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Unaware that their route back to the hangar is blocked, Catalys and his men continued onward.
So far they have managed to avoid combat. It would appear the ship's troopers were concentrating their focus elsewhere, but where he did not know for sure. The handful of personnel and crew members the five crossed paths with were circumvented with quiet and carefully planned movements. Their walk throughout the ship proved slower this way, but being locked down in a combat situation on such a large vessel was not ideal.
The agent provided a few hand motions, and one of the four operatives acknowledged. She moved forth from the group and slipped into the open room, finding a power conduit. She removes an ionic explosive device and subsequently plants it along the main line. Should it go off without a hitch, the device would likely short power throughout the entire section for a few hours.
Most likely it wouldn't affect emergency reroutes--which would maintain life support and gravity--but at the very least, and it was their hope, the nearby security would go down.
The operative removed herself from the room, and the bomb's timer had only a few seconds to go...
Atrina moved through the ship carefully. She was closer now to any fighting than she had wished to be. Her task during the battle was to help keep this ship afloat above the planet by any means possible, which mostly meant leading repair teams throughout the corridors and either protect them, or preferably route them away from active fighting.
But now, and her way back from a coolant leak, she heard the faintest whisper of a lightsaber being deactivated, just after a terrible crunching noise. She ordered the repair party back into the safety of the service lift and went to investigate the situation.
She found the back of Cedric, staring down the hallway at a rather large cathar, with weapons at the ready. Atrina could see the sheer amount of energy in the room, her force senses all but clouded by just how much was happening.
Atrina found herself walking towards the skirmish, pulling her lightsaber off her hip. She walked just behind the Archlord, slightly off to his left.
"Looks like you could do with some backup," she said, just loudly enough to be heard.
The worst part about being forced to bend one's knee or will, even temporarily, to a superior force was how prolonged it was. The ship slowly drifted towards the maw of the Dominion's supreme flagship, so slowly, and it was nothing but a humiliation. Hopefully, a temporary humiliation.
"There is no surrender —"
He had underestimated the Archlord. Though he was like the Jedi, soft and weak-willed. No, this one was perceptive enough to see the necessity of cruelty, skillful enough at blacking out the parts of his heart that would cry out against the slaughter of surrendered prisoners, to handle a threat in a manner worthy of any true Sith.
The comms were muted on their end as he had been listening for instruction, so he didn't wait to let Cedric finish before he burst into action. Hurling the robot backwards and taking manual control of the ship, something he was loath to do for fear of damaging it, moving in a rush.
"Abraxas, shoot down the tractor beam!"
He turned on the ship's cloak, which came up with a quick hum of static, breaking whatever automatic targeting might have been on their location as the ship vanished from the enemy's sensors. The time to take aim and switch over to manual, or even to realign and account for it might be critical in saving their lives. Grimacing, he pressed the ship, flipping it slightly at an angle as it was held fast by the tractor beam to present as little of it to the impressive artillery array aimed on them as possible, and pushed at the thrusters, bringing all the systems online as best he could.
The interceptor groaned as it strained against the force of the tractor beam. The volley was surely on its way, and his life was in another's hands for the second time in the compass of a day. He grimaced and pushed forwards, hoping that all was not in vain.
Vaylin let out a low growl as her blade met Teresa's yet again. She had hoped she had been quick enough to land a blow, but her opponent was quicker. It seemed to be one of the woman's more significant traits. Much like how she had managed to cover a large distance swiftly, without a single heavy step. She was agile and silent. Were this any other situation, Vaylin would've admired someone who shared similiar attributes as her. Albeit, her opponent did seem to lack the same thirst for blood.
Her earlier comparison to the maalraas had not been too far off then.
The pain in her left arm persisted as she tried to put more force against Teresa's lightsaber. But even her efforts to use the pain as fuel, produced no result. Even when the woman's defence slipped, enough so that Vaylin's blade was able to pass through and tag her leg. The armored fist that came with it knocked Vaylin off balance, sending her stumbling towards the right wall.
