Paint it Black

[Talia]

Somewhere along the Hydian Way, in a pocket of empty space between the Collective and The Mandalorian Empire, the cargo ship, belly fulls of goods bound for Mandalore, slammed back into realspace, alarms blaring. Red lights flashed throughout the ship, personnel scrambling to action stations.

Talia stepped over the unconscious engineer, dropping the wrench as she did and moving to the compartment she’d stowed her belongings in. This particular mission had required she move without armour, so she’d left it behind. She pulled a bracer from her bag, slid it over her left arm and untied the beskad and its sheath, fixing it to her belt before digging out a device, and flicking it on.

A transmission burst from it, dictating location, cargo details and defenses. One burst, then the jammer activated, stopping any further transmissions ship wide. Couldn’t have them calling for help this close to their destination. The last thing the exiles needed was the Empire crawling all over them. She fixed a blaster to her thigh, shoved the bag and device back out of sight.

There were malfunctions across the ship, shields were only holding at fifty percent, half of their weapons were offline. Somewhere up on the bridge Talia knew she and her team had made the colour drain from the captains face.

And when the calvary came, he might just pass out.

Spoiler

Objectives

Aboard the cargo ship.

Keep the sabotage in place, defend the comm jammer, take out or subdue Empire security on board.

Outside the ship

Take out the cargo’s security escort, board the ship and reinforce the team already inside.

The overall aim is to capture and claim the ships and its goods, not destroy it.

 

[Silas Mantis]

The captain may have been going pale in the face, but Silas was not. His brow furrowed beneath his helmet as he brought the MF-44 off of his back and flicked off the safety. He'd agreed to be the security detail for the cargo haul because he needed to stop and breathe, to wrap his head around all that was happening or had happened. The world he'd helped build was crumbling down already, but instead of clarity he found himself frustrated and paranoid aboard a drifting freighter.

He didn't buy this being an accident, not for a damn second. The captain's anxiety had only skyrocketed when the warrior exited the bridge weapon in his hand. It was clear that the warrior suspected things were about to get much more hectic within the confines of the ship. Fine by him, he preferred to be up close.

Silas only hoped the rest of the small detail had put down Sabaac and gotten themselves prepared the second things began to seem off. They weren't his usual team, [member="Talia Fett"]'s efforts on Mykr saw to that, and that left Silas in command of mostly inexperienced warriors who'd yet to see combat. Despite his annoyance with the situation, he felt a certain protectiveness over the young Mandalorians.

Mantis was not ready to bury them.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Talia Fett"] [member="Silas Mantis"]

A quartet of Whiphid starships - you heard me - exited hyperspace not far away.

Powerful engines roared to life, and the Whiphid frigates accelerated faster than they had any business accelerating. They aimed to pass within, oh, half a kilometre of the cargo ship's stern one after the other. As each entered weapons range, ion cannons and mag-pulse torpedos would hammer the target while turbolasers and a plethora of autoturrets scattered the escorts. That was the goal, anyway.

On the bridge of the lead ship, spirits were high. The Whiphid crew whuffled a war chant that could have broken puny human eardrums. Velok the Younger abandoned his Whiphid-sized command chair and crouched in front of the human-sized bridge viewport. His ship's first spurts of ion cannon fire had started lancing out at the Mandalorian cargo ship.

<<Call them in our tongue.>>

<<Yes, Grandfather.>> One of his progeny's progeny engaged the ship-to-ship comms systems. <<Mandalorians, know this: we hunt. Give us your packs and your beast.>>

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Talia Fett"] | [member="Silas Mantis"] | [member="Velok the Younger"] | [member="Tamara Wren"]

Prove himself.

Oh, Talia hadn't said it with so many words, but that was exactly what this was. Fight with these exiles and prove that he was serious. That his loyalties no longer remained to the Empire.

