Rapture (Extermination of Kaltes)

[Sammo Hache-Khe of Rae]

[member="Dredge"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"],


Off to the side of the emerging battle a ghostly grey ship would emerge, blending itself in with the vacuum of space through its colors along,

"This is Captain Sammo, I have arrived and I am ready to take begin evacuation, I have plenty of space aboard."

Thankfully the mobile motel he commanded wasn't too full.


And so his ship would sail through the void to get somewhere where he could be provided escort, after all they had no guns on the ship! Soon enough, however, the starfighters and tramp freighters that were aboard would scramble out from the bowels of the ship, whirling around it to provide a cover.

"Also, requesting escort for the time being."

He messaged the Jedi sending out the distress in the first place on secure channel.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge turned his head only briefly towards [member="Uriel"], his attention now being given over to the space battle. Still, his posture indicated he was likely smiling. "Captain Hastings will be leading the anti-boarding parties. What I want you to do, Sergeant, is get to the surface... and take our their command structure." [member="Kiskla Grayson"] had informed him the commanders were down there, and that meant a decapitating strike was possible.

"I will endeavor to find a precise location although I have a feeling its at the nexus of power. Get to a dropship and make ready."

Uriel's dismissal was the mans head turning back to space, and the whine of both Heavy Hypervelocity Cannons readying could not only be heard, but felt. It was a grating feeling, one that settled into your bones and your teeth. His teeth hurt something fierce. "Make ready, and target the Omen. Both cannons."

"Have the Horns ready theirs, too. Targeting the Wangas." Both Horn Class vessels came with miniature versions of the ship killing HVGs that the Unyielding Resolve was armed with. While lighter, they were for targeting lighter opponents. They worked on a principle similar to a rail gun, propelling rounds to fractions of the speed of light. On impact, the three round bursts worked to overload the shields before transferring kinetic damage to the enemy ship on the third shot.

"Launch fighters. Keep them off our backs."

There was a momentary pause as the shields dropped in a forward arc and the momentum of the ship slowed as the HVGs fired at the Omen. Each of the guns fired three shells in quick succession, not unlike the burst fire on an automatic weapon. Each shell was the size of a dropship, and was essentially just a large hunk of metal. Six of these were headed straight for the Omen.

If all six hit, the Omen would - and this was the computer calcuations talking - likely need to leave immediately or risk being destroyed. Even a single volley had the potential to overwhelm whatever shields the ship had.

This was the power the Protectorate put into its ships.

This was the power that brought his forward shields down for a second and a half. Impacts dotted his hull, shaking him only slightly before the forward shields snapped back into reality and began to shimmer against weapon discharge.

"[member="Shule Windspeaker"]." Sarge said, the man's message coming into his helmet comm, "I want you to take my bombers... and cripple the engines of any idiot that gets within a hundred kilometers of my ship." That was basically brawling range in ship to ship combat. There would be no boarding actions today. Sure enough, a lone bomber squadron of variant B Avengers were pulling from the capital ship. "Salamander Squadron will follow your lead. Resolve out." Shule was a Jedi, and he shared a name with an old friend of Sarges. Simply by nature of his being Jedi, he'd earned the trust that came from being given a squadron of bombers.

To either side of him, the Horn class escorts dropped their forward shields, their own HVGs ripping across the void and into the oncoming frigates. Wangas were the priority targets. The Nebulons, however, seemed more than content to just pick off the enemy fighters from range as possible. The forward facing Heavy Long Range Turbolasers of the Unyielding Resolve lashed out, terrorizing the enemy fleet from ranges the frigates couldn't even begin to match.

He spoke to [member="Kiskla Grayson"] now. "Miss, it seems the Nexus is on their command ship... not the surface. Where is their command structure?" This was the Chaos of battle. Constant checking of facts, rechecking, confirmations, denials, violence and death. How he loathed being stuck on a ship.

[member="Dredge"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

All of a sudden, the nexus moved. Like a swarm. It made her blink, and almost broke her concentration. What? How could something move that quickly? This shift applied to her focus, the ships that had come as reinforcements to engage the nine of the vong had drawn out the evil on the surface to play in the stars.