Vaylin's hand went to her cheek, gloved fingers grazing the impact area. Her eyes immediately fixed towards Teresa, a look of surprise on her face. Which soon morphed into an almost giddy grin. Vaylin did quirk her head to the side a little when the woman removed her mask, and saw the face beneath it. Something a kin to a 'not bad' look in her eyes.
It seemed Vaylin was half right and half wrong with her initial comments.
But she was quick to move past the distraction the moment she noticed her opponent clipped her weapon back to the belt. Vaylin charged, not wanting to give the woman the chance to do whatever she had planned. She was already invested in her charge when she could feel the floor beneath cracking, and didn't even get close enough to Teresa before it caved in.
It was a short distance, and Vaylin fell landing in a crouched position - palms down against the floor. In the descent she had disengaged her lightsaber, but the hilt remained in her hand. She hissed in pain moving her left arm, the sudden impact sending ripples of pain up it. Vaylin looked up and realised she was encased in darkness.
She smiled, knowing well enough what game she now entered.
So you want to play in the dark do you?
Whether it was the jungles of Dxun or the depths of a facility on Sarnus. The darkness was all the same, and Vaylin was familiar with it.
With a silent dash to her right, she began the hunt.
The Jedi known as Grayson was unexpectedly cold, even for a servant of the Light. But this, this course of action proved there was a darkness brewing within the man's soul. Something profound and writhing, wallowing in despair and pain.
The Jedi was breaking.
Perhaps the backstabbing cruelty of betrayal was more than the Jedi could bear, for not only one of his comrades had turned on him, but a secondary asset that proved to be just as vile and manipulative as its counterpart. But alas, the hatred and distance from the Light's call was best suited for those that were never embraced by its blinding stupidity, those that could think for themselves without the limitation of a sainthood that so many of the Jedi clung to, but never really held to begin with.
Cedric Grayson was by no means any more qualified to call himself pure than the ones who parade as slayers of injustice.
This very moment proved how frail the Light truly was.
Upon hearing the cue, Abraxas jumped ino the gunner's seat and took hold of the controls, his darkly clad fingers mashing down on the triggers without hesitation as he aimed for the tractor beam. A barrage of cannon fire spewed from the interceptor, racing towards the acquired target.
Location: The Acerbitas, Irn Allies: The Dominion - [member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Azalus"], [member="Atrina"] Foes: The Primeval - [member="Catalys Maijora"], [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"] Gear: See bio.
Too much talking, not enough action. Even this infuriating little creature leaning against him provided more entertainment than these two bickering buffoons. His client talked too wildly, something about darkness and the giant cat-thing retorted with more dark laughter and bellowing threats. Fools, thought Xalus.
Despite his predisposition to violence and action, the gen'dai was vigilant in his efforts. The second his client's lightsword snapped to life and the Togorian pirates charged forward, he was already raising his flechette launcher to bear upon these vile creatures. The smart tagging feature combined with his armor's integrated targeting systems made short work of marking all potential foes and fed them right to the weapon.
A trigger squeeze here, a trigger squeeze there. The canister propelled out and then burst open just before slamming right into the boarding party.
Clack. Clack.
Fresh magazine. Xalus turned his sights on the seemingly biggest Cathar; clad in battle armor and a penchant for extreme prejudice.
He lifted the pistol, taking aim, and squeezed the trigger twice.
Location: Irnfall
Objective: Defend the city Gear: Lightsaber, armor
Allies: Dominion [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Grace Darkson"]
Enemies: Primeval [member="Ardgal Raxis"] [member="Kiran Vess"]
Music: To the Abyss (FFTA2)
"The enemy forward shields are down" the lead anti-aircraft gunner commented, while their own surviving aircraft were passing overhead.
