of an unseen conductor, they began the dance of death.

She watched the performance play out. Over and over, in countless variations. The multitude of choreographies was dizzying, each more wicked and violent than the last, but all ending in the fortress’ ruin. But all sharing the same melody, the same unrelenting tempo.

“More launchers to the eastern flank,” Tali spoke, eyes still closed and deep in concentration.

The aide, startled by the sudden sound pointed at a section of wall, unsure where precisely she wished the equipment delivered. He would get no clarification.

“Divert blasters to central courtyard. Delay from tower seven.”

The man scrambled into action, picking up his own comms and hurriedly patching in the semi-cryptic orders into a structured format that the apparatus of war only a few walls behind them would understand.

==

A cargo skiff narrowly avoided an incoming proton shell, repulsorlifts screaming as the craft listed dangerously under the force of the explosion, but managed to stay upright. Shrapnel dents and blaster burns pockmarked its flank like badges of honor as the cargo pilot deftly pulled up behind the defensive line around Turbolaser Five.

He did not need to call for help in unloading, armored hands tearing the cargo off his transport and hauling them inside the tower’s base for cover. A pair of heavy crates caught the squad leader’s eye.

“We didn’t order any launchers.”

The pilot shrugged. “Last second addition,” was all he could say.

Fort Blindshot Spaceport

Goremonger crashed through the enemy, sending them scattering before her charge. Enemies too slow to evade the Varactyl’s charge were crushed underfoot with the same lack of mercy the Children showed the Arconans by attacking their home. Kathka pulled tight upon the reins to bring the beast to a halt at the backs of the Barabel and fellow Shistavanen. She turned, raising her energy bow and firing into the reassembling crystal fiends. Mex directed their droid to help Kathka, flailing as though it clarified the instructions.

Mune’s ears perked then splayed; a bomb? The Voidbreaker II… no… Carr, Doon and the others…They started to turn towards the ship in fear, and it was not the Force that saved them when a lightsaber came up in a wild arc. Druzk had grabbed Mune quickly from behind, and they tumbled backwards into the dirt. The Ascendant’s lightsaber cleaved the air where the Shistavanen had been but milliseconds before. The attack was an intended killing blow. The twisted being was fast to follow up with another attack. The Force coalesced between the lightsaber and the prone Arconans, halting the plasma’s progress to claim their lives.

There was no time to worry about a bomb and the ship. There was no time to panic for their brother’s safety, the prickly dark-furred Shista, or their other friends still back on the ship. Mune rolled one way and Druzk the other even as the barrier finally shattered into so much broken glass, allowing the deadly plasma to pass through and plunge into the ground.

Druzk lifted his blaster rifle and fired into the Ascendant, surprise flashing in his eyes when the plasma crackled across a protective field. The monster bared down upon him, raising its lightsaber to strike the Barabel down.

Mune attacked from behind, forcing the Ascendant to intercept one of their lightsaber strikes and then dodge out of the path of the second. The Shistavanen’s lightsabers whirled in a vicious series of spiralling attacks that cut vivid patterns of colour into the dusty air. The Ascendant parried and evaded, and the cacophony of plasma meeting plasma filled the air. Druzk waited for an opportunity, watched and took aim. Mune twisted, their cloak sizzling as a line was cut through a section of it. Mune became hyper-aware that their opponent was not tiring, and their stamina would reach its inevitable end eventually. Mune dodged, parried, and managed to get the Ascendant’s back facing the Barabel.

Druzk pulled the trigger and fired several volleys into the Ascendant’s back. The protective energy barrier again absorbed the blasts before fading away, making the Barabel curse in frustration.

It turned towards Druzk, lightning crackling along its fingers. The hand lifted, and power roared through the air. The smell of burning ozone filled their noses.

Mune leapt over the Ascendant’s head to put themself between the vicious attack and the Barabel. The plasma of their sabers crackled noisily, flashing and thrumming as Force lightning danced along their lengths. Druzk did not waste the opportunity. He stepped from behind Mune, his grenade launcher already aimed and fired into the Ascendant’s torso. An explosion broke off the stream of lightning. Too close to the duo, the blast threw them both backwards until they slammed into Goremonger’s side.

Mune could not react quick enough, a flash of a lightsaber coming through the smoke and dust intent on plunging through their chest. Regret. Is Carr okay? Doon? The ship? What about the others? Their ears lay back, and they braced. A roar filled the Shistavanen’s ears; Meyrath’s lightsaber came from above and deflected the deathblow into the duracrete. The lightsaber was followed by the rest of the Zabrak, landing in a crouch before launching himself at the enemy. Mune stared numbly, tracing the bright flashes of plasma indicating where the two were in all the dust.

They were snapped out of it by a powerful hand dragging them to their feet and steadying them. The words came distantly, unable to make them out. They heard the Barabel shouting, “Are you still with us?! Come on! Snap out of it!”

“I… I am here….” Their hand pressed to their chest, feeling everything was intact. They redirected their gaze back to where Meyrath was hard-pressed to keep up with their foe.

“Hi, Mune!” Mex called down from Goremonger’s back.

“We need to go!” Kathka shouted, “They’re cutting us off from the others!”

Could they get back with an Ascendant hounding them? This one seemed to take offence to their very existence. The troopers were one thing but the Crystal Ascendant… Mune reignited their lightsabers. “We need to get this thing off of us.”

“I’ll watch for my shot,” Druzk searched his pack for something useful, hand closing on precisely what he was looking for before his snout split in a nasty grin.

“Meyrath and I will get you an opening. There is a limit to how many attacks it can detect at once!” Mune charged back in, lightsabers splitting the dust to arc towards the Ascendant and help Meyrath.

“Be quick!” Kathka growled.

The Voidbreaker II’s turbolasers kept firing over their heads, keeping the advancing forces at bay. They only needed to worry about those still standing between them and the ship, the ones behind shields and the Crystal Ascendant trying to take them out with single-minded focus. Meyrath and Mune wove around it, lightsabers slashing and cutting, trying to best the monster. It blocked and evaded, though even the strikes that managed to slip through did not seem to cause it much distress. Its armour stood up to the assault, absorbing the damage.

Mune dropped a saber, dipping low, while Meyrath attacked up high. The Force surged through the Shistavanen’s muscles, reinforcing them. Mune drew their Sapphire Blade, dropping their second lightsaber and plunging the blade with both hands through the creature’s armour and foot, slamming deep into the duracrete. Their muscles screamed with the effort, and it was perhaps lucky that the duracrete was already as damaged as it was; if Mune believed in luck. Their lightsabers were called back to hand just as what felt like a tank had slammed into them. They heard a grunt that sounded like Meyrath had just received the same blow, and they were both sent sailing through the air from the impact. Lightning lanced between its fingers, both arms raised. The thermal grenade rolling along the ground to rest between the Ascendant’s feet went unnoticed.

Lightning lanced through the air. Mune’s barrier was already in place. Meyrath was a bit slower and only managed to focus the Force into the protective field before the enemy’s attack. Lightning danced across their respective barriers, the ground rushing to greet them. They both knew they would likely lose focus on their barriers when they hit the ground, and they would be forced to feel the sting of the Ascendant’s attack…. They needn’t have worried.

Druzk smirked, “Burn, bastard.”

The thermal detonator went off. The Ascendant was engulfed in the explosion, pinned to the ground by the Sapphire Blade plunged through its armoured foot. The roar of the blast shook the ground.

Both Force-Users hit the ground with grunts and a shock of pain as they hit hard. No time to lay about, they clambered to their feet and limped back to Goremonger and Druzk. They only glanced back to see the crater where the Ascendant had only a moment before being standing. There was no more hesitation. They hurried onto Goremonger’s back to plunge back through the thinning line back to the Voidbreaker II.

“The bomb…?” Mune panted, looking at Kathka.

“Eleceos got it,” she answered with a wide grin.

“Huh…” Mune glanced at the panting Meyrath, “Thank you for the save; I thought I was dead back there.”

“Whatever. We’re a team. Don’t worry about it.” The Zabrak grinned wide, quite proud of himself. “Buy me a drink, and we’ll call it even.”

Training Sector Fort Blindshot When Ruka had Socorra reach into his memories of Dandoran months ago and project them as illusions for his training group, she had understood just how important he felt it was that they all learned from it. The crystal behemoths and sorcerers appeared to be tough foes and watching and feeling Ruka battle against them from memory was nothing short of breathtaking. But usually memories were a bit more dramatic than reality depending on the circumstances.

In this case they were not dramatic enough.

Upon seeing them in action on eerily similar training fields that she had projected them onto, here on Selen in fact, the woman had looked to the Mirialan and said, “Everything is kandosii!” His knowledge of Mando’a was always chuckle-worthy but after too many encounters Ruka had come to understand it was her own way of saying, “It is a good day to die.”

Socorra clipped her lightsaber and the beskar spear took its place. The weapon that she had broken down and used as a cane for nearly a year would likely be the weapon she died holding, and the newly recovered Mandalorian was alright with that. It whirled expertly in her double grip as she waded into the sea of monsters, feinting, dodging, attacking and defending against one after the other, setting up attacks for the others or forcing her way between them. The woman had plenty of tricks up her sleeve but unfortunately not too many could be used in a formation or even on the ground.

