Rumors have circulated of an ancient Nightsister artifact known as the Sceptre of Tu'Torial. Legend says that any who wield the fabled artifact would be able to harness the power once reserved for the great Mother Talzin, and bend it to their whim. The Collective, in their bid to regain power, have seized control of the facility and have begun to delve into learning the secrets of the Sceptre, and must be stopped at any cost.
The Exarch has been given special clearance to call in a usually reserved asset of the Brotherhood: the Star Chamber, as well as a select few Envoys suitable to the task at hand...
Unknown Regions Asteroid Research Base 41 ABY
The Envoy Corps usually deployed a designated set of Lamba-class T4a shuttles, but for this mission, the Regent had freed up additional funds to go in with a bit of…finesse. The “Infiltrator Edition” Star Courier was one of the few ships in the Arx Capital Exchange fleet equipped with a full-service cloaking device, so the Exarch had somehow convinced the Regent to let them borrow it for this particular mission. When he found out who was being sent in to take action on behalf of the corps, it had helped Marick’s case significantly.
They had also worked closely with the Seneschal to fabricate the ships codes to gain docking access. The pilot, who wore a full pilots jumpsuit, and an old-fashioned mustache, talked to the landing control with almost too casual of ease. Whoever the pilot was, they were clearly adept at subterfuge, manipulation and, with even a Journeyman being able to suss out a Force Adept Prophet working some kind of Mind Trick or Illusion.
“Indeed…until every chain is broken,” the pilot said as he cut off the comm and immediately dropped the act.
“Alright, you all are clear to land. Do the thing, etc.” Wyndell Tyris–who was playing the role of Envoy Coprs pilot today–said to the shuttle occupants.
Four figures exited the ship and into the long docking pathway. Ahead loomed a pair of large gray blastdoors. Auto-turret sentries flanked either side, with security cameras panning to and fro. There were no guards, yet, but the doors slowly started to open…
Aylin felt totally out of place with all these high ranking people around her, all heavily armoured compared to her as well.
“Guess they don’t need a welcoming committee here?” she half asked to break the silence between them. The ride here had been awkward enough to her already and she just couldn’t bite her tongue any longer.
“Hardly, just do what you usually do and everything will be fine,” Anders emerged behind her. This was their second time working together. Hopefully, it would be equally as successful. “Do you have any reservations about our objectives, Ms Sajark?”
She shrugged, “We find the magic stick and leave, can’t be more simple then that.”
Anders’ eyes twitched at the term Magic Stick, least of all in front of a former Grand Master of all people. Then there was Clan Vizsla’s founder. One of, if not the most skilled and accomplished Mandalorian in the Brotherhood.
He whispered into her ear. “I would refrain from calling it that in front of Grand Master Ashen.”
He then turned to Muz and Declan. “I’m assuming we have a plan of some sort? This facility is under the control of the Collective, after all.”
“That is like asking a baby to speak normally,” Aylin replied, “but I will try. All I can bring in is my slicing skills and making things go boom. And on this special occasion, without glitters.”
BUDD-E protested on Anders’ shoulder, disliking the fact it had seemingly been forgotten about by Aylin.
He turned his helmet toward the pair of envoys, the darkened visor lingering there for a pregnant moment. He turned slowly, sweeping his view across the landing pad. A narrow stairwell to his left, and a wide bay door directly ahead of them. He paused, mind running through possibilities, listening for the whispers of the Force as he had done so many times before.
He nodded at the Mandalorian, the founder of Viszla not exactly unknown to him. Even secluded as he had been, he still paid attention to the rise of the new clan. Further, the man’s work with the Star Chamber had proved to be worth the price he charged. The other two? Far less known to him. At least the Chiss carried a saber, even if he did wear the armor of an Inquisitor.
Hekate stepped to Ashen’s side, tilting its head at the Mandalorian’s own HK Unit. It leaned in close, lowering its volume as it unslung its blaster rifle. “Lord, why is he naked?” The voice was odd, like something had broken in it’s vocabulator, sounding vaguely like three feminine voices at once instead of one. Muz turned to look at it when it spoke, then briefly shook his head.