"Snipers, aim for the enemy anti-aircraft gunners; they are exposed. Also, anti-aircraft, aim for the enemy anti-aircraft treads"
"The distribution of thermal detonators is complete" the logistics officer reported.
"What took you so long?"
"It appears that, in the rush to get deployed, we might have overlooked some aspects of our equipment"
The enemy anti-aircraft ceasing to shoot at them was a blessing in disguise to some but not to all of them. Some aircraft that previously took hits from the enemy AA without being destroyed just succumbed from the damage they took in the SEAD mission. But, at the same time, there was a nasty surprise that awaited them: they lost power from the moment the enemy destroyed the main power plant. The enemy expected the main Dominion army to be in the spaceport, and then proceeded to smash a roadblock and effecting a bombardment that ended up leveling every building within two blocks of the city's main power plant, covering roughly a radius of 200m around the main power plant. But because that section has been mostly evacuated, the civilian casualties of leveling that area were minimal. The Dominion might have lost a few soldiers in that area but the area was otherwise low-priority. Gotta grant them that much: the Primeval army has a much better protocol now, she thought, while realizing that maybe a dozen of the surviving anti-aircraft emplacements, which weren't that massive, taking up a 2m cube each, would be able to fire at the treads of the enemy convoy and potentially penetrate those. Each AA emplacement having its own power generator, it could keep going off the main power grid; they were designed for use even on planets that may not even have native electricity sources. However, the city hall needed some time to get its own backup power generator online, and same goes for the spaceport. In the meantime, the holomap projector inside the city council chamber is dead, and so was the communications console: understandably, Jessica preferred using the communications console to issue orders to various units, but now both her and her subordinates are forced to use their personal wrist comms.
"We lost power, we are bringing in the backup power online" the chief communications officer reported.
"Tank squadrons 1 and 2 in hull-down position for flanking at range" one of the squadron commanders told Jessica after being in position to flank the enemy convoy.
"Now, missile troopers: fire" Jessica ordered now forced to use her wrist communicator, and equally forced to switch channels on a dime. "Infantry companies Selkath, Tambor, enter the sewers; use the sewers to sneak underneath the enemy convoy and throw grenades underneath the enemy vehicles, and then retreat back into the sewers"
"Roger, roger" the commander of the Selkath company acknowledged, before Jessica turns the channel to the encrypted channel leading to [member="Grace Darkson"].
"Get the Atrisian Guard to flank the enemy convoy; a rear attack might not be the wisest choice here"
With two of the four tank squadrons positioned hull-down in an attempt to flank the enemy convoy, still as tightly packed as ever, the 24 tanks opened fire on the front elements of the enemy armor convoy, while there was still another volley of 36 precision concussion missiles fired at the front rows of the enemy armor convoy by the T3-Bs, while an extra volley of 25 precision man-portable MiniMag missiles were fired from rooftops. Meanwhile, the remaining bombers returned to the spaceport to be rearmed with heavy ion bombs: however, the surviving fighters remain in the airspace above Irnfall. The enemy still thinks that I am massing forces at the spaceport; they don't suspect that, at this time, two companies of infantry armed with grenades are tramping down the city's sewers in an attempt to intercept the enemy convoy from underneath them, she thought, knowing that, if they blew the street underneath the enemy convoy, they may well force the enemy anti-aircraft to fan out, and then become vulnerable to piecemeal assault. In time the two companies, which were the closest elements to the enemy convoy, or so the holomap indicated before it went out, snuck inside the sewers and then would find their way where the enemy convoy is: usually sewers had the same street-level signage as the streets above them. I hope that my internal Force-map is good enough to keep track of the main elements until the holomap returns: this is taking up a lot of my computational power. My own computational power is finite, I'd rather have some in reserve if the enemy infantry somehow broke through to the council chamber, she thought while sighing not long thereafter.
