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The Jedi stood with her hands behind her back, eyes fixated on the space ahead which was littered with the debris of wrecked ships and the remains of Csilla itself. The scene they bore witness to was a very painful visual reminder of the horrors the galaxy were facing at current with genocide threatening planets from several factions and in different corners of the galaxy. As darkness closed in on the galaxy, the future grew bleaker and bleaker.
It was almost hurtful that it took the destruction of Csilla at the hands of the Brotherhood of the Maw for the galaxy to open its eyes to the devastation that was before them. While the Bryn'adul had decimated many planets, along with their population, they had never left such an overt reminder of their destruction as the genocide on Csilla had. The Concord had been battling enemies who were just as ferocious and merciless as the Brotherhood, if not more, but it took the destruction of a planet for people to pay attention to the less obvious genocide within the planets still standing.
She snapped back to the reality of the current situation when another voice entered the fray, at which point she turned to face the Admiral and the officer who accompanied him. "Start the rescue operation." She ordered. "We can relay any information we receive from the First Order onto our people." She told the officer and admiral.
Kiara would then close her eyes briefly to send a telepathic message to the Jedi aboard the Nima II to offer them hope and prepare them for the distressing events that were about to unfold. "Csilla's citizens and rescuers are clinging onto their last threads of hope out there. They are scared so help them to feel safe. May the Force be with us."
Once the connection to the First Order was made, she began to approach Admiral Chaussidier in anticipation of initiating communications with the friendly forces in the area. The Concord had had scarcely little interaction with the First Order who remained largely isolated in their Western corner of the galaxy but sharing the rescue operations with them meant they were as good as allies for the time-being.
R E L I Q U E R Y UNKNOWN REGIONS | UNKNOWN SYSTEM
FINAL DAWN
Never before had victory cost so much.
The near total annihilation of the Mawite Warlfeet alarmed the Supreme War Command far more than the ground losses had. Soldiers could be replaced easily and quickly, especially as Final Dawn's cloning facilities were being brought online, but the fleet could take years to truly recover - that is if the culmination of resources continued to drag.
It didn't help that the man seeking to correct some of the greater errors was standing in the blood of a dead Heathen Priest. His nostrils flared at the sight of the bloody body, a force user so powerful that his mind had been used to direct the dreadnought alongside his other fallen brothers and sisters, among others.
"Conjurers and Soothsayers" He dismissed the body. Black gloved hands clenched the back of the chair the Heathen Priest's body lay at, and the Admiral's eyes locked onto the enimagntic figure of the Taskmaster himself. "It will take months to restore this ship to it's full glory" He stated matter of factly.
"We must hurry our repairs. If the First Order or even the Chiss find us before our allies can reinforce us..." He allowed the mind of the Taskmaster to wonder on the possibilities of failure.
He turned to full attention as he noticed the figure of the Warlord Maestus
and saluted. "My lordship"
The Nima II steadily made her way closer to the planet had once been with the heavy tractor beams paving way both for herself and some of the other Concord vessels which followed. Of course, more ships than the Nima II were equipped with tractor beams and if nothing else, inspired navigation and the use of lasers would do. Needless to say, the crews of the Concord ships did not envy those who were closer to the now destroyed planet.
"The Aldere is adjusting their course to avoid a larger object, they say-" The communications officer quieted as Chaussidier nodded towards the object - they could see it in the distance through the bridge viewports.
"Thank you."
"What was that? It looks so smooth except for where those ridges are."
The Admiral was quiet for a few moments. Long enough to receive the Grandmaster's go-ahead to commence rescue operations. After giving the Jedi a respectful nod, Chaussidier looked back to the communication's officer "The bottom of an ocean" A few brief moments of silence passed before he continued, promptly snapping back to the business at hand "Launch the rescue shuttles from bay one and five. Prepare the shuttles in bay three and divert the Denar to conduct sweeps for life along the fringes."
As the last sentence was uttered, the holographic image of a First Order Captain appeared by the holocom by which he stood. "Captain Reed" He greeted the apparent ranking officer with a bow of the head "Your advice is appreciated, Captain. I want to put a few of my officers in contact with your staff to coordinate rescue operations." Chaussidier threw an eye at the command table nearby. Most scanners were useless in the environment they were in, for wherever they looked, there was always something to be found. Life signs, ship signatures, thruster trails, all things which could be found in abundance. At least it would be easier to filter it all if working with the First Order. "I will leave the official communications for the Grandmaster" His presence in the communications with the Captain would be brief for the time being.
Quickly removing himself from the field of the holocommunicator, its focus would soon shift to that of Kiara. Chaussidier overviewed the available information returning to the command console. It was a dire situation for many of the survivors. Time was not the only factor - being crushed by debris was one and the hostile remnants in the area was another. The latter was arguably the more concerning matter as any rescue operations would be in peril if they were attacked in an environment which was dangerous enough on its own. "Forward our ship IDs to Captain Reed and share preliminary sensor data. Do we have more Jedi on the ship?"
"Yes, Admiral"
"They can help guide rescue efforts" The Admiral paused for a moment, in truth, he did not fully comprehend how the force worked and thus added a sweeping "... or something."
The officer quickly sent out a signal calling for the Jedi who were aboard the Nima II before receiving the hail from the Concord Horizon.
"I need Commodore Angellus of the Silver City"
"Commodore Redra of the Concord Horizon are hailing us, Admiral"
Chaussidier looked at the officer. Both of them knew of the rather complicated relation between the Admiral and his fellow Onderonian. "Put her through and patch in the Silver City as soon as possible."
