First Reply The Hungering Void

[Hakon Fett]

DEEP SPACE

The stars stretched endlessly before his eyes, a sea of shimmering lights against the void dancing and flickering on his lifeless T-visor. Hakon Fett stood on the bridge of the light corvette Ramikadyc, its tight quarters squeezing him in like a vice. Once he felt more at ease, even at home, aboard such smaller vessels, yet ever since taking command of the Stormbringer, he'd been spoiled with the vast expanse of the Keldabe battleship's bridge.

But the Stormbringer was gone. Downed in the Battle of Bimmisaari. And while his friend, the shipwright Ormbyr Rook, took it to himself to design and a build a new flagship for the Field Marshal, Fett embarked on a long voyage for distant stars. It had been weeks since they'd left familiar systems behind, chasing whispers of a lost fleet–starships that had seemingly vanished during the ancient Mandalorian Wars. For many it was a wild pelliki chase, but his closest retinue would follow him even to the very edge of the galaxy if he so commanded.

Lost in thought, Hakon nearly tripped over his feet when the deck trembled violently, followed by the deep groan of metal bending under unseen pressure wailing through the bridge. Across the viewport, the endlessly stretching stars snapped back into the familiar pinpricks of realspace.

But they did not linger long.

Before them, a fathomless shadow swallowed the stars. Slowly, jagged edges formed in the darkness–contours of a sleeping behemoth.

"By Manda, is that a dreadnought?"

"Was."

"Half is still a lot."

"Doesn't look Mandalorian… right?"

"No."

"Bev–"

"Gravity well, Hakon. Drednought's emitting a massive interdiction field."

"But that can't be–look at it."

"I know what I am seeing on my scanners. No life support systems, no power, but its projecting a well."

"How is that even–"

"Quiet." Fett callously growled, commanding his crew's attention. His visor never left the derelict once-titan of war consuming the viewport. "Bevik, order Kroum to prepare his men. We'll be boarding this dreadnought."

 

[Sig Dryggo]

The Hungering Void
Tag(s): Hakon Fett
Objective(s): Play the Game

The swirling blue lights of lightspeed always captured Sig’s attention. He used the time to plan. Prepare. He had begun making his moves, his position likely known by a few now within the Crusade. Regardless who knew what or what who might suspect of Sig, he knew he couldn’t let the momentum die now.

As the lights came to a halt and realspace filled the window’s view, Sig stood from his place at the helm. At the co-pilot’s seat to his right was M9 as usual. “It appears Hakon is already here,” he stated dryly, unmoving from his position.

Sig chuckled, “Of course, I haven’t been tracking him for nothing,” he responded promptly. The droid remained silent, aware he had overstepped himself with his comment.

He had been tracking Hakon for a brief time following the downing of the Stormbringer. He wasn’t quite sure what his play would be, but deep space away from the rest of the Crusade seemed his chance to make any such move.

“Bring us opposite their docking,” he added as he turned to leave, “No need to hail them.” Surprise was always an advantage.

While he was a single man against Hakon and whatever forces he had, his confidence didn’t stop him from proceeding forward. Whatever happened next he was willing to take the risk.
​

 

[Hakon Fett]

Half a dreadnought was still a massive vessel; about two thousand kilometers of durasteel, impervium and titanium drifting in the depths of space. Hakon vividly remembered a pirate outfit once hiding their ships, powered down, within the husk of a warship, preying upon scavengers and the like; several small frigates or corvettes could easily be hiding in this dreadnought's maw, with a dozen or so boarding craft on the ready.

As the Ramikadyc floated slowly above the derelict ship, its bay slid open dropping its Mandalorian cargo into the void.Three units of a dozen men, each led by a single Rally Master, plunged towards their designated ingress points–wide breaches in the hull cut open by war. They were split in equal distance from each other, enough to reinforce quickly the other in emergency, but distant enough to cover more ground of the dead ship. Their taget was the interdiction emitter located somewhere at the aft of the dreadnought.

Heavy boots touched solid ground and Hakon could feel the tension slightly lift off a few of his men; some of his retinue had never truly performed any operations in zero-g environment. Even fewer had dared to explore the unknowns of deep space, where doom was oft inevitable.

"Look at that door mechanism–this ship is ancient." noted one of the Mandalorians.

"What… are these?" another pointed at a wall where its panels had long been discarded, lying in a heap on the ground.

"Power converters. Ancient as well." Kroum explained, pulling up close to the bank of converters, long void of any power. "By the size of them–I'm thinking we're on–"

"A gun deck." Fett finished his vod's thoughts as he crouched on the floor, scrubbing a hand over a large power conduit that ran beneath their feet. "Ship has been heavily damaged in battle, but no scavenger ever picked its bones."

"Think it somehow managed to lightspeed out of an engagement, never to be found again?" Kroum asked, but Fett only shrugged, then tilted his head forward, "Let's move on."