"Selkath company ETA 1 minute and closing"
"Good: the enemy doesn't suspect anything"
So the two infantry companies were to perform a hit-and-run attack on the enemy convoy from the dark manholes, courtesy of the power outage, on pretty much the whole forward half of the convoy, and then throw the thermal detonators away from the manholes and underneath the convoy of enemy tanks and anti-aircraft vehicles. Explosions rocked the areas underneath the enemy armored vehicles, with some of those having two grenades detonate from underneath them, others only one; the infantry units assigned to this job swiftly retreated inside the manholes and back under the sewers they went after their grenades were thrown. The Resurgent Empire or the Sith Ascendancy would simply launch an unsupported frontal assault so that their own commanders could make a beeline and engage the enemy commanders in a duel: that's what their protocol is all about, based on what Yula experienced among the Sith Order, which later splintered into these two entities, she thought again, now reflecting on how she was engaging the Primeval's main army, which was probably led by someone that didn't fight alongside the Resurgent Empire or the Sith Ascendancy, or even the Sith Order before it.
As the blaster bolts lanced through the darkness of the void and shuddered off the tractor beam's shielding, the manual targeting had begun to act in its due course. Turbolaser fire hailed down from the sky, growing worryingly closer too their actual position. He pushed the accelerator further, his eyes smoldering with intense desire and veiled fear. This was not how he was going to die — not in some metal box, like any other soldier or slave, dashed to pieces in the void of space. That was not his birthright and it was not what he had fought for.
The beam shuddered, and its hold flickered for a moment. Just enough. And yet it was also just long enough for their executioners to do their work. An arc of red slashed through the interceptor, and it flickered into visibility. Then another. Sirens blared, red lights flashed, and smoke and sparks poured out of the structure. Had he not shifted the angle of the interceptor, it would have taken those hits head-on, to the hull. Its meagre shielding wouldn't hold up to the massive weapons.
Breaking free in a second's worth of dysfunction in the tractor beam, the ship careened forwards. Close, closer to the Acerbitas, out of where the fiery plasma death could turn and aim effectively... not that close, not that close! The ship turned downwards, bucking wildly in inexpert hands as Antherion poured his power and concentration to not be flung about the cockpit. It lost the outer shell of the upper area against the electric hissing of the flagship's shielding as it plummeted through the emptiness to the only refuge they knew: the hangar bay that they had just been expelled from.
It was a rough landing. Very rough. Antherion ended up draped across the controls, his breathing somewhat labored. The magnetic locks of the ship, no, of what had used to be a ship and was now a smoking, scrapped coffin anchored it to the bay's floor with ironclad firmness. They had escape death here, out there... but where wouldn't it follow them? He waited for just a little bit too long, then spoke. "Status report."
Side Thrusters: Offline
Life Support: Functional
Rear Thrusters: Offline
Engines: Offline
Hyperdrive: Offline
Short-Range Communications: Functional
Long-Range Communications: Offline
Weapons Systems: Damaged, Functional
He pursed his lips. They were alive... for now. He turned to his ally, curious to see if the man had anything else to say. He had a rough idea of what to do next... but it was reason to wait a moment and be scarce. Revenge could wait, if not for long.
These were the only things Abraxas felt at the moment as he gathered himself and cracked his neck. The shock of the crash had made his body stiff within his armor, his joints aching and bruised. They were back at square one, and as of now, escape seemed to be a tricky sort of deal that was still being bargained in the process. The Sith looked to his ally and then back outside of the cockpit.
"We will not sit here in such a paradise for very long. Yet it would seem our options are limited."
For a moment, Abraxas thought of disregarding anything his comrade would have to suggest, just to unleash mayhem upon the Acerbitas' insides. With the way the picture was painted, the Dominion would not leave the pair alone until one or the other was severely wounded or dead. And the only rational course of action to take was to be aggressive, to assert the perspective that death was not for the traitors, but rather for the weak.
But realizing the mutual benefits of the partnership at hand, Abraxas instead discarded his rash urges and turned back to the Seed thief.