As soon as communications had been established, Chaussidier would greet Kalah and - if he was available - Liram. "Commodores, we have received reports of lingering Maw forces in the area and our technicians are still working on removing the clutter from our scanners. Commodore Angellus, can your fighters scout on ahead?" The reasoning of fighters being better suited for an advanced party in the debris fills space of the Csilla system than the other vessels of the fleet was never shared. Liram had a stellar reputation and Chaussidier trusted that he knew of it already.
"Commodore Redra" the Admiral looked to the holographic image of the woman. They did not always see eye-to-eye but still, she was a highly competent commander. "Work with Angellus in setting up a rapid response team to any threats. I am assigning the Merek-Mer to your command."
Once the call was over, the Concordia would drop into the Csilla system, near where the Nima II was. Chaussidier recognised the ship, it was a powerful prototype warship, sure to be useful if they found themselves engaged in a battle.
"She's beautiful"
The Admiral looked to the communication's officer as she commented on the appearance of the Concordia. He agreed with her but still conveyed a sense of disappointment through a weary sigh. The officer quickly picked up on the signal and recommenced her work in sharing sensor data with the First Order. Chaussidier then looked over to the command table. Vaux Gred was there to aid them with the navigation and had been an invaluable asset so far - even if the Nima II could keep a consistent course due to its tractor beams, her crew did aid a number of the other vessels, especially the ones that had dropped in by more perilous areas.
"Vaux" the Admiral's voice carried across the holo-table where she was working. "We are setting up a screen of fighters for scouting and a rapid response team." He knew of her reputation as a fighter pilot and leader. Her file included promising reports from a number of battlefields ranging from the first battle of Nar Kreeta to the recent attack on Korriban - and so, the next line was a natural one "We might need to in a fighter, should something happen." It was never easy to ask someone to go from navigation to piloting small craft which would inevitably come under heavy fire. But should the time come, he needed her to be prepared.
General - Launched two squadrons of rescue shuttles. Kept approaching the epicentre. Charlotte Reed - Expressed wish for cooperation. Forwarded Concord ship IDs and sensor data. Liram Angellus
- Asked to send out fighters to scout on ahead while technicians work on making sense of sensor data. Warned of potential hostiles. Kalah Redra - Asked to work with Liram and to create a rapid response team. Assigned additional ship to her direct command. Warned of potential hostiles. Vaux Gred
- Spoke about potential need to take charge of a fighter squadron.
Phyn Hyrel - Hey! I'm not sure what you want to do, so, Chaussidier had them prepare the third shuttle bay if you want to go out and work on rescuing people directly. If not, he also made a call for Jedi onboard the Nima II while Kiara Ayres is busy. Maybe she could help them in deciding where survivors need rescuing and how - or perhaps to come talk to Kiara.
FIGHTER COMPLIMENT: "VOODOO WING"
CALLSIGNS: Captain Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Voodoo 1", Commander Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Voodoo 2" Commander Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "Voodoo 3". Each Squadron leader makes up "Voodoo Wing", their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below.
“Commodore, Admiral Chaussidier is hailing us directly.”
” Put him through.”
Then the request for fighters to commit to some recon and while it didn’t seem to make sense at first, he looked at the layout of the debris and the gaps in between. There was something that was coming together on it. There were several spots that seemed to make sense and there were several spots where sensor masking could hide a ship.
” Acknowledged.”
Cutting the comm, the Commodore went to work, walking over to the Flight Control station, patting Scott on the back.
” Coordinate with the Ethereal. I want Azaezals running recon throughout the system, overlapping flights* and runs. At the same time, I want Archangels running cover. At the same time, I want Asheras on Ready 9, they’re going to cover the Demons tags.”
“Jackals? X-wings?”
” Keep’em back, I don’t was us caught up until we’re ready to be.”
“Aye. What about Commodore Redrak?”
He shrugged.
” Contact their flight control. Let them know what we’re doing.”
Captain Halpern was busy ordering the defenses up as well as coordinating with Adorn, on where to position themselves should there be some sort of ambush.
“Sir, the Cherub transports are reporting no places to touch down.” The Comms department called out.
“Recall the transports and give the gunships the option of returning or not. If they want to stay out, let them. They can help cover any escape pods.”
“Aye”
”Extend our firing lanes with the Ethereal and the other two ships. Give the Maw ships enough width to tempt them, but not enough to hurt us.”
Halpern smiled as he made it so. “Baiting them into a fight, sir?”
” Naw, just daring them to try.”
Squadron = Group of Twelve Fighters
Flight = Group of Four Fighters (3 to a squadron)
Run = Flight Pattern
Ready 9 = Rapid response.
Tag= Target
He wasn't one for ship to ship combat, nor star fighting, but he did have one of the better 'scouting' vehicles, given his X-wing was designed for such things. Walking through the hanger, he felt eyes fall upon him as without his flight suit it would appear that he was jumping into his fighter with little protection against the vacuum. He had thought ahead though, his oddly thrown together armor was indeed vaccum sealed, he even had a bit of an air supply to it, but he'd rather the flight crew on the Nima II think him crazy. Moving towards The Afterthought, he could see the crews loading 4U into his droid compartment, the astromech seemingly unhappy about the events to come. "<Kadan, what the hell man. I was in the middle of a nice oil bath, then they come and decouple me. What's going on? The technicians blocked my access to the network after the cleaning droid debacle.>" The droid bleeped away, his head swirling about as he was placed into his socket, though the padawan was less then pleased with his companions tone of voice. "<Hey, hey, watch the photoreceptors, nerf herder!>" 4U worbled at one of the technicians, a Mon Cala, who had nearly dropped the magnetic crane onto the droid as he was unhooking it. "Hey, 4U, calm down for a second. Things are pretty bad." He started, giving the crew some time to clean up from their warm up process.