As they cautiously ventured forth, the Field Marshal's comms broke alive with Bevik's voice, <"Hakon, we've detected a vessel reverting into realspace. Vector is dreadnought-inbound.">

The Mandalorians halted in place, silent for a long moment as Hakon looked up through the massive holes of the ship's hull where the Ramikadyc calmly floated above their heads as overwatch.

"Trap?"

<"Only one?">

<"Only one.">

<"Hail it for identification.">

<"Understood.">

Aboard the corvette, the comms officer hailed the unknown ship, requesting identification.

Sig Dryggo

 

[Sig Dryggo]

As Sig neared the cargo bay doors of the Dauntless, M9’s robotic voice came over the intercom, “Docking complete in fifteen seconds, though they are hailing us.” Sig smirked and ignored the voice, awaiting the last few seconds before the doors finally opened and Sig was able to bring himself aboard the derelict dreadnaught.

The ship wasn’t in the greatest state. Whatever had happened here left the ship in a truly dire state. Time and the coldness of space only furthered the decay present.

Curious, but not the reason for him being here. As intriguing a mystery this ship presented, he was here to investigate and determine the next moves of Hakon Fett . Taking his time as he moved through the dark and emptied halls, Sig didn’t have his weapons out and kept his hands ready to make it known he wasn’t a threat.

As the ship groaned with each step he took he could tell from the ever so shifted movement of debris before him that Hakon and his own men were nearby.

Turning a corner he was greeted by the flashlight of someone, be it Hakon or one of his he wasn’t sure entirely. Raising his hands he chuckled, “Now now,” he announced himself, “There’s no need to point guns at a fellow Crusader.”

His words weee cutting, intentionally drawing comparisons to the very event that likely brought Hakon here today.

The game continues.

​

 

[Hakon Fett]

The Mandalorians continued onward, their path often winding through sections of the ship that had been accessible only via the destruction that had been wrought upon it. Half of the gunnery deck had been torn off, what remained of it ended abruptly into the void of space and forced the warriors to jet on the deck above.

<"The unknown vessel is not responding to our hails, Hakon."> came Bevik's voice through the comms, halting the unit once more as the Field Marshal contemplated his options. The natural course of action would be to order the Ramikadyc to abandon its overwatch above and engage the unindentified ship on the other side of the dreadnought, but if it was a trap -- perhaps that would be the enemy's goal: diverting their corvette sentinel away.

<"Leave it."> Fett replied.

There was a long pause before Bevik spoke again, <"Are you sure?">

The question sprawled the seed of doubt plaguing his mind and he remained silent, uncertain. Only for the answer to his conundrum to appear before his eyes.

A grimace as deep as a Tatooinian canyon cut through his features beneath the helmet at the sight of Sig Dryggo materializing from around the corner. He blinked twice to ascertain himself it was not a deep space hallucination afflicting his mind. Dryggo still remained, brimming with crosshairs fixated onto his form.

The answer to one conundrum, it seemed, had spawned a hundred conundrums of its own.

<"Hakon?">

<"I'm sure -- it's Dryggo.">

<"...what? Dryggo?!">

The golden-clad Mandalorian cut off the comm line, bringing his attention on the mysterious appearance of Sig.

<"How did you get here, Dryggo?"> he asked the first of a thousand inquisitive questions filling his mind. No order came to his warriors to lower their weapons. That was the lowest of priorities.

Sig Dryggo

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig kept his hands up and present. Though he was ready to draw if need be, he hoped to keep the entire exchange peaceful. Going against his nature was sometimes a requirement for the mission, though it was a ruse he knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t hold forever.

“Heard about Stormbringer,” he acknowledged with a brief nod, “Sad day when a ship like her goes down.” Taking a single step forward his head remained fixed on Hakon Fett while the eyes concealed beneath his t-visor shot glances at those present.

He knew walking into this he’d be outnumbered. A fair fight if it came to that, he had previously concluded before arrival. “When the enemy targets someone of your… renown,” Sig continued, his gaze now back on Hakon, “Forgive me for seeking to provide a vod some extra muscle.”

Lies. Secrets. Manipulation and blackmail. Things the Mandalorian culture looked down upon. Intrigue was hardly the game they were known for. Sig had hoped, then, that his own use of such methods would aid him in his agenda.

He was sorry for the Stormbringer going down. In truth it wasn’t his intention; if anything he assumed it would survive the fight albeit some damage needing repair. The ship going down was a miscalculation that did work in his favor, stripping Hakon of a major tactical advantage. Yet his purpose would never be stated for anyone to hear.

No, he’d employ those frowned upon traits to forge forward his path of glory. Lying to Hakon, or anyone for that matter, was just another step forward.

