Just Getting Warmed Up

[Palara Iscandar]

The Raider II-class corvette Fearless exited hyperspace in the midst of a battle. Even as the stars resumed their twinkling as points of light rather than streaks, an Imperial II class Star Destroyer was exploding just off their port side.

"Capitain!" Imperial Knight Parala Iscandar was not a bridge officer. She did not pretend to be one, nor did she appreciate others assuming that role where they had little previous experience. She had made herself clear on those points before, and she was not aware that those occasions had greatly impacted her credibility and esteem with the bridge crew of the Fearless.

"Shields up!" the captain ordered. "Ready all weapons."

"We must first tell friend from foe before we begin firing upon our enemies, mon capitain," Iscandar said. "Put out a transmission to Lord Atrapes!"

They had a scant minute to take stock of the situation before the Decimator arrived, and Iscandar was sure that her compatriot, Knight Vissica, would order a boarding operation before doing anything else. Without a way to tell friend from foe however, Vissica would just as likely land on the Knight-General's own ship as an enemy's.

"Knight Iscandar!" an ensign at the communications station shouted out. "We have contact with the Knight-General's ship!"

Iscandar rushed over to the commstation. On the display was not Atrapes, but a deck officer.

"Knight Iscandar, Lord Atrapes spoke of your imminent arrival. Good of you to join. Feel free to lend your ship to the fight, if you would."

"It is not my ship. 'Owever, we could do with being able to tell 'oo we should be firing upon, yes?"

"Ah, yes," the officer turned and spoke a few words to an ensign, before turning back to face the display. "We are sending your ship the IFF codes now. Good hunting. I shall inform the Knight-General of your arrival immediately."

The screen went dark.

"Well, 'e was personable, no?"

"Captain! We have data on the battle sphere. Bringing it up on display now."

"Very good. Let us find ourselves a worthy target, gentlemen."

And with that, the batteries of the Fearless trained upon their first target, and rained fury upon it.

[Rolth Wygraant]

Aboard Decimator the transition from the swirling ether of hyperspace to reality was jarring. As the vortex collapsed into shrinking pinpricks of light, what seemed a speck in the distance grew to immense size in a heartbeat, as a pitted and flaming star destroyer's conning tower tumbled towards the bridge in a rain of spall. Captain Wygraant's eyes widened, ice water dumped into his veins.

"Evasive maneuvers!"

A bull siren blared at a deafening din on the bridge as the proximity klaxon sounded. Turning a star destroyer was not a graceful feat of astrodynamics. It required a proverbial committee to set about at angering the laws of physics in ways dignified men frowned upon. As the inertial compensators lagged laughably behind the millions of tons of durasteel already on vector, Captain Wygraant, along with half of his bridge staff, fell to the floor in a scrum. The looming chunk of dead star destroyer tumbled close enough to see the blown out windows of the forward bridge...and then sailed blissfully clear of the shield generators and comms array.

Finding himself halfway fallen off the command deck into the crew pit, Wygraant carried an oxymoronic look of calm flummox. Lips pressed taut, he propped himself up on his hands as a Lieutenant helped him up to the deck.

"Be a lad and mind the shields, would you. It seems the Knights intend for us to earn our pay today."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The double doors to the bridge slid open, letting the looming figure of Matatek Sel Vissica pass. If she had been disturbed by the havoc wrought with Decimator's desperate brush with doom, she seemed chillingly aloof to the fact. The Selonian stood on the center of the deck, arms crossed high as her thick tail slid against the glossy floor. The panorama view from the observation deck afforded her a vista of space pregnant with destruction and battle. A bizarre comfort for anyone other than a Selonian warrior raised from birth to embrace war as her destiny. Black eyes fixed ahead, Vissica's tongue flurrped across and over her flews, as if to taste the chaos in the vacuum.

"Find me an enemy."

Captain Wygraant was still salvaging his dignity, so Vissica took a quarter turn to her right to find the next tool at her disposal. Commander Belgen, Wygraant's second, was already headed to the war table as his comms officers sent and received data to and from all known quantities in play.

"My Lady, incoming telemetry from the Fearless."

Vissica turned from the view, stalking to the war table as the holo emitter projected the entire scope of the conflict before them. Fearless hovered in staggered port bow array, her small dagger hull glowing friendly blue to match Decimator hovering unmoved at the locus. From the ships painted enemy red by the transponder codes, it was clear the sort of foe they now faced.

"Traitors." Lady Vissica rumbled with a baring of teeth.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Imperial Star Destroyer Decimator, this is Raider II corvette Fearless. We have sent you the telemetry detailing enemy and friendly vessels. Have you received?"

The staid voice coming through the comm system was completely at odds with the view of the Fearless in the battle itself, taking on two Lancers and an escort carrier at the same time.

"We have confirmation that Lord Atrapes is present aboard the Allegiance Cruiser Arbalest. When possible, make contact."

The transmission fuzzed, coinciding with a large flash in the corvette's shields. Despite the furious flash of turbolasers and missiles, the voice once more, quite calmly, spoke.