How was he going to describe this to someone? A whole world gone. Reduced to little more than space dust. Truthfully, he felt wrong, like the day he felt when Mandalore was glassed. Yet this, this was so much worse. It was as if he was being slowly strangled with an icy cold blanket. There was a distant echo he could feel, like a silent scream that was continuing to travel on into the distance. It made him feel uneasy. There was really no way to explain such a thing to someone. Better the droid work it out himself. "Tap into the ship's computer, you'll see for yourself." Placing his foot into metal steps that emerged from his x-wing, Kadan unclipped his helmet, and slide it over his head, locking it in place, and letting the cockpit close above him. The voice of the flight coordinator came on, giving Kadan pause as he switched on his com relay to 4U. "Afterthought, you are clear for launch. Beginning final system checks." The woman's voice on the other end sounded lifeless, as if she was barely holding it together. He didn't blame her, hell, half of the crew had the same sense of foreboding about them.
How many people got to fly through a grave yard? It wasn't something to be overly excited about.
"Acknowledged."
4U finally seemed to acknowledge the situation, as the droid's words came across the screen. 'It says the Csilla system, but I have no readings of the planet. I'm guessing this is related?' Kadan's hands lingered over the flight controls, his fingers moving to dial him into the proper channels of communication, as he was merely ready to get this over with. "Yea."
There wasn't much more to say than that. It was enough for 4U to go silent, which meant the droid was processing this rather hard. Probably for the best.
He could feel Aayla was near by, probably getting herself set up. Given they were flying together, he reached out to check on her. 'Hey, you feeling okay? The force here is....off. You're much more aware of things like that than I.'
"Afterthought, you are clear for launch."
Kadan snapped out of his talk, and found that 4U was already throwing power into the engines. He took the controls, feeling the craft lift up, and shoot out into the now empty void of the Csilla system.
He had seen the wreckage from the bridge, but being amongst it now, it hit different. He adjusted his vector, angling his ship towards the Maw ships in the distance, and brought his engines to quarter power, flying off the starboard side of the Nima as he awaited for the go ahead. "4U, test out the cloak, and warm up the jammer. I don't know what the Maw are up to, but given the situation I'm not taking chances."
Last thing he needed was these dark side fanatics taking pot shots at him. The Afterthought was fast, could out-fly just about anything in it's weight class, but it couldn't blow through an armada of star ships and come out alright.
Aayla was already sitting on the cockpit of her Interceptor. Just on the lid as she watched Kadan walk to his ship. Aayla was wearing a Stealth Bodysuit. She had everything she needed between that, and the ship. To her right, a tiny Wyyyschokk would appear just over the rim of the cockpit, a timid little creature, glancing at the hustle and bustle, then narrowing its eyes on Aayla.
'They're all very sad... What will happen now Aayla?'
Vers asked her. To which she just shook her head.
"Now we save who we can, and hit the Maw back... I'm partial to the latter Vers. Bring up systems..."
She said, moving to a kneel, then jumping into the cockpit, making sure not to step on the spider. Kadan probably hadn't seen who her Astromech was yet, but he would certainly be surprised when he did. Closing the canopy and cracking her neck.
"Go easy on me Vers... Flight Deck, this is Fighter Craft Interception, requesting launch permission..."
She said, not having to do too much, as Vers had knocked out most of the necessary steps. They were linked just as well as Kadan, hell almost equally; though, Vers was just a spider, and Kadan was someone she loved... Speaking of.
His voice came to her, and she just sighed aloud.
'This is w-... This is why you can't show them any mercy Kadan. Bryn'Adul are killing everyone; and just because they're on the safe side of the galaxy... Instead of doing something that makes sense, like hell; fortifying their borders... They glass a planet of innocent people... I'll be fine, but I'm upset'
Aayla responded to him honestly, waiting for the go to launch.
'Interceptor, Launch Authorized; clear bay, maintain speed'
The authorization came, and she would take off and retract her gear before bursting forward with a light screech of the engines. Once outside of the hangar bay of the Nima.
Pressing a few buttons, she would maintain the X-Wing's flight mode, and take a position about seven meters behind Kadan, and five meters off his Starboard-Stern respectively.
"Vers, take us off the map..."
She said simply, the ship flickering a bit and falling into the White Current behind Kadan's. It was suddenly invisible to the naked eye, and sensors.
Once that was done, she would open a private channel to Kadan;
"You really just wanna' save people on this Kadan? The Chit-heads responsible are right in front of us..."
She asked, trying to get his thoughts on the matter.
Phyn stepped into bay three, a sleek if spartan spacesuit on her and a more customized spacesuit on her companion, T'Anie. The latter rested on her shoulder, each arm tucked into a sleeve on the spacesuit that had variable thruster and micro-suction cups designed for getting around in variable gravity, but less suited for moving around in the standard gravity of a starship.
She stepped into a rescue shuttle, the SJC navy crew already doing their preflight checks.
"Csilla's citizens and rescuers are clinging onto their last threads of hope out there. They are scared so help them to feel safe. May the Force be with us."
Phyn felt the mental communique and nodded. She couldn't respond over the distance, her ability with telepathy was more limited, so she instead moved forward and greeted the shuttle crew.
"Hope you don't mind if I tag along and assist in the rescue effort." She spoke, leaning into the cockpit but not stepping over the threshold. The flight engineer looked up from what she was doing, noticed the lightsaber attached to Phyn's hip, and then the cephalopod on her shoulder. The woman seemed unfazed.
"If you can do more than swing that around," the flight engineer indicated the lightsaber, "then you are definitely welcome."
"I should be able to help guide you to the living, and I can heal," Phyn responded before straightening out of the cockpit.
"Grab that seat," the flight engineer indicated a jump seat just inside the cockpit door, then went back to finish her preflight check.