The clanmates behind her were not the Erinos brothers she had wished to fight side by side with for the last time, or even Mandalorian at all, but today without a doubt they had her respect. And she gave Ruka, who had led this suicidal charge, much more than that.

The line of crystal heavies broke finally; however, what felt like a short reprieve was anything but. The sea of crystal had parted as lightning cracked across the field like a summer’s electric storm, blue, white, and purple tendrils snapping through the Fifth Regiment line. Howls erupted as soldiers dropped to the ground, severe burns granting no mercy to those that survived the first wave. The lesser Ascendants from Dandoran had lost many of their protectors but were slowly being reinforced by more.

It was far beyond any of the Arconans how those monsters could be even more powerful than they were on Dandoran or in the illusions.

“Look out!” Ruka bellowed as light flashed and a bolt arced through the air towards the Arconans. His blue-bladed lightsaber, never once disengaged, snapped up to intercept it by bodily shoving others out of the way. The saber coming in so close was just as deadly as the lightning. Used to the Juggernaut by now, the squad darted from him and brought their own sabers to bear as the electricity jumped and split into many tendrils, lashing out for purchase.

Just as they did so, they all could feel a heaviness on their minds, one not unlike the hivemind caxquette creatures of Selen, but instead of luring them with a siren song these crystal creatures were terrifying them away.

Ruka recognized it oh so well. As did Socorra, having accidentally mind melded with him during that same training and illusions. And they were later mind-controlled together in the hivemind, side by side fighting their own clanmates to save the caxquettes.

The song. Not a war song, no, the siren’s song that the Arconans’ own monsters sang was what set them apart from these crystal ones. Both sentients twisted into horrifying imagery and forced to fight. But Socorra felt nothing for the Children’s pets here. The crystal monsters and those that controlled them were only here to obey and destroy. The dark caxquettes were only here to live. And the cax, at least, called her Mother.

But Ruka, brought into a far different clan and Brotherhood, had more humanity left…as well as lesser resolve.

The Mirialan stumbled backward, clutching his green-dreaded head and dropped to his knees with a cry, his blue-bladed lightsaber plopping down as well with a solid thud. The group shouted out his name in chorus. “What’s wrong?!” they asked, although they could feel the darkness trying to creep through themselves too. Sera knelt down with him, her hands cradling his own around his face and attempting to bring the Proconsul out of the fear aura.

The helmet of his Mandalorian protector snapped to him but only for a split second as more lightning ripped through the group. Her beskar armor took the brunt, the woman literally giving her clanmates the clothes off her back. Another Force wave fell upon the group like a fog and as one they became sluggish in both mind and body before the battlefield itself appeared to become nothing but darkness.

The half-dozen Arconans began panicking and Ruka could only grunt in paralysis. The chain of command was Sera next as Quaestor, then Zuza as Rollmaster — Sera was busy fixing Ruka as she had on the cax station, and Zu was…missing? Jael was somewhere but no one could move.

…to all nine Hells with this. The Soulfirian, Herald Emeritus and Praetor to the karkin’ Grandmaster amplified her modulated voice from the helmet and started barking orders to form a protective formation around Ruka by grabbing karkin’ hands if they had to and holding the line.

Without preamble Socorra’s toes dug into the ground and her jetpack ignited, near-instantly sending her rocketing into the air where the dome of blackness, slowness, and fear could not reach. Within seconds the woman was hovering over the mass of crystals, dropping grenades like candy.

“Up here, di'kuts!” she shouted down below as explosions found the ground and cratered around and on top of some of the glass-cannon Ascendants. The troopers moved in to bodily protect them but not before a volley of firepower burst from her vambraces, spraying the field with plasma.

Socorra had their attention now, rerouting it from the dark-domed Arconans to buy them some time. The woman’s HUD lit up with the multi-frequency target acquisition system and alerted her of the incoming Force storm the Ascendants were creating. It also simultaneously relayed all battlefield information to Qyreia, including the suicidal gesture.

The armor’s built-in personal shield went up in front of Socorra but the lightning was being channeled and sustained without end, eventually shorting it out in an all-too-short moment. The shield from the vambraces then took over, protecting the woman as she rained death from above, but eventually that too would fail. The armor itself was designed to safely pass through Class V atmospheres from orbit and able to withstand weather of all conditions, including storms, but the jetpack…

…was just a backpack with jets.

With a screech the mechanics and electronics shorted out or froze from the lightning, sputtering a dying whine and fizzling out like a child’s sparkler. Socorra, not really one for heights anyway, started plummeting back to the earth feet-first, gravity yanking her swiftly towards certain death.

The repulsors in the vambrace suddenly engaged, moments before she was to be flattened into nerfcake. Instead, it lowered her down as gentle as clouds…into the middle of the crystals that she had hovered above.

The heavies rushed in from all angles before the Sith could blink. Her heart pounded with spear in hands as she stood her ground, knowing just one of the lesser troopers could probably rip her head off.

Everything is kandosii.

Before they could lay a single crystal on the woman, an entire line of other jetpacks suddenly shot over the island training grounds and began to lay down hellfire from above as she had, their Mandalorian armor crest of the Erinos clan matching that of her own. Her single arctic eye went wide and nothing short of the biggest grin in the galaxy spread across her ruby lips.

“Oyaaa!” she screamed and joined her brethren in the melee. The beskar spear spun, shanked, impaled, or simply made dents wherever it could while the field was laid to waste. The dark dome fell with the fall of the Ascendants and the clanmates were freed from their prison. The Erinos Mandalorians, one of the oldest, if not the first and proudest clan in the Brotherhood, saluted the recently decreed A’lor and then the Proconsul, before jetting off to ravage the crystal reinforcements of the asteroid.

Voidbreaker Spaceport

There was fighting everywhere, and the offensive forces were trying to separate Arcona’s defence into smaller groups and then overwhelming them with superior numbers.

Archian glanced at Zig, and looked at the surrounding view beside her.

The Jetaz started to play with the jaws of a fallen crystal raptor, as if it were checking how strong and sharp their teeth were.

His Ronto was standing still, and Archian decided to jump off from the creature.  He tapped the saurian at the back, and took out his whip. He wasn’t ready for combat. Ronto, meanwhile, turned his head in the direction of Mune’s group. 

The red-furred Shistavanen quickly climbed back onto the creature and looked down to check what distracted the usually calm herbivore. At the right flank a large group of red, fast reptilian creatures were approaching them from behind the small hill. There were at least ten of them. Archian slid off Ronto’s neck, and whistled at it. 

“Go to them,” Archian said, and the creature quickly turned and started galloping there. 

“And you,” he shortly whistled at the armored carnivore. “Come closer”.

The Jetaz standing by slowly moved forward, and then threw the reptile’s body to the ground.

When it stopped directly behind the Zig, it kneeled, and its face came closer to Archian’s paw. Shistavanen climbed at its back. 

“See you around Captain,” he said, and looked at Zig - straight after both started getting closer to the group of the two raptors, which were getting too close in his opinion…

Fort Blindshot Spaceport: munitions loading area

The Nightfall Prism II had been on the deck for some time now. Her powerpacks and magazines had run dry over the many hours of intense aerial combat and needed re-stocking. The droids and crews in the Spaceports armoury had been busy going to and fro from the ship. Jor stood by and made sure that all the magazines and powerpacks were loaded and installed correctly. The last thing that she needed was to take off and have to do alterations in mid flight.

The alarm klaxons sounded without warning. The enemy had breached the perimeter around the armoury. This was not good. The mandalorian ran up the ramp and into the ship, grabbing her rifle and a dozen powerpacks as the droids finalised their loading. She could see swarms of raptors surging towards them, still several hundred metres out, but too close for comfort. While the droids finished their work and KC ran through the checklist, she took position on one of the armoury’s defensive towers and took aim. Bolt after bolt of high powered plasma burst from her weapon, each round impacting with devastating force against the crystal covered raptors. Their crystalline modifications did very little to protect all of their body, so there were plenty of locations where her rounds could still do lethal damage. The Sephi flicked the magazine catch and the now empty magazine dropped to the floor as she simultaneously slid a fresh one in. The motion was fluid and well practised, she just hoped that she had bought enough time for KC to prep the ship.

Her helmet comms light flashed on her viewplate.

“Mistress, the ship is ready if you would like to get you armoured butt on board…quickly”

She chuckled in her helmet. It was not often lately that KC used sas in his comments, he was clearly stressed and was in a hurry. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and lept down the ladder to the ground, the Force allowing her to glide gently to the surface and she sprinted towards the waiting access ramp. KC had already got the repulsors active and had slewn the ship around so she had a straight shot up the ramp. As she got close the deafening energised crack of the Prism’s laser cannons thundered above her. Had she not been in her armour she would have definitely been shocked by the sudden roar, it was rare that she was outside when her ship’s weapons fired, and the noise was louder than she expected. She dove up the ramp and smacked the emergency close button as more laser rounds burst from the ship’s weapons towards the approaching hordes. The gunnery droid brain was doing its best to target and fire the ship’s weapons. He wasn’t the best but against this level of target saturation, but here he could hardly miss.