"Do try to avoid another collision also, would you?"

[Rolth Wygraant]

Wearily, Wygraant fussed with his uniform, tugging the hemline of his jacket down in a crisp motion of both hands, then drawing up to center his cap on his head.

"Duly noted, Fearless, thank you." he replied in a tight-yet-upbeat stiff upper lip fashion. There was a demeanor to Star Destroyer men. Even in the hottest situations, one must not lose their cool.

"Right then. Helm, bring us to zero three two mark three three five. Steady cruise."

The starfield began a lazy turn in time with Wygraant's edict. Ahead, the beleaguered form of Arbalest fell into vision, beset on her port by a Victory class Star Destroyer. The Acklay, if the enemy transponders read correctly. Lady Vissica wanted an enemy, and he'd found one at his nearest convenience.

"Battery, adjust portside for volume of fire bombardment. It's rather time our turbo lasers were used for more than a jungle fireworks show."

The aye aye came from the crew pit as Wygraant regrouped with his executive staff at the war table.

"Begin firing."

Not dwelling on the immediate results of his offensive, Captain Wygraant looked down the table to his left as Wing Commander Karnel took his place at calling the field of battle.

"Scramble Aurek and Cresh for supremacy. And signal Arbalest that we are in play."

[Rossos Atrapes]

The Arbalest, and it's hulking mass, dominated the warzone. Over two kilometers of hulking warship translated to a massive amount of firepower, and it spread its gospel of devastation across the battle with the verve of a true disciple.

Knight-General Atrapes watched the battle indifferently from his position on the bridge, flanked by deck officers.

"The enemy are trying to group some of the fleet together, and bring volume of fire upon us. Break up their formation by destroying the Annihilator and the Indomitable," he said. One left to impart his orders, while an ensign ran up to the Captain.

"My Lord," the Captain said. "The Decimator and the corvette Fearless have joined the battle."

"Signal Decimator. I will speak to Knight Vissica."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

As the vanguard squadrons from Decimator rallied into a defensive spearhead to give the warship space to deploy her might further, a comms officer bounded onto the observation deck.

"Lady Vissica, Knight General Atrapes summons."

The Selonian's muscular tail slid across the deck, thumping audibly as she gestured in command to her subordinate.

"Transmit his signal to my chamber."

A turn of her head aligned Captain Wygraant in her sight, already hard at work in meshing his battle plan into the greater effort. Nothing needed to be said, as the Imperial veteran sized up Vissica's severe countenance upon him with a grim nod as he resumed the ritual of war playing out before him. Vissica exited the bridge, taking the near immediate left to her chamber, where she fell upon the dais as the doors clanged shut behind her.

"What are your orders, Knight General?"

[Rossos Atrapes]

Atrapes regarded Vissica intently.

"Ready a shuttle, and bring the Jedi to me immediately. I will then have another task for you."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Knight General's desire for his prize would not be thwarted by a mere battle. She admired Atrapes for his singular focus, even at the expense of slaking her thirst in the destruction of traitors.

"I depart at once."

The hologram terminated as Vissica drew up from her haunches into a lengthening stride that cleared the sliding doors of her chambers. She did not bother to return to the bridge to inform them of her intention, and instead hastily stabbed at her wrist comm with a clawed fingertip.

"Captain Wygraant, have the prisoner loaded onto a shuttlecraft and prepare a fighter escort."

They would be delivering precious cargo in the pitched moment of open battle. There was no room for assumption to be made.

"Ready my fighter."

[Rolth Wygraant]

"I understand, Lady Vissica. Wygraant out."

Cutting the audio feed at the war table, Wygraant wrung his gloved hands as he surveyed the field. Caught between Arbalest and Decimator, the Acklay had wisely opted to attempt to break the pincer by turning to face the smaller Imperial I cruiser. The Knight General's flagship currently unleashed unfettered devastation upon Indomitable and Annihilator who threatened her starboard. It was far from a certain affair, but it was a manageable one.

"Commander Karnel, ready the prisoner's shuttle for debarkation, and stand by Shadows Seven and Eight for escort."

Wygraant's eyebrow arched in intrigue.

"Ready Knight One as well."

Karnel paused in the midst of allocating floor space in his bay, glancing up from his duties.

"Lady Vissica is taking the field?"

"Yes it should appear so."

The Wing Commander's lips pressed taut as he tapped a display that delineated every fighter rack aboard the warship. Lady Vissica's fighter was unmistakeable. The TIE/ad stood in stark contrast to the standard balance of interceptors and bombers in the roost. Sorting the queue priority, Karnel passed the order, sending the requested fighters along the deployment carousel to appropriate berthing racks for deployment.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

It took some minutes for the deck crew to assist Lady Vissica into her custom flight suit. Under any other circumstance, wearing superfluous clothing was an invitation to degrade her battle readiness. Here, it was a requirement. The bulky suit was half climbed into, and half secured by two deck hands, who quickly ran down the bevy of seals and hoses that needed to be checked to ward off the danger of hard vacuum. If anything, the added bulk of the flight suit made Vissica seem somehow larger and more imposing. As her striding boots thumped against the deck, she caught sight of her attending Shadow Squadron escorts, already fully sealed in their black space suits. Cradling her helmet in her hands, the Selonian Knight briefed her wingmen as briefly as possible as a lambda shuttle was loaded with precious carbon-sealed cargo beyond.

