TKO: Those Who Remain

[Bryce Bantam]

Incoming transmission ***Bryce, we found them***

Bryce walked into on of the many infirmaries aboard ship and to a man looking sadly at his wife who lay motionless on the hospital bed before him. "We need to move her Foreman Kline, for someone..."

"Someone alive!" The foreman shouted.

"Yes, someone alive," Bryce replied.

There was a long anger filled silence before the foreman spoke again.

"You told me you would save them." He snarled.

"I promised we would do everything we could to save them, but her wounds were too great.."

"Not for you, I know what you are. The masters always talked about your kind and your healing ways. If you wanted her alive she would be. Is this my punishment? My discipline to teach me to obey my new masters. You take my wife from me, even the Sith were not so cruel." He said.

"I understand your pain but there is another who needs this bed, and I need for you to follow me now," Bryce commanded.

"Of course... Master." He replied in an obstinate tone.

Bryce didn't respond this time just waited for the man to stand up and pointed to the door. Instead of heading in the direction commanded the man walked straight up to Bryce and looked him in the eye.

"Station three will never bow to your kind as long as I lead them. You will have to kill us to the last man to claim it."

Pain had hardened the man's heart, whatever was left after the Sith had been driven out that is. Still, the young master had a duty to perform, people to save, and little time to suffer fools. So Bryce again said nothing and only pointed to the exit. As the two left the infirmary the sadness around them only grew for filling every hall were men, women, and children of all species huddled together around what meager possessions they had left. As the two walked passed the foremen's face only grew more stern as they passed many, who had been slaves to the sith only a few weeks ago, and now looked on him and his Sith uniform with hateful eyes. For minutes they walked like this in silence, till the reached the ships port hanger deck.

As they entered they were greeted with a chaotic scene. Transports carrying relief supplies flew past quick dropping what they had for the ships now overflowing population. Fighter craft flew in an out as well, docking up just long enough to re-fuel before blasting off again to try and maintain order in the lawless system. On top of that were the ambulance flights that carried the wounded and the infirm to be treated in the ships already overtaxed facilities. It was through all this confusion Bryce pointed the man to an incoming transport as it touched down only a few meters from them.

Confusion filled the man's face till the transports main cargo ramp lowered and a small girl appeared from the dimly lit ship. Her blond hair was dusty as was her pink dress. Holding a tattered stuffed animal she looked around the bay till she locked eyes with the foreman. A sudden burst of joy filled her dirt-caked face as she yelled out "DADDY!" and ran to his arms.

Bryce watched as, before his tear-filled eyes, the Foreman dropped to his knees and with open arms embraced the little girl. In all this sadness it was these moments he needed to remember. These small pockets of joy that would keep him sane. As the foreman looked up from hugging his daughter he was about to speak when he noticed a boy of maybe twelve or so being helped off the transport by a Hapan Kitsune girl.

The man struggled to catch his breath as the boy was led over.

"Dad, I tried, Mom wouldn't come in the shelter, she said there wasn't enough room. But I kept Tracy save though, just like you asked..."

The foreman leaped to his feet and with his daughter still in his arms hugged his son as well.

"I know you did boy, I know..."

Bryce quickly brushed the tears from his eyes before walking over to the reunited family and addressing the foreman.

"There are more Tracy's down there on Castimeer, more Paul's trying to save them. We need you to see reason Mr Kline, open your station and let in more refugees. You can see we have rations, clean water, and blankets to offer, but we need a place to keep them, off-world where they will be safe. Please accept our offer of help and help others as well."

He couldn't speak as first, only nodded in approval. Slow he came back from his emotional state and said, "OK... ok we will do as you ask."

As the joyful family was led away Bryce walked over to his friend and said to @Kimiko.

"Nice work there, if you didn't pull through we were gonna lose station three. Now we got an ally, at least for the short term. Thank you for heading back down there to look for them, I know with all the death it couldn't be easy. Have a rest and a warm shower if you need too. But, when you're ready to go, please report to [member="Aerin Kath"] on Station 5, @Lok Minin to help salvage me up some more ships to house the refugees or me here on the Crimson Cross so we can tend to the wound and try to gain support with more of the orbital stations."

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

The transport ships that had responded to the distress call from the wreckage of the fated ship strewn about the surface of Castameer had brough the survivors up to this ship.