"Make a decision before I begin to act upon my own."
A cold, callous tone took place within the Sith's voice. He was growing tired of the games.
Tai watched them leave with something of interest and amusement.
The irritation of his former apprentice was almost palpable. Oh, he hid it very well, but Tai had taught Vitor all that he knew and that meant there was a connection there, a subtle bond that the Thirriken could tap whenever it was necessary. Though this time that had not been necessary, the irritation strong enough to simply spread and coil around their connection until it arrived. Tai understood the frustration, of course. If it had been completely up to him, he would have conquered this entire station on his own with no assistance.
Neither from Vitor nor from Vanja or even the troops that were amassing slowly in these hangar bays.
But no matter how much he wished to do this... the truth was that you needed back-up, assistance, a helping hand at your call during operations such as these. Pride and desire and hunger said one thing, but you needed to ignore them and focus on the true part.
"My Lord." One of the outlaws and mercenaries had stepped up, waiting patiently, while the Thirriken had been studying the designs of the Port himself. No, there was no way they could have handled this thing in a military fashion. Every single corridor and choke point would have been used against them, until the victory itself would have costed more than the profit of the station.
"Yes?"
"We have received word from the Blood Monarch." It was quite annoying how this Twi'lek seemed to have about twenty-dozen different aliases and handler names, but that was the cost of business, Tai figured. "She is ready to meet you at your earliest convenience."
The Thirriken nodded patiently.
"You look quite menacing in your new outfit, Lieutenant." In truth this mercenary was one of his trusted Lieutenants from the Vigor Outfit. Most of the people grouping together in these hangars were hired guns, mercenaries and outlaws, but he had been patiently inserting his own men for a while now. The masses could handle shooting and intimidating, but they had little in the way of true experience with command.
His people were different in that regard.
The Lieutenant snorted, before shaking his head in disgust. "I look like a barbarian in loin clothes, my Lord, no offense meant."
It did not surprise Tai that his Lieutenant wasn't happy with his wardrobe, of course. You did not graduate top of your class in the Imperial Academy, lead your company through several wars for the Sith Empire, retire early within the Centrality, before rising up to man its defenses just to be happy about having to pretend being some uncouth gun-for-hire.
But such was the sacrifices they had to make.
"Your sacrifice will be noted, Lieutenant. Ready my escort. It is time to put up a show for these people."
The soldier slammed his fist into the region of his chest, the thunk of armor clashing against armor sounding loudly and uncompromising, but no words were spoken further following the salute.
Instead he simply turned around and started gathering some of the more rough and experienced soldiers under his command, leaving Tai to simply wait and ponder things.
Location: Antherion's Stealth Interceptor, the Acerbitas Objective: Embracing the Will of the Gods Nearby Allies: [member="Abraxas"], [member="Thengil Ri'Shajirr"], [member="Catalys Maijora"] Nearby Foes: [member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Vorian Adasca"], [member="Atrina"]
The Force, the gods or spirits, these things help those who help themselves. And given the situation was bad -- locked in one's barely-functional ship with an increasingly bored, sociopathic warrior of the Dark -- and could only honestly worsen if left to itself, he needed all the help he could get. He started with assuaging the man from doing anything that could potentially end up with the both of them blasted to nothing or drifting as frozen corpses in the void.
"We can't go our separate ways." His voice was a harsh emanation, but it held no malice, or even a hint of anger. Merely firm, almost kind-seeming patience. "Our fates our now tied. We must stay firm. And right now... that means our best chance is remaining here, securing our position, and obtaining what help we can."
As he spoke, he tapped out and tested the short range communications. He had a number of encryptions available, but he chose to simply send a general message out to anyone who might acquire it on whatever might be heard, with hope that it would fall on sympathetic ears. There was no point in hiding, no point in concealing one's intent. Their intent was known, their location was known. All that remained was audacity.