Very well. She wasn’t useful for that kind of engagement — she could shift her and [member="Haytham Kaze"]’s purpose to respond to the incoming message from [member="Sammo Hache-Khe of Rae"]. “Welcome to the party, Captain Sammo. Thank you for coming — I’ve only a corvette, but it’s armed. I’ll provide as much cover as I can, although I think there’s enough distraction for us to slip planet side.”

The screen in front of her blipped indicatively of where the message was coming from, and traced back to the Young in Spirit. Her ship hovered — “Sidle to the Republic Corvette, and we’ll travel down with you.”

Another channel beeped indicatively from [member="Sarge Potteiger"]. “I know as much as you, unfortunately…sir.” She hated being called miss — she was not a miss. A miss was a priss. Also, the official title of the communicator hadn’t been shared, so she responded in kind. “It seems to be more mobile than anticipated, though.”

 

[Dredge]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Kiskla Grayson"]

"The enemy is firing! I've never seen anything like it, move!" The omen's sensors picked up on the protectorates one shot killer weapon and did it's best to veer right, the crew in the command center had the Omen push as hard as it could whilst protectorate capital ships had fired. The Omen got lucky, the first three shots had been a near miss that would impact the planet bellow, however the other three shots hit the omen in one of its massive tendrils. The HVG hit and the bottom half of it's massive leg and it blew off completely sending a large piece of metal and flesh flying off of it to burn up in the atmosphere. "FOCUS EVERYTHING ON THE PROTECTORATE FLAG SHIP!! KILL IT!" The Graug crew chief looked out the window to see the HVG hit a Wanga and simply blow it into oblivion. The Wanga exploded sending a shockwave that rattled the hull of the entire fleet. The Katarr near it was pushed off course causing most incoming fire to miss it. The Wanga on the left was lucky and the shot from the protectorate fleet had missed narrowly to the left. "PUSH THE UMBRA UP AND FOCUS ON THE FLAG SHIP!!" The umbra assault carrier moved to the right and took position where the Wanga had once been, the Katarrs had taken a few hits but they were operating at a decent level. The Graug crew chief pointed forward at the protectorates flag ship and screamed

"FIRE EVERYTHING!!" Me very front facing coral canon every capital gun and turbo laser on each ship locked to the protectorate star destroyer esque ship and opened fire. Dozens upon dozens of guns poised and aimed to kill wished to cut off the head of the snake.

Dredge felt it, every single death on the battlefield, the darkness fed into him and he continued to laugh wildly clawing into his own face. The aura of red energy around him continued to spike as darkness poured into him the added deaths causing his power to grow. Laughter kept coming from his mouth the aura around the ship grew massively when the Wanga was destroyed. It had gone from a few feet to over a hundred yards in all directions. The spanning darkness grew and grew and Dredge just laughed and laughed, he looked up to see the incoming protectorate fleet firing upon them. He didn't care if he died here, he didn't care about the lives of his men or anyone among him. All that mattered was gathering power, this was true power. Not the power of ships or men, but the power of the darkside of force itself. The taint of it was unholy and it only grew with each passing second. The massive aura of dark energy would be unleashed soon with each death and each act of evil.

 

[HK-36]

[member="Dredge"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"], [member="Shule Windspeaker"], [member="Uriel"],


Suddenly a flash of light would erupt in space as five move Protectorate ships entered the scene, it was the Siege Tower and four corvettes, no doubt Dredge would recognize the ship from their previous battle of Silken Asteroids, if he had any doubt whether the droid commander was aboard it would soon disappear as the familiar electronic voice transmitted on all channels,

"Exarch Iron Knight 36 here from Protectorate, I have been told by one very scruffy spacer, who has some things to answer for once this battle is over, that you have quite a little party over here and a tad of reinforcements were needed. Well good thing I was patrolling nearby borders because I calculate that no good party is done without music. And I am happy to provide that-"

The charade would go on as the droid bought time with his advanced scouting party, corvettes covering the frigate in case through his little speech any enemies would begin to close in, especially as the machine begun to sing,

"You can dance, you can fight, having the time of your life-"

To be honest the writer feels like kind of an ass especially since pay out of this joke probably isn't worth it, but he'll see it through,

"See that girl? Watch that scene, for she is-"

With another flash the rest of his fleet would arrive, led by a huge supercarrier

"The Dancing Queen!"