The medical crew that had checked over the small Mandalorian boy had helped him out of his armor. Now he was wrapped up in a thermal blanket and had a mug of hot cocoa in his hands. He'd found a place where he could sit on the floor, so that he was out of the way. This was a ship he'd never seen before, and it seemed really, really big... but it had Sasori and Sakura markings. He knew those from being around the Silver Jedi people that were like SJ's New Republic type Jedi club thing.

Or whatever Jedi had.

He'd survived the shipwreck with a Nezumi, who had been taking refuge from the cold in the child's heated Eukgar'gam. The ship didn't have cups or mugs that were really Nezumi sized, so the small Mandalorian boy had found a shot glass and they'd poured some of his own hot cocoa into it so that Tabi could have some hot cocoa if he wanted.

Three wasn't really sure if mouse people drank hot cocoa or not. But it would be rude not to have some for Tabi.

[member="Tabigarashu Madara"] | [member="Bryce Bantam"]​

 

[Kat'Lariah Syphex]

THE OSS PRAETOR
Location: Above Castameer, aboard the Howling Dark
Objective: Find a Star Destoryer
Team: [member="Kimiko"], I dunno who else yet...

Drifting through the debris field where four great and innumerable forces had only recently waged war was both daunting and exciting. The sheer wreckage was absolutely astounding. Who knew that if you pitched all the major forces of the galaxy against each other you'd get a whole new asteroid field? Or maybe a backwater dumpster ring..."Eh, either way, free loot for me!" Kat said to herself.

The Howling Dark had already passed several intact ships, yet Kat hadn't given those a second glance. She was after something much bigger.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

"Claw," said Gereth, currently training as her sensor operator. Though fethed if it wasn't weird to see Sir Gereth Descane, Kilian Ranger, wearing normal clothes instead of ring mail. "Talon-class carrier. Heavy damage to weapons systems and engines, but the spaceframe appears largely intact."

Mara snorted. A twist of the control knobs sent her ship toward the wreck he'd named. "Sure, because you shoot a cardboard box and the bolt goes right through clean. But you're right: slap a couple big seals on the holes, pressurize the hangar space and troop quarters, clean out the dead, and this'll be pretty much perfect for refugees."

The Scar of Ilum nestled up against the three-hundred-metre derelict like a parasite latching onto a Kilian mammoth. Gereth made to stand; on her way out of the cockpit, Mara put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into his seat. "Loot of a thousand worlds here," she said. "Keep your eyes peeled while I'm in there, yeah? Be ready with the crybaby and the tractor shrouds, just in case."

She let go of him and left the cockpit. The maglocks would hold solid enough for a basic cofferdam to keep a seal, assuming the pocket carrier's airlocks worked.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Last time the young Munin had come to the Castameer system, it was white with ice and snow.

Now it was all red with volcanoes and lava after what had happened to the Omega weapon and the Rogue Sith.

In all honesty, Lok was hoping he wouldn't have to see the likes of this eventful planet, but he was here to provide relief and aid to the unfortunate that had to suffer and endure from the catastrophe of Castameer. His job was to apparently salvage from the treasure of vacant ships that were out there in the void of space. He bet [member="Runi Verin"] would have a blast of just seeing the sight of so many ships that could be salvaged from and be turned into something of value.

"Let's hope this salvaging thing is really fun."

Never had the teenager ever done salvaging in his life. He thought it'd be a boring habit for someone as they would have to be stuck on a ship and find a handsome and promising hulk of metal.

"Alright, who's with me so far," the Mandalorians said in the Underground comm channels to those that were helping him out with salvaging hulks of starships for a temporary place for the homeless of Castameer.

 

[Aerin Kath]

"Alright kids, time for a crash course on fixing orbit engines, anyone willing can just jump on in. Crew left on station 5 are mostly harmless as most of them don't want to die a horrible death on re-entry of the atmosphere, in fact all of them would rather live." the young man pauses as if to check on a message from a crew member on a data-pad clutched in his hand, "Oh, guy named Onner just offed himself... my condolences to his family, but we gotta get this thing back into a safe orbit ASAP," he concludes this with a rather anti-climactic turn and a chuff of his sturdy work boots in the direction of one of the failing engines. His now normal duster almost flows around him as he jogs through the station in a half-urgent half-tired manner, he was starting to have nightmares he couldn't quite shake.
His buddy Droid Matey rushes in front of him to the engine. Beeping in binary the T3 Droid gives Aerin a short diagnostic of the engine, stating that it had several easy patches and one giant gash in it's fuel feed.
This is going to be a long job...

