Campaign Into Darkness I: The Descent

[Nida Perl]

Once they’d stepped inside the cantina, Nida had become nervous for a different reason. The sight of scantily clad women and drunk men, the sounds and raucous laughter and forced giggling, the smell of cheap liquor and sweat were all too familiar. It had been years since she’d been exposed to this particular combination of sensory experiences, and for good reason. Memories of her life as a slave hadn’t exactly come flooding back, but Nida’s brain forcefully switched into survival mode.

"Give me the gun."

Shocked as she was, Nida remained still and quiet, her face unreadable. Alarm bells may have been ringing inside her head, and her heart was wracked at what Thirdas had to do, but her face betrayed none of her internal panic. Her expression remained a smooth, blank mask. Don’t cry. Don’t show them you’re scared. Or they might hurt you worse. Even though she was not the one with a gun to her head, the young Zeltron was running purely on instinct.

Her eyes flickered away from the scene as Thirdas moved the gun over the man’s temple, her heart thudding rapidly in her ears. Then he moved the gun away, to the man’s knee, and the first shot rang out in a sickening chorus of splitting bone and anguished cries. Nida found herself staring at the floor, fighting the simultaneous urge to cry out and rush to the poor man’s aid. Even if she broke character, she wouldn’t get the chance as the investigation quickly wrapped up with a confession and a point-blank shot to the face courtesy of Hitter.

As they exited the room, Nida kept her gaze tilted away from Thirdas and Hitter. It was not that she was disgusted with Thirdas’ actions—she was still trying to figure out how she felt about them—but her survival instincts telling her to fade into the background as much as she could. Before they’d left though, she swiped a shot of something from the busy bartop and downed it. Whatever it was burned a fierce path down her throat and spread a buzzing warmth in her chest.

This settled her a bit and she dared a glance at Thirdas, knowing that he must be struggling with what had just happened. Though he played the tough guy well, Nida could feel the distress emanating from him through their bond.

The group moved swiftly, meeting up with Tulan and a Zabrak man Nida did not recognize. Tulan explained the situation to them, and Nida was grateful for the distraction. In a new turn of events, they’d be heading into the core, moving into space covered by the Galactic Alliance. Tulan addressed the two Jedi of the group—youngsters to boot—and Nida inhaled slowly. This mission was not about her and her insecurities, not now.

For Thal. Remember that he is on the other end of this.

She gave a single, decisive nod.

Thirdas Heavenshield | Beltran Rarr | Okkeus Dainlei | Tulan Kor

 

[Beltran Rarr]

The muffled gunshots didn't phase the Lorrdian as he sat at the table, watching the room. While he hadn't been privy to what was taking place inside, he could tell from the body language of the various Duros that worked here that they meant no harm to Hitter or the others. He glanced to Okkeus Dainlei and raised a hand to steady the startled teen. "Stay seated." He said, not wanting Okkeus to burn their covers by running in. "If the shot was the opening volley in a ambush, we'd be hearing return fire by now."

A moment later there was another shot, but it was too long after the first to be a response to the first. It wasn't a firefight, Beltran surmised, but more likely an execution. When the door opened, Beltran kept his eyes surveying the room. Nobody else seemed to be paying Hitter or the others much mind as they moved passed them toward the door.

Beltran locked eyes with the other Ranger and saw the signal. He didn't respond in any discernible way, but he understood what it meant. "We'll hold here a minute," He told the young Jedi quietly, feeling his gaze and knowing that he was looking to Beltran for what to do next. "Let the others pass through and watch to see if they are followed."

They group would pass by them and out the door without any incident. When it felt like enough time had passed, Beltran took a long sip of his whiskey and winced a little as the he swallowed the burning liquid. "There's no way this was even made in the same sector as Corellia..." Standing, he would toss a couple of credit chits on the table and nod for Okkeus to join him as they left.

The two would walk back to the ship, several dozen paces behind the others. As they walked, Reece would fall in a few dozen paces behind them. "Doesn't look like anyone's watching you guys," Beltran would hear the man's voice in his ear. He clicked his com once, acknowledging the report and continued on.