The ship lifted off as Jor climbed into her seat on the bridge. The enemy were close now, within fifty metres of the armoury. She swung into action. The distinctive clunk of the missile launcher emerging from the hull sounded just before the thud of multiple launches, she had plotted a cluster of targets to allow the warheads maximum effectiveness, this close the concussion missiles would be devastating against the raptors and their handlers and they would have little chance to react. A dozen concussion impacts detonated on the tarmac. The concussive waves and explosive force pulped and shredded raptors and handlers alike. Their extensive armour and super level protection was useless against weapons designed to rip apart capital ship’s. The Prism swooped up and over the remaining forces and began to get into a position where they could carry out strafing runs.

This would be a long and bloody day….

Fort Blindshot Spaceport

The Voidbreaker II’s turbolasers sang out, firing volleys directly into the enemy defences. Shields elsewhere on the line began to falter, overburdened at the loss of three generators. Overhead, the Nightfall Prism II soared, its weapons unloading into the line. The tide was turning violently in favour of the Arconans. By no means was the battle won. The twisted horrors that made up most of the Children’s forces knew no mercy. Knew no rest. Knew only conflict, devastation, and death.

Kathka guided her varactyl through the fray. The crystal-enhanced reptilian creatures closed upon them, eating up ground faster than the passenger-laden Goremonger.

“Incoming!” Druzk bellowed.

Kathka swore, and Goremonger skidded to a halt as a raptor came bowling in from the side, narrowly avoided. Meyrath leapt over the beast’s head, lightsaber ablaze. The Force burned through his body, power that surged through muscle and bone. The Zabrak roared and drove his lightsaber through the beast’s skull, eliciting a screech. Druzk fired into the side of another raptor, sending it reeling sideways.

“Mune! Get with the fancy tricks!” Druzk snarled, firing into another.

The small Shistavanen was concentrating, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed, and hands out. They focused on bits of broken concrete and metal scrap; scrap they were certain was shrapnel from a destroyed tank. With the Force, they reached out and tried to lift the tremendous weight of it.

“Mune!”

You are not helping; they wanted to shout but instead focussed all the harder. Rubble began to levitate, but not the heavy tank shrapnel they hoped for. Perhaps it was too optimistic of them— they growled and made do. They flung the large chunks of duracrete and metal into the circling beasts and sent at least two tumbling. They tried to reach out for another when a weight more significant than their own smashed into them from the side. The momentum carried them both down from Goremonger’s back. Mune twisted and managed to get their feet under them and landed roughly. The raptor was just as agile, though, and landed a lot more ready from its surprise attack. Maybe that is why Druzk shouted their name a second time, to warn them of the threat?

Mune reached for their lightsabers, and the raptor rushed them as if sensing the Shistavanen’s intent. The Arcanist yelped in surprise, their barrier surging to life between the two. The raptor’s jaws snapped and bit at the air beyond the invisible field.

“We have run into some trouble over here!” they called over their comms. Their attention flicked to the side, where a second of the raptors had launched itself into the air and fell upon them.

The barrier shattered before they could redouble the power they were putting into maintaining it, and all the weight came smashing down on them. They could not help the yip that escaped them. They were slammed to the ground, and their head cracked against the duracrete, sending an explosion of stars dancing across their vision and ears ringing. Instinctively they activated a lightsaber and plunged the plasma blade through the creature’s skull. Their second lightsaber hissed to life and was driven through the same creature’s chest. The beast fell heavily to the side, Mune’s lightsabers disengaging.

Darkness swallowed the world for what felt like an eternity, but what was, in reality, only minutes. When the battlefield came back to them, it was Mex standing over them and their droid at their side, firing away into the body of the first raptor. The Nightfall Prism II hovered above, firing into the other raptors and driving them back.

Druzk came tromping over, and Mune noticed the nasty gash in the Barabel’s chest armour and the blood that showed through the rent area. They tried to sit up to heal the man, fuzzy as their head was. The world disagreed with those thoughts, and their brain somersaulted in their skull. The world was momentarily black again. Well, that’s no good, they thought, before having to turn on their side to vomit. Their consciousness distantly noted the smear of blood where their head had been lying, then came the realization that their cowl was plastered to the back of their head. Then darkness swallowed them again.

“Withdraw! I will cover your retreat,” came Jor’s voice over the comms.

When reality reasserted itself again, Meyrath was concentrating on healing. Goremonger was charging back towards the Voidbreaker II with her passengers. True to her word, Jor’ana kept the enemy from trailing them, devastating any enemy that tried.

Training Sector Fort Blindshot

Uji’s footsteps were silent, his movement shadowed by the Force hiding him from the crystalline entities swarming towards the Arconan line. His concentration focused purely on concealing himself from the awareness of the creatures surrounding him, knowing that a slip of his concentration to concern himself with the Arconans could reveal him to the Force sensitive monsters.

Moving from cover to cover using the woodland environment allowed him to circle away from the main body of the enemy forces. Uji didn’t have the experience or encounters with the invading monstrosities that many of the others had experienced. Thankfully, the abominations seemed to lack the talent to pierce the veil surrounding him.

He sensed movement to his left, the heavy footfalls of twisted troopers marching past where he stood. He steeled himself, his breathing stopping as every fiber of his being stood immobile to blend against the environment. While he watched the dozens of troopers march towards the Arconan line, he knew that he could disrupt them, but with so many it would only be a matter of time until they overwhelmed him.

His responsibility was not to deal with the fodder, but find his way to the Ascendants and, when an opportunity arose, dispatch as many as he could before retreating to safety. Uji began moving again, slipping unseen and unheard between enemy lines as he drew closer to his targets. He watched as the Ascendants who had been reported to work primarily on their own brought their wills together, unleashing lightning on the front lines of the Clan’s forces.

The Adept knew he’d only have moments once the Force cloak fell away; he had to make the most of it and deal as many debilitating wounds as he could. These creatures were less resilient then the fodder being thrown at the front lines. He broke into a sprint, stretching the limits of his concentration to remain concealed until the last moment even as he suffused his entire body, amplifying his movements to close the distance.

His fingers slipped around the hilt of the lightsaber as he did so, taking in the positions of the Children of Mortis surrounding him. The Ascendants were knotted together as they unleashed their powers, the exterior ring of their protectors having been drawn to the sides to clear their line of attack. Uji slipped in between their lines, coming so close to the crystalline troopers that he had to hold to his faith in the Force to protect him.

He drew close to the first of the mostly organic Ascendants, igniting his saber even as he was already swinging, only releasing his concentration and appearing among the amassed enemy forces an instant before his blade connected. The lesser armor of the Ascendants giving way to a series of blows, Uji mirrored the exact same pattern, moving to the next of the Ascendants, knowing he only had heartbeats before they would react.

Where the Adept had chosen to strike was along the back of the amassed group. Due to this he was forced to push aside his senses screaming of the danger surrounding him. He was barely able to pick out the sight of the Mandalorian rocketing above his position.

“Up here, di'kuts!” the voice rang out powerfully, heard even over the din of battle even as the grenades she’d released began landing in and among the Ascendants and their bodyguards.

Uji moved on instinct alone as one of the fragmentation grenades landed nearly at his feet. His senses guided his movement: a lifetime practitioner of Shadow Step, he moved to interpose one of the larger crystalline bodies between him and the explosive. He twisted the creature, hanging from its back as he tightened his body as small as he could manage as the explosives went off in unison. The concussion sent those nearby flying, including that of his would-be shield,

Uji felt the stinging bite of the fragmentation pellets and the pieces of crystal torn from the creatures nearby puncture and tear into his flesh. Fueled by pain, he leapt from the body, knowing the futility of attempting to re-engage the Ascendants. The decision saved his life as he once again sheathed himself from sight and retreated, as the warcry of the Erinos rang out as explosions, blaster fire and worse tore into the Children.

Training Sector Fort Blindshot

Ruka raised a hand and opened his mouth to lecture Socorra for the suicide jetpack maneuver, but the huffing and puffing of Zuza grabbed his attention as she ran all-out in their direction, her brown hair a wild halo around her head, and breathlessly trying to point backwards to the jungle.

“St-sst–stam—"

The rest of the group turned to look at what she was too winded to speak of. The tall and thick foliage and canopy Zuza ran from was starting to come alive.

“Stamm.. PEEEEDE!”

One by one crystal raptors burst out of the jungle until a full-blown zoo began pouring out of it like a kicked-over ant hill.

“RUUN!!!” the group screamed in unison.

Big ones tall as trees, little ones, tiny ones big enough to bridle and ride darted this way and that, ripping up the earth and creating dust storms in their wake. Critters were squashed or eaten as they fled, smaller trees were flattened, and the Arconans were just more objects in their way. They ducked and weaved and combat rolled but there were just too many of the super dinos. They couldn’t outrun crystal-enhanced raptors nor could they outlast them.

Ruka was used to his role of a tank, a Juggernaut. It was not his first rodeo.. although maybe his first raptor rodeo. But it had been a long, long time for Socorra, with four years of coma and nearly a year in physical and mental recovery. Whereas the Mirialan was a boulder in the wind, the Human was a rock in a hurricane still regaining the strength and power that took years the first time. The others were fast and nimble on their feet. In the heavy-as-kark pure beskar armor Socks was most definitely one that wasn’t, or at least not for very long. The woman stretched her Force powers to their limits but lagged behind and started getting trampled and nipped at, firing off her flamethrower as a last resort as she stumbled backwards and fell repeatedly, her gray and purple helmet flying off into the dirt.