 

[Bryce Bantam]

​

Incoming transmission *** There dying Bryce, we need to do something, this planet doesn't have long... ***

The young captain breathed a deep sigh as he crossed the threshold of the ships ready room and shut the door behind him. He had just completed a full tour of the halls, taking time to offer medical care as he went. With the ships impressive medical capabilities already overloaded may with non-urgent needs had been left in a quasi-limbo while they waited for treatment. Bryce had taken it upon himself to ease the burden and took a few hours out of each day to walk the halls and let the force guide him to those most in need. To be honest it was as much a tonic to his aching conscious as it was charity. He knew they were playing god here, choosing who could live here. Or die a slow painful death on Castimeer below.

The strain of so many hurting was beginning to wear on him if he was to be honest, death hung heavy in the force and he had taken to using stims to help him power through the day. Flopping down into his desk chair he placed his head in his hands for a moment and rubbed his temples. Reaching over to a desk drawer he opened it and took out a bottle of white pills. Shaking two into his hands he placed them on his tongue and washed them down with a large gulp of water he got from a glass that rested on the desk as well.

As the drugs set in Bryce let his mind drift and soon it wondered to a young red haired night sister and the question [member="Tilzi"] asked him. "Why did you get married?"

Good karking question indeed... Months back he had mistaken a marriage ceremony for a man's last rights and had agreed to marry his daughter. That led to him inheriting a ship yard, a noble title and one hell of a scheming ex-wife. Oh yes, ex-wife, she had already heard of his ship crashing on Castimeer during the fight again the omega. Somehow got footage of the crash and cut it to look like there were no survivors. Claimed my death, took the company and ran off into the arms of another man.

He never got a chance to tell Tilzi this, not before the poodoo hit and fan and this chain of events left him here, commanding a three thousand meter long ship over a dying planet. He needed to do more, somehow he needed to so more. Who hadn't he called, what favors did he have left to cash in?

He had already put a message out to his master, The King of Kesh [member="Solan Charr"] , asking for supplies and refuge on Kesh for all he could take in. He had called [member="Judah Dashiell"] seeing if his generosity he had extended to the people of Demonsgate could again be offered to those on Castimeer. [member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"] had not only arranged the delivery of much-needed supplies but was even risking her own life among the wrecks of Castimeer to try and salvage even one more so others can be saved. [member="Aerin Kath"] , [member="Lok Munin"] , [member="Kat'Lariah Syphex"] , [member="3X744"], [member="Kimiko"] , they were all doing their best.

Would it be enough?..

 

[Aithne Charr]

[member="Bryce Bantam"]

Bryce would get a simple reply.

"Been a while Ginger. I don't know what you are doing or what it is that made you contact me now, but there is plenty of space and supplies on Kesh for what ever Refugees you have with you. You better explain later over a drink for not coming in person though... stay safe if you are out there doing something stupid. Got it?"

The message would be sent from his palace, where he had been staying in the time after the Omega weapon's destruction. He had not worried, knowing the peoples of the galaxy would mop up the Sith that had been left over. Infact he was more curious what it was that Bryce was doing. He was unsure of his old student's actions lately, hardly ever seeing him even with Kesh right outside the Kathol Sector. Probably too busy freedom fighting to visit the young tyrant in his palace. Even if a benevolent one, he was still a tyrant.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

The maglocks didn't skid, the cofferdam held, and she pried off a bitter-cold access panel to splice in a power supply. The local circuits smoked, but the airlock cycled. Clad in a space suit, with a huge plastic roll on her back, Mara popped a glowrod and headed into the Claw.

The daughter of two shipwrights -- her father a functional amateur and her mother one of the great masters -- Mara instantly spotted a hundred design flaws. These pocket carriers had originated in the days when the One Sith were looting the Core and throwing the proceeds at specific corporations, demanding military materiel in bulk and quickly. Corners, it seemed, had been cut. At the very least, she'd have done things differently.

In fairly short order, she found herself at the breach. She'd been on derelicts before -- the frozen dead didn't startle or scare her -- but the breach point unsettled her. A spacer trusted in a good hull, and this one had yielded to a two-ton hypervelocity slug like a stick of butter resisted a bullet. An inswept flower of metal, distorted and elongated by the slug's passage, surrounded a broad gap. Ultra-thin tendrils had cooled to edges that could lacerate her suit. She waved her glowrod out the breach and Gereth blinked the Scar's lights in acknowledgement.