Indeed the Dancing Queen would lead the second Protectorate fleet to arrive, Dredge would recognize it as the Dread Lord, one of his flagships the machine captured on Silken Asteroids and retrofitted it for Omega's Purposes, along it would be more capital ships escorting it and providing a miasma of starfighters and large, large guns to bear down upon Dredge and his ships.


Meanwhile, aboard the Siege Tower HK took a glance on the battlefield,

"I know these ships."

He muttered before calling out,

"I bloody know these ships!"


Once more the droid would connect to the Commlink channels, letting others hear what he was about to say,

"I see that not all of the Horde was routed from these parts. I wonder if your Lord is aboard your ships, I wonder if he has brought more ships for me or if he is ready to face me in combat personally. Because I am coming."

He would say coldly,

"I am coming for you, Dredge."

With that he would cut off the transmission, switching it over to message [member="Sarge Potteiger"]'s fleet,


"Protectorate Forces, Exarch Iron Knight here with Eriadu Expeditionary Forces led by Abregado Task Force, who is commanding your fleet, have you identified the flagship with their commanders?"

The droid queried his allies before looking to his Yeoman, giving out a short command,

"Scramble the fighters and prepare the dropships, all transports we have, our main goal is to evacuate this planet, the other fleet seems to have distracting the raiders here handled."


Meanwhile, the Protectorate ships the droid brought with himself would begin firing on the Raider Ships, contributing to the naval battle and pushing them back as the Raiders and Vong launched their own craft against the newly arrived reinforcements, creating flashes of chaos in the eerily silent and cold void of space.

((Sarge, Dredge, if you two want to keep fleeting between you two, I'm fine with that, I can just post vague atmospheric things about it like that))

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge sniffed faintly, listening to [member="Kiskla Grayson"]. "That it does..." He mutters to himself. "Whoever is doing this will tear himself apart. No body could contain that much energy. He's committing suicide."

"Sir."

There was a pause as the captain kept the flagship facing forward, and then did the only thing he could. He diverted power from engines and the flank shields to the forward ones, allowing them to weather the barrage for the time being. "Shields falling rapidly." Sarge gave a nod, "Have the escorts continue firing." He said finally, "All fire is to focus on the Omen. Energy torpedos."

"Sir."

"Fire them on the Umbra." There was a nod and the balls of plasma dumb-fired across space towards the Umbra. One of the Nebulons off to his right had its shields wilt, and a Horn moved in front of it to block it from becoming a streak of debris through the void. Long range turbolasers continued to sprinkle devastation across the Omen, especially since whatever shields it had seemed to have dissipated with the HVG impact.

At least, that's how he thought this worked. He was new to fleet combat. The other Horn moved into cover of the two Nebulons to give its shields time to cycle back to full. In this manner the Protectorate fleet sacrificed some firepower for some vitality. It was a gambit, and most experienced fleet commanders might view it as silly, but this was how he wanted his men to fight.

"Sir."

There was that insistent comm girl again. "Yes."

"The Exarch is here."

"Oh, well. Tell him to open fire."

"He wants to know who is in charge."

"It doesn't matter who's in charge."

"...right away, sir."

That was HK's response, in little tiny letters across a screen. It doesn't matter who's in charge. And if HK was looking for a flagship, well, only one ship here was two kilometers long and twice the size of any of the other ships in the fleet around it. It was also, conveniently, the most heavily damaged ship in the fight at the moment. A rare breed, it. An Omen-class.

[member="Dredge"] [member="HK-36"]

 

[HK-36]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"],


Meanwhile on the Siege Tower,


"Sir, response from the Protectorate fleet."