A couple of large crystallized raptors darted to her direction as did others, as if spying an injured calf in a herd. The flamethrower was little deterrence to one of the big boys and it snapped her up in its jaws.

The woman knew first-hand even beskar couldn’t stop an RPG head-on, and now, as Socorra was about to become a hot meal, she knew it wouldn’t stop dinosaur monstrosities either. As a final-final resort the Erinos primed a grenade and held it, expletives in both Mando'a and Olys Corellisi flinging from her mouth, ready to take half the herd with her.

Everything is kandosii.

“Socorra, NO!!!” Ruka shouted as he turned back, his violet eyes popping wide.

The grenade was telekinetically ripped from her hand and tossed under the second large raptor instead, spraying the battlefield with a brilliant dazzling display of raining blood, gore, and crystal shards. The first raptor crunched down into the armor and shook its head like a dog with a toy before its jaws suddenly snapped apart above and below its head in another gory grotesque display.

It unceremoniously dropped the woman as it keeled over. She landed with a thud of finality and laid unmoving on the ground as smaller hungry ones snapped at each other and raced for the downed calf.

Another telekinetic charge launched from Ruka’s mind, tossing nearby raptors upside down into the air and picking up fallen trees to create a blockade around the woman. The raptors were nimble creatures, running faster and jumping higher with their crystal enhancements and dodged or leapt expertly over the obstacles like professional Hutt-track runners. They landed precisely where he didn’t want them to. The last big boy simply walked over the trees and snapped its jaws at the prone body.

The teeth on the monster pulled back as it suddenly collided with a bubble materialized out of thin air. It snapped again but again was repelled. It growled, hissed, and howled in frustration and lashed out with both jaws and claws until an entire pack of smaller raptors pounced on him, dragging him down to the ground and ripping the big boy apart.

Ruka bolted towards the woman and found a bubble popping into existence around him too, as well as the others, protecting them from the dwindling stampede. The Mirialan spotted Wyndell Tyris nearby, his hands dancing in the air like an orchestra conductor, crafting barriers and then an illusion to keep the herd at bay. Wyn turned to Ruka with his incessant, child-like grin.

“Pitter patter, let’s get at’er!”

“Thanks, but be weird some other kriffin’ time!”

Ruka leapt into the air to close the distance between him and the gang of raptors tearing apart the big boy, his lightsaber searing the air but finding nothing to cut into on the way down. The crystal dinos scrambled and fled to attack others well away, leaving a perfectly good meal to do so as if enticed that the meat was redder on the other side. Ruka flat out ignored whatever the kriff just happened and knelt at the woman’s side.

The grenade and teeth had not been kind. It wasn’t very often that one could see beskar ripped apart but the enhanced raptor teeth were made of sterner stuff. The crystal shards were as well, embedding into the armor and impaling the woman all the way through the beskar and into the blood-soaked training ground.

Turbolaser Tower 05 Blindshot Island, Eastern Edge

From the air, the fight was impressive indeed. Grot watched from the cockpit of his fighter, looking down at another wave of Mortis soldiers surging forward to the turbolaser building. They were swiftly beaten back, and Grot thought he could hear Skar’s battlecry all the way from his cockpit as the cyborg threw back a trio of troopers with a burst of bright blue lightning.

He would be worth many points, Grot thought appreciatively, wishing luck on whichever trooper was brave enough to try such a ferocious quarry. The troopers were pulling back now, reorganizing behind a ridge of broken rocks as they waited for the snarling rancor to make its way up to them.

We won’t last long if that monster makes it to tower, Grot thought grimly, and the communicator answered his thoughts in turn.

“Grot! My scaly compatriot! Would you look at the size of that beast! I’m sure many points await the man brave enough to take it down!” Strong’s booming voice peaked the audio on the com-system, causing it to screech and hiss. He hastily scratched at the volume, turning it down before he replied.

“I have already begun the hunt, General, but those troopers might give me trouble if I come too close.” Grot rounded the turbo laser tower, sighting in on the approaching Rancor.

“If you are asking for a distraction, good sir, that is what you shall have!”

With a shout the defenders opened fire with renewed vigor, a storm of blaster bolts suppressing the Mortis positions. Skar and Vreva leapt forward with a yell, their blades flashing among the smoke and confusion of the battlefield as they dove headlong into the enemy lines.

Suicide, was Grot’s first intuition, but for a Force-user? They might just survive that. He had no time, though, to worry after their health. He fell in overhead of them, a few stray blaster bolts bouncing off his shield as he pulled down his targeting computer. Through the comfortable distance of the screen he could see the spit dripping down the side of the rancors face, its eyes blood red with anger.

He squeezed the trigger.

Immediately, a hail of bright blaster bolts slammed into the armor of the creature, leaving the crystalline plate bright red and steaming, but failing to penetrate. Two missiles erupted from the bottom hatch of his ship, racing towards the creature and exploding just before they reached their target. A couple of buzz-droids deployed from the spent casing as Grot passed overhead, latching on tight to the rancor’s armor and cutting into the weakened crystal with laser-cutters.

Strong’s probe droid watched closely as the creature howled in pain, clutching at the droids that skittered around its body cutting away chunks of armor and ripping into the flesh underneath. With a metallic thud, it slapped one like a mosquito on its thigh, then ripped the other from its upper arm. The Rancor tossed the poor squealing buzz droid into its maw before continuing its wild charge to the tower.

“No effect!” Strong bellowed through the comms. “I don’t suppose you have anything bigger mounted on that thing?”

Grot cursed, considering his options for a moment. With grim determination, he turned the starfighter around and pointed the nose directly at the rancor.

“I do not have the weaponry, but I have the mass.”

Turbolaser Tower 05 Blindshot Island, Eastern Edge

“Ha! One more for me!” shouted Vreva over the cacophony of fire and fodder around them. She wrenched her Nightsister blade from the throat of an Ascended abomination as it choked on its last breath.

Skar speared another creature, lifting it above his head before throwing the mass of flesh and crystal careening towards a third. More would attempt to surround the Battlelord with their rifles, but with a turn of his Beskar spear their shots were deflected into each other. Chunks of red crystal blasted away like fractals of frozen blood. “We’re counting?” the Kaleesh replied with disdain.

“Yeah, sure! You think I’m not? Big ones are worth extra. Down, boy!” She shouted as she spun around with her rifle in hand, aiming just over Skar’s shoulder. The Kaleesh ducked and rolled to the side just as her shot fired off with a loud crack into an enemy skull.

As he stood again, he brought his spear up with a sharp twist into the jaw of another crystal construct. It let out a gurgle as it reached with claws to grab at him. “Boy?” he snarled.

“Uhh, meant ‘sir’. Down, sir.” Vreva said quickly as she chambered another shot. Though when she turned to find another target she made a face.

A loud blast and a howl of pain shook the battlefield as Grot’s ship connected with the crystallized Rancor. The Trandoshan ejected out at the last minute and was making his way landward with his parachute. The others below ducked out of the way of the wreckage as the Rancor fell. Some of the Ascendant soldiers weren’t as lucky, and they fell pinned beneath the metal fractions of the ship or the crystalline carcass of the beast.

Vreva whooped, “Jackpot for whoever that was!”

“Does that mean that this game ends?” asked Skar, hopeful. He continued to deflect blaster fire with his spear. Though the largest thing on the field had fallen, there still remained the rabble to clear up.

“Nah, but he gets ten points, easy,” Vreva said as she looked out over the field for her next target. “I wonder if there’s any more of those big beasties around. Thought I saw some of those raptors scurrying about…”

“Focus! See there?” the Kaleesh pointed towards the battle line, though the Zabrak’s brow furrowed as she turned in that direction.

“See where?” She aimed her rifle and looked down its sights. “Oh… Well, frak this.”

A clamboring group of crystal raptors were gathering where Grot’s pod descended. Beyond that, an even larger bull Rancor approached the main tower. It thundered up the tower steps, ignoring all beneath its feet as it went.

“You don’t happen to have another ship handy, do you?” Vreva asked, earning a groan of exasperation from the Battlelord. She aimed her sights at the advancing raptors, firing two slugs in rapid succession. One raptor fell with a slug to its eye, while the other had turned its head at the last second. “Come on, your buddy’s gonna be chow if we don’t get to him first.”

Starport

After many attempts at finding the correct way, and having stopped for more than enough times, Aru and Kaka finally appeared in the spaceport.

On his way there, Aru had somehow fitted Kaka with “war armour”. The Bantha also had protective caps on his horns and the fur around his snout had been braided to look more menacing.

Aru, himself was dressed like a famous Jedi from the Clone Wars. But he also carried his extremely modified Bantha Cycler Rifle.

Upon reaching the safe perimeter, established by his companions, the Human quickly scanned the battlefield, in search of a particular Zygerrian. Seconds later, he found her. Zig’s shiny armour was like a beacon to the alcohol-deprived Jedi.

He grabbed his rifle with both his hands and yelled “ZIG!!!”

This caught the Voidbreaker Captain’s attention. Even behind the cover of her helmet’s visor, he could tell she had a disappointed look on her face.

“ArrhRHrr AhfdfhA AHDG hgHSAGSHE WEhgasdfd!!!” was what Aru blurted out. A poor attempt at imitating a Tusken Raider’s warcry.