To all Sith, Primeval, to all who can hear -- we have secured a Dark artifact of the dominion. Our coordinates are in this message. We require extraction. Strike a blow against the enemy of all of us in aiding us, and expect great rewards.
As he set the message to broadcast on repeat, he turned to face the man. "I will try to cut the head off the serpent from where we are. You must defend the ship until help arrives to get us out of here. We have some defensive systems, and the main left laser cannon still works. If we fail... we die, the seed falls back to the Dominion, and it will all have been for nothing."
Then, he immediately stepped slightly away, and quickly pulled himself together, sitting in the lotus position. He closed his eyes and murmured words of severing and darkness in High Sith, cutting himself off from his five senses. In a space empty of sound, of taste, existing as a mere deaf-mute presence, he sought the true enemy, the familiar aura, the striking and offensive light that burnt cold and harsh near the lion-hearted GenoHaradan ally.
Now I finally have a retort to whenever he tries to hold the Abyss incident over my head, at least. He thought, wryly. Gathering his thoughts and presence like a viper coiling, he struck. It would begin slowly at first, as it was a thorough, cautious working that suited him. Whispers echoed in the Old Tongue, from lips who had learned it when it was still freshly spoken. Words of beckoning, of falling night and the enshrouding darkness that comes from a world draped in the void. And then, the fire, burning, burning away all within sight as reality gave way to the inky blackness of the space between minds.
The gratifying crunch of metal against plastoid and the resulting give left Thengil awash in a macabre euphoria. The foe flew backward and landed in a heap, only to struggle to his feet, helmet partially broken. Thengil could see youthful features beyond, brow yet unmarred by age. Once again, the human proceeded to engage in lengthy conversation. He caught snippets of the words, but the sounds of battle drowned them out and in truth the latter were far more intriguing to Thengil's ears: the blood-curdling roars of his corsairs; the skittering sound of sc'rath colliding against armor; the whine of blasters; and the panicked screams of the injured or dying.
Slow, easy steps led the Cathar forward through the midst of the melee, side-stepping a blaster-bolt here and leaning out of the way of a wild scimitar swing there, but steadily making his way toward [member="Cedric Grayson"].
Without preamble, a mercenary raised a pistol and fired twice.
Flechettes took Ri'shajirr full in the torso, slowed only somewhat by the armorweave and biofibers of the exosuit. Hot metal perforated fur and flesh. White-hot pain seared through Thengil's senses, dampened only by the dark alchemy worked into his gauntlets. Warm, sticky blood dribbled down, caught between the suit's underlay and his own body.
Reflexively, he lifted up a gauntleted paw. The second shot sounded and Thengil felt the impact against his gauntlet, followed by the sharp metallic twang of a ricochet. Parts of the upper forearm burned and stung.
Suddenly, the words of the cub sounded in Thengil's mind with perfect clarity. The boy's thoughts trailed against Thengil's mind with a touch as forceful as it was precise, seeking to pry him open like a prize oyster with surprising skill. Thengil could not stop images coming to the forefront of his mind unbidden: the cloaked Sekairo transport which they'd used to enter the hangar. Nor could he conceal his true purpose. It reared its head, fully aware that reach seemed to exceed grasp yet defiant in its stubbornness.
Yesss.
Ri'Shajirr began to move again, padding forward through the pain, paws open.
I came to break. I came to cleave. I came to harrow and thresh. To separate the wheat.
Blue sparks danced between his claws.
From the chaff.
Paws splayed and threads of lightning burst from them to race through the corridor, flooding toward all those standing in his path.