"Stay on the shuttle's position. Destroy any who attempt to get in it's way."

Breaking the impromptu huddle, Vissica cradled her helmet with both paws, slipping the custom head covering over her Musteloid head. The seals clicked and hissed in a satisfying hermetic embrace. In her cocoon, sound issued tinny and distant beyond her, fighting to compete over the steady whir of her respirator. Lady Vissica glanced up the ladder leading to her crimson-hued TIE/ad, and began the long climb up. Once there, the Selonian slinked over the hatch and negotiated her way onto the gravity couch, her flexible spine and digitigrade legs compacting her long frame into place. The hatch of her pilot's pod clammed together with a thunk of magnetic seals, and the berthing rack carrying both her fighter and the two Shadow interceptors began to trundle on a massive superstructure over the roof of the hangar bay. Below, the Lambda shuttle was catching air, turning about on the deck as it pushed for the atmospheric shielding. It would need to clear the field and fall below the hangar recess to deploy it's wings.

Lady Vissica adjusted the controls of her fighter, checking power readings and weapons arrays as her paws grasped the yoke. Commander Karnel gave his launch clearance, and the fighters dropped their moorings in unison. Reaching her senses out to their fullest, the Selonian steeled herself to cross the threshold.

[Vance Felline]

"Shields are holding at sixty percent full, sir."

"Very good gentlemen," Felline said, hands clasped behind his back, viewing the battle through the viewports. "Continue point fire on all starfighter elements. Turbolasers, mark the VSD Acklay. Full power shots. Every third should be an ion blast. Let us weaken their shields."

"Aye sir."

"We haven't been in a fleet engagement for some time," Felline said as Knight Iscandar moved to stand beside him. She looked at him curiously. He offered her a staid smile.

"It's like coming back home."

[Rolth Wygraant]

No sooner had Lady Vissica entered the void then Captain Wygraant adjusted his strategy.

"Helm, adjust vector pitch zero four five and roll three three zero port inclination."

From the crew pit, his order was reciprocated in a shout.

"Adjusting pitch zero four five and rolling three three zero port. aye!"

Commander Belgen was already on top of the planned strategy, placing the all-stations call to battery to prepare for Wygraant's disposal.

"Captain, battery command stands ready for sustained barrage."

As Acklay sought to break out of it's difficult position by directly challenging Decimator, the larger capital ship dipped and rolled to meet the Victory destroyer's advance with it's full dorsal batteries arrayed against the traitor's ventral hull. Threading the gap between Arbalest and the Acklay, Fearless charged ahead nimbly, harassing the slower Victory cruiser with barrages to it's starboard. Captain Wygraant watched all of the action unfold on his board in real time, then turned to separate himself from the conclave of his executive staff, pacing down the observation deck to get a full panoramic view of what was about to take place.

"All dorsal batteries..."

A gloved right hand raised, two fingers flicking forward.

In the maelstrom of debris-strewn space, Decimator's entire array of heavy quad turbolasers cut loose in unison, met in full by the entire supporting upper battery field. Unceasing fusilades of green thunderbolts raked Acklay's ventral hull, stitching across shields that wouldn't long suffer the torrent, and heading dangerously close to the traitor ship's hangar bays and the prominent aft quarter bulge of it's matter annihilator superstructure.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Below the Decimator and her thunderous barrage, the shuttle ferrying Kyle Rayner to the Knight General was underway at full speed. Couched into a diamond formation of TIE fighters, it flew close to a drifting mass of blackened hull from a dead star destroyer, using the mass of debris as cover against enemy action. Vissica headed the convoy, adjusting her sighting controls as she matched the Lambda shuttle's top speed in her TIE Avenger. They were clearing the defensive screen put forth by Aurek and Cresh squadrons, and preparing to ford the no-man's space that lay between Decimator and the waiting Arbalest.

"Close up formation." the Selonian growled into the comm as Shadow Eight drew tighter on vector.

"Watch for enemy fighters."

In the upper panes of her cockpit bubble, Vissica could see the results of Decimator's bombardment finally beginning to splash against naked hull, pocking Acklay with confined gouts of explosive force.

[Vance Felline]

"Sir, reading shuttle and fighters launching from Decimator."

Felline glanced over at Iscandar. She remained where she was, watching the battle intently for a moment, before turning.

"Ze Knight-General does not want to leave zis prisoner to chance. I will go in a shuttle to ze Arbalest."

Felline frowned, his eyes flicking to the viewports.

"Knight Iscandar, there is a battle going on, you know," he said wryly. Iscandar brushed aside his concern with a scoff.

"Sir! We read multiple squadrons of hostile Interceptors in the shuttle's path. That whole area is covered with fighters, sir."

"Well then, let us give our good Knights a properly clear flight zone then."