The droid nodded to the Comm Officer, finished with putting on his armor and armaments,

"So who is in charge there?"

"They said it doesn't matter who is in charge."

HK tilted his head to the officer,

"They also said to open fire."


The droid grumbled, cursing in some forgotten language before,

"We have been opening fire since we got here, and where do they get off telling me it does not matter, I am an Exarch, what kind of an ass-"

HK stopped as it clicked then,

"Only one kind of an ass."

He wold turn to look out of the viewport,



"Sarge is leading that fleet."

 

[Dredge]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Kiskla Grayson"] [member="HK-36"] [member="Sammo Hache-Khe of Rae"] [member="Shule Windspeaker"] [member="Darth Tsolan"] [member="Solan Charr"] [member="Uriel"]

The Umbra took the plasma torpedoes head on, hitting the ship and piercing it's shields the umbra exploded in a light of red energy the ship was blown into pieces. "WE JUST LOST THE UMBRA!!" One of the Graug crew members yelled in the control room of the Omen outside the planets orbit began to look like a ship graveyard, hundreds of bodies floated through the abyss black and burnt. "PLASMA TORPEDOES INCOMING!! BRACE FOR IMPACT!" Most of the torpedoes hit the Omen and it tore into the cybernetic beast. It's screamed in pain and some of the capital guns went offline, the beast refusing to fight due to all the pain it had just experienced. Death was positively everywhere and it soaked into the vacuum of space. A piece of the Umbra hit a Katarr and the small vessel pushed right and collided into the remains of the Wanga killing more crewmen.

Dredge felt the surge of power and the death of all aboard the Umbra, raw dark energy began to crackle around the wounded omen. It was on it's last leg and that didn't matter anymore. Things in the cockpit had gone deadly silent, Dredge felt the Iron Knight. He knew that ship from the battle at Silken. Sheer power and darkness spread hundreds of yards in every direction of Omen so big that it covered the entire Vong fleet. Dredge stood up and looked out the window as if he could see him standing on the bridge, that his eyes were piercing the heart of the ship and into the robots soul.

Dredge floated into the air and raised a single hand at the siege tower and uttered words that bellowed into the reaches of space itself. "You can not save them, you can not save any of them." Dredge looked back at the planet and let his palm open up, energy crackling as he did so all of which directed at the equator of the planet. He uttered one more word and closed his open hand into a fist. "Die."

The energy around the ship flashed brightly blinding and burning retinas of anyone who stared directly at it. For a split second the energy vanished and along the equator on the surface of the planet a dark side sun erupted. Over four kilometers long the sun exploded and caused a chain reaction. In the past a weapon of pure darkness caused volcanos to form and twist among the world. It had a taint of darkness to it that lingered till this day, the darkside explosion fused with that energy of the original scourge amplified the blast to massive massive proportions. Not enough to destroy the world, but enough to push those super volcanos out of their dormant state. A secondary explosion from the volcanos exploded outwards and sent burning tons of magma and ash everywhere all along the equator dozens of super volcanos erupted

The ash exploded into the atmosphere and covered the world In darkness and fire.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Dredge"]

The Force twisted in Shule's gut -- a thrill -- no, more precisely a resonance -- and he knew he'd made a mistake by committing to play close support for the Protectorate fleet. Fleet combat took long hours, and in that time, he and the bomber squadron at his back had shredded the engine capacity of whatever got close. Maybe it was his Dagoyan training, maybe his emphasis on instinct and insight over power, but a certainty filled him, one that led him to an awkward choice. He commed [member="Sarge Potteiger"].

"Unyielding Resolve, this is Shule. Something's about to happen, can't say what; all I know is where I need to be. I've done what I can. Breaking off now."

With a message of thanks to the bomber squadron that had watched his back for the duration of the fight thus far, the battered old E-25 accelerated through the fringes of the Horde flotilla and arced down into the planet's gravity well, down into the clouds.

