Somewhere near Fondor
Aboard the Bladed Twilight
The throaty bellow of bolters mingled with the sharp whine of blasters, filling the corridor with the reek of gunpowder, gore and scorched flesh. It was potent, even through his sealed helmet, and Hastings growled as a blaster bolt hit him in the chest, throwing off his shot and sending the bolt up into the ceiling. "These pirates grow bold." He mutters into his comm, and there's a muted chuckle from the other end.
Elsewhere aboard the Bladed Twilight, the Lord Inquisitor drove his black sword through a pirate's chest, the Rodian dying with a squeal on it's fluted mouth. "You worry too much, Captain." His steady baritone of a voice had hardened with time, and the damage done to his soul with Cira's death, while scarred, had never truly healed. As if in sympathy, his voice had grown harder, becoming a jagged boulder of baritone, rather than the quiet rumble it had once been.
"It's not worry that drives me." Came the response, distorted by the chatter of the bolter no doubt kicking in Hasting's fists. "But surely Fondor is no longer as safe as it once was."
Sarge shook his head, moving down the corridor, his boarding shield up before him. Blaster fire scorched it's paint, but the thick steel discouraged all but the heaviest of fire; the benefits of the small shield generator embedded within it. His blade came down again, opening a Twi'lek from collar to hip, and he pushed deeper, a pair of Purgation suited warriors coming up at his back. One raised a flamethrower, bathing the corridor before him in plasma.
Screams erupted, so loud his helmet cycled down their hearing to compensate for the volume, and he lowered the shield as the flames sputtered to a stop. Advancing cautiously forward into the blackened hallway, he brought up the schematic with a blink-command, studying the layout of the vessel. "Two levels up should be the bridge." He'd ignored the observation for now.
Somewhere, Hastings cursed. "We're pinned near the engine decks."
No one needed be told what would happen if they couldn't secure the engine rooms. Their jump to hyperspace could take them literally anywhere, and that would mean they would be stranded aboard a hostile ship. Despite his confidence, there was no guarantee they would emerge victorious, especially since one couldn't be sure if they were jumping to meet reinforcements or not.
No, it was better to be careful.
"Copy that, Hastings. I'm diverting Sepulcher Squad to your position."
There was a long pause, and Sarge knew Hastings was grinding his teeth in annoyance. "Fine. But they had better hurry."
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, something laughed.