"Yes sir."

"Shift power to anti starfighter batteries. Mark shuttle and escort so we don't make any mistakes."

In the meantime, the battle continued to rage, and a number of Star Destroyers began to turn, fighting their way clear of the battle.

[Rossos Atrapes]

"The Destroyers are trying to flee, sir."

Atrapes nodded.

"We've found them. Have the Interdictors activate their gravity wells. Ready shuttles for strike teams."

The Allegiance shook roughly. Atrapes remain unruffled.

"My Lord, shields are down to thirty percent."

Atrapes turned to the deck officer, said nothing, and marched back to the viewports. The captain and his officers shared a small look before returning to their stations.

"Glaive has lost her shields, sir."

"Well, we can't have a much better target than that. Focus fire from batteries four through six on her."

"Aye sir."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica drew in a deep breath as the Force awoke with intention. She felt the deviation in course coming before her scopes could inform her of the fact. Inside her obsidian helmet, the Mustaloid grinned. Finally

"Follow me."

Peeling off vector, Knight One rolled away in a scream of twin ion engines, heading toward the burning skeleton of the destroyer Bellatrix. Similarly, the lead enemy squadron peeled away in pursuit, diving down toward the ruined warship as it left a wake of wrenched and flaming spall in it's death spiral. Vissica accelerated ahead of her charge, knifing her fighter between two enormous deck subsections before they could collide in a blossom of secondary destruction. The lead TIE fighters hesitated, losing her for but a moment.

It was enough.

Snapping her TIE Avenger into a Koiogran turn, Vissica closed her eyes, feeling the sinewy energies of the force draw taut at their most perfect moment. Linked fire blasters cut loose in a spray. The first shot was the soul of perfection, punching clean through unshielded cockpit to flash the traitorous pilot into trace atoms a moment before his ship tore itself to pieces. The second enemy was given time to consider his death, as a solar panel sheared off in the fusilade. Out of control, the wounded TIE plummeted into the dead star destroyer's battery control deck, shattering against the wreckage.

Vissica returned on vector as another pair of TIE's moved on the shuttle. True to their reputation, the Shadow Squadron pilots gave hardly an inch to the traitors', snapping tightly in orbit of their escort as they chased away the clumsy enemy sortie with withering fire. Vissica made the fools pay for their lack of nerve with their lives, pouncing with a predator's assuredness against their six.

[Rolth Wygraant]

The pitch was starting to turn decisively in their favor. Wygraant did not waver from his guard, however. If his experience against the Rebels had taught him anything, it was that a beaten enemy was the most deadly sort. As Decimator's guns began scoring earnest destruction against Acklay and his fighter screens rebuffed the beleaguered destroyer's own offensive sorties, there was trouble growing off port stern. Commander Belgen saw it coming too, leaving the war table to flag down his captain.

"Sir, I've analyzed their formation, and I believe-"

"You saw it too, then. Good man. Alert Fearless command."

Turning on a heel, Wygraant's voice carried back to his staff at the war table.

"Commander Karnel, signal for Esk squadron. I want bombs against those strike cruisers at once."

Beyond the reach of Decimator's guns, a pair of seemingly-routed strike cruisers had come about, and were prowling for an opening to redirect an attack. The Raider II corvette wasn't a prize that would change the outcome of the battle, but if the strike cruisers went unheeded, they could easily destroy the support ship, and follow through with an unimpeded attack on Decimator's aft quarter as well.

Beyond the reach of Acklay's return fire and set opposite the battle line, TIE Bombers began to deploy in a double chevron wave. Once clear of the close fighter screen, they would be unprotected momentarily before they eclipsed the range of Fearless and her anti starfighter batteries. It was a necessary risk.

[Palara Iscandar]

The Fearless did not boast a large hangar. It was seemingly added on as an afterthought, and only with a mind for transporting officers and a small detachments of marines via shuttles. Iscandar was pleased to see then that all the shuttles were prepped and the marines waiting for orders.

"Lady Iscandar," the hangar commander said, bowing. "Your shuttle is this way."

He lead her to a Lambda IIT shuttle. Part of a number of new designs based on the hugely successful Lambda shuttle line, this was designated a transport shuttle, and its design reflected that, with less armouring, larger engines, more shielding, and sleeker lines than the design favored by the Stormtrooper Marines, the IIA. They all kept the tri wing design that made the Lambda so distinctive.

"Thank you commander," Iscandar said at the ramp. The commander bowed again.

Iscandar closed the ramp as she entered the shuttle and wasted no time entering the cockpit, and activating the start up sequence for the shuttle. Within twenty seconds, the shuttle was lifting off and out of the hangar. Deftly, the IIT turned and made for the Arbalest, weapons primed, and shields at their maximum output.

The battle sphere was chaotic, with Star Destroyers and support vessels, all identical and impossible to tell whether loyal or not, nearly everywhere. Iscandar frowned, taking in the sight of so many Star Destroyers having gone rogue. Who, or what could have swayed that many allegiances?

