The Snake of Varonat
Aboard the FIV Penitence,Zero Hour.
With a soft electrical buzz, the lights went out. A moment later, the moment the backup generator was supposed to kick in, the locking mechanism of the lines and rows of identical cell doors disconnected with a soft click. Through the darkness, the eyes of bewildered guards and prisoners alike flicked to the portals. One by one the prisoners stepped forward. Uneasy, unsure if this was some sort of test. The doors rose, opening to reveal a blackness cut by the searching beams of the few security personnel. The security that was suddenly outnumbered one-thousand-to-one. A skeleton crew, only here to keep the ship moving in the right direction. The prisoners stepped out of their cell, wringing their thick necks, and cracking scarred knuckles, their eyes glittering in the twilight.
Aboard the FIV Penitence,
Six hours after breakout.
The ship buckled and protested under the stresses of their descent. Their engines screaming to keep up, TIE interceptors flanked the prison ship, following the hulk as it descended into the atmosphere of Keskin, its belly already superheated by the rapid plunge. The vessels engines were still aflame, rendered inoperable almost an hour prior. Aboard the ship, two groups of Stormtroopers fought their way through the ship, hampered by waves of the desperate incarcerated, and the flames that were rapidly engulfing the ship. On the bridge, a bitter and singed force of prisoners held their ground, besieged, and faced with the inevitability of their situation. A few of them had lain down their weapons, and simply sat gazing out of the viewport as the Jungle surface approached with terrifying speed, and morbid finality. Down, down they went.
Aboard the wreck of the Penitence,
Eighteen hours after breakout.
The corridors of the vessel were skewed at a crazy angle. The force of impact had been enough to compress and warp the structure of the ship, and split it into large sections. Many of the lower floors had been completely destroyed as the frigate impacted the surface, flattening kilometres of jungle in the process. Madelyn picked her way through the wreckage, following behind a group of white-clad troopers and the darkly uniformed Security Bureau investigators. Madelyn had swapped out her usual attire for a more practical Naval uniform, and so moved unrestricted in the drab, if neat, garment.
The spectacle of it was stunning, the smouldering ruins up close, it was beyond words. Behind them it was as if one of the ancients had reached out a colossal hand and carved a runnel through the earth. Pure, unadulterated destruction, with no survivors.
[member="The Major"]