Phyn slipped into the seat and buckled herself. She touched the controls on the monitor next to her until she was seeing a sensor feed. T'Anie slowly moved into Phyn's lap, using the micro-suction cups to hook onto the front of her suit.
"We're clear to launch." The pilot spoke out loud. The flight engineer toggled a few switches, closing up the shuttle.
"We're closed up."
"Launching."
Phyn felt a sudden pull towards the rear of the shuttle as they accelerated out of the bay and into the debris field that had once been Csilla.
A warm smile played about her lips as Master Cinsilo approached. The Epicanthix was taller than her, with beautiful dark hair and intelligent eyes. With the amount of time Sakadi had spent on Kashyyyk and Commenor, it was almost strange to consider that she had barely seen or spoken with the Master before. But then again, the Sephi had always been busy. "A couple of evacuation vessels. Sendra and Gon are currently bringing us closer to one of them." She conveyed through the Force, her projected voice softer than usual.
The old freighter shook heavily before she could continue. The shuddering stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Her commlink activated right after. ::We've hit them with our magnoclamps and pulling them closer as we speak:: The Twi'lek explained. ::Our docking rings should connect any moment now. Good luck with the boarding:: Sakadi glanced at her fellow Jedi. "I suppose that's our signal." In truth, she had no idea of what to expect. Of course, she had helped in many evacuations and relief aid missions before, but none on a scale such as this. Nothing that resembled a planet-enveloping disaster. Perhaps they would find a group of Chiss alive and well. Or perhaps the oxygen had ran out. Maybe they had fought and killed each other over rations… The Sephi didn't know.
The small light above the docking ring flickered green - the indication that the blast door could safely be opened. Whatever it was that awaited them, she would find out soon.
The Taskmaster was pleased to see Maestus arrive, and to see her Chosen caring for the surviving Heathen Priests; there had been no time for him to attend to the task, not with so many literal fires to put out. "We have suffered serious damage," he replied, his long, knobby fingers flying over the console as he redirected power and sealed off bulkheads. "Many weapons systems are offline, and the shields are struggling to recover. We lack the materials to effect full repairs, and we lack the time as well; unidentified vessels, likely belonging to our foes, have already located out position."
His facial tendrils writhed into an Ebruchi frown. "We have no choice but to hold position for emergency maintenance, but we will depart as soon as we can safely engage the Path Engines. I will not know how long that will take until we have fully evaluated the damage." Despite the many readouts he had access to, much still remained uncertain. Had their unexpected early emergence from hyperspace been the result of a fault in the Path Engines themselves, or just a consequence of the cascading power failures? The former would be a true disaster, the latter merely time-consuming.
Tu'teggacha's gaze slid over to the Final Dawn Vice-Admiral when the man spoke, and his bulbous eyes narrowed. "I am well aware of the extent of the damage, Admiral Alden," he replied, his voice icy, "and of the need for haste." He needed space to think and time to work, not reminders of the obvious. So far he had not received any updates about the craft that had jumped in at the edge of the system, possibly tracking them, but he knew that the clock was ticking. The various enemy fleets, each of them (let alone their combined strength) heavily outnumbering the Maw fleet, would be on the hunt.
And none of them had been nearly as badly damaged.
For the moment, however, there was nothing they could do but sit tight. Repair crews scrambled over the Fatalis, assessing the damage and prioritizing the repairs. Weapons - and probably shields - could wait until they returned to the shipyard at Osseriton. All they needed for the moment was the ability to get back into hyperspace, so that they could cross this vast swathe of enemy territory and actually reach the safety of Brotherhood space. In the meantime, they would continue to broadcast their coded beacon, hoping to draw in allies that might help them survive a little longer if the enemy did find them...
Two orbs of yellow haze glared out from the veil of the haze covered bacta tank. A lone figure floated in the midst of medical tank healing. It’s vile gaze shifted through the bubbling vat with malicious eyes of sulfur and fire brimming at the rims, recently awoken once again after the short hyperspace jump on a nearby path out of the Csilla System.
The Elder could not see what had transpired or what events were taking place within his dark stasis, it would take time to heal from the duel against Cedric Grayson
and their subsequent spiriting away into the empty vacuum. He was lucky he had been found by his loyal subject Tu'teggacha
who had felt his presence and thus snatched him away from the certainty of death. Unbeknownst to the Dark Voice and the crew of the Fatalis, soon they would discover no good deed goes unpunished..
The Dark Voice stretched out into the slipstream of the empyrean, sinister tendrils metaphysically reaching out from the dreaded mind of the dark prophet. These manifestations of darkness were bridges, guides to the mind of one who would see the galaxy submit or die.
A grim whisper echoed forth, a voice of cold detachment and hidden malice, it came upon the minds of Tu'teggacha
and the Sith Warlord Maestus
.
Starlit Hope slipped out of hyperspace in the wake of the Silver Jedi ships, then took an arcing route over them to start pushing debris away from the rescue ships. Dair sat on the bridge alone, piloting the ship with the ease of long practice. A monitor to his right let him know there were open comm channels between the remaining First Order vessels and the Silver Jedi Concord armada. The rudimentary intelligence of his ships computer was able to pull out the names of the commanding officers from the feeds going back and forth.
"Captain Reed (Charlotte Reed), Admiral Chaussidier
, Grand Master Kiara Ayres. This is Dair Cotarin on the Jedi ship Starlit Hope. I'll be moving into the debris field to see if I can identify where people are and help guide rescue efforts. I'll keep a channel open if there is need of me elsewhere in the system." He reported in, knowing his message would likely get queued by communications officers in both fleets. His wasn't a large vessel, and he didn't represent any major faction of the galaxy. He didn't expect a return message right away.