Beltran and Okkeus would arrive a few minutes after Hitter, Thirdas Heavenshield and Nida Perl and Reece arrived a few minutes after them. Finding a place to sit, Beltran simply watched as Gunny Tulan Kor conferred with his men and contact. Once Reece had arrived, the man would sit with near his commander.

The two would listen as the Sergeant spoke, detailing the affiliations of the man who'd died in Hitter's care. As a Lorrdian, Beltran shed no tears over the death of slavers and he knew Reece, having been raised on Nar Shadda, felt the same. He would offer the Sergeant a short nod in response to the bit of praise he was given. Beltran was no stranger to these kinds of operations.

When asked if he was okay to continue, Beltran would nod once more. "Good to go."

 

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

Thirdas followed Hitter and Nida outside the pleasure house, a dejected look on his face. At least his body was functioning properly even though he had no idea how the hell he got his legs to move. By the time they were back on the street, he'd hoped some fresh air would alleviate the terrible guilt, but the air proved far from fresh; all he could smell was booze, sweat, and deathsticks.

He did feel a bit better by the time they returned to Tulan Kor by their new ride, a shuttle courtesy of the man's contacts within the Smuggler's Union. Unmarked and untracable.

While doing his best to pay attention to what the hell had just happened in that room, Thirdas stepped behind Nida and gently put his arms around her shoulders, holding her while resting his chin upon her head. He needed to feel she was there with him, to give him comfort. If this made him appear weak in front of the others, he could honestly not care less.

"Thanks..." he tried but failed to meet anyone's gaze, and there was no heart behind the word uttered. There was not a bone in his body that took pride in what he'd just done. That wasn't him.

As it became time to get going and leave this place behind, he frankly could not wait to be off this rock. As the others began boarding their new transport, Thirdas remained where he stood embracing Nida from behind for a while longer.

"I'm sorry," he whispered above her head, before placing a kiss in her hair. "Let's just... get this over with."

Taking her by the hand, he brought her onboard the ship to find a new pair of seats for the next step of the journey, into Alliance space.

Nida Perl | Okkeus Dainlei | Beltran Rarr ​

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

JYVUS SPACE CITY, DURO ORBIT
GALACTIC ALLIANCE SPACE
FOUR DAYS LATER...

It was one of those downtrodden places with a leaking roof where Amon Vizsla met with Tulan Kor and his group of off-the-grid Silver Jedi operatives. How he'd known that - he'd recognized Thirdas, the behemoth ranger, son of Thurion Heavenshield, who was undoubtedly still a loyal Antarian Ranger. Whatever their intent behind this mission, they were risking a whole lot more than their lives - a diplomatic crisis with their neighboring Galactic Alliance.

Amon could not care less.

Nonetheless, there was still a buried attachment he bore with the Silvers due to his tenure as an Antarian Ranger himself. A little over a year had passed since then; since the Battle at Azure where Setter Ryburn had sacrificed himself saving the rest of Task Force Raider from a deadly ambush enacted by the traitor Kaine Australis. To Amon it felt a century ago.

It was good to see suicidal Tulan Kor still among the living. Somehow.

Donned in black plated Mandalorian armor symbolizing vengeance, the stoic and tall figure of the Mandalorian loomed over half a dozen data chips spread out on the table before him. All were projecting different forms of data, most of which, he assumed, the black ops team were aware of - manifests, logs, flight paths and etc. When the Black Ops squad entered the room, Amon simply gazed at them silently through his expressionless T-visor.

The Mandalorian went straight to the point, as per his usual style, "The contact that was supposed to meet your cargo of slaves in the Deep Core was supposed to be the Senator of this planet - Senator Far Zhas of Duros." there was no surprise in his tone, no anger. The strong dominated this galaxy. As evil as the aruetii saw this through their idealistic lenses, the Vizsla merely saw it as the natural progression of a powerful individual. "One day later and you would've missed him - he is bound to the Senate on Coruscant tomorrow."

Tulan Kor Thirdas Heavenshield Nida Perl Beltran Rarr Okkeus Dainlei