[SIZE=11pt]Shorarri roared in anger. Boarders thought they could attack the Acerbitas without consequence. Well they were dead wrong. The usual peaceful wookiee was now rabid with anger. They had interrupted the quiet hours of his time in which he used to carve beautiful wood works. In fact he was in the midst of carving a beautiful female wookiee whom he had loved in the past. This was to be one of hundreds he had carved of this woman. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Each and every carving was her when she was dancing. Each carved so that it might capture her beauty and preserve it forever… For now, now she lie with the great trees of Kashyyk. It was now that the invaders thought to invade Shorarri’s time of peace. So, it was now that they would be apprehended. [To arms brothers! We shall capture our foe and put them to trial!] Shorarri roared as he placed the carving down. He was in the midst of a barracks filled with a platoon of elite 501st troopers.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Each had been in the midst of doing something when the alarms blaired. Now that they were alerted they knew what to do. They adorned their armor and equipped their rifles. [Our foes will know justice!] Shorarri roared again. By now all his troops had rallied behind the Wookiee and were fully prepared for combat. Shorarri exited the room and charged the through the halls meanwhile the 501st took up cover positions, while others of their company moved up. It wouldn’t be long before they discovered their enemy.[/SIZE]
"My men do not attack without provocation, your pilgrims are clearly not soldiers, they are murderers, my inspectors have been fired upon, I bid you good luck and farewell." Bartic closed the channel with the other vessel.
Bartic turned to the bridge crew, "Bring the fleet up to battle ready and have two thirds of the fighter screen move to engage the large vessel, the remaining A-wings and half the remaining X and Y-wings move to engage the pirates harassing the inspectors."
He then tapped a few commands into the console in front of him, it gave the astromechs in each craft the ability to override the commands issued by the pilot if something were to happen and they were unable to complete their mission it also gave only a hand full of people the ability to issue new orders to the droids.
Boethiah found herself deep within her own mind, the words of [member="Darth Ophidia"] a faint whisper.
As the force continued to beckon her further into its reaches, the Cathedral itself is now under attack.... Meanwhile the rest of the fleet maintained its course through the thick of the nebula, cut off from their lead ship in ignorance of the battle behind them.
"Weapons are online, captain."
"Fire!" The older man orders.
From the jaws of death came a clamor of hellfire. Hundreds of turbolaser blasts followed the ignition of two helix warheads, their target not the ships but the asteroids around them. For like the boarding party and their escort, the fighters too must weave through the daunting field of ice and metal, the concentrated weapons' fire spanning further and further into the cluster.
The superheated beams split through and crack the obstacles, sending innumerable pieces of shrapnel-like chunks the size of houses in every which way. The sudden forces of asteroid chunks smashing into each other caused them to violently stir about, shuffling through space and crashing into each other. It would be easier for a mouse to dodge rainfall than a starfighter to maneuver the debris.
Despite the impressive display of firepower, the Cathedral's shields remain recharging for the behemoth chose not to draw from its redundant generator. Sizable pieces are sent back towards the Cathedral itself, smashing into the thick armour and crushing the superficial shell.
Torn pieces of underlying durasteel fling outwards with the destroyed batteries and lifeless crew drift about in space.
Boethiah opens her eyes during the tremor and the young witch rises...
OOC: [member="Zaz Tal'Verda"] - I know you changed your previous reply, but if anyone is landed/landing feel free to write them getting on board so they don't get chewed up by the debris.
Location: Asteroid Field, Chiloon Rift Allies: The Primeval - [member="Boethiah"] Foes: The Dominion - [member="Bartic Myth'rand"] │ [member="Zaz Tal'Verda"] │ [member="Dune Rhur"]
As the ships surged from the ship in droves, The Slave set down the knife he was playing with. A slow and beautiful tension rose in his stomach, watching as the entirety of their fighter and bomber wings rushed after the Cathedral ship and the small interception squadron he sent out to deal with the transports. Malicious and cocked, his grin grew wide with anticipation as his words rang out to the various groups under his command.
“Now. It’s time to show them their sins.”
Words daisy chained between ships, a slow electronic pulse that bounced within their asteroid walls and natural camouflage. Like an aftershock following the quake, ion engines began to come alive, a series of lights flared and guns pulled from their metallic sleeves. These men, although ship fliers of varying degrees of experience, and many of them little more than lifetime fleeters with nothing more to their name than the broken seat they sat upon; carried with them an energy that was as strong as the Force itself. In them burned the crimson passion of a man backed into a wall, a wolf who understood their only escape was to go for the throat.
In this they found a unified strength.
The Slave’s own pilot lit their own engines, bringing them around with the rest of the makeshift fleet in a wide arc to flank the three ship column that attempted to transgress on the Primeval and her holy lands. A wide and holy fleet of persecution in the form of pirates, miners, and trained dogmatic warriors. Each of them pushed their engines into overdrive, covering the distance between the two in mere moments, coming from the bow of each.
Within moments, their beating energy would be on the enemy, signalling the beginning of their exodus. To the flames of their soon to be carcass, The Slave slowly began to cheer; the vagrant curls of his lips the first step in a long session of hedonistic celebration.
"Sir the enemies turbolaser batteries are online!" Zaz heard his pilot call over to him. Though the statement needed not be said, immediately after his words thunderous explosions rained around Zaz and the other assault craft. Lucky for them the turbolaser's were not targeting their own convoy, instead they were aimed at the asteroids surrounding them. Two turned to twenty, twenty turned to hundreds, and all felt to drift in the way of the transport ships.
Evasive maneuver's were taken as Zaz was pressed into the back of his seat. Once again he opened the comm unit to Bartic, yelling loudly over the channel. "Bartic! Target the enemy turbolaser batteries or this is going to be a short trip!"
Meanwhile on the surface of the Cathedral ship a squad of the Cerberus Shock Troopers had breached the ship's hull and were securing the area. Zaz blinked twice over his helmet's HUD, linking their signals to his own display.
The Cathedral ship finally opened up and it wasn't at him. The Bith felt a little surprised until he realized what the enemy was doing. A field of ice and rock would present a deadly obstacles for [member="Bartic Myth'rand"]'s incoming fighters and [member="Zaz Tal'Verda"]'s transport. At that point his targeting computer began registering new targets.
"Director Myth'rand, be advised of heavy debris incoming. They've targeted the asteroid nearby."
"Also, we have incoming. I'll do what I can to delay them but it won't be for long."
Next he switched over to Tal'verda.
"Commander, I'm pulling away to deal with enemy fighters. Whatever you plan to do, do it fast. I have a bad feeling about this."
Dune peeled off his strafing run and banked towards the ragtag enemy resistance. The suddenly larger asteroid field would present an issue. But it would impede them too and he had an advantage. A lifetime of Jedi training made for hair-trigger reflexes. He was going to need them.
Vitor listened carefully to everything the Givin explained. Despite the latter's belief that their information gathering on Menicha was below par, Avendahl still felt overwhelmed by all the data.
Port Menicha was a mess. That was the only conclusion he could come to.
The Sith realized this would be a long and complicated mission. He wondered whether the Twi'lek would be up to it. Avendahl dreaded the thought that she'd act on impulse when the choice was given to harm the Smuggler Queen.
Especially, if that was the worst choice to take.
"We'll pay a visit to the Hounds of the Rift." The Sith decided. "You say they do have activities in the assassination sphere?"
"Indeed. Good choice. Whoever had murdered the council members might've come to the Hounds first, perhaps? Or they might have heard news from smaller competitors of theirs in the Port." The Givin nodded thoughtfully.
"What's the method of murder?"
Guul shrugged in disappointment. "We do not know. Investigations were done behind closed doors under the supervision of the other council members' own forces."
"Interesting. I feel like solving this murder will crack open this impervious shell that Menicha is. Right, then." Vitor observed before turning to Vanja. "We'll be going to Hounds territory and begin our investigation of this murder."
"Quadrant B-41. A lot of them hang out in Riko's. A cantina, home of the scum." Guul added shifting his gaze at the Twi'lek.
"I expect you not to take any rash decisions based on impulse." She would know what he exactly meant.