Snaps at the Krath’s belt preceded the hilts of the Lion’s sabers floating to his hands. He spun them casually, stepping forward without igniting them. He spoke, his voice like cold gravel and deep, the sound rattling louder around inside their heads than in their ears.
“Onward.”
The Nautolan chuckled at Buddy’s protest and waved an hi to it, “I haven’t forgotten about you.”
Siky came out between the tentacles of Aylin and chirped happily when it saw Buddy and then let out a curious beep about the other two droids that had joined them, especially about the one calling the other naked.
“No clue, Siky, but it seems it has a very different programming then most droids.” When she heard Muz speak a shiver ran over her back and whispered, “I didn’t know Death was invited…”
“Death is the host of the party when the Collective are involved,” Anders placed his hands behind his back and kept a cautious distance behind Muz, being mindful of the former Grand Master’s menagerie of floating weaponry.
BUDD-E beeped in Anders’ ear.
“Yes, Buddy. Keep an eye out for any exhaust vents, terminals, or openings once we are inside.”
Declan Roark’s helmet dipped slightly as he acknowledged Grand Master Ashen’s command to move onward. The founder of Clan Vizsla spared a quick glance at the younger members of the strike team and wondered how and why they had been assigned to this mission. Perhaps they were talented or perhaps they were Grand Master level canaries who might be sacrificed for the mission’s success. Time would tell.
Roark made a slight motion with his right hand and the HK-droid Rekan stepped to his side. The quirky droid unsheathed it’s hatchet as Roark unshealthed his dual blasters. The odd pair stayed in the back of the group to provide rear security. Roark didn’t get old by taking the lead on missions. That was what the new kids were for.
He raised a hand, two fingers lifting from the hilt of his weapon. It only took a moment for the Force to answer back, the feel of their heartbeats resonating in his fingertips. There were six of them beyond the door. Five bore the steady patterns of training and calm, while another was unsettled.
He let his saber go, the weapon remaining there and slowly rotating as if they were in zero gravity. His mind raced back, recalling the hand signs of the Royal Guard. He raised his hand to his brow, then rotated his hand so that they could see his thumb holding his little finger down. He thought for a second, wondering momentarily if the signals were universal or not. At least the HKs would understand. The Mandalorian, certainly. The others, well…
Six. Five soldiers. Slicer. His voice echoed inside their minds, but not their ears as he pointed to the access panel to their left. Breaching would be faster, of course, but infinitely louder and more dangerous for those without beskar. Then again, he didn’t know the Nautolan, or her skill.
Regardless, they were getting inside. Breacher, ready. He reached up and retrieved the floating hilt, eyes narrowing beneath his helmet as his thumbs rested on familiar switches.
Aylin glanced towards the panel and nodded, quietly going over towards it and grabbing her slicing tools from her many pockets. Plugging in her slicing pick she started working on opening the door. Silently she hated the mind talking and the fact that Space Wizards seemed to enjoy using it way to much.
“` The large blast doors started to slide open slowly, but it was not clear if that was a result of Aylins slicing or not.
The security protocols on the facility were far from simple. This was technology sector level encryption, not the typical government research facilities that tended to have lapses.
What she was able to find, though, was schematics. A map of the facility, and where the ‘magic stick’ was being held. ”`
Putting some of her tools back into her pockets she glanced towards the door. “Guess there is one after all.” she whispered as she plugged the stick into her datapad to get the map details and moving into a more secluded position next to the door. She would let the Space Wizards do their tricks now.
Going over the map detail she found the location of their prize, “I found were they keep the magi… uh Sceptre… But I do think we will find more of their friends along the way.”
It did indeed appear that there was a Dathomirian artifact in the hands of the Collective.
That simply would not do!
Anders scanned the room, searching for a vent or something for BUDD-E to sneak through and provide Intel.
It didn’t take long for Anders to find what he needed. Conveniently, there was a small, BD-Unit sized vent just above their heads on the nearby wall.
“Buddy, you know what to do.”
BUDD-E chirped happily, leaping from Anders’ shoulder into the vent as it disappeared from sight.
“Buddy will scout on ahead and perform any necessary tasks that we need it too.”