Not only Zig, but most of the personnel that were near her, looked in a mix of awe and pity to the poor figure the former Aedile of House Qel-Droma was displaying.

“Aru! This is really not the time.” The Zygerrian said.

As he got closer to her, Aru dismounted his Bantha and took a small empty bottle from his pocket. He waved it in front of Zig’s face to show her what he was on about.

“Why is the Rum gone!?” he gestured fiercely.

“Beverage problems are the least of my problems. Right now, there’s a ton of crystal deformed monstrosities to deal with, in case you haven’t noticed. I have a crew to lead, a Spaceport to defend, innocents to evacuate and your Rum is not among that list!” The Captain explained, hoping some sense would reach the Jedi’s head.

“But why is the Rum gone?”

“The baddies have it.” Zig gave up. “It’s behind the enemy lines…”

“The audacity!” Aru gazed into the battlefield.

He then whistled in a high pitched frequency, only to be answered in the distance. A loud echoey siren-like noise responded. Soon after, a very agile Varactyl darted through all the enemies and obstacles, making its way to the caller.

It stopped right beside Aru, who greeted the animal with some neck scratches and affirmations.

“Who’s a good girl? You are, you are!” He kept scratching Varactyl’s neck and head.

“You have a Varactyl now? Or did you steal one from the menagerie?” Zig wouldn’t have been surprised at this point.

“This is Alana’s! She’s had her since it was just a little lizzie, isn’t that right Liza? Yes it is,” he kept scratching Liza’s neck, causing her to waggle her tail in happiness, “yes it is!”

“What are you planning on doing with…Liza?”

“Right. Time to get serious. Take care of Kaka for me will ya?”

“Wha…?” Zig had no time to finish her remark.

Aru hopped onto Liza’s back and dashed directly into the cluster of enemies.

“For the Rum!”

Zig watched Aru go and let out a long, weary sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding back. She had no idea what to do with a Bantha, but “Kaka” as Aru had named it, seemed to be perfectly capable of taking care of himself. The Bantha made its way towards the ramp of the Voidbreaker, paying the Captain no mind.

And so the battle to secure the starport dragged on, mental fatigue was starting to take its toll on the young Captain. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins, and the double-tapped, double-dead corpses served as a cryptic warning not to get too close to the armored Zygerrian.

She watched and listened over comms as Mune brilliantly led the charge for Voidbreaker in a way that she herself couldn’t. They were coordinating with Doon and the others back on the ship. The Shistaven had quickly earned the trust of everyone, even a veteran mercenary like Druzk and the unlikely pairing with Meyrath, Kathka, and Mex. They were beaten up, battered, but still on their feet and fighting. As she looked closer, she saw that Mex looked somehow…unharmed and unfazed by the events. The realization sent a warm wave of comfort through her aching body taught beneath her beskar plating.

Sweat matted her forehead. Her ears, even fitted into the custom molds of her helmet, hurt. She knew it was stupid to remove your helmet in the heat of battle, but as she idly drifted back towards the side of the ship, she pulled it off anyway. While the chaotic din of the starport became much louder and prominent, the faint wisps of fresh air on her face lifted her spirits immediately. She breathed in deeply through her nose then exhaled slowly through her lips.

As she went through the breathing exercise a few times, she found her mind drifting towards another part of her awareness she’d been keeping at bay. Zuza. It wasn’t until that very moment that Zig saw the Human woman’s smile in her mind’s eye, her heart fluttering with concern for her…girlfriend. Yes, girlfriend. She wasn’t afraid to say it. She was proud. But she also really missed her and wished she had been here instead of..wherever the Rollmaster had been deployed.

She probably did something stupid and reckless…I’ll have to have Eilen slice into the AAF database again to pull footage to see what I missed…

Captain, a voice cut in over her wrist-comm.

“Talk to me, Pantsman,” she replied curtly to Nathan.

“I told you not to call me that—nevermind that, Captain, we’ve made the modifications you requested to the tractor beam, but we’re going to need more time for your other request. Which. I’ve told you is absolutely mental, right?”

Zig shook her head, mostly for her own sake. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Nathan, but does Jax think it’s doable?”

There was a crackle, a rustling, as the communicator aboard the ship was probably shuffled about.

Siòd,, Jax’s voice came through the comm in the native Zygerrian dialect. He smoothly switched back to basic. Zig, the ground crew from the starport have been helpful with loading in the extra crates of cryoban grenades, but do you remember how I was explaining the difference between endothermic and exothermic reactions when working with personnel grade weaponry instead of starfighter engines?

“Vaguely,” Zig replied, making a wavy gesture with her hand. “Spare me the repeat lesson, sinead…can you do it?”

Theoretically…if we can move enough water volume…if the temperature is just right…if the calculations are accurate…

“Just make it work, Jax. It’s our only hope of truly turning the tides.”

Yes, but at what cost to the ship?

“That’s a risk I’ll have to take,” Zig replied, suddenly feeling even more tired and—

Instinct and reflex saved her from being skewed by a sudden sweep of a crimson lightsaber. The Zygerrian slid backwards while thrusting her helmet forward. It was enough to deflect the lightsaber wide, but she gasped in surprise as the blade scored a nasty gouge through the beskar visor. She stared at her helmet a bit dumbfounded, but was forced to quickly drop it and summon her vambrace’s wrist-shield. It was only partially recharged, but it was enough to protect her while she recovered from her initial confusion at both her attacker and his weapon. Most normal mercenaries—when faced against an abomination with jagged crystals jutting out of their twisted faces and limbs and wielding a large energy sword—would lose their nerve and turn to run or flee. But for Zig, who had dated a powerful Sith Alchemist, trained with her, and spent the last few years of her life working for and with a bunch of…Force sensitive practitioners. She was also ready this time for the threat that faced them.

She dropped into a crouch as she pulled out her brand new beskar besk’ad. She would have preferred the length and reach of her spear, but she’d grown fond of the sword’s portability and utility and how it could intertwine with her martial arts experience.

“Come at me!” Zig shouted definitely at the Purified Ascendent Trooper.

It did. And as she went to cleverly catch the crystal warriors lightsaber with the edge of her beskad, the scientific part of her mind was given the realization that the fighter part of her consciousness was not about to enjoy. Whatever modifications had been done to the Children of Mortis personnel’s armor apparently was true for their weapons as well.

Zig watched mutely as for the second time the material famed for resisting the bite of a lightsaber failed. Her beskad seared in two, the metal tip dropping to the floor and leaving her with just the stub protruding from the hilt.

Uh oh…

The next sequence of blows happened in a blur. Zig’s wrist-shield sputtered as it dulled the impact of a potentially lethal slice at her neck. Instead, the lightsaber barely grazed her, but drew a painful, thin bright line just below her left cheekbone.

Then she felt herself hurled backwards by an unseen hand. Before the Zygerrian could crash into the hull plating of the ship, however, she found herself hovering helplessly in the air. She kicked her feet and struggled with all her might, but before she could curse out her attacker she felt her windpipe constriction as if it were being squeezed. She clutched at her own neck, at hands that she could not see or grasp and started to make choking noises.

The Ascendent sneered and let out a chuckle that was dry and laced with the sound of broken glass.“Balance…”

“…harder…you…wimp…” the Zygerrian rasped out definitely.

That seemed to genuinely confuse the Ascendent, as they tilted their head and momentarily did the opposite and let up on the pressure.

“NATHAN NOW” Zig screamed, voice rasped, hoping that her comm would pick up the command.

A distorted wave of energy surged from the side panels of the Voidbreaker II. Sound without sound as gravity itself was warped. The engineers aboard the Minstrel-class space yacht had figured out a way to reverse the servos that powered the tractor beam to push instead of pull.

The resulting concussive blast ripped into the Children of Mortis forces, sending the Purified Ascendent Trooper and its cohorts of creatures and soldiers alike soaring across the entire expanse of the starport. The few of the remaining AAF personnel were caught in the blast, but perhaps their lives had been better spent than being raised as crystal zombies against their own allies.

Zig was “safe” by nature of being held up high in the air by the arrogant Ascendent. When they were struck by the blast, however, they relinquished their telekinetic hold on the Zygerrian—which gave her just enough time to activate her jetpack and remain clear.

When she touched back down, Zig fell to her knees and felt her vision swim. Spots flooded her vision. She tried to stay upright, but she started to cough violently and emptied what little contents were in her stomach onto the floor.

As her vision waivered, she saw Voidbreaker Battle Team form a protective circle around her. The enemy was also starting to regroup, but they seemed to be reassessing their assault. She felt hands grabbing her and pulling her back towards the ship.

The last thing she saw before her eyes closed was a lone figure in a gray cloak landing light as a feather beside the Voidbreaker II. A familiar BD-unit droid perched on his shoulder and waved at her with one of its versatile legs.

“Thank you Captain,” Marick Tyris Arconae said quietly in his low, lilted voice. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Fort Blindshot Spaceport

“Stop that; I do not need healing….” Mune brushed off Meyrath’s ministrations, much to the Zabrak’s chagrin.

“If you collapse, do not blame me,” he frowned.

“I promise I will do no such thing.”