She got the plastic roll off her back and split it in half, then unfolded one half into a durable seal. It would have to go on the outside of the ship; the inswept edges, the metal flower, offered no purchase. But from outside, the hole was little more than a dimple surrounded by stress fractures.

 

[Tabigarashu Madara]

Hirou hadn't been entirely certain about this... heated chocolate.... at first either. But now the Nezumi was drinking it with evident pleasure. Even though the shot glass was still a bit too big and they had to hold it carefully in two paws, the little creature was thoroughly enjoying the experience.

Perched on [member="3X744"] 's knee, they put the shot glass down momentarily, trying to lick the chocolate off of their whiskers.

It was kind of an ordeal, but totally worth it.

Blinking slowly, Hirou turned their head, ears flickering. A moment later a pair of humans came stomping past, murmuring indistinctly to each other. The Nezumi's eyes followed them until they rounded a corner, before looking up at Three.

"It's bad down there. Isn't it?"

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

There were lots of adults running around.

Some were doctors who were running off to help people. Or patients getting something to eat in the cafeteria. Or paramedics blowing through like the breeze.

"I... I dun really know, Tabi," the young clone remarked, looking over the top of his hot cocoa at the mouse-person perched on his knee. "But... but I don't think it's good down there, that's for sure."

To be honest, Three wasn't even all that certain of what planet they were in orbit of. Just that there had been some Sith stuff down there, which was why the Underground had come here. And why the Underground was still.

...which, were they really the Underground if they were hanging out in giant spaceships telling people they were the Underground? How did that even work?

[member="Tabigarashu Madara"]​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Bryce Bantam"] ,



Sorry I haven't responded to you sooner. Things have been a bit hectic but I suppose they are for everyone in the galaxy at this moment in time. I trust you are well? I've seen what has been going on at Castamere, Salacia was there salvaging before the big explosion. Made it out in the nick of time though.


Enough about what is going on my side. Charity won't be a problem. I think there is an urgent need so I will be contracting out with an aid organization and paying for a donation of supplies. Refugees are also welcome on Celestia Station, which is a bit away but if someone is looking for relocation it might be a good opportunity, even if only for a little while.


Salacia vessels in the Kathol Outback will be redirected to your location to help give aid. Direct them as you wish, my crews will be on notice to follow your command until further notice.


-J.Dashiell

 

[Bryce Bantam]

The morning came with the same oppressive sadness last evening left with. Four hours sleep was a luxury during this time and Bryce longed for the days when he was able to get a full rest of almost eight. Everyone probably looks back on their youth with rose colored glassed, well those who had a non-abusive one anyway. Bryce was no different, even though many traumatic events had unfolded then he still only really remembered the good times.

Pulling himself from his bunk he looked over at the other officers still sleeping. He had ordered even the command crew into hot-cot setups, they could not afford the luxury of individual rooms and had given over all theirs to the refugee population. Today was an important day and he needed to be ready. All seven of the orbital station foremen were to be on board today. Two were already allies, as three and five had sworn on to help. The other five stations remained stubbornly defiant. unwilling to risk taking on any more refugees for fear of being overwhelmed. It was a valid concern but one Bryce hoped to squash with today's rounds of negotiations.

How he was going to do that was the main issue...

 

[Tarok Vassket]

[member="Bryce Bantam"]

It turned out that getting back up to fight had been a bad idea. A really bad idea. The blaster bolt had done serious damage to internal organs leaving her requiring major surgery. Everything in there had been put back together but she had been confined to a bed to recover.

The drugs now controlled most if the pain and the risk of infection had passed. She had asked to be sent back home, to free space for one of the slaves of castameer. The medical droid had curtly rebuffed her. Perhaps it had heard about the other droid. She needed to stay still, wait for scans to check the progress of internal healing, then have an artificial skin graft.

She wasn't in much pain, but she was bored. Tilzi was only young still, the days seemed to stretch out. Left with plenty of time to think she considered how much she missed home, yet could not bear to live there for long. It seemed too small. It struck her that she had made few true friends since leaving. Perhaps, she thought, it didn't help matters that she was rather prickly and mistrustful around outsiders.

With a sigh she tried to roll into a comfortable place, only to experience a hot flash of pain. Coughing was the worst. A book would have been good right about now.