[Vance Felline]

"Transmission from Decimator, Captain. Two Strike Cruisers coming around, almost directly behind us."

Felline made his way back to the war table, and regarded both of the cruisers intently. Either one would prove too much for the Fearless alone, being larger and more powerfully armed, despite the durability of the Raider class; two spelled certain destruction. And with the Fearless out of the way, the Decimator's aft would be open to attack.

"Orders, sir?"

Felline frowned.

"Let us be the bait. Shift thirty percent power from fore deflector screens to aft. Make heading three four five mark two nine nine, helm. We'll go underneath the Acklay. Full power," Felline called. "All batteries, fire on Acklay's hangar. Transmit to Decimator that we will be attempting to draw the Strike Cruisers into their firing arc. Prepare for a rough few minutes, gentlemen."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica felt the shift in the field without the need to follow her instruments. She peeled away from the sundering wreck of Bellatrix in a throaty roar of engine wake, slinging about so that the distant form of Arbalest could be seen dead ahead. Just ahead of her target, however, lay the besieged Acklay, her ventral hull pocking under intensified battery fire from Decimator. A singing dissonance in the force rang down the Selonian's spine as her TIE Avenger peeled off vector to escape an ambush from a pair of traitor interceptors. Vissica's yoke juddered under the maneuvering stress as she calmly re-sighted her linked cannons for close distance effect, crossing up and over the double-pronged ambush to drive one of her attackers directly into the jaws of Shadow Seven. The interceptor shredded into an ephemeral flash, and the Selonian Knight sang through the embers as the remaining tail gave chase...

...directly into the anti-starfighter battery range of Fearless.

[Rolth Wygraant]

Captain Wygraant returned to the panorama, intent on dealing with matters of the field as they appeared in front of him. An impatient gloved finger tapped at the crook of the arm the hand was crossed into.

"Distance?"

Wing Commander Karnel was prompt on his readings.

"Closing to twelve hundred kilometers."

Still too bloody far. Wygraant's stance stiffened, back bowing slightly as he watched Fearless close ranks against Acklay in an attempt to draw her pursuers. Captain Wygraant smiled at the gambit. Closing the distance on Acklay even in her weakened state and at an optimal angle of attack was risky. But leaving matters to chance so far removed on the flank was certainly more foolhardy.

"Bombardment, redirect your fire to Acklay's forward batteries."

Fire control was a more preferable target, but given their positioning it wasn't a realistic one. Instead, Wygraant would settle for plucking his enemies claws out one at a time.

"Esk squadron status?"

Beyond slugging match of star destroyers, the double chevron formation of TIE bombers was picking up steam. Arrayed in formation, they deviated course only slightly to maneuver past Fearless as they thundered ahead.

"Three hundred kilometers."

Good. The strike cruisers had swallowed the bait, and were steaming full toward the corvette, thus closing the distance needed for the bombers to strike in earnest. Captain Wygraant again took the long walk to the war table, fixing his attention on his bomber squadron as they closed in for a haymaker.

"Overlay our maximum bombardment coverage on the field, Commander."

A pale red circle illuminated the board under Decimator displaying their maximum effective bombardment range. Fearless had just slipped within. If the strike cruisers set the hook, they'd follow shortly.

[Rossos Atrapes]

The Interdictor cruisers immediately powered up their gravity well generators; Atrapes could feel the slight pull even from the behemoth that was Arbalest. Immediately, the Star Destroyers turned in formation and focused all their fire on one of the Interdictors.

"Where are my Knights?" Atrapes asked.

"Still en route my Lord," the Captain replied. Atrapes regarded the war table. The battle was in the loyalists' favour, thanks in part to the firepower and durability of the Arbalest. But the battle had always been in his favour; it had been a running game of manoeuvre from both sides, one trying to keep the other from having the time to flee. Atrapes needed answers, and the men aboard the flagships firing on the Interdictors had them, at least partially.

"Port turbolaser batteries, lock on to and prepare to broadside Victory Star Destroyer Acklay," the Captain ordered.

"Fire on my mark. Three, two, one, fire. Three, two, one, fire. Three, two, one, fire," the weapons officer called.

The six heavy turbolaser batteries linked their fire and unloaded into the Acklay's unprotected aft. The first two broadsides brought down the already listing ship's shields down, and the third crashed with full fury into the engine banks. Heavy laser cannon batteries along the side of the wedge joined in, and the engines began breaking off.

"Acklay is broadcasting signal for surrender sir," a comm ensign called. The Captain looked at Atrapes.

"No mercy, Captain," Atrapes said. "Destroy them."

[Palara Iscandar]

Iscandar only glanced up at the dying Acklay for a moment, before pushing the engines and the IIT closer to Arbalest. The small hangar bay on the Arbalest's ventral hull was open at the very least. And then she saw an unmistakeable TIE/ad flying aggressively through the area, leading a small group of Interceptors into the Fearless's firing zone; the Interceptors scrambled, breaking formation as laser cannon fire permeated the space around them.

"Vissica," she murmured in resignation.