The essential wrongness of the future percolated through his mind; when the flash darkened the viewscreen from above and behind him, he almost expected it, but it still soured his gut. Abruptly, the clouds parted and the viewscreen was filled by a suicidally vast emanation of the Dark Side of the Force. From his perspective, it seemed like a dark sphere laced with the same red light that had surrounded the Omen. Shule's breath hissed between his teeth, amplified by the snubfighter's close confines. His instrument panel began to show anomalies, then spark. The snubfighter slewed; he wrenched the stick just so, and the vessel slashed into the dark star just as the ground began to shake.

If there was one truth he'd gleaned in his long career, it was this: the more impressive and overblown a Force power, the more diffuse and vulnerable it became. Nobody could make something like this and make it count, not even with help. Eyes shut, a gentle radiance surrounding him, he punched out.

Ejection jolted him to the core. The Force-crippled fighter tumbled away in a rush of wind, its presence obscured by the massive noise that contaminated the Force here. He felt chaos.

But he also felt where to go.

His ejection seat repulsors flared, shoving him toward the center of the star, and then died. The emergency parachute deployed as the scrambled repulsors fell away like the fighter. Eyes still shut, knuckles white on his parachute straps, Shule reached in and touched the Light.

Some people ascribed to a fairly Sith-like methodology when it came to Force Light, and he'd been one of them in his day, before age and experience tempered his approach to the Force. They shot beams, raised shields, used Force Light, but he'd come to believe it was more appropriate, more fitting, to simply get in touch with what one was and should be. He centered himself as he hung from his parachute, a mile above the ground, and the pure Force filled his mind. His skin tingled gently, and only then did he realize how cold he'd been before the Force warmed him; the color of his eyelids warmed too, as if looking up at the sun.

No Darth could make a four-kilometre sphere of absolute destruction. Absolute power was not a quality that applied to area-of-effect, not on that scale. At a guess, an observer would see only a gentle glow suffuse the dark star from within. Then the Dark Side manifestation shredded like shadows in sudden moonlight, its roiling ghosts laid to rest. Tremors continued to shake the surface of Kaltes; volcanoes still belched, though perhaps less aggressively so. Shule had no power to still the earth; the tired man hanging from the parachute hadn't really used the Force at all -- it wasn't his way. He'd just actively been a Jedi at the right place, in the right time, like Yoda walking through the spirit of Bane in its place of power or Luke Skywalker undoing Cronal's Darksight by doing what Shule had done. The dark star, in a very real sense, didn't exist -- hadn't existed. Just a shadow of rage and hate and a dead man begging for relevance. The Force stilled, leaving only the memory of the recently dead, and, gradually, the earth stilled as well.

The shredded earth struck his feet unevenly, and he tumbled. In due course he stripped off his harness and left the parachute stretched over the ruins. His fighter lay nearby, or what remained of it, fragments among the rubble of a civilization. Daylight warmed him, and the dead began to fade into the living Force.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge gave a nod that Shule would never see, and he was thankful the blast shields had lowered to cover the windows for the duration of the fight - he could feel the Darkness emanating from outside. So, too, could the crew. It was a malignancy, clinging to the skin of reality by the most tenuous of grasps, emanating death, terror and revulsion in equal measure. The crewmembers around him were shaking.

Some murmured prayers. Others seemed to have completely withdrawn into themselves. Sensing its enemy, the Halberd began to glow. It had, of course, been glowing for awhile - that's what it did whenever the Dark was near. But as the power of the Dark increased, so too did the Light. Its radiance shone brilliantly through the bridge, nearly blinding any who looked at it but strengthening the resolve of any and all who were on the bridge with the Inquisitor.

And so, as the fleet pulled back behind the protection of the Unyielding Resolve, trying to shield themselves from whatever was occurring, Sarge ordered his crew to keep up the barrage. His bridge could still function. His bridge could still fight.

It would do so until it could fight no more.

"Main cannons ready."

Sarge gave a nod.

"Execute them."

The weak frontal shields dropped, and another six rounds of dropship sized slugs were catapulted through space at a fraction of the speed of light, intent on knocking that Omen out of the sky for good. At the same moment, his minds eye could see the Dark Side begin to collapse, ruined by someone or something that had formed a brief lighthouse on the tides of space. Shule.