He stepped over the corpse growing colder by the moment. Blood already finding its way over the floor from the beskad puncture. "One minute." Ronan said over his shoulder to Tam as he put his own helmet on. Letting the magnetic seals lock themselves shut against the rest of his armor. One minute for her to get ready, then they'd start. Since Tamara's... death and then her resurrection Ronan had become firmer about her training, fighting, becoming stronger.

While others might have tried to keep them away from the danger Ronan knew better.

Danger couldn't be avoided, more often than not it found you when you least expected it. Better to know the weight of the beskad in your hand, the feel of blood trickling down your wrist, the friction of the kill.

Better to know when the moment came.

"Ready?"

 

[Locke]

It was dark. Black. Hidden. He'd felt the shift from hyper to real space. Rode the sudden jolt. The lurch. He ignored it. The signs led him here. Where here was he didn't know. Didn't care. Didn't matter. Only his presence mattered.

The nightmare mist surrounded him and the others. Two figures armor clad as he was. One held a blaster, the other swathed in robes. The black surrounded then. Cocooned them. Hid them. A mask, of sorts. Disguise, perhaps. The signs told him to wait. The whisper crooned to him. Sang in his ear. His mind. The void within. Patience.

The figures stood silent. Vigilant. The lurching deck shook the container they hid within. Rattled the steel. He could feel it through his boots. In his bones. It spoke of violence. Of death. He knew his task would reveal itself. The path shown in time. It was only a matter of waiting.

Soon he'd know.

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

He and his small band of pirates had been following the transports for some time. Some idiot down at MandalMotors was leaking information to the Rebels and some other group, but was doing a piss poor job of it because everyone was finding the information. The only thing they seemed to be good at was hiding who they were. A grin inched its way over his scruffy bearded face as the light of hyperspace began to fade.

Two TU5K-Class corvettes dropped out of hyperspace, directly above the Whippid ships.

"Well ain't this just a party. Looks like everyone and their mother decided to take this ship today! What are you all waitin' for? Get those turbolasers aimed and firing!"

"At which...target sir?"

A heavy boot flew into the console of the man stupid enough to ask, crushing his fingers underneath the cheap durasteel of the footwear. He cried out in pain and moved from the console.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Probably doesn't even hurt that bad, get your ass to the med bay. The rest of you...FIRE ON EVERYTHING."

Turbolasers trained on everything that wasn't the cargoship and fired, green vollies of energy flew through space as ion cannons pelted the cargo ships.

@Locke @Ronan Vizsla [member="Velok the Younger"] [member="Silas Mantis"] [member="Talia Fett"]

 

[Mav Halo]

[member="Talia Fett"] | [member="Silas Mantis"] | [member="Velok the Younger"] | [member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Tamara Wren"] | [member="Locke"] | [member="Skirata"]

It only takes eleven pounds of concentrated pressure per square inch to close the windpipe of your average, near-human sentient.

The overly curious mechanic in her arms received that and more as she tightened her grip around his neck, increasing the pressure until his flailing limbs and gargled protests became weaker and weaker before vanishing entirely. She waited a few heartbeats longer after the last choked syllable had died down, mentally counting down the seconds before hauling the body into the empty locker where she’d stashed her gear only moments before.

Unconscious, but alive.

She doubted he would have thanked her for that mercy when he woke to the headache, but she wasn’t about to kill an unarmed greasy-monkey for the simple sake of it. A softness her gogi would’ve have likely berated her for. She could already hear the old pissant's voice. A dead enemy is one that won’t come back to haunt you, En’ika.
Words to live by for sure, but not today. This raid was enough of a rebellion against her former life, going against the grain instilled during her time with the protectors. She kept having to remind herself that the Empire were not her people. The mantle of exile may have been lighter than that of Alor, but it still rested heavily upon her shoulders.

She rolled her shoulders reflexively, giving the beskar’gam approximation of a shrug before reaching for her utility belt. The clip snapping home with a sense of finality around her waist, echoed by the distinctive pop of static on her helmet comms as a jamming field went into effect.

No turning back now.