Instead, Dair piloted his ship forward at a pace much slower than he likely could have, but he wanted his scans to have time to identify potential targets for rescue, and help shift debris out of the way, and stabilize them in the solar orbit. Being a smaller ship, though, he was able to make headway at a better pace than the larger ships of the fleets assembled.
He knew that the larger ships would not likely be going very deep into the debris fields, so Dair focused on trying to stabilize a path large enough for his ship to turn around in, which should make it fairly safe for shuttles to follow. After a few minutes of working his way deeper into the debris field, Dair settled a bit in his command chair and let his eyes close to half-lidded as he reached out with his senses and his feelings, letting himself reach out through the Force.
He had felt the destruction of Csilla, as all force-sensitive creatures likely did. He had only rarely felt such despair, only really able to think back to the Netherworld crisis so long ago. As he reached out through the Force here, he felt it sore and raw, like a wound in the very fabric of life. It was nearly painful to experience, but he did not shy away from it. As much as he, and every other Jedi and force-sensitive creature, needed the Force, the Force also needed them. He let the pain wash into him, and he did his best to soothe it with a touch of the pleasant side of Winter that was the center of himself within the Force.
This likely lit him up like a beacon in the Force, but also allowed him to identify where life still clung to existence nearby.
"Rescue fleets, I've identified a couple of places in need of rescue. I don't sense imminent danger for them, so I am marking them on my map and sending you the coordinates." He was capable of taking on those in need of rescue, but being alone on his ship made it a fairly involved process. He would do it when he felt it was needed.
As soon as he exited hyperspace fully, he blew the gel charges on the back of his ship near the engines, creating a huge bout of flame around the engine bank. Designed to make a lot of flames but not necessarily do anything except make a big fireball out into space, the gel exploded spectacularly for everyone to see. Shutting the engines down as fast as possible, he tried to make it seem like his ship was adrift as he tried to hold in his laughter. This is going to be so much fun. Let us see how close we can get...
The giggling trooper put the IFF of his ship using the Mando Countermeasure Suite he had on board to say that he was the “Greenhorn '' an SJC sponsored freighter who had broken its whole engine bank and couldn’t help but move closer and closer to the Maw fleet, spamming out a distress call, for help before he was killed by the Maw menace. The ARC buckled in and called out for his Astromech to secure itself in the starfighter. "P7, I need that fighter to launch at any moment!"
The astromech complied in the hanger with some huffing in binary, firing its rocket thrusters to get into the Viper's elevated droid socket. As the soldiers view turned back to the viewport. he hoped the Maw would buy the trick and let patrol craft for a closer look. If they did, he would take full advantage of the opportunity. This is my opportunity to make a difference in this galaxy, lets not blow it. Now we see if the Sith buy it our little trick...
They were impossibly, incomprehensibly vast. Twinkling stars formed the countless eyes of their many-angled faces. Their cloaks were the trailing arms of entire galaxies, shimmering as they moved. They were the universe, and the universe was them. War, Death, and Rebirth: it was the cycle of struggle that defined life and living. Before sentient creatures had learned to forge weapons, predator and prey had followed their way. Before that, the very stars and planets themselves had followed the same cycle. They were born into struggle, they came to an end, and then their substance lived on.
As The Mongrel hung in the void, gazing up at the unknowable vastness of space, he began to understand. Change was the only constant. Matter could be neither created nor destroyed, but its forms were ever-shifting. The atoms that formed the marauder had been cast out into the galaxy as a byproduct of stellar fusion, and they had passed through a hundred million organisms before they had become part of his substance. When he died, when his consciousness traveled wherever snuffed out minds go, those same atoms would continue their endless journey. War, Death, Rebirth.
He remembered from long ago lessons as a schoolboy, long before his second life as The Mongrel had begun, that one day - after countless billions of years - the universe would undergo heat death. All of the energy of its expansion would run out, and every star would die, leaving only an impossibly vast field of cold rocks hovering amid even vaster nothingness. The Sorcerers of Rhand believed that this was the inevitable victory of The Dark, the entropy that would consume everything in the end. But in that moment, he knew better. He had seen the faces of the Avatars, heard their promise.
Even the heat death of the universe was only the end of a cycle. All would begin again. And again. And again.
The Mongrel was small, so very small, a tiny being on a tiny ship in a single tiny system, which was in turn the tiniest corner of a single one of the universe's innumerable galaxies. But he had received a dark blessing: he had seen the truth, and he had been strong enough to accept it. With a hundred thousand and more like him, the Brotherhood of the Maw could change the course of this galaxy. They could smash the stagnant hierarchies of Empires and Republics. They could return known space to harmony with the cycle of eternal change, making all beings equal before the Avatars.
Then a new age of beautiful struggle would begin.
All at once, the vision was ripped from his eyes. The Mongrel gasped as every muscle seized, dragging him out of the void and back into his aching body. The medical droids loomed over him, withdrawing various syringes and electrodes from his flesh. He had been stitched and stapled back together, his broken bones fused with durasteel; the work that had begun after his near death on Mar'Zambul was now complete, and his ribs were more metal than marrow. Areas of infection had been brutally cauterized, only adding to the terrible scars that served as his greatest badges of honor.
"You have been stabilized," one of the droids reported, its voice flat and apathetic, already preparing to move on the next patient in accordance with its programming. "Potential hostiles have been sighted at the edge of the system. Your presence has been requested to prepare our forces to repel boarders." The Mongrel barked out a harsh laugh, then grimaced at the pain of flesh pulling tight across his ravaged torso. The sutures had barely been sunk into his flesh, and already he was being sent back to ready the marauders for battle. There really was no rest for the wicked.