"Everyone. Full barrage. I want that fleet cleaned up." One of the Nebulons wasn't able to respond, its engines sputtering and dying as it drifted in apparent death. Fires burned from hull breaches, but it seemed their life support was functioning for the moment. The rest of the fleet - the Resolve, two Horns and... two Nebulons, opened fire with everything they had to clean up what passed for Dredge's execution fleet. Between he and [member="HK-36"], this was now a mop up operation.

His attention returned to [member="Kiskla Grayson"], who, presumably, had called them here. "This is Colonel Potteiger of the Omega Protectorate, Lord of the Inquisition. Who are you."

"And, someone contact the Sergeant. Tell him to stand down... with my apologies." There was a muted word from the comm lady who did as she was told.

 

[Dredge]

Dredge lay on the cold ground of the ship, he was twitching and he was not breathing. His lifeless eyes stared at nothing at all and he simply lay there upon the ground his brains and body scrambled into metaphorical jelly. He had focused all that raw power he had collected into an explosion that magnified when it hit the taint of the darkside on the planet. Much like a fireball having gasoline poured upon it, it caused the sun to expand outwards to levels Dredge could not manifest on his own. However the brave Jedi master [member="Shule Windspeaker"] had stopped the star before it did too much damage to the planet. He however could not stop the chain of volcanos on the planets surface. They had fired tons and tons of ash into the air, much like the volcanos of earth in comparison to yellow stone they spewed forth an apocalyptic event that was blanketing the atmosphere in thick heavy ash and fire.

The boomed and bellowed causing chunks of earth to explode outwards for miles on end. The taint of the darkside was everywhere upon the equator. That ancient evil that once nearly destroyed the planet was alive and the energy was swelling and pumping torrents of hate and destruction into the air. Above in space it was time to leave, this was a no win situation and the Graug crew chief was looking upon the cold and seemingly lifeless body of Dredge. The protectorate fleet was about to finish them and they had to go. "Move the Azulas! Protect the Omen!"

The two still pristine Azulas moved forward and around while the protectorate was getting ready to fire another volley at the omen, they pushed themselves as fast as they could and when the protectorate fired the ships simply exploded, the slugs blew them into pieces of metal and fire that was snuffed out shortly in the vacuum of space. A slug passed through a Azulas and tore another tendril from the massive beast sending blood everywhere. The rest of the fleet was exploding and becoming undone all around the omen as the slugs and turbo lasers destroyed every last one of them. The Katarr was a bit lucky as the wanga's ruins shielded it from the blast. But it was dead in the water and was not going anywhere.

The omen let out one last bellow of pain trained itself right and boomed into hyperspace. It was nearly destroyed and Dredge was more than likely dead or going to be spending the rest of his natural life eating out of a straw. But the battle was over and hundreds of thousands were dead

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Vulpesen]

"I'm on it. Just try to not let me get blown out of the sky. I've people at home who'd have my head if I died." Tilting his ship, he doze under the fire, shooting any smaller ships that got in his way as he descended on the planet. It had been quite a while since he had played hero, and even if it was for moment, it felt good to do it now.
[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
[member="Dredge"]

 

[HK-36]

[member="Dredge"],


The droid warned, Dredge, he was coming for him, and the machine was going to keep the promise,


And so as Dredge conducted his somehow possible spell, even though he was dead in the Force and nothing like that should be in his capability, a stealth transport would hang over his bridge, after the staring contest the two had across the battlefield and he turned around its ramp opened silently and HK stood in the doorway with the shattergun volleygun, well a copy of him at least as the main HK stayed on the bridge instead sending out his copies for assassination, 8 rail guns trained on him they never got a chance to fire as things moved rather quickly.

Soon enough Dredge slammed into the ground, his form bloated and twisted from the extortion of the Dark Side Nexus, meanwhile barrages of turbolasers and projectiles would be shot in his ships direction just to be stayed by the other vessels escorting him, and as the hyperspace engines of the vessel begun to power up it become apparent that the droids were out of time to make sure he stayed dead or to grab his corpse.