Their head throbbed, but it felt as though the bleeding had ceased. They sensed Eleceos a moment before the Miraluka came to their side. Marick had arrived, but it remained a precarious situation on the battlefield. They sorted through the numerous paths the Force had taken them down, each winding through the corridors of innumerable possibilities. All the data. “Are you ready, Eleceos? I will close every door I can.”

“I know you will,” the Miraluka smiled tightly before opening his hand and as well as his mind.

Mune was perhaps as hesitant. There was too much they wanted to keep buried, and no matter how much discipline they learned, it had an ugly habit of returning to the surface. They focused, throwing doors closed in their mind. They envisioned the place that had made them feel most at peace—the orchards of the monastery.

The breeze ruffled their fur softly. The scent of fresh blossoms. They calmed their mind with every breath, remembering the feel of the cool soil under their paws, its rich and earthy scent reaching their nose. Calm enveloped them, filled their being, a wall of serenity to protect their friend from the shadows that still caused nightmares some nights for the Shistavanen. Only when that calm was at its most complete did they grab the Miraluka’s hand. The visions were already had, and their memory flowed through Mune like a brook through a peaceful meadow. Their mind followed the paths already taken, dropping one after the other, deviation in the stream already chosen, whether intentionally or not.

Eleceos gasped audibly beside them, the sense of calm and warmth filling him through their physical contact, skin on fur. The Miraluka was already sharing his visions of events that were still to happen, adding them to the library of the Shista’s own. Then, with minds joined, both Arcanist reached outwards for the third mind to complete the circuit. Marick’s mind was there amongst many, cold, calm, frightening in its already hyper-aware perception of its surroundings. Eleceos brushed his mind, “We’re ready.”

The Hapan felt the whisper through his thoughts. Had he been anyone else, he would perhaps have given a knowing grin right then. As it was, he gave nothing away. He felt the minds of both the Miraluka and Shistavanen. His gifts in telepathy were not substantial enough to respond in kind, but they both knew time was of the essence, and there could be no time for words, or the paths may diverge once more. They only needed a little more time for the Dark Council and the Arcona Armed Forces to act, and he trusted these two to guide his hand in buying that time.

The pain in their head faded into the background, lost to the visions that flitted one by one through their head, filling their mind’s eyes. Mune grinned, unable to help the slight cockiness they were feeling at that moment. Only the data. They took the data that applied to the current paths from Eleceos and themself and, through the Miraluka, dumped it into Marick’s mind. They sunk themself into the images, into the flow of all the visions leading up to their current place in the flow of time and analyzed the next set of variances, already sharing the subsequent data sets as decided by the Hapan’s next actions. The mental strain would eventually start to wear, but for now, the three Arcanists held firm within the ebb and flow of battle, time, and the Force. Mune closed their eyes and blocked out all else, submerging themself completely.

Anchored in the Force, armed with the divergent paths ahead, Marick made his move. Cold, calculating, mind analyzing the information at hand, he chose.

Training Sector Fort Blindshot Present

The raptors kept coming, a seemingly endless horde descended from the treeline.

Consul’s Quarters, VSD Invicta III **En route to Dajorra System ** Immediately Post-Dandoran Incident

“Thanks for letting me hitch a ride back, Milady,” the Neti rumbled as he sat besides his Consul.

“Well, someone had to debrief you on what you were up to, darling,” Lucine said as she took a sip of her drink, something fruity with an rainbow coloured umbrella sticking out of it. A smirk overtook her face momentarily, “Thank you for the drink, by the way!”

“Well, you’re the one who seized the majority of my loot!” Ood grumbled half-heartedly as he sipped something served in a coconut.

“Oh come now, you knew you weren’t going to be allowed to keep much of it. Just be happy we’re letting you hold onto some of the more esoteric artifacts. And be glad you hadn’t taken any slaves, or we’d be having this conversation in the prison block with a few tortured droids added in for good measure,” the Human Equite remarked as she moved her straw around, attempting to capture the last few dregs of her drink. “Oh dear, it’s empty again!” Slowly the Consul moved to get up and stumbled towards the other side of the room, where a set of fifteen crates filled with a large collection of bottles were haphazardly stacked.

“What did I do to earn the privilege of being questioned by a Consul, anyway?” Ood stated as he drunkenly used the Force in an attempt to levitate a bottle of rum towards him.

“Hah! You’re a degenerate, but you’re our degenerate. The only person I can be sure you wouldn’t try to fool or hoodwink is the Consul of Clan Arcona. You somehow respect the Clan too much to even try and manipulate whoever holds that title. Atty told me how to manage you!” with a thunk, the Consul slid to the ground and leaned against the nearest crate, blindly grabbing a bottle from behind her head as she grinned at the oldest living Arconan in active service.

“Damn that Miraluka! So boss…hic…when can I get started on these crystals we’ve gotten our hands on?” the Neti stared mournfully at the now empty bottle of rum, seemingly wondering where it had all gone.

“Never!” the Consul reacted quickly. “Any research will be done by the Doctor, not the mad alchemist or ritualist or whatever you call yourself these days.”

Silence greeted her as the Neti had seemingly lost consciousness from a combination of shock and alcohol, which was her cue to dispel her illusion and depart for a quieter drink.

Training Sector Fort Blindshot Present

“What’s going on back there?” a young soldier yelled, hoping to attract the attention of someone higher up in the chain of command.

With a quick jump onto a piece of debris, Zuza managed to gain a better view of the ongoing situation. With a growing sense of bafflement, the Rollmaster stared into the distance. “What the kriff is going on back there?”

Dajorra System, Selen The Citadel A few days before Lucine’s retirement as Consul of Arcona

“Aww, come on, mate! Help me convince Lucy to give me access to the crystals!!” the Neti whined after exhausting his arguments.

“No, Ood, the Consul made her decision and we all must be in agreement with her on this matter. Stay away from those crystals.” Having said his piece, Proconsul Rhylance started to move away from the old alchemist.

Training Sector Fort Blindshot Present

Raptors of all sizes seemed to be having difficulties leaving the jungle. The smaller ones appeared to be launched upwards, arcing back towards the deeper parts of the jungle as they screeched in confusion. The bigger ones were being dragged back into the trees. In the distance, parts of the forest appeared to be moving to and fro.

Dajorra System, Selen The Citadel, Throne Room A few weeks into Rhylance tenure as Consul

“Oh, come now, I understand you being loyal to the Consul back then but make up your own mind. Why not let me play with the crystals? Don’t tell me you’ve learned anything yet with this “scientific method” mumbo jumbo?” the Neti stated as he stood before the Serpentine Throne.

“That’s not the point, Ood. The last time you ran an experiment, you were asked to study a creature and we ended up with a mated pair of Sith Wyrms escaping into the wilds of Selen. We’re still hunting those things…Dismissed.” Rhylance waved, seemingly fed up with the argument as he shooed the old Sith out of the room with a single gesture.

Training Sector Fort Blindshot Present

“Is that Ood?” a voice rang out as a set of tentacle-like tree branches slithered around the throat of a raptor and sliced its head off before grabbing hold of a massive raptor and beginning to drag it back into the forest. Trees had begun shaking as sounds of violence emerged from the jungle. In the distance, dozens of splattering noises started to reach the Arconan forces, seemingly being carried on the wind from deeper inside the forest.

“I mean, it has to be him, right? Who else could it be but that mad old flora… I mean… what do you think?” Karran asked as he turned towards this fellow Zabrak.

“I mean, maybe? Seems to be similar to some of the stories I’ve heard relating to him. It’s definitely something he’d do if those stories are true, but I can’t be sure. Never actually met the old Warlord.” the Quaestor mumbled, more talking to herself than anyone else.

Dajorra System, Selen The Citadel, Rooftop Meditation Garden A few weeks after Ruka’s ascension to Proconsul

“Come now, my dear, reach into the Force and see for yourself it is my destiny to play with…I mean study those crystals!” Ood stated as he sat in a meditation pose opposite the reanimated Miraluka.

“No, Oddles, you naughty tree, you. You’re not getting access to them. Stay away from the island!” Atyiru responded, seemingly annoyed at having her meditation interrupted. “And, Ood, dear? I’m not the Proconsul.”

‘An island huh?’ the Neti’s brain started to spark with suggested island locations inside the Dajorra System with both security and research facilities present. ‘Damn Mejas for shoving secret labs into every segment of the Arconan Dominion!’

Training Sector Fort Blindshot Present

By this point, the massive raptor had been dragged out of view into the trees. Its shrieks of anger had long been replaced by sounds of panic and later fear. A strange hum suddenly rushed out to meet the shrieks. The crystalline creature fell silent as the hum became recognisable as the signature sound of an ignited lightsaber.

Dajorra System, Selen The Citadel A few minutes after Qyreia’s investiture as Consul of Arcona

“Hey boss, I’m here to get my instructions before I go relieve Doc so he can take a break on the crystal research.” the Neti remarked lightly as he walked up to the new Consul.

“Nice try, Ood. I’ve been warned about this obsession of yours…Stay away from Fort Blindshot, the guards will attack you if you try to gain entry to the stronghold!” Qyreia replied before ducking into the Consulary residential quarters.