A short distance, relatively speaking, from the battle Vissica was fighting, Iscandar sighted the shuttle and its TIE Defender escort making their way doggedly to the Arbalest. Iscandar sighed once more, one arguably more pregnant with frustrated condescension than any she'd made before.

"Vissica."

[Alexia Sturkov]

"Any plans for when we get back to core, Knight Sturkov?"

"I greatly desire a hot shower that is not recycled water, Captain Jaal." The long deployment to the border had left their supplies low. Water and air was so heavily scrubbed that it barely resembled it's pure form. The good food was all gone, leaving them with nutrient slop and ration bars. Patrolling the border had been a long and grueling task. When it was not boring and uneventful it was insane and frenzied as they battled with defectors like the so called Sons of Coruscant; routing them from every bastion they found was like trying to kill cockroaches in a dirty bar. Just when you thought you got them all you found more under the sink.

That was behind them now. They were on their way back home to the core to resupply, and the rest and relaxation that went with being in dock. She would rather be out there fighting whomever the Empress' finger pointed at. Going home meant dealing with Atrapes and the other Knights, most of whom she had either never met due to her long deployment or loathed so very much that she would rather she had never met them. She shuttered at the thought of being put in the same Temple as Baastain. Atrapes she could stand, even if she hated every second she spent with him, but Baastain made her sick to her stomach.

"How about you, Captain?" Alexia was hardly concerned with the thoughts of her bridge officer, but it was a long flight back to the core and they would be here for some time. She looked sideways at the Captain, the only woman on the bridge beside herself. Alexia handpicked her for the role. There were very few females in the Empire's Navy, and even fewer that had reached a command rank. It would likely have never happened if Alexia had not narrowed the field, so to say. Her last several captains, all men, had met unfavorable ends while stationed underneath her and there was a was short and ever shrinking list of candidates willing to replace them. When nobody else would step up it was a unfavorable long shot at a promotion that she might otherwise never achieve. "I'm hoping to see my family. Been awhile since I've seen my little man."

Ah, yes. Not just a female captain but a mother as well. It took a special kind of strong person to achieve that, and while Alexia found it disgusting she could hardly debate the merits of a person who could handle both those roles.

"Knight Sturkov, we are receiving a combat summons from the Arbarest. High priority." The comms officer called out from his station, and Alexia face brightened noticeably. Not because it was a summons to battle, but because the ship was Atrapes', and she loved the idea of him being under fire. Hurt, helpless, in need of aid. Not just any aid, but her aid.

"Reroute and go full warp." Was all she said before stepping to the front viewscreen. Behind her the bridge sprung to life, and the Captain activated the ship comm. "Attention all crew members. This is Captain Jaal. Our voyage home has been delayed in order to assist comrades under fire. All crew to their stations immediately. Get combat ready. Code red."

"I'm coming Atrapes..." She whispered through a snake smile, a finger stroking the glass of the large viewport.

---

From the darkness of the void the ship materialized, flashing in from warp at the edge of the battle. It's trajectory from the border brought it in at a different angle from the other Imperial loyalist ships; that is closer to the enemy than allies. "Comm the Arbarest, request IFF telemetrics, deploy all starfighters, and prepare all docking bays and med bays in case we take on wounded."

Before her, outside the viewport, a battle was raging. Explosions and laser bursts bloomed and flickered. She marveled at the carnage as hulls were ripped apart and crew vented into space. It was beautiful.

"Come in Arbarest. This is ISD Victrix. Requesting IFF. Awaiting orders."

The data came through, and the ships were painted friend and foe. Alexia recognized several of the names displayed. Iscandar were here, no doubt. Always licking at Atrapes' heel. "Monitor the status of the Arbarest. Notify me should their shields fall." A wicked little smile crossed her face at the idea of firing upon the Arbarest should that happen and removing the blight of Atrapes from her life.

"Route us toward the Strike cruisers. We will assist the Decimator." Alexia called out after noticing that they were closer to the wayward Strike cruisers due to their approach trajectory. Pincered between the two ISDs the Strikes would have no where to run and no hope of repositioning. Behind her the Captain called out for the preparation of all forward turbolaser batteries.

Alexia waited eagerly for the carnage to enfold.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

With the lines of the traitor squadrons broken as they scrambled away from the murderous fusilade stabbing outward from Fearless, Knight One rolled perpendicular to her raking vector, punching sublights hard to peel away from the scrum she left behind. Vissica's gambit had made the traitors commit on her, and now they worked to flee for their lives. In the short time it took to make the enemy commit, the shadows had pushed over the top, heading toward Arbalest and the home stretch. Vissica accelerated to close the distance, drawing her TIE Avenger into the trailing slot as the massive ventral hull of the battlecruiser loomed overhead. To her right, flashes grew in number and intensity as the main batteries of Arbalest at last joined Decimator in the unrelenting assault against Acklay.

"Be quick. That enemy destroyer is near it's end."

The Shadows peeled away as the Lambda shuttle at last reached it's destination. A brief lowering of shields gave both Vissica and the shuttlecraft enough clearance to be guided into main and secondary bays, respectively. The Lambda's low-swept wings rose to meet it's dorsal stabilizer as both craft were snared in tractor beams to guide the rest of the way.