But promise could be fulfilled later on, and so as their sole act they dropped a few pills of DUST onto the near-dead ship, the pills exploding over various components and sections, and when the vessel hyper jumped, the stealth transport soon followed the pings of the tracking substance they left on his flagship before it was too far.


Meanwhile, on the bridge of the Siege Tower,


HK just nodded as enemy was either blasted away or retreated, muttering,

"Too bad, I wanted that ship."

He would point on their battle-map to the Katarr then,

"If that vessel has any guns operational, disable them with precise bombardment, if you can not do that, sink it, I am not taking any chances."

And so the fleet's many capital guns would face Katarr then, carrying out the order as multicolored streaks ran through the air, meeting with it in brilliant flashes and explosions,

Looking to his Comm officer the droid ordered,

"Send out a transmission to all open channels as follows,"

The crewman nodded signaling the droid he could speak the message, [member="Darth Tsolan"], [member="Sarge Potteiger"], [member="Shule Windspeaker"], [member="Kiskla Grayson"],

"The battle is over, commencing mass evacuation and planetary relief, may the Force be with us all."


And with that the full force of the shuttles and transports the fleet HK towed along with him has scrambled and flew into the void, sailing across it towards the planet, unobstructed by enemy presence they were free to save as many lives as they could.

 

[Sammo Hache-Khe of Rae]

Without having to worry about enemy ships the Young In Spirit would be able to close in on the planet, its tramp freighters and whatever vessels it could spare would soar towards the planet, spacer volunteers lending all they could to being bringing wounded and those in critical areas to safe zones, unfortunately it seemed that the only safe zone right now was outside of the planet's atmosphere, and while the ships gathered there could save a lot of people, they could not save all of them.


Knowing that they would not do much good without a force of trained healers, Sammo sent another distress signal to Protectorate, this time without being an ass and this time aimed at the newly reformed Cardea Medical Division, [member="Nyos Val"], [member="Feena Mason"], [member="Coryth Elaris"], [member="Doctor Stormson"], [member="Anemone Nivalis"], along with a few of those Cardea Cruisers, after all they were basically mobile hospitals,

"We have big trouble going on on Kaltes, a lot of dead and wounded due to raider attack, we have three Protectorate military fleets here or so to provide protection, the battle has ended and all of the raiders are either dead or on the run, we need to provide professional aide to the planet, please help."

It would not be long before first Cardea Cruisers would get to them with some escort, of course, in case someone would try to ambush them en-route, but finally Protectorate would be able to show off just how skilled their medical personnel is.

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Well, that had been an exciting mission, and then they were thrust directly into another one. This time, near Wild Space at Kaltes. Things were definitely going to be getting serious... And soon.

He had never heard of the planet before, or visited the planet.

They jumped into hyperspace... And once they exited he saw the fleet surrounding the planet...

"Oh boy indeed." Haytham's head bobbed up and down as he repeated what [member="Kiskla Grayson"] had voiced moments before.

Now, his Master spoke with a multitude of people and he waited in what the write would presume to be a co-pilot's seat and awaited his Master's orders.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge had been one step ahead of Sammo, as the members of Cardea had been pulled onto the second fleets which would be dropping out of hyperspace within the hour. His fleet had been the fleet designed to secure the immediate area - the secondary fleet was troop transports and medical frigates. [member="Nyos Val"], [member="Feena Mason"], [member="Coryth Elaris"], [member="Doctor Stormson"] and even the Sarge-maligned [member="Anemone Nivalis"] would be coming in at the head of a relief fleet.

Everything would be taken care of. A frown creased haggard features, black eyes dipping to open a line directly to Sergeant @Uriel. "One of the Nebulons, captained by a Joyce Stenson... the Reaver Menace, it's crippled. The crew will need to be brought aboard and the ship scuttled. I need you to head over there and make sure everyone is off." Wetting his lips, he watched as the blast shields for the viewports were raised, and his eye lenses autofocused in on the great clouds of ash spilling across the surface.

It would be many decades before that volcanic winter abated.

He could still smell the ash that floated through the remnants of Alderaan's shattered atmosphere, the stench of scorched flesh that permeated the caves into which the survivors had retreated. They'd left warnings; corpses nailed to the walls. Cannibals. His heart rate spiked, not that his vital monitors could show anyone that, but his shoulders locked up ever so slightly as his eyes screwed shut.

You were too late.

You're always too late.​

​

And everyone gets left behind, sooner or later.​

​

Shut up.​

​

It's true. Sometimes, that person is even you.​

​

Shut. Up.​

​

"Sir?"

​

His head shifted, turning towards the Captain. He'd not realized he'd spoken aloud. "Nothing. Continue evacuation."

 

[Nyos Val]

Working tirelessly, like every other day, Nyos received the distress call from someone he did not know. But they needed medical help and Nyos was never one to turn down those in need. He turned to the console nearby and punched in commands for his ship to be prepped and loaded with medical supplies.

He grabbed his doctors coat and made for the turbo-lift. He and his crew of Milenici were gearing up when the least of the supplies were being loaded. He boarded the ship, making his way to the cockpit, he flaged the Protectorate fleet that he'd received the transmission from

"This is 2nd Lt Nyos Val of the OP medical team, I am enroute to your location. I'll be flying in my own ship, watch for my IFF. Over."

"Punch it." He said to his crew once they were loaded and strapped in.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"][member="Sammo Hache-Khe of Rae"]

 

[Uriel]

Uriel Squad was loading into their dropship - bolters and heavy weapons primed, their ultramarine blue armour glinting under the hangar lights. The sounds of detonations and explosions, the flash of ships going up, all of it was a wonderful addition to the devastation all around them. This was a rather serious mission and Uriel looked forward to deployment.

Until a serf came up.

"Sergeant Uriel! I come with a message from the Lord Inquisitor!" shouted the underling, even as Uriel had his hand on the grab rail to board the transport. He paused, then turned.

"Yes?"

"The Lord Inquisitor apologises, but this battle is over - there is no need to deploy."

Uriel paused, then stared at the serf. What?

"Repeat that."

"The enemy command ship is gone. The planet is currently covered with an untenable ash storm. Deployment is currently not possible nor required."

Uriel doffed his helmet, peered back inside the dropship, and gestured for his squad. "Let's go, Uriel Squad. No glory for us today."

It was almost insulting. Not because [member="Sarge Potteiger"] had denied them battle, but because he'd wanted to do something other than sit and wait. Unfortunately, such was the Inquisition sometimes.

There would be more battle, eventually.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The voice came back, titles and all from [member="Sarge Potteiger"]. She frowned slightly -- she should have announced herself with the initial broadcast, though no matter when she ended up doing it, Kiskla still didn't like doing her own introductions. It was out of necessity that she replied; "Hello Lord-Colonel. This is Jedi Grandmaster Kiskla Grayson -- and Padawan [member="Haytham Kaze"].

Thank you for your swift action and response. We'll leave the skies to you and your team."

"Afraid we can only offer relief now." Kiskla murmured to her student, feigning the on-pressing feeling of dismay. Their ship was too tiny to have been any use with the big boys. But she was fairly good at cleaning up messes, and this could be a valuable opportunity for her student to be exposed to healers. Every warrior needed to know how to heal both themselves, and their comrades. Medics weren't always on hand.

However, she was also concerned for his ability to memorize whatever he observed. "Have you ever been exposed to genocide?" She hoped not "--or death? Murder?" A silly question perhaps, but some were not as scarred as others.

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Never had the Padawan ever thought of such a thing, genocide. Murder though... Maybe.

Was it murder if you fought in defense of the people you served? He didn't know, perhaps he should ask. Instead, his chair rotated and he looked over at his Master, and shook his head. "I haven't." He looked over his shoulder through the viewport and to the planet below and said, "and that is what is happening down there, right?"

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]