With a grunt, the Bloodsworn warleader managed to lever himself up into a sitting position at the edge of the slab. His wounded arms and hand, still wrapped in antiseptic-soaked splints, had been placed in flexible metal braces; he hoped they would give him enough range of motion to fight, if it came to that. But this was exactly what the Avatars had shown him in his vision: the galaxy stopped for no one, and the cycle was eternal. If he ever became too weak to defend his place in the hierarchy, if the Maw ever became too weak to shake the galaxy, they would deserve to fall.
And then something new would take their place.
Until that happened, there was only the struggle, the constant battle to survive and overcome all who stood against them. Sliding himself off the edge of the medical slab, The Mongrel managed to land on his feet, if unsteadily. His head was beginning to clear, and his thoughts became more lucid with each step he took toward the nearest hangar. If the Brotherhood's greatest battle was not yet truly over, then he would endure it until the very end. He gathered his weapons from the nearby table - a fresh vibrosword and heavy blaster awaited him - and made his way through the halls of the Fatalis.
Captain Reed studied the man in the holographic message, listening to what he had on offer. She nodded her head. "Agreed, Admiral. I've just received a hail from an officer in the First Order's command. May I place your people in contact with Commodore Hask, with my XO Commander Exiter as a liaison? Transmitting the coordinates now." She nodded to Exiter, who took up a position at a communications console. "Please stand by."
She muted her voice intake and said: "Commander, please get in touch with Captain Thorne aboard the Voritor and Commodore Hask and whoeveve else at the command level we can raise. I want all our command groups coordinating rescue efforts. Get an accounting of our medical bay space and supplies and begin triage of survivors. We will shoulder as much of this burden as we can; the Chiss are our brothers, which makes them our responsibility primarily. Let me know if you run into anything of concern."
Before she could return her attention to Admiral Chaussidier
, another pair of priority signals came in. Captain Mitth'orn'eruod -- or rather Admiral Mitth'orn'eruod, as he now dubbed himself. Charlotte listened to the Chiss officer, her stomach sinking. He was a talented officer, and losing him would be a blow, but she understood that he had to do what he had to do. "Your request for a personal leave of absence is approved," Charlotte said. "You are relieved, Captain Mitth'orn'eruod. Lieutenant, mark in the log that the Captain requested a personal leave of absence which has been approved." This way, at least, Thorne would not be considered a deserter -- not that Charlotte would report him, but it would help in case the Admiralty got shirty. "Appreciate the intelligence. I'll ensure it is passed along to the appropriate parties. Good hunting, Admiral, and do contact us if we can provide allied support. Be advised that First Order forces and Silver Jedi Concord forces are continuing rescue and recovery operations. The efforts have been difficult given the amount of debris and detritus in the system, but we are getting on with things. We will provide updates as we can."
With Hask also on the line, Charlotte gave him a heads up that the Jedi would be in touch to coordinate rescue efforts. "Please lead the rescue efforts on the First Order's behalf until you hear otherwise. Commander Exiter will relay any critical information to me." Charlotte cut the connection and turned back to the holochannel, unsure of whether she was talking to the Admiral or the Grandmaster now. "Concord forces, I have received intelligence from allied Chiss forces regarding the location of the Brotherhood terrorist group's flagship, the Fatalis. Transmitting to you now with the communication information, should you wish to assign any of your forces to its pursuit. Now -- I believe the Admiral mentioned communications with the Grandmaster. How may I be of service?"
An optimistic tone was all that was brought across through the Force connection that they had established. Despite the sad ambiance that they were surrounded with, the rubble of a broken planet and its remains. Dead or alive, there wasn't much hope for them, and if they were to find a Chiss that was alive, there would be a limited time before this status may change. So the two Jedi Masters had to act quickly on this signal, so the Epicanthix strolled towards the door that could be opened.
As she placed her gloves on the door, Zorah would immediately sense and notice the serious change in warmth. While the freighter had a stable condition when it came to its heat, the evacuation ship was cold as it can be. Yet, even the Jedi Master could sense a certain life-form active on this ship, it had to be a Chiss... It couldn't be any different, could it? The woman would turn the lever before pushing the door, this time around the cold would continue its flow towards the halls.
The Jedi Councilor glanced at the Sephi before grinning slightly and exclaiming the question:
Vaux heard Chaussidier and nodded to him, looking at VK as she slid on he helmet. She would lock it as she began to answer.
"On it sir. I'll tell the vod to start spooling up and getting ready. I'd suggest sending word to Concordia too, though I doubt they aren't about to launch now." She then tap VK. "Ok buddy. I need you to keep helping them ok. I'm not leaving you here, so don't worry. Just make sure they know what they're doing navigating through this. Oh! Have an astromech I can borrow? Want VK to stay and help up here." Once Vaux had her answer, she would head to the hanger, looking around as she spotted her red painted fighter. She would quickly mount up and prepping the fighter for launch.
"Nima II Actual this is CT. Me and my squadron are ready to launch. Waiting on your word." It was always funny for the Mando to try and mix the mor ridged Concord Navy callsigns to the loose Gred Fleet ones.
Meanwhile aboard the Concordia, TwinTails, Pikes, and EX-90s would soon take off, the scout fighters taking the usual place of the star destroyer's interceptors. Malo and Cordy meanwhile both seemed to have the wariness on their minds.
"I don't like the First Order being here."
"They're helping with the rescue Cordy. They're friends today."
"Weren't the Sith friends too?" Malo shook her head.
"Now's not the time. Have you picked up any escape pods? Damaged ships maybe? Speak of, has anyone picked up where the Vabrace went?" A comms officer sighed.
"I think they reported enemy ships in our path or something? Who gave that crew a ship again?" Malo tapped the man's head, shaking her own. It's a repair crew. As much of a pain in the shebs as they can be, they're... occasionally useful."
"Yeah. Useful at 'spotting' enemy ships." She sighed again, contacting the other ships.
"All friendly ships, we're launching Jai'galaar, Varactyl, Sunspot, and Seeker squadrons. Be advices if your scopes get flooded for a second."
FIGHTER COMPLIMENT: "VOODOO WING"
CALLSIGNS: Captain Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Voodoo 1", Commander Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Voodoo 2" Commander Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "Voodoo 3". Each Squadron leader makes up "Voodoo Wing", their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below.
4: “Easy for them to say, we’re the ones out here.”
2: “We’re lucky, 3, both our flight directors and our Commodore are pilots. They would be out here with us if they weren’t stuck where they are.”
4: “Whatever. Look, I’m not complaining...”
3: “Yeah you are…”
4: “Shut up, I’m just sayin’ what we’re all thinkin’.”
1: “Cut the chatter… 12 is sending out a ‘Red’.”
AZEZAEL CLASS STEALTH/RECON FIGHTER: SCIMITAR SQUADRON: “3 FLIGHT” (Scimitar 9-12)
10: “Main computer offline!”
11: “I’m flyin’ dead stick!”
9: “Bug out, 11. Coming around to cover you!”
10: “We lost 9! E*”
11: Reeve! Da*!”
12: “All channels! All flights! Mayday! This is Scimitar 12 we are be*”
SILVER CITY BRIDGE: FLIGHT CONTROL STATION 9 - Captain Rojuh Powell, and Commander Scott Powell overseeing.
“Replay it…” Scott asked.
“Aye, sir.” The Flight officer called out. “12: “All channels! All flights! Mayday! This is Scimitar 12 we are be*”
“Is there something missing?” Rojuh asked. “They ran into debris..”
“All of them, sir?” Scott countered. “I mean one, or two, yeah, but all of them? That Red was called out on all channels. Protocol states...”
“I taught you that protocol, little brother,” Rojuh smirked because he knew that ticked his little brother and XO off.
“So what? We do nothing?”
Scott called over both Captain Halpern and Commodore Angellus.
“Sitrep,” Halpern ordered.
“Sir, we just lost one of our recon flights,” Rojuh answered calmly.
“Debris.” Halpern theorized..
”Uh uh. I helped design those fighters, the collision detection is standard.”
“Orders sir?” Halpern asked.
That was the question, what to do. Do they respond on their own? They had the fighters and the combined firepower, the question is would it cause problems with the others? They again waiting for the chain of command to act might bring more issues than they were willing to wait for.
Contact Admirals Chaussidier
and Gir Quee
, send them the data on the flight paths and the comm chatter. Inform Commodore @Kalah Redre of what we’ve found and let her know we are repositioning ourselves to intercept any exit vectors that might affect us.
“Sir” Halpern went to work making orders to Comms as well as Navigation and Helm, Tactical was sending out ten of the 25 deployable autoturrets each. Angellus remained where he was.
”Tighten the net on all flights. Deploy three squadrons of X-wings, doesn’t matter from who. I want more response as we get closer.”
“Think they found them, sir?”
”The question is, do they think we found them.”
-Silver City and Ethereal repositioning to cover most likely exits from debris clusters
-Auto turrets deployed for added firepower and increased sensor output.
-Recon and Cover flights deployed to tighter patrol routes
“Red” - Red Alert, distress call.
Tag - Target
Dead Stick - Manual controls
Bug out - Have you not watched “Top Gun”? Retreat.
Situation Report
While the battle was over, the war would continue as long as an enemy stood up. In this fight of gods and demons, mere men had to prove relentless in order hope survive. Gallius was standing because he had chosen to sacrifice everything to victory. His men were thrown in the heat of battle without question, his ships sacrificed in a cold move, his own desires and personality were now enslaved by his unrelenting rage and desire for victory. Fueled by these sacrifices, the vessel that was his body had not yet been shattered under the weight of the horrors seen at Csilla. But he was a changed man, now.
Even though he was exhausted by the battle, the Commodore knew he could not afford the Fatalis to escape. The war had just started and he knew what he had to do. He would gladly sacrifice the whole Azure Hammer Command if he managed to bite again. All he needed was to bring the Super Star Destroyer down. He could do it. His lead ship had suffered minimal damage and a good portion of his escort was still in fighting condition. Even if the enemy warship had started repairs, Gallius knew it would take weeks before the Fatalis was in fresh condition again. The Imperials could not miss that opportunity. The beast had to bleed.
Lying back on his command chair, the officer realised he was also fighting another war, against himself. The battle had proven horrible, and now voices were plaguing his mind. It was different from the visions that had helped him on Bastion. Now, there were people whispering in his head, and he could not fight them back. And if he could not focus on the incoming battle, there would be a problem. Jax could not lead the battle alone.
"Commodore, we are receiving intel from First Order forces. They seem to have located the Fatalis at the frontier of Chiss space. Admiral Mitth'orn'eruod has engaged it but we can reach his position in time and we won't miss any of the fight, Lieutenant Jax warned his commanding officer.
Gallius stood up as the news began to reach the command post. At last, an opportunity to strike! In the chaos resulting from the death of Csilla, the Azure Hammer Command had been unable to chase the Fatalis and had lost its trace. One way or another, the First Order had found it. While the Commodore was disappointed such a high-value target had slipped off his hands, he could only rejoice as it meant the dreadnought would not escape once more. They could corner it and kill its commander at last.
"Gather the fleet and prepare for a jump immediately. We cannot lose time now. I don't think the Maw will let its command ship alone drifting in space. They will reinforce it for sure. And I refuse to let the First Order have all the glory of bringing the Fatalis down. We will strike and win this battle. Warn Admiral Thorne that we are inbound and make sure we are battle-ready." The Commodore's words were harsh and allowed no question. The crew knew what it meant. They would go to the Fatalis and kill it or be killed. It was likely no third way was planned.
The fleet rocked and began to slow down as the vessels ceased to drift in the space of the dead world. The battered ships were ready to enter hyperspace and strike fear in the heart of their enemy.
"Jump, he commanded.
And all faded in a screaming world of blue madness.
Navigating in the depths of the Chiss space was tricky now that the Mercy had sent debris across all hyperspace lanes. Reaching the location of the Fatalis had required hard work from the nav-computers, as they were trying to avoid collision with the biggest elements of the battle station. The complicated path was going to slow them a bit, but the speed of the hyperdrive would be useful on that matter. They could very well buy back the lost time and reach Thorne in time.
Gallius was unsure of what he was going to encounter in that battle. The two foes had been separated by the flow of battle for long enough now, and the Maw could have very well called reinforcements, repair teams or whatever they could use to their advantage. The Imperials, on the other hand, were only equipped with battered ships, crew tired of the battle, squadrons of fighters and bombers lost to the previous encounter, missile racks emptied during the frenzied brawl. The situation was not brilliant, and while the Azure Hammer Command could have been able to sustain weeks of engagement against any other warship, it was not suited for prolonged engagements against the monster the Fatalis was. At best, the Imperial-Anaxsi would play a support role.
The fleet exited hyperspace in a similar fashion it had done at Csilla. Organised into a tight fist, it would not lose a second reorganising or scouting the area. Against such a formidable foe, the Commodore could not allow negligent crewmen to undermine his revenge campaign. His mind was screaming for vengeance, and he was determined to bring the Maw to its knees with this decisive encounter. If they lost their superweapon and their command dreadnought in the wake of the same battle, they would suffer a heavy blow, no matter what symbolic victory they had had at Csilla.
Their success would not last long.
The Commodore reached the holocomm and opened a channel to the Chiss vessels. They were in good shape and in a better state than the battle-worn New Imperial vessels. With a sigh, he realised he could not lead the battle with such diminished forces against the apex monster the Fatalis was. He needed to let that to the Chiss. He would be of some help, but even seven vessels in perfect condition could not have won the battle.
"Admiral Thorne, this is Commodore Gallius Orcana of the New Imperial Order. We engaged the Fatalis at Csilla and we're here to finish the work. My fleet is too weak to form the tip of the spear, but we are ready to assist you in taking these barbarians down. At your command."
He was silent for a moment, listening to what his 'escort' had to say, though she wasn't the only one that was upset. He was just numb. Still, if Aayla was upset, often, he wasn't far behind her. Which made these sorts of exchanges. His first instinct was to react emotionally, try and reach out and offer comfort. But as she had said not so long ago, she wasn't some danty flower, she wasn't in need of a savior. She just needed her friend. He wished he could be more than that, but that was of little help to anyone. Yet, what she was suggesting would be exceptionally dangerous. Not just for them, but for the rest of the fleet and survivors.
"I feel the same, but...we have to keep the survivors in mind. We gotta draw a perimeter and distract the Maw so we can save more people." He'd he'd be lying if he said he wasn't sharing the same thoughts as her. He frowned, seeing 4U's message pop up on screen. 'Interesting, I'm having issues our comm system. It could very easily 'short out' once our objective is complete.' Kadan's lips pursed together, fighting back the urge to lecture his droid, or thank him. Either way, 4U had given him an option, one he wouldn't have worked out on his own. "Well, the stealth devices have been known to cause comm devices to fail." He agreed, now focusing now to the enemy ships looming before them. They couldn't take on a whole flotilla obviously, but when things escalated, the chaos would provide an opening. 'Once we accomplish our first objective, we can scope out a target for when the fighting starts. 4U is apparently having issues with the comm, so we might have to take things into our own hands.'. There was often a middle of the road approach, and this seemed like the way forward. He plotted out his vector, a clear sweep of the Maw ship lines. His fighter would entirely vanish off sensor readings and visuals, as the cloak deployed; only form of communication he had now was the bond between her and Aayla. He stared ahead, watching as his shield were entirely offline, and his defenses nonexistent. 'Aya, can you watch my back? I won't be long.'
The Afterthought moved, not as quick as it was in stealth mode, but it didn't have to be. So long as he played it cool, there chance of there being a fight should have been minimal. "4U, get ready, I need you to get a glance at their positions so I can send it back to the Grand Master." He could see the green light indicator flashing on his screen, meaning the droid was well aware of the task before them.
Kadan's ship continued it's approach towards the outskirt of the Maw's ships. There was a numbing sensation as he began his maneuvers, a terrible thought entered his mind. He could very easily die here if the cloak didn't hold.
The scowl on her face deepened as Tu'teggacha
gave his status report. A hand lifted to the bridge of her nose. She had sensed the incoming presence of their enemies already. It was a race against time now. Was it even possible to get the Path Engines up and running before they were destroyed? Presumably by the superior numbers the enemy still had at their disposal.
She cast a sideways glance at Derix Tirall
when he greeted her, and gave the slightest nod. As you were.
The Chosen had removed all the surviving Heathen Priests, taking them to the med bay. Maestus idly wondered how many of them would truly survive. The impact on the Maw rank and file could be disastrous should they all perish this day. There was one, the aloof Mar'Sika
who had not joined them. Much would rest on her shoulders if she alone remained.
It was at that moment that the voice of her master, Darth Solipsis
invaded her mind. She cursed silently that he could still do that to her. It was plainly evident that she needed to increase her strength and will in order to prevent such from occurring again.
The Fatalis is in dire need of extensive overhaul and repairs. Our foes approach. The Taskmaster remains alive and in command, and has begun effecting repairs. He will provide a more detailed status report.
Chaussidier
Charlotte Reed
Retreat. 