[Rolth Wygraant]

"Captain! the Arbalest is engaging the Acklay with full batteries!"

The call came from the crew pit, and Wygraant didn't have to turn very far to see the fireworks show lighting up the panorama. The Arbalest's array of heavy batteries outstripped the heavy bombardment capability of Decimator easily. With the Victory destroyer's shields already fluctuating to hold off the attack against her ventral hull, the strikes from Knight General Atrapes' flagship were enough to drop the shields outright. Even from their low vantage, clear structural damage could be seen as the turbolaser bombardment rained without end.

"I calculate they've had it, then."

A grim look formed on Wygraant's face as he paced to his helmsman.

"All reverse. Bring us to minimum safe distance, and set new heading two four five mark three three zero."

Above, Wygraant could see entire sections of hull plating boil off the Acklay. The Knight General was miserly with his mercies. Thus always for traitors.

"Maintain opportunity bombardment. Commander Karnel."

The Wing Commander was busy calling an order in, gloved hand pressing fast to the earpiece on his left ear. Harried, Karnel nodded to acknowledge his Captain's prodding for status update.

"Esk is deploying ordinance on targets. Lead strike has lost it's forward shielding. Now regrouping for another pass."

Wygraant returned to the war table, tapping at one of the tokens hovering in close orbit around Decimator.

"Reroute Aurek for escort. We shan't be needing them further."

Two tokens disappeared onto Arbalest's position, as Vissica and the captured Jedi made it safely to the flagship. In their departure, the tokens marking Shadow Seven and Shadow Eight moved in a tight loop away from Acklay, heading back to locus. Just as this happened, another large token appeared on the field, situated behind the enemy strikes.

"Identify that ship!" Captain Wygraant barked, snapping his fingers. For the moment, it trundled on it's vector in neutral yellow. It could be friend or foe. If it was an enemy, they would need to position quickly to counter the sizable force on their flank.

"Vessel identified as ISD Victrix, sir. She's a friendly!"

A collective sigh of relief issued around the war table as the holographic representation of the Victrix changed from yellow to blue. Further down the bridge, a flash lit up the panorama as Arbalest lit into one of Acklay's tibanna magazines. That was likely a mortal wound.

[Vance Felline]

The Fearless shuddered around him like it was navigating through a dense asteroid field, but Captain Felline merely stood at the viewport, watching as the green and red-orange lights of Acklay's destruction cast an eerie display across his face. The Strike Cruisers were in range now, though the faster corvette was outstripping them once more; its heading change was done and all power was routed to their thrusters. The two Strikes had put more power into their thrusters to outstrip the Victrix, which had just come out of hyperspace behind them and was rapidly coming up to engage them, and were turning starboard to pass below the Arbalest to avoid the Decimator and Victrix coming upon from both fore and aft. Despite the danger of the move, the Arbalest was not equipped with heavy turbolasers on its ventral hull, making such a route the safest considering the damage that the exploding wreck of the Acklay could cause.

"Shields are at thirty percent, sir!"

"Calm yourself," Felline said, turning around to face the deflector and shielding ensign. "This is no worse than some of our solitary engagements."

Despite his calm demeanour, he knew that they would be cutting it close the longer they stayed near enough to the Acklay with their shields so underpowered. Any such large explosion would would likely tear the corvette apart, much less the radiation damage that would occur thanks to the lack of shielding.

"Thrusters are at one hundred percent, correct?" Felline called.

"Aye sir."

"Give me one hundred and fifteen. The Acklay's death throes will not take us with them."

[Rossos Atrapes]

"Tibanna magazines hit, sir. Acklay is no longer broadcasting surrender. We're reading escape pods jettisoning."

"Very good. On to our next targets."

Atrapes surveyed the field. The Arbalest, being the largest warship of the loyalist forces, was near the centre of the conflict, directly flanked now by the Decimator on its port side though going in the opposite direction, and on its starboard by the Maleficent, an Imperial II class Star Destroyer. He could see the three Interdictors, Throttler, Shearer, and Hunter, struggling to keep distance and hold themselves against the three command ships desperately trying to all get in range of the smaller cruisers, to bring down the gravity wells holding them there. Two more Imperial destroyers, Garrotte, and the heavily damaged Grim, both were changing positions to protect them and draw away fire.

"Make heading zero two five mark three five zero," the captain called, clearly seeing the largest danger now that the Interdictors faced.

Considering that they had only lost six support ships and two Star Destroyers in the course of the battle, where the traitors, caught by surprise, had lost nearly all but those ships which had already jumped away as the loyalists, including three destroyers, four smaller cruisers, and three support ships, the loyalists had done well. It was certainly the largest fleet action taken by the Empire in months, if not since the Treaty had been signed.

"Lord Atrapes. Knight Iscandar has landed aboard. She is making her way to the bridge presently."

"And Vissica?"

"...N-not yet, milord. They should be docking momentarily."