 

[Roslyn Thorn]

In the end she had been in Galactic Alliance space for no more than a week before she had ended up departing it. The 'nest egg' provided by the Sith Empire had provided enough funds for Roslyn's needs. Thankfully she had ended up running with a crew before long, as seemed to be her nature. Years ago Roslyn had feared she'd end up killing those that close to her, repeating history that had resulted in her imprisonment in Lola Sayu.

But Roth had been her anchor, as both a teacher and father that helped loosen the chains of her paranoia.

She had left with a small crew, remaining mostly on their ship going from planet to planet finding work. Most of the time it had been smuggling goods, other times they were lucky to be hired on for a hit. That was where Roslyn had shone the brightest, displaying her talent for subtle movements and killing.

Albeit, today was not a day for subtleties.

Roslyn's group had heard about the transport job through mutual contacts. A brother's cousin's wife - that kind of thing.

Everyone had been excited, believing it would set them up for a long while. That was until they found out who they were hitting; Mandalorians.

No one wanted to mess with that, except for Roslyn at least. Her time in Lola Sayu had highlighted how important it was to always keep a finger on the pulse, keep an ear out for any and all information. Most of it would be useless, but there was always the chance of useful intel being caught in the net. It was why Roslyn hadn't ditched the job, she was in part curious as to why Mandos were attacking a ship intended for Mandalore.

So she had hitched a ride with a few others, remaining most silently unless directly spoken to.

Roslyn held onto her target until he finally stilled, her gloved hand clasped around his mouth before he could ever alert his friends. A knife had found its way into his right flank and remained there until his life ebbed away. She didn't care who he was, security or not - he had been in Roslyn's way. Pale eyes glanced around, listening for signs of anyone else beyond her fellows currently assaulting the ship. It had yet to devoid into a bloody mess, hopefully it would remain that way.

[member="Talia Fett"] | [member="Silas Mantis"] | [member="Velok the Younger"] | [member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Tamara Wren"] | [member="Locke"] | [member="Skirata"] | [member="Entye Shysa"]​

 

[Tamara Wren]

She didn't need a minute. All that was left was to seal her helmet.

Tamara was no stranger to her beskar'gam- hers custom to properly accommodate her right hand- while since coming of age she had not taken the direct path of a warrior, her calling more to the arts, she had trained from the earliest days of her childhood. Impossible to be the daughter of [member="Ronan Vizsla"] and not know the life of armor and blade. She had been blooded, her knowledge was not merely of the practice yard.

But it was not what she would have chosen.

He had accepted that, before. She had fought by his side even after that path had been made clear, but it was only when he needed her- only when he asked.

When he did she had never said no. How could she? She'd been born into a warrior's culture, deformed- her mother had wanted to leave her to the wilds of the mountain. Had given him the choice of her, or his daughter. And Ronan had chosen Tamara. She had known the truth of that moment from the earliest age. Her father had never spared her with pleasant lies. He had always, always told her the truth, even when it hurt.

Tamara remembered none of this.

The armor was a familiar weight, and she moved in it easily. She knew the cost that had come, to bring her back- what had been done and what price her Father still might pay (even if he did not frame is like that, she knew). She remembered him, but specific memories of specific times were gone- odd things would bring one back, here and there- a flash, one at a time, being stacked precariously without all the foundation memories that ought to support them.

She remembered enough that when he had told her she was coming, the yes was easy.

But the moments that would come to remind her of all of the things she had forgotten lay still in the future.

Gauntleted left hand curled around the beskad- it was familiar but wrong, somehow.

She just didn't know why.

She had no memory of holding a brush instead of a weapon.

"Ready?"

Tamara looked up and gave a single nod. Since coming back, she'd been quieter, but in this situation, words weren't needed anyway.

Somethings she didn't need to remember. They were muscle memory more than any conscious deliberation. Falling in behind him as they moved into the hallway, fanning off slightly to the side when it widened out again- her feet did it without her needing to think about it. At the end of the hallway, a pair of security guards looked up, surprised.