Whether Hakon saw through the lies, whether anyone saw through them, didn’t matter. Sig had a growing clan loyal to him and his mission, and as long as he remained outwardly a Crusader to the end the rest of the people would believe it. No, he knew that those who saw through the charade would have to play his game to counter him.

It was Hakon’s move and Sig was ready for anything.

​

 

[Hakon Fett]

The mention of the Stormbringer lifted a quizzical eyebrow, hidden in the confines of the golden buy'ce.

<"If you had done your job planet-side, then, perhaps, the Stormbringer would not be a heap of scrap metal now."> Hakon rebuked plainly. But the Stormbringer and its fate did not matter now. The questions piling his mind pertained to Dryggo's presence here.

This strange game of... words Sig played was foreign even to Hakon; and Fett was already known for often skirting the line between Mandalorian traditions and the unorthodoxy of the aruetiise, a by-product of a life spent traversing the stars away from Mandalore and its sister worlds.

<"You've had multiple opportunities to hail the Ramikadyc on our journey before, Dryggo. Why make your presence known now?">

Sig Dryggo

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig didn’t flinch as Hakon Fett commented on his work planet-side followed by his question regarding his sudden appearance. He stood unblinking as the guns trained on him remained fixed in position. “It is unfortunate the battery was damaged during the fighting, I lost a Foundling myself trying to retake it,” another half-truth. A Foundling of his did die, though a dishonorable murder was the true cause of their demise.

Regardless he spoke as if the loss was personal and had left a whole within the Alor. “Never pounce at the first opportunity,” he added, responding to the question of his sudden appearance, “Besides, simply roaming space is hardly anything worth pouncing at. But exploring a derelict dreadnaught? It seemed appropriate.”

Regardless if Hakon himself believed what Sig was expounding upon him and those who followed him mattered little. They had no evidence or proof of anything. Words would only take them so far. For now Sig was confident that he was secured.

Now all that mattered was learning what Hakon’s intention was with the derelict ship and what his next move might be. Sig was at an advantage, he aimed to keep it for as long as possible.

​

 

[Hakon Fett]

"An honorable death, Sig Dryggo." Kroum said, paying his respects to the fallen Foundling of Clan Dryggo before Sig shifted the conversation toward the derelict dreadnought they had boarded. Fett was on the verge of stubbornly steering it back to the hundred questions he had for the man, when the comms crackled to life with the voice of Podrick Farr, a young Crusader leading one of the other boarding parties.

<"Hakon, we've detected movement! But it vanished as quickly as it appeared!">

<"How? Where?">

<"I believe we're in what used to be the engineering bay at the aft. I don't know how! It just... disappeared.">

<"Bevik, you heard that?">

<"Affirmative, Fett."> came Bevik's voice. <"Sensors are still picking up no other life forms but yours.">

Hakon bit his lip, torn between his desire to press Dryggo further and the necessity of their purpose on this husk of a warship.

<"Move out,"> he gestured to his squad before opening a channel to the other boarding parties. <"All units, this is Hakon—rendezvous with Farr's crew.">

They navigated the dim corridors of the derelict dreadnought, weaving through a labyrinth of twisted metal and gaping holes of decks long gone. Flickering lights cast long shadows upon cold metal walls and crumbling bulkheads and shattered consoles, relics of a once menacing ship of war.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the gloom—Podrick Farr, flanked by his team and the other boarding party.

<"Farr, what have you found?">

The answer came from the darkness in the engineering bay up ahead. A banshee's wail, a mythosaur's growl echoing through the silence of vacuum and into their helmet's audio sensors.

And from the shadows, the envious dead rushed at the thankless living.

Sig Dryggo

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig followed Hakon Fett and his fellow vod through the dead halls of the dreadnaught. His mind considered the various questions Hakon no doubt wanted to ask, Sig preparing the necessarily false truths to divert the blame or guilt from himself.

He wasn’t sure who knew what or who believed what. Whispers are often unheard but Sig wasn’t a stranger to intrigue. The shadows and the lowly peasants that lurked them often provided the clearest picture. And the shadows doubted Sig’s intentions. He needed to secure his place within the Neo-Crusaders: a position that would grant him some leanacy while also lending credence to his claims of being for the people.

His thoughts were interrupted. Down the hall was the unsettling sound of the dead. Not the dead being dead, though. The dead returned. Instinctively Sig drew his pistols and raised them forward. The night vision overlay lit up Sig’s HUD. Half a dozen hostiles were rushing towards them; the former crew of the ship, uniforms and clothing torn and ripped apart to reveal the dark infected flesh beneath.

Firing off several shots, he began taking a few paces back, “Not what I was expecting,” he said offhandedly to nobody in particular.

 

[Hakon Fett]

Blaster fire cut through the darkness like a thousand daggers of light, igniting the shadows with a constant, crimson radiance. Even the most fearless of fearless Mandalorians held onto the triggers of their rifles for dear life.

<"Fett, what's going on down there?!"> Beviik's voice cut through the comm-line

Hakon wasn't entirely sure what to say, <"The dead are up – finds us the quickest route to the source of the gravity well!">

<"The dead??">

<"Just do as I say. Now!">

The line cut off, and with it so did the fire of the first rank of Mandalorians as they succumbed to death's horde.

<"Move out! Starboard side, now! Farr, cover our rear–">

<"He's down, Hakon!">

<"Then whoever the feth is in charge next!">

Sig Dryggo

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig groaned. Not from fatigue or anxiety. Anger. Stepping beside Hakon Fett , his pistols still firing at the incoming horde of undead crew, he gave a quick nod over his shoulder. “We don’t have time to sit and wait!”

Grabbing one of the two thermal detonators on his belt, Sig launched it forward through the zero-g hallway. Turning down the hallway opposite himself, Hakon, and Hakon’s kin, he began down it while firing still, knowing the detonator would only do so much.

He wasn’t sure if Hakon and his men would follow but, regardless, the grenade exploded and rocked the derelict ship. Sig raised his hands, bracing himself as the walls threw them all about. As the movement once again slowed, he turned back down toward where he last saw a Hakon.

“Don’t tell me a little detonator did you in?” He joked, knowing his vod was likely alive somewhere in the settling smoke. “We better find that source, no rest for the wicked.”

 

[Hakon Fett]

"Move!" Hakon snarled, casting an impatient glance back at Sig, whose chatter grated on him. Wordless, the Mandalorians pushed forward, pursued by a horde of the undead, a maddening tide that seemed to rise with each step.

They veered starboard, then cut aft-side, weaving through the derelict dreadnought's ruined corridors. Somewhere in the aft lay the source of the gravity well, the cursed anchor mooring them here. Hakon called to Beviik for a strike from the corvette. The corvette's cannons roared, sections of the ship erupting in flames that blocked the relentless horde, forcing the undead to scatter, scrabbling for other paths to reach their quarry.

As they pressed on toward the aft, an oppressive silence thickened, filling the air with an almost tangible dread. Every step seemed to draw them nearer to an unspeakable presence, some ancient malice lying in wait—a dark sentinel bound to the curse that had trapped them in this forsaken vessel, anchoring them to their inevitable deaths.

Sig Dryggo

 

[Sig Dryggo]

Sig wasn't blind to the Force. Despite not being one ‘blessed’ with force-sensitivity, he was well aware of the power and capabilities one could reach. The ultimate illusion of power, in Sig’s eyes, was the Force those who wielded it. It was only reliable to those who had this gift, the unseen ability to manipulate the Force, and only them.

True strength could be obtained by anyone, he believed. Perhaps this belief, mixed with his own personal hatred of the jetii, is what sent a strange shiver down his spine as he and Hakon Fett weaved through the halls of the dead dreadnaught. It was becoming increasingly clear that the sinister heart at the center of this darkness was something only a force-sensitive could conjure. Perhaps scientific in nature at first, it didn’t matter as the darkness within their minds and hearts began closing in, as was the gravity well.

About fifty yards away, down the hall they just turned into, was a door with the words “Grav Battery” painted on the frame above. Behind them was the blood curdling sounds of the dead returned- as well as the sound of their vod joining their ranks, but not before letting out pained and gut turning screams. Terror wasn’t the way a Mandalorian went out.

More proof that the cause of the problem must be a jetii or darjetii of some kind.

As they approached the door, the darkness that swallows their minds seemed to grow into an overwhelming sensation of the senses. So much so that for the briefest of moments Sig hesitated, nearly taking his helmet off his head to ensure what he saw before him was reality and not some twisted vision. He relented and pushed through the senesations.

With no power, he placed both hands firmly at the center of the door and began pulling with all his might. The metal doors let out a scream as they slowly slid open, Sig himself grunting as they required a fair amount of strength.

The large control room was circular shape with the gravity generator at the center of the room, stretched from the ground to the ceiling. Around it were various stations and terminals where crew would operate, maintain, and repair the large generator. With only their flashlights to illuminate their way, Sig and the other pushed in and spread about the chamber.

Moving towards the center, Sig found one of the primary control terminals. Examine the controls for a brief moment, he reached down and attempted to restart the generator. For a moment it let out a low hum that vibrated the dead ship. It however lasted only a moment before dying to silence once more; down the hall the sound of the dead getting closer.

Before he could try anything else, a new noise rang through the still room. One that was all too familiar to Sig, and to any of his Neo-Crusader vod: a lightsaber.

The source of this undead infestation was none other than a darjetii: he himself succumbed to the twisted machinations that claimed the crew. The undead force-sensitive let out a blood cry.

This would be a story they’d tell for ages to come.