‘Fort Blindshot…interesting…’

Training Sector Fort Blindshot Present

A presence in the Force announced itself as the Neti shed all concealments on himself. A wave of maddened darkness ruptured forth in an effort to affect the attacking creatures. The senior Equite’s Force signature was marked by experiences and seemingly spoke of endless horrors and eldritch creatures. Slowly, a tree moved into view on the treeline, midway through reorganizing its shape back into a humanoid one from the more treelike shape he’d been inhabiting for a seemingly long time based on the moss and weathering visible on the branches that had yet to transform back into a mimicry of hair.

Training Sector Fort Blindshot A few weeks earlier

A bedraggled Neti dragged himself onto the volcanic beach. ‘I’m not swimming that distance again’ the subconscious told his brain. “Huh, should make a note that Sith Wyrms can adapt to their environments and can even alter themselves to survive in an aquatic environment” A few miles out, two pools of blood began to discolor the ocean as two heads, seemingly ripped from their bodies floated to the surface for a short time before being swallowed up by another aquatic creature.

Getting up, the Neti fished his saber out of his branchlike hair, checking the waterproof seal on the inner workings before setting off into the jungle. Time to go be a tree and observe the Fort. “Heh, wonder if I could get my roots deep enough to feel out the subterranean segments and observe what’s going on that way?”

Fort Blindshot Spaceport

It starts with one thing…

The Force flowed freely through Marick’s mind’s eye. Glimpses of the future, the past, and the present arranged themselves like notes along the ledger in lines of music. Between the layers of visions, the Elder Arcanist could sense the hatred, desire, and righteous driving force of the Children of Mortis’ soldiers and troops. He could sense the determination and defiance in the defenders of the spaceport—both the members of Voidbreaker squadron and the loyal soldiers of the Arcona Armed Forces. These were his people, the ones he’d sworn to protect. He’d let them all down in the past but now was when they needed him most.

“Life before death,” the whisper of Atyiru’s voice played through the back of his mind like a broken record. An oath he’d sworn alongside her.

He’d lost his beskar spear fighting his first Ascendent, but had recovered the rest of his weapons. The Master idly tossed two lightsabers—one over each shoulder—before catching each cylindrical hilt mid-air with a telekinetic grip. He gave each separate corner of his mind the task of controlling each blade—one emerald, one black-cored—as they hovered protectively at each of Marick’s flanks.

Lastly, the molded hilt of the remaining lightsaber still in hand sprung to life…silently. The ghostfire crystal’s white light shrouded the black-cored blade, casting faint shadows on Marick’s practically glowing blue eyes.

Having recovered from Zig’s original gambit, the Children of Mortis had redoubled their efforts to swarm and overwhelm the starport. Lightbringers, Truthwardens, and Shadowseers alike surged towards the Voidbreaker II, with Marick being the only thing, apparently, to stand in their path.

Two purified Ascendant troopers launched lances of lightning from crooked and broken fingertips. Marick strafed sidelong while catching the arcing stream of Force energy with his saber and deftly grounding it back into the starport’s ground. Without needing to gesture, his twin telekinetic lightsabers darted towards each Ascendant and forced each to bring up their own crimson blades to ward them off.

Blasterfire started to train on Marick from each side, but the Soresu master continued to work his saber in concentric, tight coils and deflected them harmlessly away. He did need to recall his two telekinetic sabers as they helped form an aegis around him as he danced, dodged, dipped, and leapt through the onslaught of attacks from modified weaponry to the Force itself.

One of the Ascendant Troopers tried to restrict his movements with the Force in hopes of making Marick less of a moving target. The Master Arcanist grunted, and with an effort of will shirked off the binding and continued to weave his defensive patterns with preternatural efficiency thanks to the boosted bond of Mune and Eleceos’ visions.

“Voidbreaker. How much more time do you need?” Marick asked calmly over comms.

Sir. Minor set back from a breach by the enemy. Doon was able to repel them, Jax Erinos reported. “But we should be good to go. The only issue is that we do not have as much volume as Zig originally calculated from draining the pools and the refreshers. Our best bet is to compress the drainage of the water into a smaller surface area. Like a fire hose. Then we just need to launch the crate of modified cryobans, and we should get the flash-freeze effect the Captain envisioned.

Better than nothing, Marick thought as he responded with the words, “Understood, Jax. We’ll get them lined up.”

We’ll punch the hole from midway at the Voidbreaker’s port side, then.

From his shoulder, Biddy—his BD-unit droid—chirped. “Don’t worry about me, just go focus on the spot where we need to draw the enemy to,” Marick explained to the little droid. Biddy made a warbling noise that he could have sworn was the droid’s version of Ugh, fine, but his binary was not the best. The little droid scampered off, leaving Marick to catch a thrown grenade with the Force and redirect it back towards the direction it had come.

Through his own awareness, and the aided peripheral of Mune and Eleceos’ efforts, Marick noted the position of the rest of the Voidbreakers. He made a quick calculation before he spoke again over comms.

“Druzk, Meyrath, Kathka,” the Battleteam Leader started. They did not know him as well as they knew Zig, but hopefully they understood the weight of his direction. “I need you to help funnel them towards me. Attack their flanks, but don’t try to push them back. Push them forward and towards me. Mex, you and your droid need to keep Eleceos and Mune safe.”

Copy…copy…yeah-sure, the trio of the voices replied. The last one—Meyrath, perhaps—was a bit hazy for the Hapan, as he was not sure if the Zabrak had said ‘yeah sure’ or ‘yes sir’. But now was not the time for semantics.

Understood. Does this mean we are no longer crying havoc?” Mex’s voice was easy to pick out.

“Yes,” Marick responded evenly, apparently missing whatever reference the Verpine had been referring to. He continued to issue out commands. “Archain, continue to tend to the wounded, and make sure as many of our soldiers are kept safe. Jor—continue to lay down cover fire on the flanks to herd them.“

“You got it!” the red-furred Shistavanen acknowledged. Sang-Kalinor’s response was a more subdued: Copy.

“…and Law…” Marick exhaled slowly as he addressed the final member of his team. His voice trailed off as he saw, in the distance, a lone Aru Law riding some kind of creature and running in frantic circles. “Keep…doing what you’re doing.”

”THEY CAN TAKE OUR LIVES, BUT THEY WILL NEVER TAKE…OUR RUM!

Marick did not bother to sigh, as his focus was immediately snapped back into the reality of having an entire strike force honing in on his position.

The Elder Arcanist dropped a quick anchor into the slipstreams of the Force to refuel his reserves. His reflexes teemed with added alacrity, handheld and telekinetic lightsabers weaving and warding an impregnable defense, the blurs of light a shining beacon.

Astride Kathka’s varactyl, Druzk fired rounds of grenades into the Children of Mortis’ flanks. While it did not eliminate any of them, the explosions did force them to evade and reroute as intended. Any that didn’t conform were hassled by Kathka’s energy bow, and when a few got too close, she switched to a heft flamethrower that made the encroaching crystalline raptors choose a different direction. Their faces were weary and each had their different sets of wounds they fought through.

Having dismounted the varactyl and taken up position on the far side of the group, Meyrath physically hurled a Lightbringer Soldier into one of their peers. When the two collided, Meyrath lashed out with the Force and sent them both hurtling backwards to get trampled by their own allies. The Zabrak grinned, the pain in his body being held at bay by a mixture of emergency healing and the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Archain dragged an AAF soldier to safety while Tan, Mex’s B-1 battle droid, fired relentlessly at anything that tried to approach Eleceos and Mune’s meld.

It all worked. Almost too well. For all his power and skill, Marick Tyris Arconae was still just one man. The Children of Mortis forces stacked and surged forward with reckless abandon—each failure to fell the radiant Hapan spurring their desire to crush him further. The remaining AAF soldiers had fallen back to try and aid Marick’s efforts, but their numbers were dwindling, and fast…

He just needed to hold out for a little bit longer. He just needed to—

—the Master Force Disciple’s dance came to an end as a stray lance of some kind of alien energy struck his side. Marick dropped to one knee, telekinetic lightsabers still maintaining their aegis, but the swarm continued to close in…

Startport Voidbreaker II Bridge

Zig jolted upright and looked around frantically. Where was she, what happened? Was she alive, dead? Was she wearing clothes? The absurdity of the last thought seemed to slowly bring her to her senses as she sat up and nearly headbutted the figure that had been hovering over her.

“Ahh—CARR?!” the Captain shouted as she glared at the young Shistaven.

“Oh good, you’re finally awa—”

“Don’t,” Zig raised a finger towards the youth, “you dare cite the old memes to me. I was there when they were written.”

“I guess that means your head is still attached and working,” another familiar voice chimed in. Zig craned her neck to see a tired-looking half-Pantoran fussing with a terminal. Nathan smiled briefly at the Zygerrian, but it quickly evaporated into concern.

“Did…did we win?” she asked, though it would have been a stretch to glean even a hint of feigned hope in her tone. She was still wearing her armor, but her helmet was nowhere to be seen.

“No, but the team has funneled the enemy into position. We just need to punch the hole and…hope that the calculations are correct,” Nathan explained.

Zig forced herself up off the improvised cott she’d been placed on. When Carr tried to stop her, she simply shook her head. The motion alone stung and Zig felt a dull throbbing incessantly pressing against the back of her eyes. There was no time, though.

“Engineering,” she called out. “Ready the plasma punch!”

The ship’s junior engineers all scrambled, despite already having been in the process of getting into position.

“Jax?”

“Ready,” the towering Shistaven-hybrid nodded. “Are you certain about this? I cannot imagine Lady Sroka will be too keen on damaging the ship… ”

“I’ll take the heat for it if she does, but we have no other choice. Punch it.”

From the command deck’s vidscreens, the crew watched as Marick went down. “But Marick is still out there,” Nathan explained.

“Just do it,” Zig’s voice cracked as she struggled against her own insecurities. Marick had put his trust in her, and she had to do the same in return.

Spaceport

Marick rose back to his feet, the pain receding to a far corner of his mind. He would bend, but he would never break. Not here, not anywhere.

“Journey before destination…” Atyiru’s voice whispered soothingly against his consciousness. They had come to his home. They had tried to hurt her. They had put his daughter at risk. His future child. What few friends he had. His family.

No.

Marick Tyris Arconae channeled the Force into his fist and slammed it down into the ground in front of him. It rippled outward from the point of impact and drove the clustered gaggle of Children of Mortis personnel back and into one another. It was not much of a gap, as it quickly filled up with new troops, but it was enough for the Hapan to make his final move.

GO the combined, melded voices of Eleceos and Mune shouted telepathically at him.

Marick mustered his will and leapt up high into the air. Impossibly high. He flipped backwards and landed atop the hull of the Voidbreaker II. The second his feet touched down, a hole appeared in the side of the ship’s side port plating. From that hole, a stream of water burst forth as the Minstrel-class yacht’s reservoir of water that was used for both pools and all the ship’s plumbing erupted outward.

The initial burst crashed into the first wave of Ascendents and creatures alike. They were thrown backwards into one another like dominos, and the water kept coming. It was a gambit, for sure, and there wasn’t enough water to keep up the stream for long.

But before the water could run out, the hangar port opened and rigged cargo crates filled with cryoban grenades loaded in from the nearby barrack’s armory and other homemade explosives from the ship’s supply stash and kitchens were revealed. Jax stood behind a series of improvised “launch canons” that had been repurposed from the ship’s maintenance equipment, which launched said crates in front of the spray of water from the ship.

The crates unfurled and exposed their contents to the stream of water. The geyser quickly turned from a firehose into a wave of ice as chemical detonations melded with the water. The resulting wave engulfed the Children of Mortis soldiers in its path in a casing of statuesque ice.

Then, the Voidbreaker II’s lasers focused fire on the now-frozen enemies, shattering through their enhanced armor and carapaces with scientific vengeance. As the vanguard of enemy soldiers wilted, even the most ambitious warriors of the Children of Mortis seemed to reconsider another attempt at the defiant crew of Voidbreaker Battle Team.

Marick looked up, and realized that they had only bought a little more time. The spaceport could not fall, otherwise all their efforts were for naught. As fatigue settled in, the former Shadow Lord caught a glimpse of a welcome sight coming in from beyond the cliff’s edge of Fort Blindshot.

Reinforcements had arrived. The Arcona Armed Forces air force moved in like a stormcloud and began to drive back the last of the Children’s forces.

The starport had been held. Marick plopped down atop the ship and lowered his head between his knees. He was tired, but he had managed to be of use to Clan Arcona one more time. The rest was up to the others. He trusted in Qyreia and Ruka, in Socorra and the others.

“Arcona Invicta,” Marick whispered to the wind.

Animal screams filled the air. Blood and splinters of jungle wood and crystal rained down around them. Blood pooled under them. Under his hands.

Ruka knelt and dragged Socorra’s limp body, all the many kilos of it, into his arms on instinct. Her rent armor looked like when a starving child took a knife clumsily to a tin can; he knew, he’d done as much. But at the very least, unlike other times he had held onto her and been unable to find any pulse under his desperate fingers, this time she made a noise, pained and groaning.

“MEDIC!” he bellowed over his shoulder, and stood, shadows strengthening the sinew in his legs as he leapt backwards, back towards their broken line. Ood’s reveal in the trees had bought them time as hoped when they’d realized he was already on the island and coordinated around as much, but it was only moments, seconds. Neti or not, he was one man— tree— whatever.

There were many, many, many enemies.

“FORM UP!” the Proconsul hollered again, Zuza having rejoined their ranks. Tyga and Karran formed a sort of rear-guard with half of their troops, while Uji was but a flicker of warped light he allowed the current Shadow Scion to see, having carved through several Ascendants before the Erinos’ barrage. Jael was hunkered tightly down behind what barricade of debris and crystalline bodies could be afforded, he and his droid working to hack the communicator they’d relieved earlier. But the closer they all got together, the easier it was for Wyndell Tyris to protect them all, barriers enclosing one after another after another, and as many soldiers as the other Elder could.

“Tameike, get over here!” Ruka ordered, bidding. It was dangerous to ask the Zabraki Quaestor to break her meditative concentration; they needed the coordination and morale Sera provided right now, and Wyn needed to focus on the barriers. Thankfully, Uji appeared at his side in a second without a sound.

“Proconsul,” the Emeritus intoned.

“Heal her, best you can without dropping,” the Mirialan indicated Socorra in his hold, and Uji reached out and placed a hand on her battered, slashed brow, blood dribbling from where she’d been bitten open.

The ground shook. The screams were everywhere. Smoke and fire in the distance and closeby. In his good ear, his comm was alive with chatter. Voidbreaker was holding the spaceport, miraculously. The Fifth Tower hadn’t fallen yet, but it might soon; there had been a ship crash of some kind. And for them—

The ground shook, and it was different this time. Ruka’s head clocked around as his preternatural senses shrieked of danger.

Move.

No.

The others.

The Mirialan didn’t have time to warn; he all but dumped Socorra into Uji’s body, spun, and launched himself to their front, before the writhing, ruinous jungle. More crystal raptors spilled free, as did lines of troops, but these were marching away, to their flanks. As if making room for…

Ruka threw up both hands.

The crystalline boulder came flying out of the treeline, torn from the rotting earth, and he caught it in a telekinetic grip before it could land amidst them like a miniature version of the asteroid the Children had descended upon. The sheer force made him drop to one knee, dust erupting in a ring around him as the massive projectile wobbled in the air, quivering and cracking from the sheer force of its arrested momentum. Crystals rained down.

And then, out of the trees, came not some sort of insane catapult, but another creature. One the Mirialan recognized, but far more twisted. Towering, riddled in red spines and spires, tipping its head back to roar.

It was a terentatek.

With a bellow, it charged right for them, its crystal claws ripping up stone and tree alike as it went.

Together.

Cry havoc!

…never take our rum!

I do not have the weaponry, but I have the mass.

Everything is kandosii.

Together!

“…y…” came a voice over static. The ocean crashed, clear and blue, all around them. On shore, the land bled red. Red with blood, red with ruin, red with new rotten growth of crystal towers. Four turbolaser towers lay empty save for the dead or freely smoked and burned in overrun husks. The once-neat beaches and training sectors were torn apart and pockmarked with craters, scorch, corpses. Crystals erupted from the soil like so many fungi, living entropy, while monsters and soldiers alike poured and poured from the mouth of crystalline halls, from the dark heart of an impact that had not broken their world’s crust apart but rooted and taken seed.

The spaceport, the seaport, the homes and barracks. The fort proper and the jungle, all the way to the caldera where the festering bloom of rock still grew into a city all its own. For every inch, they fought and bled; the Children advanced, and the Arconans pushed back, held the line, just hold the line, together.

It’s up to you now.

Frak this.

I trust you to do your best, cadet. Arcona Invicta.

Alright, fine, let’s do this.

We shall not allow the enemy to take Blindshot, and we shall not falter!

Arcona Invicta.

Arcona Invicta!

“…an you hear me?”

Again, a voice through static. Familiar, strong, swearing. It came over the comm lines, in reply to a heralding call.

“Hang on, folks. Your angels have arrived. Frackin’ brace and let’s get these schuttas off our island.”

Starfighters screamed overhead while lightsabers and blasterfire screamed through the air.

“Incoming!” Zuza hollered, stumbling again on her bad leg, the recent wound too agitated from her frantic sprint. The rest of their front line forces looked up as the engine’s roar grew louder, drowning out even the terentatek’s mighty bellowing while Ruka and Sera leapt and danced around its body. There, cresting the horizon of the clear ocean blue, as if in direct defiance of the crystal’s insipid red glow, came a cascade of rainbows.

The fleet had arrived.

Cannons and turrets sprayed into the Mortis lines. Creatures and soldiers alike wailed and then went silent as they were obliterated. Up in the sky, directly above the caldera where none of their ground forces on the island had been able to breach, the air wavered and warped, a very special cloaking mechanism that had deceived even the Children’s enhanced sensors dropping to reveal the massive frame of not just all their angels in their squadrons, but the seraph of their whole fleet, looming large. The newly-revealed Free Virgillia-class Bunkerbuster Ash Angel hung like an executioner’s axe, promising the eminent demise of anything that provoked its divine retribution.

A cheer, brief with urgency but unable to be stifled, rose from the sands and rubble. They’d done it, all together. They’d held the line.

And now, now was the time to turn like the tides of their ocean homeworld, and blast their invaders into atomic dust.

“Arcona Invicta,” Qyreia huffed into her comm at the command center, like it actually hurt a little to do, but a grim grin pulled at her lips.

Arcona Invicta.