“` Just as the droid scampered and wiggled their way into the vent and disappeared, the blast doors finished opening.
An array of 5 Technocrat Soldier’s wearing full plated armor all snapped to attention at the appearance of a Grand Master and his array of floating lightsabers. ”`
“HEATHENS!” “FOR OLIGARD!” “BREAK THE CHAINS” “BROTHERHOOD SCUM!”
“` Their battle cries set each into a aggressive battle stances. Each carried a heavy blaster carbine, with a Z4-riot baton at their hips.
Behind them, a man dressed in a simple uniform quivered and cowered, just near a switch panel on the wall. ”`
Five. He’d be spreading himself relatively thin, though it was nothing he hadn’t done before.
Anders made eye contact with one. That was all he needed to cause a distraction.
“You know that we are no enemies of yours…”
The statement was simple, his words woven like honeyed silk into their subconscious…
“` Technocrat 3, closest to Anders, resisted the pull on his mind.
"Oh no you don’t, your mind games will not work on me!”
Technocrat 1 and 2, however, both exchanged curious glances at on another. “Wait, didn’t the comms say we had new recruits coming in to help?”
“Yes…but they didn’t say it would be a flippin’ heretic?”
Technocrat 4 shook his head and sighed. “Idiots…”
Technocrat 5 held his ground, an switched to his riot baton. “`
Declan Roark’s eyes rapidly moved to the five Technocrat Soldier’s while his mind attempted to categorize them from least to most dangerous. A slight pause in the reaction of two of the guards and their chatter about new recruits told Roark all he needed to know. These were the weak links.
Roark’s twin custom WESTAR-35 blasters snapped to the center mass of each guard and gouts of red flame spit from their barrels. The WESTAR’s Trandoshan Tripler upgrade package increased the damage of each bolt as they smashed into the armor of the Technocratic Soldiers. One Technocrat Soldier gurgled as the natural kick of Roark’s left handed blaster brought blaster fire up from his chest and into his face. The second guard, quicker than his peer, took multiple blaster bolts to the chest, but avoided any potential fatal rounds to the head.
Roark took two steps forward and to the left, positioning himself at an angle behind the wall the blast doors had just opened into, in an attempt to cut off any quick Technocratic reprisals.
The roar of energy filled their ears as Muz stepped forward, bathed in saberlight. He pivoted, lowering his center of gravity as he stood between two of the Technocrats. They jockeyed for position, darting away from the Krath’s blades, their lives a prize that they didn’t want to lose. As the violet blade scorched through the first one’s eyes, the last thought that would register was a curse. A curse, and pain. Then nothing, forever.
The cyborg dropped, falling to the side, his smoking head crashing into another floating weapon as it seethed toward his compatriot, a parting gift for his brother in arms. The Technocrat winced as the weapon spun out of control harmlessly past, his optical sensor darting quickly back to a crimson blade burning its way through his shoulder. Thick grease pumped from a damaged hose near the wound, smoking where it met the Lion’s blade. He withdrew, taking a half step back as he flicked the blade back from the lunge and summoned his errant golden weapon back into his orbit. It came to heel immediately, joining its brother in the air around Muz, subtle lightning dancing across a darkened blade.
The report from a repeating blaster filled the air, the backdraft stirring the robes that the droid wore. The shots went high, scorching overhead , snaring into the bulkhead to leave a trail of carbon.
“That’s not…” Hekate muttered, before it’s eye sensors flashed brighter, its volume increasing. “Laying down suppressive fire, my Lord.”
Aylin dove out of the way of incoming fire and hid behind the bulkhead next to the door. Quietly she whispered to Siky to distract the researcher to keep him from using the console. The little droid beeped happily and jumped of her hand to the floor and quickly ran towards the cowering assistant.
When it got there it quickly climbed up one of the assistant’s legs and up his torso to crawl around his body and over his head all the way avoiding hands trying to swap it away.
"Ah, ah! Get it off get it OFF!!!!" the researched screamed as they sprinted off down the hallway, forgetting about the console button that would have triggered the stations alarms.
The prone cyborg appeared undettered by the presence of a former Brotherhood Grand Master, trying to will themselves back to their feet.
Anders summoned his curved hilt lightsaber to his hand with the Force, the hilt fitting comfortably in the palm of his hand as the cromson-hue blade hissed out of the hilt.
He lunged forward and drove his lightsaber through the prone cyborgs sternum.
“Tsk, tsk,” Anders wagged a finger. “You should have stayed down.”
Yet, his eyes widened when he realised that he had not, in fact, landed a killing blow. It appeared as if the cyborg was about to lunge at him.
“` "Until…every…Force…heathen…dead….broken…” the Technocrat sneered as he crawled towards the Grand Inquisitor.
As he crawled, he tried to take a clawing strike to grab Anders’ ankle. But it missed. “`
Anders’ felt a gnawing sensation crawl down his spine, his senses directing him towards a technocrat at the far side of the room.
Anders removed his saber to deflect the incoming blaster bolt, but the cyborg clawing at his ankle dug his nails into his skin, distracting him for a moment.
PEW!
The shot came, and all Anders could do was shift himself to the right, the shot grazing his left shoulder as he hissed from the burn.
“` The 5th Technocrat, despite his injury, tried to lash out at "Lord” Ashen. Who did he think he was, coming in here like he owned the station. There would be no mercy.
His riot baton came in hard, and swift. “`
Roark rushed from his covered position behind the bulkhead and entered the fray in the room beyond. One Technocrat soldier was down on the ground while another appeared injured. Combat, was hell, and Roark was sensible about his options. Wounded or not, these soldiers remained threats. Without a second of hesitation, Roark’s flamethrower ignited and torched the Soldier on the ground. His screams were quick before the flames ended his life. Roark fired off a rushed barrage of blaster bolts at the second injured Soldier. The bolts found their mark, but only further wounded the injured soldier. Roark internally cursed, agitated that he did not put the soldier down for good.
Muz watched the baton buzz as he stepped out of the Technocrat’s reach, blasts from Declan’s weapon punctuating the full price of failure. Ashen continued the motion of his evasion, fluidly lashing out as he walked past the man, the crimson blade carving a line of ruin from the Technocrat’s hip to his collarbone. Both parts of the body hadn’t even hit the floor before the floating golden blades rocketed at the final soldier. Golden fire sliced at his back, carving away the metallic carapace, exposing pale flesh for the black-cored blade to dice. The man arched himself forward from the pain, the smell of burning blood and sizzling of frying flesh audible behind the crackle of power. A final step forward, and Muz flicked his purple blade up, scorching through the front of his helmet, ending him. He held the weapon there for a moment, the vapor rising from the blade reflecting off the glossy black of his helmet. He moved beyond, avoiding the collapsing flesh as he looked to the others, his golden blades returning to him, drifting about in lazy circles.
“` As the last Technocrat guard fell, the room became silent. No alarms or klaxons blared. There were security cameras, sure, and their skirmish would not go unnoticed for long.
The room had 3 doors leading in different directions, plus a closet-like room on the far end. ”`
Anders activated his Inquisitorius comlink. “Buddy, what is your location?”
The droid twittered excitedly, having infiltrated the vents to the western rooms, peeking through the openings.
“What do you see, Buddy? Any hostiles?”
The droid beeped excitedly and reported back their findings.
Anders lowered his coming, addressing his comrades for this endeavour.
“There are currently no hostiles in the room to our west. However, there are four researchers working on a project, though Buddy was unable to see what exactly that may be. I say we intercept them.”
Muz heard him as he stared at the open diagram, the prints showing their target on the plans for the facility. He thought for a moment, wondering how long before that non-combatant would raise the alarm and bring the whole place to a boil. Tilting his field of view he looked at the nautolan, the chiss. He was less concerned about the mandalorian. He’d seen what that man was capable of surviving. But the other two would be a waste, and a substantial blow to their clan, to the brotherhood. He curled a lip under his helmet, calculating. There wasn’t enough time.
He moved to the southeast corner of the room, a gloved hand reaching out to feel along the cold metal bulkhead of the wall. He let his eyes lose their focus for half a heartbeat, expanding his senses and listening to what the world told him. The facility was cut into the rock directly, precast walls placed to maintain the shape of the rooms. Here would work. He stepped back a half pace, his sabers roaring as they ripped deep gouged into the metal, a rough rectangle forming out of glowing metal. He paused, raising a fist and closing it, the squeal of tearing metal aching their ears as the metal gave way, flying back and crashing into the wall behind him with a heavy thud. He stepped forward again, eyes narrowing.
Be ready Words sailed on currents of thought into their heads as they watched him reach out again, fingers twitching under invisible strain, the resonant crunch of rock and stone popping behind the deep bass thrum of the Grand Master’s power. A final loud crack of what seemed like thunder filled their ears, the solid rock wall keeping them from their prize disintegrating into small pebbles, then pulled back and spread across the floor, out of their way. Ashen exhaled slowly. It was a narrow path, but a far shorter one.
Muz was a monster.
There were no other words to describe it. Anders had heard tales of beings so powerful in the Force they could bend the universe to their whim. The stories of Yoda and Darth Sidious were infamous for a reason.
To see it in person, however? That was something different.
Anders did as requested, gripping his lightsaber. Whilst swallowing the lump in his throat. The graze upon his shoulder bothered him, but he refused to let it show.
Roark had been in the presence of Grand Masters before, but he had yet to see one of them create doors where none has existed. The sheer will and audacity it took to simply think of cutting through the asteroid was one thing, but to actually do it. Impressive. Roark looked at Grand Master Ashen and slightly nodded his helmet again. Impressive he thought. Scary and impressive.
Anders reached his comlink. “BUDD-E, return.”
The little droid chirped, making its way back through the vent, eventually dropping onto <@417336769181122562>‘s shoulder.
“` The asteroid bent the knee to the will of the Lion of Tarthos. Who was it to stand in the Grand Master’s way?
The path towards the Sceptre of Tu'Torial lay ahead. The path was structurally sound. No guards were visible. Just a faint glow of light from the spartan chamber. ”`
Aylin stared at the display before her, only half away of Buddy landing on her shoulder.
“Wow…” was the single word she could utter.
Roark nodded at Rekan, quick hand signals relaying orders to the HK droid. The pristing chassis glinted as it whirred into motion, spinning a hatchet in one robotic hand. If any onlooker hadn’t known better, they might have mistaken the brightness of its optical sensors for glee. The droid took a step forward toward the breach, walking past Hekate, toward the glow of the exposed chamber.
Muz glanced at his own anodized apprentice, nodding toward the newly formed doorway. “Oh, this is what we’re doing now?” Hekate slung their blaster over its shoulder, pushed aside the robes at its hip and drawing out a curved sword, the blade etched deeply with Sith runes. “Marvellous. And me without my lightsaber.” It moved after Rekan, its footsteps and servos markedly quieter as they both entered the breach.
“` As the two droids entered the chamber, nothing seemed to happen. But as the two HK-units went to step aside to make way for their Master’s to join them, a pressure plate had its weight released.
The entire chamber surrounding the glowing artifact lit up in torrents of cascading electricity, dancing and crackling and snarling like a contained tempest and the sea at storm.
Both droids braced, but while they lacked organic cells and could bear the flash heat and licks of lightning being generated, it did not end, the currents continuing. Both droids, despite their resilience, had their powercores overloaded and simply powered down out of self preservation. ”`
That litterally sparked Aylin out of her stare and jumped over towards the console and rammed her spikes into it. Her fingers flew over the controls and in no time she was into the system. As she sliced further the grin on her face grew. The Space Wizard might have showed off, but she could do that as well her own way.
As soon as the room was lit up with lightning it was shut down as well, not fast enough to keep the droids from collapsing sadly, but it would prevent further damage to their systems.
With one final smack on the console the rest of the security shut down as well.
“Ta-da! One Magic Stick ready for grabs without dangers this time,” she told them cheerfully as she took a small bow.
Muz paused, eyes narrowing beneath the helmet. Was this another trap? He let his mind meander down paths for a moment, weighing options. Finally deciding that it wasn’t worth it, he raised an open hand, the red saber floating listlessly at his side as he did so. Invisible tendrils of the Force sought out the Artefact, wrapping around them and gently tugging it from its space to his open hand. Tilting his head, he closed fingers around the scepter, then turned his attention to the droids.
A flick of his mind reached inside the room, seeking the steel. His mind wrapped around them, dragging them through the air back to them, setting them gently on the floor in front of him. He narrowed his eyes, finetuning his reach, burrowing deep within circuitry he had worked with his apprentice on. There it was. He power cycled the droid, listening to the coils warm up as the light behind Hekate’s optical sensors come back up. “That went about as well as expected.” It turned to see Rekan sitting listlessly, Roark moving toward it. “Hrmph. Droids. How long was I out?”
Anders noticed something, a little flicker out of the corner of his eye.
Cameras.
No more than little red lights that indicated they were on. No alarms had been sounded, but it would only be a matter of time.
“We should leave before they realise what has occurred here.”
“` The droids were back up.
They had what they came for.
As the Sceptre settled into the Grand Masters grip…
Nothing happened.
But the lighting in the facility triggered from cold florescents to an ambient red.
Then an alarm, finally, sounded.
”`
Muz stopped, running a current of power through the scepter, tasting the feedback loop for what lied within. He turned it slowly, eyes tracing the lines, the marks from when it was crafted. He knew, from research and marriage what Nightsister Magic felt like, how the Witches operate. And while this bore all the art, it carried none of the Arte.
He cursed silently as his mind debated if it was bait for an elaborate trap, or if there was something else, hidden and dormant, waiting for a trigger. It seemed unlike the Nightsisters to obscure their intentions, but very much their way to require a rite to attune an artefact to a new user. Further work would be necessary.
He turned on his heel and started walking back the way they came. There was no point to wasting more time here, they had what they wanted.
In hard. Out fast. This was the optimal way for any operation to occur. Roark wasn’t about to challenge tactical norms. “Time to move,” the Mandalorian’s modulated voice echoed in the chamber.
Roark backed his words up with actions and stepped to the front of the group and began moving towards the exfiltration point. His blasters and eyes trained forward to the exit before sweeping backwards to see if they were being followed. So far, so good…..
“` As the party made it towards their extraction point, only one thing seemed to be missing. The ship.
"Wait, you guys are done already?” a voice came over the Brotherhood member’s comms. “I was just doing a lap, it’s going to take me a few minutes to re-dock. I didn’t think you’d be in-and-out that fast!”
As the pilot’s explanation finished, Collective personell filed in from the room they had just exited and readied weapons. “`
He felt them before he heard them, and heard them before he saw them. He turned as they filled the room that they had just left. Long-limbed assassin droids climbing over the dead, guards rushing forth in crimson armor, and Technocrat soldiers, their chrome reflecting the red light of the alert lights. Muz blinked beneath his helm, sliding the scepter to his back as he stretched out his arms, the crimson and amethyst humming as extensions of his body, of his will. His golden weapons flitted about in patterns akin to defensive velocities, smooth arcs of cauterizing light burning the air before the enemy’s blasts even left their weapons.
He lowered his center of gravity, adjusted his footing.
Inhale.
A slow breath, in through the nose and held. He listened, past the gravel, beyond the boot-falls, beneath his heartbeat. The whisper of fate, the dirge of the Force would tell him the tale, betray the enemy’s intentions. He would send their firepower back to them, interest accrued. And if that did not finish the job? The dead were projectiles, as was the section of wall he carved away and the gravel from the asteroid itself. This very facility was a weapon. His weapon.
Exhale.
Muz smiled.
“` The two Collective Guards, clad in full Praetorean Armor plate and brandishing Vibrovoulge’s with Electro-plasma Filament edges. Perfect for fighting off the heretical members of the Dark Brotherhood.
The first guard struck at Muz Ashen’s Golden Ligthsaber, with enough might to send it repelled backwards towards its telekenetic wielder.
The second guard managed to bat aside the second Golden Lightsaber in front of HK-81 "Hekate”. Then lunged with a strike for the droid.
The strike missed as the droid sidestepped. “In the name of Lord Ashen, hah!” “`
“` The Assassin Droids moved next. The first took a beeline towards Declan’s HK-unit, game recoginizing game in the Assassin-droid world. It took a sweeping leg kick.
The second Assassin Droid scuttled up onto the ceiling, crawled like a spider-monkey across it, and then dropped down behind the scary Grand Master’s and went for the easier-looking Nautolan target. It took a swing for Aylin. ”`
Rekan tried to dodge, but the other droid struck first and with no mercy. It took a hit to its chasis, staggered a bit, but steeled itself for a counter.
“Oi!” exclaimed Aylin as she dodge bended out of the way, making sure the datapad and herself stayed out of reach of the swipe. “Pick one if your own size!”
To put more force to that statement she tried to kick it’s legs from underneath it only to end up hurting her foot and prancing around like a fool stubbing his little toe to a table leg. “Ouchie ouchie!” Aylin screamed followed by a load of chosen curses.
The three Technocrat Soldiers stepped up behind their lines and picked three targets: Declan, Anders, and then the HK-81 near the saber-wielding Grand Master. Their rifles barked in time as blaster bolts flew.
The blaster reports resonated in the room, rattling their chests as they all moved to evade. Hekate pivoted, tring to catch a Technocrat’s attack on the alchemically treated blade, calculating how to send the blast back at them. A few millimeters off, the fire skidded past the hastily constructed defense, through the knight’s robes, splashing against darkened armor plating. Hekate looked down, a shower of sparks erupting through scorched fabric. “I thought this armor was better than that…” The light behind its optical sensors pulsed, a metallic hand reaching down to suss out the damage. “I don’t feel so good, Master.”
Makashi, unfortunately, was not a lightsaber form designed to deal with blaster fire. Anders took a blaster bolt to the gut. He staggered back, a nauseating, excruciating feeling overcoming his senses.
“I don’t feel so good…” He murmured, staggering on the spot.
Declan Roark’s anger and annoyance flared as the technocratic soldiers laid down a steady stream of fire. The blaster bolts were eradic in Roark’s direction, but seemed to find their mark through Ander’s lightsaber defense. So much for blaster deflection.
Roark’s twin blasters, the equivalent value of an N-1 Starfighter, returned fire at the technocratic soldier that was shooting at him. The blaster’s modifications pumped more power behind each shot as they staggered the soldier before finding their mark in his unarmored head. The soldier dropped dead, smoke pouring from his empty eye socket.
It only took a moment.
He measured one heartbeat.
Muz’s head turned to the right, letting the Force seep into his muscles. Sudden violence erupted on the guardsman that menaced Anders, the Lion’s movements a blur. The blade tore brutally from below, nearly ripping the guard’s thigh from his body at the crotch. Muz stepped left, pivoting to continue the arc of the weapon, leveraging his body weight and bringing the weapon down into the other guard’s collarbone with savage precision. Shredding muscle and organs, Muz kicked the foe off of his blade, a trail of smoking viscera erupting from the wound. He released his grip on the weapon, freeing his hand for a moment. Muz twitched, coils of willpower catching the guards as they fell, throttling their ruined bodies forward like discarded playthings, bowling into the Technocrats and their droid as they advanced.
The blade rocketed backwards from him, the arc slashing at the assassin droid looming over Aylin. The blade cut wide, the droid pitching backward and to the side, evading the cauterizing light as it burned past its chassis and returned to its maker. Gears ground and servos clanked as the Assassin Droid righted itself after the assault, calculating its next course of action.
A second heartbeat, and the hilt seethed back to his hand. The hiss of seals and the creak of metal rushed in from behind them with a burst of air. The shuttle came in hot, lurching to a stop at the end of the bay, ramp sliding open far slower than any of them would have preferred. Hekate groaned, moving to Anders’ side, slipping a metallic arm under his and helping him move. Muz stepped backwards slowly with them, defending their movement, his blades somehow sounding hungry for more.
“` The Grand Master’s assault gave the remaining soldiers and even the droids, pause.
Enough to give them an opening, especially consdering the "Pilot” stepped towards the open hatch and ushed them in.
“Go go go people!” he called out as he held out his hands and began to mumble something under his breath. Like some kind of incantation? If anyone listened close enough, they could make out… “` "Yu Mo Gui Gwai Fai Di Zao…Yu Mo Gui Gwai Fai Di Zao…”
“` A barrier sprung to life from Wyndell Tyris’ fingertips, catching and absorbing the blaster fire from the docking bay and Collective soldiers that began to pour in as reinforcements.
"The pilot droid can help, but someone else needs to steer us out of here!” “`
"On it,” Aylin Sajark said as the Nautolan hopped into the special edition Star Couriers’ cockpit.
Declan Roark continued to fire his blasters around Wyndell’s bubble, while Anders and Muz worked in tandem to Force-push back any efforts of the party to advance.
The ship cleared the docking mechanism, and Aylin was able to weave it away into space, just as the hatch closed. It immediately shimmered as the unique cloaking device took over, and the ship disapeared from view.
“Punch it!” Wyn pointed nondescriptly towards the viewport.
Aylin obliged, and the ship darted off into hyperspace and back to the Arx System.
Mission accomplished. Or something like that. They got in, they got out, and only the Chiss was worse for wear. Roark checked his pack and realized he was only carrying stims. He might need to reconsider his pack next time, especially if it was a team effort. “You going to be okay kid,” Roark mumbled through his helmet’s voice modulator.
He wove another thread of power into it, the energy seeking through the scepter, forking through possibilities like lightning as he searched. After a moment, he leaned back, letting the artefact rest in his lap as he looked around the seats. The Chiss put on a brave face, but he could tell the nature of that wound. It wasn’t lethal, it just made him consider wishing it was. The Mandalorian set his pack down, shaking his helmet.
Muz opened the datapad on his arm, eyes and fingers working in tandem as he made the necessary connections to complete the transaction. The Exarch’s office frankly could not afford Declan’s fee, not without miles of red tape, meetings, and untold hours of paperwork. He, on the other hand… The transfer marked complete, he looked up at the Mandalorian, nodding once, and standing up. He moved toward the cockpit, where the Nautolan sat.
“Good work.” He let the words out through the Force and his voice. “That slicing saved us a lot.” He looked back at the Chiss. Had Aylin not gotten the layout of the place, they would have had to wander through a maze of aggression. While he might have even enjoyed that opportunity to extract some measure of vengaence from the Technocrats, there would have been casualties.
He moved away from the ladder, back toward the Chiss, removing his glove. I’m not going to pretend that this is my specialty, but… He pulled the man’s arm away from the wound, placing the scepter in the Chiss’s bloodied hand for safekeeping. Drawing the Force into his open hand as he reached down, he tilted his head, watching to see if the blood had any impact on the Scepter as he worked. Raw nerves and singed flesh sang to Anders as the waves of energy poured through the wound. There were hours left in transit, and it was the least he could do to at least start to knit the man back together. They could deal with the scarring in a proper medical facility after they arrived.
“` Sitting in an office on the moon of Arx, Marick typed away at his terminal. He glanced over at his second vidscreen, saw a notification pop up.
"Hmm.”
He continued to type, accessing the upload log of the mission. He applied the appropriate filters, rerouted damages and expenses to the Enovy Corps expense account that had been set aside during its creation.
Roark’s commission had been covered by Arx Capital Exchange and some movement from the new Grand Master. But the influx of additional credits was something that you did not need to be an accountant to understand.
Marick shrugged a shoulder. He rerouted the money wired from Ashen’s account into the Envoy Corps’ operational reserve fund instead. That would be a good cushion and contingency.
He was glad that he’d convinced Dacien that “executive buy in” would benefit the Corps. Mission accomplished. “`
Aylin eyes lit up and grinned, “Glad you think so! I do hope Anders will get better though. Belly shots aren’t fun.”
She glanced back towards the others, she was sure he would pull through, she just didn’t like to see friends in pain. Sighing softly she looked back out the cockpit windows, watching the swirls of hyperspace and keeping an eye on communications.
Anders’ hand weakly raised into the air. He grumbled something, then it fell back down…
Mission Complete