The traitors still had the three command ships, and one more Imperial Star Destroyer in play, as well as some Strike Cruisers and lesser craft. While the smaller destroyers would have a time dealing with them, once the Arbalest was in position, the battle's only question would be the amount of time it took to bring down the traitors.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Selonian released the hermetic seal of her helmet the moment her TIE Avenger passed the sanctity of the atmospheric field. As the tractor beam transitioned her ship to the waiting docking claw above, she prematurely released the mag locks on her cockpit's hatch, springing it open and leaping three stories to the deck with a tremendous booted thud. With her own greatsaber in one hand and Kyle Rayner's Jedi weapon in the other, Vissica prowled in singular purpose toward the hangar bay exit, not bothering to even slow her long pace as the hangar chief approached.

"Knight Vissica, welcome to the Arbalest."

"Dispense with the pleasantries, crewman." she snarled, whiskers taut. "Where is the Knight General?"

The hangar chief briefly stammered, unprepared for the brusque directness.

"H-he awaits your arrival on the bridge, of course."

Beyond, Vissica could see the gangplank dropping on the escorted Lambda shuttle.

"Have the Jedi delivered to him at once, and get out of my way."

Unwilling to delay a moment longer, the Selonian made for the turbolift that would carry her to her Knight General, to report her victory.

[Alexia Sturkov]

"The Strike Cruisers are fleeing toward the Arbalest."

"We can see that, fool." Alexia replied before slamming her clenched fist into the viewport. "Continue the chase. We will catch them. The Arbalest must be protected at all costs. I do not think I need to remind any of you the cost of failure." The collective gulp would nearly audible, and the already tense sensation in the room intensified tenfold. They knew all too well what happened when you failed Imperial Knight Alexia Sturkov. They had watched enough public executions to know that. They knew very well where the bloodstained deck plates and bulkheads were located.

The Victrix changed it's approach vector to meet the Strike Cruisers. The Strikes were small, together they were both smaller than an Imperial-Class Star Destroyer. They were making a break for the safest escape, but they would never make it. The Victrix was already getting up to speed and could easily outpace the smaller Cruisers. However, by diving below them they were exposing themselves to the least amount of turbolaser batteries. The Victrix began to dive also, moving to pass safely below the Acklay and bring the full bear of it's broadside on the cruisers.

"Strikes are in range of forward batteries."

"Fire away. Aim for their engines. Without legs they cannot run."

The few most forward turbolasers opened up, great green swathes of energy that cut through space, lancing forward at the retreating cruisers. The closest one was targeted, leaving the other unscathed. The engines were taking a beating, shields bubbling and shimmering as they deflected the oncoming fire. They were gaining on them, closing the distance rapidly. Turning on point, they brought even the slightest angle on the cruiser and revealed that many more turbolaser batteries. "Destroy." A new volley began and with twice as many batteries as before they began to tear into the shields of the closest Cruiser.

They held steady for a time, and then collapsed, just as they rounded underneath the wreckage of the Acklay. The engines took direct fire, exploding violently as they were cut to pieces. Immediately their speed slowed. The other Strike pulled ahead, leaving it's lagging brother behind. The engines continued to collapse until they could not longer push the ship. It coasted on inertia through the void, the Victrix keeping pace. "Bring us to a safer distance from the wreckage and angle for full broadside. Destroy them completely. Do it now!" She screamed, anticipation growing too great. Her fingernails scraped at the viewport. Body visibly shaking, knees bent. She was ready. Ready to watch them burn. The turbolasers opened up, and the crippled ship's hull began to explode, like blossoms of fire opening, as the larger ship tore into the much smaller.

It was beautiful.

[Rolth Wygraant]

"Captain, the Victrix has engaged the enemy Strike Cruisers."

"Mm, yes."

The balance of conflict in Decimator's immediate vicinity was nearing total victory. As Victrix prepared to finish the trailing Strike, Captain Wygraant could just barely make out the uniform chevron formations of Esk squadron, already coming about for a second pass. They'd been shored up by Aurek, who now flew in escort to keep the remaining enemy interceptors from the now-destroyed Acklay from scoring any meaningless kills. Commander Belgen continued to analyze the composition of the engagement from the war table. Seeing a new development, he crossed the observation deck once more to address his captain.

"The Arbalest is under new course, deploying to shore up the interdiction line."

Blossoming pin-pricks of detonation lit up the forward hull of the leading Strike, as Esk returned to deliver their second bombing wave. Beyond their pursuit vector, the Fearless had peeled away to safe distance to renegotiate the battle as well.

"Maintain our bombing attack, and coordinate with Victrix to finish off their pocket cruisers. Prepare to match Arbalest's heading, and ready Cresh, Dorn, and Shadow for immediate deployment."

The nimble dagger shape of Fearless was already coming about, sensing the shift in battle priorities as well.

"Signal Fearless command, and inquire as to their status."

Tough little ship, Captain Wygraant thought. Their captain seemed to be the salty sort of skipper, not about to let the size of his ship count him out of the fight.

[Vance Felline]

"Reports, if you please gentlemen," