Private The Escapee's Choice

[Cillian Raxis]

The Lambda Class shuttle blasted through space.

Everything had happened pretty quickly. Cillian didn't remember a lot of it. He had moved very fast, had to share his true identity with a lot of people. The man had reached out to numerous people he had met, including some of those he had spent time drinking with. He wasn't sire of he could trust those people yet, but he didn't know what choice he had.

Cillian let out a breath.

The man, Rylos, had found him in a panic. Cillian had tried to lie, hide his identity, but it didn't work. Rylos had told Cillian that the ship once belonging to his father had been attacked. Rylos informed Cillian that the ship had been left, floating in space. They had eventually been attacked by pirates. They had been overwhelmed.

There were survivors. He was one, having only just survived.

Kei had left instructions with the ship, so it had turned out. If they were ever lost, with no sense of help, they were to track down a Raxis. Apparently Cillian's actions upon leaving Corellia had left him with a name. The man, Rylos, was able to follow the path and find Cillian with the fleet.

Cillian had sat on this information. He had offered Rylos a bed and food while he thought. If he moved on the ship, it would mean he would have to give away everything, his identity. If he didn't, all of those survivors would die and everything his father had built would be lost. It was a situation that he didn't want to face at all.

He wasn't entitled to any of the Raxis legacy. He knew this. He knew that his actions, the rebellion against his family meant that he couldn't touch any of the family estate any longer. The ship was different though, the ship was full of men that Cillian had grew up around. These were the men that had raised him.

And thus the plan was hatched.

The shuttle had been borrowed, it did the job. It was a transport, Cillian hoped that with any luck the ship was still somewhat operational. It was unlikely, of course, but the fleet was close enough that they had agreed to assist with an evacuation should it been required. Cillian truly hoped that wasn't the case.

He looked around the crew he had gathered.

"Ready?"

Rance Draysom | Eris Volcata

 

[Rance Draysom]

"Ready," Rance replied, though he wasn't entirely sure that was true.

The Fleet Marshal was here because a man he needed, the wrench-jockey McKenzie, now needed him. Except that the guy's name was Raxis, not McKenzie, and he was no simple drifter mechanic. With that revelation, Rance had found himself mixed up in the business of a powerful and influential dynasty, the kind of people that someone like him never, ever met. But whatever this man's name was Rios McKenzie or Cillian Raxis, the Verge Flotilla needed him and his skills. Rance had volunteered for this crazy mission so he could help Cillian stay alive.

It was odd to be so far from the Flotilla; since taking over responsibility for keeping the fleet supplied, Rance had seldom left the Big Five civilian ships. Whenever he had, he'd stayed relatively close, and always gone directly on fleet business - negotiations, supply runs, and the like. This felt different, a throwback to his days wandering the eastern fringe of the galaxy before he'd joined up with the other assorted riffraff that he now worked with. In a way, it felt liberating, like he could drift again. But the weight of his responsibilities still pressed down on him.

The transport that the Council of Captains had agreed too let Cillian borrow for this mission wasn't much to look at, a battered civilian shuttle with its best days long behind it. But it was good enough to get them where they were going, wherever that turned out to be; Rance wasn't clear on the precise details, only that there was a nasty band of pirates involved. With that thought on his mind, the Fleet Marshal checked the charge on his heavy blaster pistol, then unslung his scattergun, wiping down the barrel with an oiled cloth.

Plenty of what Rance did for the fleet ended in violence, but that wasn't where he preferred to start. He remembered the faces of everyone he'd ever killed. Mercifully, it was a short list, because they still descended on his nightmares every so often, shrieking in accusation. This time, though, violence was inevitable; they were going to be taking a Raxis ship back from those pirates. In Rance's experience, the kind of hardened shipjackers who would take such a ship by force were not the kind of people who could be persuaded to surrender.

So he waited aboard the shuttle, weapons at the ready, for what seemed certain to be a deck-by-deck firefight.

 

[Eris Volcata]

Eris sat in the read compartment, murmuring softly into her comlink in hopes of not being loud enough to disturb the others on the trip. "It's a risk," the older woman agreed with her son. "But everything in life is a risk. Coming to the fleet was a risk, and it seems to have paid off well." She paused. "Well enough."

There was a pause; Eris wasn't sure if it was due to the ever-increasing distance or if Drexel was grimacing on the other end of the line. "You must be trying awfully hard not to say you told me so," he said, trying to sound annoyed. From decades of experience, Eris could tell there was a reluctant grin on his lips. "Although, yes, you did tell me so."

"I don't even need to say it," Eris replied with a matching smirk. "Anyway, we need to pull our weight with the Fleet, and we had the fighters and weapons to spare. I couldn't refuse, even if I had wanted to. And after all those months underground --" She craned her neck suddenly, glancing up towards the cockpit where she heard the man speak. "Got to go," she told Drexel. "Keep it together until I get back. Love you."

"Love you," Drexel said, then the connection dropped. Eris tucked her comlink up and stood, slinging her blaster carbine over her shoulder as she made her way forward. Unlike the robes she tended to wear when on business on the fleet, she was dressed utilitarian for the mission: a grey drab jumpsuit and a plum vest.

"All present and correct," Eris told McKenzie -- or did he prefer Raxis now? -- as she entered the cockpit and took up her place in one of the command team seats, carefully laying her carbine across her lap. "How are we doing?"

Rance Draysom | Cillian Raxis​

 

[Cillian Raxis]

He looked at the DL-44 that was holstered at his side.

The crew of six all checked in. Rance and Eris, two people he didn't trust but that he needed. He had only met them briefly but they had jumped to his aid when he told them he was going to try and help his friends, those that he had grown up with.

Rylos had come with them. Cillian was happy that the man had come. To say that they had only met a few days ago, Cillian was learning to respect the man. He had served under his father and had shared some stories with Cillian about his fathers heroics. He had, in many ways, shed a new light on Kei.

The other two, Cillian had never met. They had introduced themselves as Jax and Fixer. Cillian hadn't inquired on their real names. They had apparently proven to themselves that they could fight, both carrying DC-15's. Cillian genuinely hoped that they could carry themselves.

"I know I lied to all of you. I know I never told any of you the truth, who I truly am. For that, I am sorry. Someone once said, we're all running from something. I was running from the past, my family name. Today, I rectify the first of those mistakes, and I thank all of you for helping".

He offered a weak little smile.

"For those of you unaware, when I first joined up with the fleet I operated under the name of McKenzie. This was a way of hiding my identity, my family name. I was actually born Cillian Raxis, son of Jedi Knight Kei Raxis and Grandson of Sith Lord William Raxis. My family committed some atrocities, and I ran from their name. Tonight, I fix that mistake"

Cillian flicked his eyes back to the controls. He was an exceptional pilot, and his fingers danced across the controls. He brought the ship out of lightspeed, and as the stars slowed back to realspace, the situation in front of them looked bleak.

The Imperial Star Destroyer, The Flying Dutchman, floated in space. It's engines were nonoperational, it's hull had been torn apart. Surrounding it was a fleet of pirate vessels, stripping the ship down for parts. It was honestly a little sad to watch.

It made Cillian's heart ache. He had grown up on the ship in a lot of ways, and it hurt to see it in the state it was in. Cillian almost hoped that he could get the ship operational, make it work and make it fly again, let his fathers legacy continue.

Rylos was sat at the back, and he spoke briefly.

"The surviving crew barricaded themselves inside the internal war room, the one that your father used. The pirates, when I managed to escape, hadn't managed to break the doors down just yet. We can only hope that they haven't breached it while I've been away"

Cillian nodded, and he sent the shuttle towards the ISD.

Rance Draysom | Eris Volcata

 

[Rance Draysom]

At first, Rance wasn't particularly worried about what Cillian Raxis was saying. He'd done enough lying and hiding his past during his time at the galaxy's edge that he wasn't at all surprised when others did the same. He had family living in the Sith Empire, family that he didn't want to suffer any repercussions from his less than legal dealings, so he was careful what he said about his past, and to whom. Pretty much everyone who joined the Flotilla was on the run from something. You got used to working with people in that situation.

He'd kind of figured Cillian for some distant Raxis cousin, though, burdened with the name but not the direct baggage. To be the son of a Jedi, grandson of a Sith... Rance let out a long, slow whistle at that admission. His own parents were businesspeople, hospital administrators back on Telos and then merchant traders drifting across the Outer Rim after they'd been forced to flee; there was no way he could relate to the drama of this guy's family line. He just hoped that Cillian took more after his dad than his granddad.

Jedi could be sanctimonious, after all, but Sith Lords were bad, bad news.

Soon, the Flying Dutchman came into view, and Rance let out another low whistle. It was a big ship, of the size and scale that would make it one of the larger vessels in the Flotilla. Their group suddenly felt tiny compared to the immensity of the ship; breaking through and rescuing the trapped crew would be the only chance they had to retake that thing. Rance was glad that Eris Volcata was along; the woman was a veteran freedom fighter... and a calming presence. She always made him feel more confident, more steady.

The Fleet Marshal turned to her as she spoke. "Mildly terrified," he replied, flashing her a nervous grin. "Nothing like storming a Star Destroyer with the son of a Jedi to remind me that I am a tiny mortal in a galaxy stuffed with gods and monsters."

 

[Eris Volcata]

Eris didn't say anything. She had nothing to say.

So the boy was the son of a Jedi and the grandson of a Sith. So what? You couldn't swing a cat in this galaxy without hitting the son or daughter or grandnephew or cousin's roommate of this Jedi poobah or that war criminal. As far as she was concerned, blood didn't make people evil, and it didn't make them special either. She didn't judge people by their families, but she knew that some did, so using a pseudonym wasn't completely beyond the pale as far as Eris was concerned.

She'd fudged the truth about her identity, too, from time to time, so McKenzie-Raxis was in good company.

Eris shrugged delicately and gave a palms-up gesture. "Don't sweat it, kid," she said. "Let's just get your people out safe."

The older woman swiveled to examine the technical readout as they approached the ship. Her eyes traced over the detailed readout, and it all seemed to jibe with what they'd been told and Rylos' description of the events. She scanned through the data and then turned back to the group. "First time, Rance?" she asked, a playful but warm smirk in her voice. "It's OK to be nervous. But you never forget your first time assaulting a Star Destroyer." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Ah, memories."

 

[Cillian Raxis]

The ship tore through space.

Cillian knew much of the layout of the ship, he knew exactly where the docking bays were located. The pilot was guiding the ship exactly where it needed to be, avoiding the sensors of the pirate fleet that was surrounding the cruiser, his cruiser.

The ship touched down in the hanger bay.

Cillian took one last look at the people who had come with him. He double checked his blaster, made sure it was strapped to his thigh. He let out one last sigh, almost a mixture of worry and fear. He wasn't sure what to expect on the ship, who to expect.

"Good luck to us"

He led the group down the boarding ramp and out onto the cold metal of the hanger. There were multiple ways to exit the hanger into the bowels of the ship, and Cillian looked between the three for a moment, trying to decide which would have the least amount of resistance.

Cillian led the group across the hanger, through the door on the left. The corridor in front of them was long, and at the end was the shadow of two men. Cillian ducked behind a crate, and hoped the rest of the team would do the same. Then he looked.

"Who wants the shot?"

Jax didn't even blink. He readied his rifle and took the shot without blinking. One of the men fell. At the same time, Cillian took the other shot, taking the other man down. Both of the pirates fell into a crumpled heap, blaster holes through them.

The gang moved again.

That was roughly where it all went wrong. When Cillian documented the events later, he documented that this was the exact moment it went wrong. The group turned around the corner into an open room. The room was full. The stealth approach had gone very wrong very fast.

Cillian took the first shot, right into the head of the pirate in front of him. Every single pirate looked towards the group. Cillian looked around, fear in his eyes. They had planned for stealth and it had gone wrong, they'd walked right into a room full of enemies.

Then Cillian spoke.

"Run"

Then the firing began.

Eris Volcata || Rance Draysom

 

[Rance Draysom]

Rance grinned at Eris's comment, at once joking and reassuring. He was glad she was there; he envied her quiet self-assurance.

The Fleet Marshal held his breath as the shuttle maneuvered its way up to the imposing bulk of the Star Destroyer. If they were noticed, he knew, they could be vaporized with little more effort than a bantha's tail swatting a sandfly. But between Cillian's knowledge and the pilot's skill, they slipped beneath the sensors and made it inside the docking bay. Of course, if the pirates had been in full command of the ship, they never could have managed it. Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Rance thanked his lucky stars.

Stepping out into the hangar, Rance freed his blaster from its holster, holding it ready at his side; there was no telling what they'd encounter, or when, from here on out. He let Cillian lead the way deeper into the ship, keeping his head on a swivel so that someone was always watching their flanks and rear. His pulse was pounding in his ears, so loud he thought that the others must surely hear it. He'd never been up against odds this long before, and he had to fight down the instinct to get twitchy. Deep breaths helped steady his hands.

At first, everything went so well that Rance hardly felt necessary. Cillian and Jax moved together, covering each other, and as soon as they encountered resistance they dropped it simultaneously. They were like the two fists of a shockboxer, working in tandem to unleash precision violence. Rance just stayed toward the back, still keeping an eye on their rear, making sure to stay stealthy and fall into cover whenever he needed to. If everything went like this, he reflected, they might just pull off this absurd feat of bravado successfully.

Naturally, as soon as he had that thought, everything went to druk.

One wrong turn, and they were suddenly staring down a room full of pirates, easily twice as many as their little group - maybe more. Rance blinked, heard Cillian speak, and then suddenly the air was full of weapons fire. The Fleet Marshal fell back against the wall, his hand rising automatically to return fire, and he could be certain that he'd hit someone at least once in the tightly-packed crowd. The crisscrossing haze of blaster bolts made it impossible to tell if he'd dropped anyone, though; the air was too full of screams and deadly colors.

They needed to run, to lose their pursuers or find somewhere to hole up where the enemy's superior numbers wouldn't be a crushing disadvantage. But Rance worried about Eris. She was experienced, tough as nails, and a crack shot, but she was also old. He wasn't sure how long and far she could sprint before that caught up with her. There was no way he'd let her be left behind, though. He would sell his life dearly to cover her retreat if that was what it took. She'd come too far, done too much, for this to be her end.

Rance started to fall back up the corridor, casting around for the rebel leader. "Come on," he told her, "I'll cover you!"

Cillian Raxis | Eris Volcata ​

 

[Eris Volcata]

When the shooting started, Eris fell into cover on the opposite side of the doorway from Rance; she was pleased to see that their instincts matched up fairly well, for she too lodged herself behind cover and opened fire on the pirates. She didn't have the luxury of precision in this instance, so she went for suppression instead, and if some of her shots managed to hit a pirate -- well, that was just gravy. She ducked back behind the arched doorway as blaster fire lit it up, starting tiny fires that immediately went out after finding no fuel to burn on the sterile metal.

When Rance began to move, Eris leaned into the doorway and peppered the pirates with fire to cover him, but when he called for her to draw back Eris didn't need to be told twice. She gave Rance Draysom a solemn nod, then let him distract the pirates for a moment while she darted down the hall, dodging blaster fire and ducking into alcoves as she did. She darted past Rance, surprisingly agile for someone of her age, her footfalls light on the deck plates. A too-close blaster bolt sizzled past her side, spooking her like a shy horse, and she tumbled forward, sliding a meter and a half along the deck due to momentum.

Thank the Force for my calcium supplements, she thought, then giggled maniacally as she pulled herself into cover around the corner they had turned to find themselves in this mess, then got to her feet. She cast her gaze over to Cillian Raxis. This was his playground, after all. Raising her voice above the clamor of the firefight, she called: "Where do we go from here?"

 

[Cillian Raxis]

He hadn't expected the firefight.

He had really hoped the stealth approach would work, but he was glad that the group could hold their own when the stealth approach failed. Everyone worked in sync, finding cover and returning fire towards the pirates who had taken control of the ship.

The Fleet Marshal had taken cover behind the wall. He clearly knew his way around a fight, Cillian noted. He was returning fire and Cillian watched as one of his blaster bolts dropped one of the pirates. The man was being a gentleman and providing covering fire for Eris.

Eris herself had gotten behind a wall herself. Cillian had lost sight of her a few times, she was surprisingly fast for someone of her age. She was shouting towards him, trying to figure out the directions and figure out where they were supposed to go.

Rylos had moved with Fixer, the duo in sync. Both of them were returning fire, dropping pirates as they kept moving. They were oddly impressive together, shots skimming past them and just about missing them. They were lucky in lots of ways to not be dead.

Jax and Cillian had both moved together like a group. They had taken multiple shots, and Cillian was entirely unsure if they had actually killed anyone. His only focus was on survival, making sure he didn't die. Dying wasn't a fun experience, he was sure.

He had a question to answer. Eris had shouted, and Cillian was expected to answer. After all, he had gotten them into this situation, he had to accept the role of leadership and make sure everyone could get out alive. That was the job of a leader.

Yet Rylos beat him to the answer.

"The war room is the target. We need to keep moving, if we go back out the way we came in we can loop around. I'm sure Jax and Fixer can clean up here if the rest of us keep moving. Once we have some backup from the surviving crew, we can come back for them".

Jax and Fixer nodded along. It was clear that they were okay with this plan, and Cillian trusted them to keep themselves alive. He agreed with Rylos, they needed the extra manpower to take back the rest of the Star Destroyer, there was no way to take the ship without them.

"In the War Room, there's a communicator we can use to bring in the fleet"

Cillian looked to the group, then backed out of the room with two more shots. Once everyone was out of the room, with the exception of Jax and Fixer, Cillian began to move through the ship once again. He knew the direction they needed to go, and he moved with pace.

Finally they had some downtime.

Cillian lead the group down a few small corridors and eventually into a small office. He looked around, the group could take ten. He hoped they would double check all ammunition and make sure no-one was hurt, plus they could have a breather before they moved on the War Room.

Rance Draysom | Eris Volcata

 

[Rance Draysom]

Rance quickly realized he needn't have worried too much about Eris, at least not in the short term. She was surprisingly spry, navigating the firefight with a grace that he was had-pressed to match at half her age. The two of them worked well together, moving in tandem just as Cillian and Jax had done, providing overlapping fields of fire to push enemies back or covering each other while moving. Between the six of them, they had managed to turn what looked certain to be a one-sided massacre into a fighting retreat. They'd been skilled... and lucky.

When Rylos suggested moving on without Jax and Fixer, Rance was a hair's breadth away from objecting. Sure, they'd been able to hold off the pirates as a group, but the two men left behind would be fighting with only a third of that firepower. The alarm had certainly been raised by then, and more pirates would be coming after the intruders; their numerical odds would only get worse from here. But the two men seemed ready to face those odds, raising no objections, and Rance reminded himself that he wasn't in charge on this mission. It wasn't his call.

On the way out of the room, though, the Fleet Marshal couldn't help but wonder if this was the last time he'd see the pair alive.

Cillian moved quickly and decisively through the hallways, clearly intimately familiar with the ship's layout; Rance couldn't have found his way through the Tears nearly as quickly, even after studying her schematics and spending the better part of the previous month aboard her. They encountered no further resistance, at least for the moment; apparently Jax and Fixer were doing a good job of slowing their pursuers down. They paused in an office, and the Fleet Marshal leaned down to catch his breath; it'd been a hard run, and he was winded.

Finally he straightened. "We've got to keep moving," he said, after only a minute or so's rest. "If we don't come back with reinforcements for Jax and Fixer real soon, they're karked. How much further until we get to the crew?" Rance checked his blaster's power pack - still plenty of juice. If they had to fight their way through the pirates trying to break into the crew's last holdout, as they almost certainly would, he was more than ready to play his part in the shootout. "No place for a battle like the war room," he muttered.

Eris Volcata | Cillian Raxis ​

 

[Eris Volcata]

Eris kept up with the men, spry despite her age, and hauled herself through the corridors on their heels. When they reached a small office where they could take a breather, the older woman sank into a chair, trying not to let them see what was plain as day: she was sucking wind with gusto. She busied herself with reloading her power pack until she could talk without panting like an overworked bantha, then stood up and slung her carbine over her shoulder. Without thinking about it, Eris began to rifle through the desk she had been sitting in front of.

She stopped, half-turned towards Cillian Raxis with an apologetic smile. "Sorry," she said. "Force of habit, you know?"

She closed the drawer and turned fully back to the group. Part of her wanted to object to leaving the two men behind, but clearly they had managed the job well, or they would still be under pursuit of the pirates. They didn't strike her as the kind of people who would take time to bury the enemy dead before proceeding after Cillian, Rance and Eris. "Rance is right," Eris agreed, nodding firmly as if to convince herself of the accuracy of his statement. "Is there an armory on the deck? Something they wouldn't have been able to crack?"

She stroked her jaw, running her index finger across her lower lip thoughtfully. "What I wouldn't give for a few concussion grenades," she said, by way of explaining her question.

Rance Draysom​

 

[Cillian Raxis]

"Take what you need"

He looked at Eris as she began to loot the ship. He almost smiled, it was something he would have done. He saw a lot of himself in Eris in a way, except she was clearly a much better leader than he ever could be. He wasn't jealous, not at all.

Sure, not jealous.

It wasn't a long walk. Unfortunately for Eris there was a lack of armories en-route, but Cillian made a mental note to head towards one once the crew was freed. If they were going to take back his ship, he'd need to arm the masses, or whatever was left the masses.

Cillian lead the way through the ship, towards the War Room located deep in the center of the ship. It was one of his fathers smarter ideas, if the main bridge went down they had a whole lot of hull to protect them from death when they retreated to the war room.

Smart man, really.

The corridor was narrow. Rylos and Cillian took up the front, it only seemed right that the crewman joined his captain in leading the way through the expansive corridors of the ship. Every turn lead to a corridor that looked similar to the one they were last in. How anyone could navigate the ship was impressive.

Most of the walls were probably white once, now they were just damaged and neglected.

There it was, directly ahead. The War Room, the target. Cillian lead the group towards it, there didn't seem to be any resistance outside. Cillian almost hoped that it would be an easy mission, that the pirate forces had given up and moved on to other targets.

Then a ray sheild.

It was a very fast few seconds. A ray shield appeared between the group, splitting it into two. On one side, Rylos and Cillian and on the other, Rance and Eris. Cillian looked around for a second, almost trying to figure out what was going on, before he felt a blaster against his skull.

Pirates poured from the war room.

Rylos held the blaster to the head of the young Raxis. Cillian was almost in shock as he was surrounded, a gun to his head. He had grown to trust the man who was currently holding him at gunpoint, and now he felt stupid. He felt oh so stupid.

"Oh how the tables have turned"

Anger wasn't the word, not really.

"Why?"

Cillian spat the word. The pirates all trained their guns on the captain as Rylos kicked him down to his knees. Cillian let out a grunt as he hit the floor, facing his friends. He wasn't sure what they were doing, he just hoped they weren't watching.

"Why? I'm just treating you how you treated my brother. You remember him, right? You remember the night on Corellia where you executed them?"

Rylos was shouting now.

"Tell them how you did it! Tell them how you held a blaster to my brothers head and you pulled the trigger with no remorse! Tell them why you did it! Tell them that you killed my brother and three innocent men because they called you out for trying to buy them off"

"TELL THEM!"

"Tell them how you killed a man and then tried to pay my brother off, and when he refused, you killed him! That's why I did all of this Raxis, because you needed to realize your actions have consequences. You didn't even recognize me, you played right into my hands and it was almost perfect, then you had to bring the extra bodies along."

"Kill all of them. Leave no witnesses."

Rance Draysom | Eris Volcata

 

[Rance Draysom]

Urgency drove Rance forward just as much as self-preservation. The Fleet Marshal hated leaving anyone behind, hated asking anyone to end up in a position where they had to put their lives on the line for him. He knew that, as a leader, he had to delegate, and sometimes he had to put himself first; the Flotilla would very likely fall apart without the supplies he and his contacts provided. But that was a hard lesson for a man who would much rather put himself at risk than ask anyone else to jeopardize their safety, and he tried to avoid it whenever he possibly could.

So Rance hurried as much as he could, bringing back reinforcements the only thought in his mind... beyond staying alert for more trouble. They wound their way through narrow corridors and between dingy, ill-maintained bulkheads, taking twists and turns over and over until the Fleet Marshal was certain that he wouldn't be able to find his way back on his own. And then the reinforced door to the war room loomed up before him, and something in Rance's gut twisted. There was no one laying siege. Alarm bells went off in his mind, long and loud.

Even if the pirates were coming after them now, surely they wouldn't risk leaving the crew's stronghold unguarded. Something was wrong.

Before he could say a word, though, the trap was sprung. Rance jumped back as a ray shield separated him and Eris from the rest of the group, blaster at the ready... for all the good it could do in this situation. In an instant, Rylos had a gun to Cillian's head, and pirates were pouring out of the place they'd been so sure they could find reinforcements. It'd all been a setup, then. Rance cast his mind back, wondering who was involved. Were Jax and Fixer in on it? Jax had shot one of them pirates dead, surely they wouldn't sacrifice their own...

If not for the ray shield, Rance knew, he and Eris would probably already be dead. He couldn't see any way to help Cillian... and as the conversation on the other side of the shield continued, he began to wonder whether he wanted to. Rylos was a traitor, a man he'd never met before, but he didn't really know Cillian well either. What he'd seen was that the Raxis heir was a cold killer, a man with clear darkness in his past. Maybe he took after his Sith grandfather after all. Maybe trying to help him, even to help the fleet, had been a mistake.

But whatever Cillian had done, he was at least still on their side. It sounded like Rance and Eris were about to become collateral damage in this revenge plot, and the Fleet Marshal had no intention of letting that happen. "Nothing we can do for him while the shield's up," Rance said, backing away. If they even wanted to. "This whole thing is a botch, and I don't know who we can trust. We have to get back to the shuttle. I'll cover you." He fell back up the hallway, blaster raised, in case the shield came down and the shooting started...

Cillian Raxis | Eris Volcata ​

 

[Eris Volcata]

There was something wrong.

No resistance, not even the hint of a battle as they approached what should have been the most fortified section of the ship. Her pace slowed a bit as she thought more about it -- keeping up with Rance and Cillian but not quite leading the charge. This turned out to be good news for her, when the ray traps separated her from Raxis and the murderous gun-toting hooligan bent on revenge.

"Well, this went bad fast," Eris muttered to Rance as they watched the melodrama unfold. She was not inclined to believe the allegations, but as they went on -- without contradiction from Raxis -- she found herself confronted with the fact that she knew very little about the man in the other trap. Their shared affinity for the Verge Flotilla had been enough for Eris to volunteer herself for the mission, but it wasn't enough to wash the man clean of his sins, or his past.

"Agreed," she replied to Rance with a curt nod, and hefted her carbine. She gave one last look at Raxis, pity and determination mixed with something else -- regret, perhaps? -- before giving him a silent nod. She'd come back for him if it was possible, but maybe it was better for the pirate holding him at gunpoint to think he'd been abandoned by his friends. Eris turned and hustled back the way they came, her light footfalls soon joining her heavy breathing as she ducked around a corner and turned back to watch for Rance, blaster raised to the ready in case she needed to lay down suppressing fire for him.

 

[Cillian Raxis]

The next few seconds happened fast.

The first shot wasn't fired by either party. Instead it came from behind the two commanders. As the ray shield fell, a group moved in from behind, the back end of the corridor. Jax stood at the front, blaster raised. Behind him, the crew of the ship, all kitted out and ready to fight.

"I found these. Figured they'd be of some help. The shuttle is gone, we need to take the ship"

Cillian shook his head. The fact that this was a trap must have meant Rylos had their shuttle destroyed upon arrival. The crewmen, led by Jax began to take shots towards the pirates, who had finally recovered enough of their senses to shoot back.

There was no sign of Fixer. Cillian noted this in the few seconds that had passed. He hoped that the man had seen some luck, but Cillian was almost sure that this wasn't the case. He hoped that the man would find peace in the afterlife, just assuming he had died.

Rylos was distracted.

Cillian kicked himself up to his feet, knocking the gun from the hand of the man. The duo, pirate leader and now executioner began to brawl as the fire-fight went on between them. A few of the pirates attempted to take out Cillian but couldn't get a clean shot without taking out Rylos.

The duo fought into the war room, trading punches and knees with each other. The firefight behind them was ongoing, the blaster shots could still very much be heard. Cillian wondered exactly where all of this had gone wrong, everything had been going so well.

Rylos shoved Cillian against a control panel, and caught the Corellian with a very sharp punch. And another, and another. Blood poured down the face of the man, and then the pirate king pulled out a knife. Cillian was lucky he moved when he did, or the knife would have gone right into him.

"And now you die"

Jax was his savior that day.

Another punch had connected with Cillian, forcing him to his knees. Just as the knife came for his face, Cillian heard the blaster and watched as the man's body dropped in front of him. Jax pulled the captain to his feet, obviously having heard none of the rest of the conversation.

"They're outnumbered big time out there, we have to go, now"

Cillian didn't even feel bad about taking Rylos' gun. The duo moved, taking shots at the pirates from the back while the crew continued their firefight. So much of him hoped that Rance and Eris had moved to take the bridge, see what was left of the ship.

Cillian fired yet another shot, and hoped this would be over soon.

Rance Draysom | Eris Volcata

 

[Rance Draysom]

Just when Rance was sure things couldn't possibly get more confusing, Jax showed up behind them with reinforcements.

At that moment, the Fleet Marshal didn't stop to ponder where Jax had found the crew, or why they hadn't been in the war room. It was enough that this particular group seemed to still be on their side. Unfortunately, that put Rance in the middle of the firefight that erupted the moment the ray shield came down. Eris, thankfully, had already taken cover around the corner, and was covering him. But the Fleet Marshal wasn't quite out of the field of fire, and in the first few confused seconds of combat, he paid for it.

As he dove for cover, trying to reach Eris's position and blaster bolts exploded all around him, Rance suddenly contorted in pain. His smooth dive roll became a belly-flop as he collapsed, fortunately close enough to crawl behind the corner and into relative safety. It took a moment for him to process what had happened. A blaster bolt had skimmed across his back, just glancing him, but impacting enough to burn through his jacket and sear the flesh beneath in a long, ugly stripe of angry red. It hurt to bend over. It hurt to straighten up.

I've got to start wearing armor when I go into situations like these, he reflected bitterly, gasping for breath.

As painful as the injury was, Rance had been through worse. He knew that he could push through it, and that in the next few minutes, he would have to. If the shuttle was really gone, they were out of options; they would have to join the surviving crew and take the bridge, use the ship against these pirates and mutineers as best they could. With their reinforcements, they could still finish the mission... but it would be an uphill climb. "We've got to get to the bridge," he gasped out between clenched teeth, hoping Eris could understand him.

Forcing himself to his feet, fighting down a fresh surge of agony as his burnt skin rippled with movement, Rance recovered his dropped blaster and followed some of the surviving crew up the hall. It was almost, though not quite, a straight shot upward from deck to deck; the war room, after all, was effectively the more-protected backup bridge. Rance wondered if Cillian had survived the firefight below, if the group who had stayed to take the war room had been quick enough to help him. Just then, though, he didn't care.

They encountered one patrol on their way, but it was over in seconds. Rance locked eyes with a Rodian pirate, those huge black orbs staring into his own as he pulled the trigger and blew a hole through the alien's chest. He wondered for a moment about the pirate's story. In twenty-seven years of life, the Fleet Marshal had been through so much, connected with so many people. He was under no illusions that anyone else's life was any less complicated, or worth any less. The Rodian's surprised face would join the others he'd killed in his nightmares.

But out in lawless space it was kill or be killed. Care too much and you'd draw too slow. Then you'd be the dead one.

Soon Rance stood outside the bridge, the nerve center of pirate activity aboard the stolen ship. Adrenaline had subsumed his pain for now, though it crossed his mind that he really wasn't sure how he was going to sleep for a while; there couldn't possibly be any comfortable position. Maybe flat on his face, if he didn't move much... or breathe too hard. Readying his blaster again, the Fleet Marshal stacked up outside the bridge doors. "Any advice?" he gasped out to Eris. "Like you said, it's my first time."

Cillian Raxis | Eris Volcata ​

 

[Eris Volcata]

As they arrived outside the bridge and found the blast doors closed; perhaps they had seen Eris and Rance coming, or maybe they had locked down the bridge when the ship had been boarded. Either way, it stopped the two from getting where they needed to be, and thus it would have to be overcome, bypassed, or eliminated. But first things first; Rance was injured. Eris didn't have a first aid kit or auto-doc in her jumpsuit, but she had a few emergency bacta patches in the inner pockets of her vest. They were thin enough that they added practically no weight or bulk.

She produced them and extended them to Rance. "These may be slightly expired," she said apologetically, "but they'll keep germs out at the very least."

She turned to the doors, partially to give him some privacy to apply the patches (if he so chose) and partially to start taking the problem in hand. "If the pirates aren't sticklers for maintenance, then we may be able to hotwire the doors. If they're really not sticklers for maintenance, maybe they've booby-trapped it. Won't know til I get the panel open."

Eris counted paces from the right side of the door, then slammed the butt of her carbine against the corner of a panel. She noted with satisfaction as the panel more or less popped off the wall. No explosion followed, which -- while a good sign -- was not quite enough to indicate that there was no trap. "Keep an eye out," she said as she crouched down and began to pull handfuls of wiring from within the panel.

 

[Cillian Raxis]

The firing on the lower deck stopped.

Most of the crew were still standing, they'd only taken minimal casualties. Cillian was glad that they were still standing, they'd be able to assist in retaking the ship, in retaking his ship. He looked around them all, and nodded to Jax. This was his show, after all.

As they walked through the ship, Jax told the story of how he had managed to get free of the pirates and return to the shuttle. Upon returning the hanger, the shuttle was a wreck. He told of how he went to leave just as the crew entered the hanger, looking for their own escape.

One of the crew men told his story.

Apparently the crew had all been taken. They had been housed in the war room until randomly, the doors had been opened and they'd been told to leave. Cillian assumed this was just as the rescue team landed on board the cruiser, Rylos setting his trap. The crew member told of how they'd been escorted through the ship by two pirates and managed to get free by disabling the pirates via their superior numbers.

The rest as they say, was history.

Any patrols that the force may have come across fell pretty quickly, the crew, Jax and Cillian were a sizable number. They were making there own way up the ship towards the bridge, ready to provide cover for Rance and Eris, the two people who trusted him.

He had time to think as he walked. They wouldn't trust him again, he was sure of that. He was also fairly sure they wouldn't want anything to do with him after he had given over his ship. He wouldn't blame them for making that choice either, he probably deserved it.

They were right in front of him, Eris and Rance. Cillian fell to the back of the pack as they approached, tried to not be seen. Jax led the pack, Jax was the one communicating with the Fleet Marshal. Cillian just hid, mostly out of shame, tried not to be seen.

Then the doors opened.

And again, all hell broke loose.

Rance Draysom | Eris Volcata

 

[Rance Draysom]

Rance gratefully accepted Eris's offer of bacta patches; he wasn't about to complain about expiration dates when he'd just been shot across the back. "Thanks," he said, gritting his teeth as he moved the patch over the angry red burn on his skin. It was a hard spot to reach with his hands, but eventually he managed to get his fingers - and the patch - up under his torn shirt and over to the injury. With that done, he moved to cover Eris with his blaster... though he was slightly nervous that the booby traps she'd mentioned might blow them both up.

Mercifully, no fireworks flew. Eris worked quietly while Rance and the others kept watch. He counted his breaths in his head, inhale one, exhale two, inhale three, up to ten before he started over. It helped him focus on something other than pain and his raw nerves. He was hurt in more ways than one, hurt physically and hurt that his trust had been broken - both by Rylos's betrayal and by Cillian's lies. Beyond Eris, he wasn't sure he really trusted anyone aboard the Dutchman. They needed the crew's firepower, though, so he kept that to himself.

After a minute or two of work, Rance heard feet coming up toward the bridge, and raised his gun. He lowered it again when he saw Jax leading the rest of the crew; apparently the firefight in the War Room had gone well. He couldn't see if Cillian was there through the press of people. There'd been a gun pressed to the guy's head, so it was hard to imagine he'd survived. Before he could ask, Eris put the final two wires together, overriding the security lockdown. The hallway burst into confusion again as a fresh firefight broke out.

Rance ducked back behind the edge of the door again, leaning around the corner to pop off a few shots at the pirates holding the bridge. If Jax and company were here, he had a feeling that this was almost over. They had the numbers now, and enough firepower between them to overwhelm this final strongpoint. The only question was how many of them would die taking down the final defenders. The Fleet Marshal had already been harshly reminded of his own mortality. He didn't need to get two scars out of this one mission.

"One last push," he told Eris, "and we can get the feth out of this awful place."

Eris Volcata | Cillian Raxis ​