The expressions didn't last long.

[member="Entye Shysa"] [member="Talia Fett"] [member="Silas Mantis"] [member="Velok the Younger"] [member="Locke"] [member="Skirata"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

Things had gone from bad to worse faster than he could've imagined. The ship was suddenly taking fire, and unbeknownst to him, [member="Ronan Vizsla"] and company were making their way right towards him. Of course he'd taken the one fething freighter that the entire galaxy apparently wanted for themselves as his reprieve. Classic Mantis luck.

Proceeding down the halls as calmly as he could, the warrior kept himself as alert as he could, every little noise could've been an oncoming boarder. So the young(er) wolf kept his mind sharp and his shotgun raised.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Locke"] [member="Talia Fett"] [member="Silas Mantis"] [member="Skirata"]

Ion fire and mag-pulse munitions shuddered out of the Whiphid frigates. Still crouched by the bridge viewport, Velok watched the freighter's stern as the frigates started to pass behind it. Escorts' weapons hammered the tough frigates in return, and a group of new arrivals - light Mandalorian corvettes - emerged from hyperspace to join the fight. But they appeared to be attacking almost everything in sight, freighter escorts included. A third party, then, just like the Whiphid contingent.

The fast frigates roared past the freighter and through its escorts, then began a long arc to come about. Whiphid Raider frigates moved as quickly as anything on the battlefield, those TU5K corvettes included. Soon enough, Velok's ships would put the entire situation on their port side and engage with broadsides. The goal was to scatter the escorts and the new arrivals with turbolasers while neutralizing the freighter with ion cannons.

 

[Talia]

The ship trembled under fire, crew members in engineering were screaming blue murder at each other trying to get systems back online, though there were a handful who were still and calm. Their heads swung towards Talia as she stepped out of the room she'd been working in and gave them a curt nod. There was a flash and a singular scream of stun shots and the shouts were silenced. Another series of rumbles shuddered through the ship and Talia frowned.

"They shouldn't be shooting at us." one of them stated as they began hauling armour from alcoves and donning it. Talia remained unarmoured. "I know, but until we've secured the bridge we can't risk opening communications and asking them what the feth we're doing. So we fight blind and we take it from the inside. Just as we planned."

"And if its not our people?"

Talia did not want to think about that, she did not want to think about the sneer on Ronan's face when her side failed to pull through. Oh some of the exiles had come with her ship side, but for the rest to leave them high and dry? She didn't answer him. "Maintain a lock down on this room, I can deactivate the jammer remotely when we've secured command. You two, with me."

She turned on her heel and headed for one of three turbo lifts. "Shut the other two down." she barked as she stepped inside.

[member="Velok the Younger"][member="Tamara Wren"][member="Silas Mantis"][member="Roslyn Thorn"][member="Entye Shysa"][member="Skirata"] [member="Locke"]

[apologies for the delay]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Velok the Younger"] [member="Tamara Wren"] [member="Silas Mantis"] [member="Roslyn Thorn"] [member="Entye Shysa"] [member="Skirata"] @Locke @Talia Fett

It was a good thing Ronan had his own business to handle here and wasn't focused on the lack of firesupport from the outside.

Oh, that was a problem, but if they could take the bridge they'd be able to jump out of here with something to show. Rather than be a failure of support and expected backing. The bursts of fire against the freighter had made stealth useless. They knew they were under attack, so the right security guard got a blaster bolt through their neck before they could react. He left the other one for Tamara and didn't skip a stride. They were racing against the clock here as far as Ronan was concerned.

Once they stepped over the corpses and peeked around the corner Ronan noticed one Silas Mantis at the far-end of the corridor.

"Tight corridor." Ronan murmured to his daughter. "What do we do with a formidable opponent in a tight corridor?"

For Ronan this was any other day, the fight, the kill, he took the opportunity to quiz her.

This was better than any exercise.