A fine line existed between the friend that is atmosphere, and the utter schutta of gravity.
Getting past the beachhead of Eos City’s doppelganger incarnation had been hard enough without the violent apparitions making things as difficult as possible for the Brotherhood’s people. Something about being untouchable but very able and willing to touch right back. It was why Arcona’s Consul made every effort to get her people away from the slog in the phantasmal streets to a somewhat safer base of operations within the Ethereal Realm, even if it meant taking on an entirely different foe.
Of course, that meant accepting the risk of a speedy and imminent crash if it meant being able to cross the expanses of free and empty air that existed between the false-Eos and the Sky Islands high above and away. They had to go slow. Very slow. Slow enough for the LAAT/i gunships’ navicomputers to find the islands’ gravity wells, calculate a safe course, and still give the pilots time to react.
All while under the occasional fire from the Children of Mortis’ more conventional troops. Fortunately for the Arconans, they weren’t called *gun*ships for nothing.
“That’s a looong way down,” Sofila thought, peering over the edge of the island into the expanse of space below. “Bet I could hop it!”
“Please don’t.”
The passing soldier of the Arcona Expeditionary Force shared a look with the Mirialan that spoke of a mixture of concern and disbelief, but they each went back to what they were doing in short order. There was plenty to do with establishing security on the floating island: caching supplies, establishing landing zones, setting up headquarters, and so on. People zipped back and forth in seemingly every direction, some in armor, others stripped down to their uniforms. Speed and efficiency were the name of the game. While they built up their position here, the rest of the AEF and dedicated Arconans were shuttled in a trickle over to this remote floating island.
“Qyreia!”
The Zeltron turned her attention away from the AEF commanders she was speaking to and set her eyes on Zuza, her Rollmaster in all but name. She still hated how the Brotherhood stopped subsidizing the position to save credits. With a wave she excused herself from the others and stepped away from one meeting to another with the shorter human.
“What’s up, Zu?”
“Latest reports on arrivals, like you wanted.” She handed over a datapad which the Consul scanned like a merchant would peruse cargo logs.
“Another company through the portal, half that up to this island.” She clicked her tongue. “Better, but not as good as I’d like.” The datapad returned to Zuza. “How’re you holding up?”
“Better than some.” Her eyes darted over to the medical tent, already taking care of casualties from the ghostly encounters. “Anyway, I just wanted to update’cha. Need to get back to herding these Loth cats.”
That brought a smirk out of the mercenary. “Go ahead. I’ll ping you when I need you.”
When, not if. Not that Zuza hated working for the current Shadow Lord. Far from it. It just seemed that, as of late, there was always something around every corner; another enemy around the next bend that they would have to contend with. She was only a few paces away when she heard her name barked out by the same voice.
“Zuza!”
The human spun, off-kilter for the urgency in the voice. “Yes?!”
“New mission,” Qyreia said, a hand pressed to her earpiece as if she was still listening to the transmission. Zuza listened, waited in tense silence while the world continued to move around them, until the Consul’s concentrating eyes looked up from the ground. “Gather as many Arconans as you can right now.”
“Arconans as in AEF, Shadesworn…?”
“Shadesworn, yes, whatever. There was a recon team trying to get to the Children’s fortress, and they went dark shortly after reporting that they found a safe route.”
“Doesn’t sound so safe.”
“Karkin’ right? But we just got pegged to do it.” She could see the smirk welling on Zuza’s face. “Ashla-frackin’-Bogan, no! No ‘phrasing’ right now! Go!”
Zuza all but bounced, not quite sure where to go, but at least knowing who to look for. Sometimes it was good to be the designated roster manager. Sagitta was an obvious choice, and the bouncing Mirialan all but followed the Battleteam Leader around like a puppy if it meant getting to the action again. She was also able to nab a purple Mandalorian, a sniper rifle-toting human, and a Force user she initially took for human until she noted the longer features of the Epicanthix. Her triumphant return to the Consul was surprisingly done alongside a LAAT/i gunship.
“Sofila, who you might know as Sagitta…”
“Mhm.”
“Eevie Erinos Navis…”
“Eevie is fine,” Qyreia said, knowing how long the Erinos names could get. She was already not the greatest fan of Arcona’s incumbent Mandalorian group. “And our sniper here?”
“Cole Farrow,” he responded quickly ahead of Zuza. “Soldier for hire.”
“Well if you’re here, I’ll guess we already hired you.” Qyreia grinned nonetheless, familiar with the mercenary line. “And last but not least?”
“Ikarri Itinen,” Zuza said of the Epicanthix. “Force user, pilot, fairly useful I’d say.”
“And this is all you could dig up?”
“Dig up?” Eevie chimed in, inclining her helmeted head to properly display her disdain.
Zuza at least understood the Consul’s tone a bit better. “These are all I could find. Not a lot of other Arconans right here right now.”
“Right.” She sighed, looking at this hodge-podge collection, none of whom she was personally familiar with. Where’s Ruka when you need him? “Alright, all of you hop in. Ikarri, you can fly?”
“Allegedly,” he offered amiably.
“Then get up front. I was able to scrounge up some gunners, but it’s otherwise just us.” The nearest wing-turret occupant heard this and offered a wave. “I’ll brief you all once we’re in the air.”
Ikarri exchanged brief salutes with the AEF soldiers aboard as he passed them on his way to the cockpit; he was unfamiliar with the Arconan military structure. The short, pale woman had grabbed him and pulled him along with the others despite his protestations that he was only dropping supplies for the forward base.
He settled into the seat, barely listening as his focus was on prepping the ship. A smile formed across his lips as memories of years prior flying a similar LAAT/i returned to him. Despite the decades, his hands flashed across the controls as the onboard computer ran through each system check.
“Itinen, was it? I’m feeding coordinates to you now of the last known location. Take it slow; we don’t want to end up joining them in a trench when ‘up’ somehow becomes ‘down,’” came the voice of the Zeltron from the main hold as she began issuing a new series of orders over her comms.
A bright, purple-haired female slipped into the co-pilot seat behind him. The Mirialan he believed her name to be Sofila, flashed a smile before slipping her feet onto the console and leaning back.
“Careful of the controls, young one,” Ikarri pointed out as the remaining pre-flight checks finished. Brushing his hands over the controls, the Techweaver reached out through the Force to get a feel for the vessel. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes as the connection showed him the points of impact from previous combat sorties. Every panel, crack, weld, each a scar that held memories and knowledge of how it would perform.
“Young one?” came a scoff, bringing him out of his trance as he glanced back at the co-pilot’s chair, where he noticed her feet were now off the console.
“I don’t mean any offense…” Ikarri started to say before being cut off.
“Wings up, we’re all on board. Take us out!” came the Zeltron’s orders from the back as each passenger hooked themselves into the onboard harnesses lining the open bay doors.
With his hands loose on the controls, Ikarri began easing the gunship into the air. The onboard navigation modules were already triggering interference and error reports as they glided over the forward operations base and out toward the open sky. Unlike most, Ikarri was intimately familiar with unusual environments. The past ten years in the Unknown Regions had sufficiently built his confidence in navigating unknown environments.
The floating islands inspired both a sense of awe and trepidation, a distinct, almost animalistic instinct that at any moment, they would encounter something new and terrifying. The LAAT/i began picking up speed as they cleared the incoming air traffic, slipping out over the edge of the island and beginning their rapid descent to the plains below.
Ikarri pushed the engines, knowing that the longer they were in the open expanse between the islands and the trenches below, the longer they were open to enemy fire..
The warning claxon of the gunship attempted to inform him of the dangers of such a sudden steep descent. His connection to the ship left him confident, even as those in the main hold held on for dear life, as the ship descended faster and faster. The plains below rushed up to meet them, the ongoing conflict between the Brotherhood’s forces and the Children of Mortis steadily growing in intensity as both sides exchanged fire. The Brotherhood had to advance trench by trench in a slow, cautious advance all while taking fire from the Children’s emplacements.
Ikarri sensed something wrong. He pulled the controls back hard, forcing a sudden leveling out a heartbeat before the computer began flashing an environmental warning. His own instincts left a sickened feeling as they barely avoided a gravitational well. A few stray objects from a previous vessel still floating in the space, neither falling nor rising but suspended in the foreign plane of existence.
As the vessel leveled out even for that brief moment, it gave their enemies time to target them.
“Incoming!” came a shout from the hold, eliciting a sharp jolt as Ikarri twisted away from the incoming anti-air fire. As they came out of the dip, Sofila reached out to tab the pilot. “I’ll take care of the AA! Got to go!” She maneuvered out of the seat behind him and back into the hold where the rest of the team waited.
Sofila lost her footing a few times, tossed by the movements of the ship. She hissed out a frustrated huff. Sharp maneuvers were needed but by the stars, they were kriffin’ annoying. Even for her, and she lives on a massive ship! Irony.
Kriffin’ anti-air. If the anti-aerial weapon doesn’t get taken down, they may not live through the war. Once she entered the hold, she curved her lips upwards into a reassuring smile for her team as she slipped on her Mandalorian helmet. She pushed the button for the door. It slid open, wind rushing in and roaring inside the ship.
“Will take down the anti-air machine and hold the line! Jumping now!” With a salute, she jumped out. She felt her senses surged from adrenaline. Jumping was such an intoxicating rush! She kept an eye on the ground below to find an opening for her to land on; or do the most damage to the anti-air.
She found one. Sofila brought her arms and her knees to her chest to minimize injuries on her muscles. The Mirialan held her breath. Yards from landing, the jetpack roared to life and yanked her back, her stomach lurching along from the impact of the jetpack.
She landed on the ground, the jetpack was turned off so she could leap over a crystalized fathier while drawing her lightsaber. The familiar hum was a disgusting sound to her ears but Sofila knew she needed her lightsaber for now. In a fluid motion, she took down the gunner for the AA and destroyed it. The AA smoked and crackled. Several blasters shots flew her way and she yelped, her arm going up and her Kohlen Crystal Shield Bracer was activated, deflecting the shots. Her pink hues glared at the massive group before her.
Well. Time to hold the line until her comrades could arrive. Swinging the lightsaber’s hilt in her hand into a more comfortable position, she dropped into a slight crouch. Her left shield arm was raised to protect her upper torso.
“Let’s go.”
The fathier stomped at the ground, dregs of shattered pebbles and sand flying free under the crushing weight of its crystalline hooves. A howling screech ripped through its twisted vocal chords, the crystals distorting the cry as it dipped its head and charged forward. One of the cultists managed to grasp the crystal and leap onto its back, yelling out as others followed the pair’s lead.
As the front of the group surged forward, those at the back opened fire. The red glow of blasters lit the air, singing their fellow cultists’ flapping robes on their way to Sofila’s shield and limbs. Even as the Mirilan ducked her head, stray hairs were singed and the sheer force of the repeated impact pushed her backwards. The gaps in her armor allowed the heat in, her skin burning at the intensity. Dodging could do only so much under such a barrage of opponents and the fathier was only speeding further into the charge. There wasn’t anywhere to go.
FWOOM!
The LAAT swooped low, AEF soldiers on the wings firing composite beams into the cultists. Smoke from burning flesh filled the air. It stayed low, the AA being disabled allowing it to linger with the door open.
Cole Farrow was first out of the door, the Human dropping down and moving aside, to give the group room to follow as he raised his scatter gun. The fathier’s charge had been interrupted but its rage had not been tempered. The cultist upon its back cried for battle once more, having managed to cling on with bleeding hands, pushing for the beast to go forth again. It still didn’t get to reach Sofila as the loud bang of the slugthrower reverberated through the air and solid pellets followed. It cried, turning against its rider’s will and rising on its back legs, the swinging front hooves cracking a skull of one of the cultists unfortunate enough to be under it. They hit the ground, their blood oozing into the sand.
Only a step behind Cole, the others were on the ground and moving into action. The LAAT’s door slid shut, one of the AEF soldiers following the command of the Shadow Lord rather than his own instinct to follow the Consul into the fray. Qyreia and Eevie had opened fire before Ikarri even had the shuttle more than a few feet from the ground. It barely avoided a barrage of fire with a deft rotation, leaning toward the ever present sun that did little to provide light in this twilight reality. The pair hadn’t turned to watch, Qyreia stepping back to put some space between her and the enemy. There were enough in the group that she could go from one to another in moments, her A280C rifle cutting through the armor of most that were struck. Only those with crystalised armor stood against the fire, forcing the Zeltron to focus on them. Find the weak points and take them down as quickly as possible.
Being on the ground, this close with so little cover, was kriffing far from ideal. Sofila was alive still, at least there was that. It was hard to yell at a schutta who was dead. Though from the reports from Eos City’s doppelganger, maybe there’d be a ghost to call stupid.
Though not everyone would be so willing to say it to a ghost, even if briefly. Cole was making his way forward, step by step. The Human kept the space small enough that no one could slip behind him and cut him off but other than those basic practices he’d followed on instinct for years, he was focussed on Sofila.
She was an idiot but dammit she was his idiot.
The fathier’s crystal extrusions were steadily shattering under the focussed fire of his scatter gun, the pellets that shattered against the crystals only causing more damage as they ricocheted into its flesh. Or the flesh of those around it. Both worked. It kept its attention from focussing on the easy target who had long since regained her footing and had moved into melee combat. Sofila wasn’t safe but she had time. Time to react, to duck and dodge before swiping forward to knock her foes prone, to punt them back into each other so the sithspitter behind her could get some attention. She had time.
And time seemed to simultaneously slow as they tore through the surprised Mortisian soldiery, while everything happened all too quick. Instinct and survival drove them. So while more composite beams slammed into the enemy from the LAAT/i above, Sagitta threw her energy and more than a few rounds from her heavy blaster pistol into the wavering fathier, syncing her destruction with Cole’s.
The three of them on the ground drew together, forming a tight three-man circle, the pair of lovers exchanging shots at the crystalized animal and at any troops that dared approach, while Qyreia covered their backs, pelting anyone that tried to advance from the trenchworks. The sporadic green beam from the gunship added to the symphony of destruction, though its low altitude allowed those Children nearby to pepper its hull with their own blasters. But soon enough, the fathier’s bellowing screeches waned as it fell to the ground, and the surge of soldiers dwindled to a trickle and finally a full stop. In the grand scheme of the larger battle, the lightning skirmish was a blip, but it was one less anti-aircraft gun, and the Arconans had their inroad to the Corpse Fields.
“Ikarri,” Qyreia called up as soon as she felt it safe to drop a hand from her rifle, “we’re clear down here for now. How’s the ship?”
“Holding together. Though I think I might fly low to the ground for a while just to avoid any more pot shots.”
In truth, he was having some difficulty keeping the vessel steady. Somewhere in the fracas, they had apparently managed to hit several stabilization components. Nothing that would bring the ship down, but dear Ashla and Bogan, it wasn’t making things any easier.
“That’s fine. We’re at the insertion point…”
Sagitta, catching her breath, sniggered at the comment while she stole a glance at Cole.
“Oh grow up.”
The human with the sniper rifle shrugged. “You think I haven’t tried that line too?”
“Anyway! We’re close to their trail. So Ikarri, just stay close as support and we’ll cover the ground work, okay?”
“Sounds good.” He just hoped the LAAT/i would hold together that long.
Cole kicked over some of the bodies, particularly the fathier, checking for signs of life while the Consul looked over her datapad. “So where to now, then?”
“Th—at way.” A pointed red finger directed them in the direction of the Corpse Fields.
“Ahh, the spooky place of doom and gloom.” The Mando-Mirialan would have flipped up her hair sarcastically if not for the helmet. “Is everyone the Brotherhood fights so edgy?”
Cole sighed, but the Zeltron snorted back a laugh trying to act professional. Besides, she’d read the intel feed from the Council. There was a reason they called it that. “Not everyone. But come on. We need to get going before they can send reinforcements. Don’t wanna keep Ikarri in one place too long.”
The going was still a slog, but not as bad as diving face-first into an entrenched gun position. So while they were briefly able to enjoy the borderline idyllic grasses and undulating terrain of the Shattered Plains — minus the ever-present and hostile Children of Mortis — following the geolocation trail soon brought them to something out of a horror holo. The world itself seemed to darken, and the ground went from crusted dirt to craggy rock and an ever-increasing coverage of bones and other humanoid remains.
The LAAT/i swept low over the terrain with the remaining crew and pilot on edge as the vibrations shuddered throughout the transport of significant concern to everyone aboard. There was a tense silence as they surveyed the terrain below them, littered with fresh and ancient remains littering the fields.
Swooping as low as possible, the pilot deactivated the low-attitude warnings as his eyes swept the area even as the LAAT/i’s sensors pinged responses in the distance. His hands steady on the controls, the Adept reached out with his senses, the interior of the vessel and those within, falling away from his vision as he reached out through the haze of the alien realm to search for the missing scouts.
In moments he felt as though the reality surrounding him pushed back against his probing, a mental barrage of desperation, fear, terror, pain all rising from the fields below them rising like horrific specters to dig into his mind. In an instant he had to pull back, a shuddering gasp escaping as he mentally fled back to the safety of the cockpit.
Ikarri activated the short-wave secure radio between the transport and the Arconan Consul.
“Consul… I” His voice shook as he tried to steady his hands on the controls, trying to find the words to explain what he’d sensed ahead of the team he’d delivered to the battlefield.
“What is it Ikarri?” Though unfamiliar with one another, the Consul knew enough to understand the sudden change in the pilot’s demeanor.
“There is something out there ahead of you, it isn’t the Children, it’s something worse.” Ikarri began to circle back towards the team before suddenly pulling the controls to elevate them,sensing something coming, reacting before even having a chance to identify the threat. He felt the vessel shudder as multiple systems lost power, their steep elevation taxing the already stressed systems to failure.
As the troop-transport leveled off for a brief moment as they slid through the air coasting on the momentum. Ikarri heard a shout from the rear-compartment
“North, Northeast! I just spotted blaster fire through the haze, I think that’s our boys!” He didn’t recognize the voice over the comms but the acknowledgement from the ground team confirmed they’d received the message. Ikarri shook his head at the fortune… and misfortune of finding their queries just as their transport gave out.
“Everyone hold onto something!” Ikarri’s warning was brief as he tried to keep the nose of the transport up as the ground swiftly rose to meet them.
Sofila’s head snapped towards where the ship was and watched as it spiraled, losing control before it joltedbanking to the right to stabilize before it glided off to the side.
Crystals shattered against the hull of the ship, along with the high pitch scraped in the moment it’s in contact with the metal. Bodies underneath were crushed or they tumbled away as the ship shuddered on the rough terrain before eventually coming to a standstill.
“Ah. Kriff,” Sofila muttered. Despite it not looking good for a moment there, the ship had landed, and the best part? It didn’t boom.
“Ikarri, are you still alive?” The Zeltron asked in the comms.
“Yes but this ship is not going anywhere,” Ikarri replied.
“If anyone can get that ship back up in the skies, it’s you. We’re going. Find us once you’re in the air. Send me the coordinates,” Qyreia emphasized to make sure someone else, like Sofila, wouldn’t get a hold of them and start charging. Again.
Eevie rocketed into the air, jetting towards the downed craft. The LAAT had sustained external damage, to be sure, but she was more worried about the engines and damaged mechanics that could go boom. Upon reaching the outer hull, the Mandalorian jumped up into the open troop loading platform.
“Ikarri, you ok in there?” Concern layered the Sephi’s siren-like voice, even through the beskar helmet she wore.
“I’m alive, but this beauty ain’t movin’.”
She moved through the wreckage, wires, and panels sparking around her. She took in the damages, and they were fairly substantial.
“Think we can save her? I’m a pretty decent mechanic and all, but I’m sure you can connect with here in ways I can’t”
Ikarri was working on a nearby exposed section of the flight controls. He seemed to be in a zone and didn’t react right away to her question.
“She’s still got a spark of life in her, it’s faint, but it’s there. Gonna be a bit of work to get her purring again.”
“Then let’s get to work. The others are gonna need a quick escape.”
Eevie jumped at the chance to work on the ship’s engines, grabbing hold of her all-kit tool and anything else she might need for the job. Getting into the guts of the ship, she let her years of in-depth knowledge of the inner workings of star vessels guide her. It was definitely a puzzle though. For every fix or so, every reconnected wire, or bypassed short circuit, another spot sparked and failed.
Ikari was guided by his own in-depth knowledge, as well as the Force. Subtle motions of his hand would cause circuits to reconnect and reboot, and over time the rapid beeps and whirls of restored systems would sound in the cockpit. Whenever another piece of the ship fell back into place, the two mechanics inched closer to the LAAT being ready for use again.
“I hope those three can find the team. There was something…off out there. It’s hard to explain.” Ikarri spoke loud enough for the Mandalorian to hear him.
Eevie was welding together spots where important structure damage would weaken the craft’s integrity. It would be useless to get the ship going if it would just fall apart mid-flight.
“Qyreia will watch over them. She ain’t just Consul cause of her good looks, from what I hear. She’ll lead them well, and find the ones we’re looking for.”
“These Corpse Fields…this whole place. There’s a darkness to these lands that doesn’t feel…natural.”
“Ain’t none of this natural.”
Taking a moment to breathe, Eevie looked over the area she’d been working on. IT looked more or less in order. She would come back to it if necessary, but there were other spots that needed her attention more.
“Old girl, I hope you can keep us movin’. We’re counting on you.” The Sephi placed her hand on the ship’s hull as she spoke. If ever there was a moment where she hoped the Force was with them, this was it.
The rest of the group began the march, Ikarri having passed the coordinates to Qyreia as requested and the Consul leading the way through the hills and valleys, bones crunching under foot. It was quiet.
Too quiet. Though they soon found out why. The scouts had the attention of what forces may have been patrolling the area.
In an ideal scenario they’d have had time to prepare a true ambush with more reinforcements but as they crested over a rocky ledge, the situation didn’t leave them that time. Most of the scouts laid dead, Truthwardens filling the divot between hills. The Arconans left were now harboring an outcropping, maintaining a high ground over the cultists. To their credit there were as many cultists bleeding out, glassy eyed, into the already rot-sodden soil underfoot. Around a dozen were left, waiting out the scouts.
Instead, it was a quick charge; Sagitta jumped down from the outcropping onto the edge of the cultist’s forces, drawing their attention away as Cole and Qyreia opened fire from the other flank and behind.
It split their forces, most turning to deal with the sudden fire at their backs. The few that charged Sagitta, the Mandalorian Mirilian having had the chance to rebuild her reserves to, as she brightly announced-
“-kick these schuttas!”
There was enough of a gap that the scouts were able to help. Despite the disadvantage in numbers, they had the Truthwardens surrounded. It was a short fight.
It took longer for the scouts to climb down, carrying a few injured and what little ammo reserves and weapons they’d had left. It was scant but they held something far more important than that.
They’d found a path through the fields. It held more cultists but far less of the traps that littered the rest of Corpse Fields. It was a breakthrough that the battle needed.
Qyreia passed the intel back to Ikarri through the comms as well as to the other generals. The other clans. They’d need reinforcements before making any real attempt forward. The more of a push they made here, the more chance they had to come out of this karking nightmare alive.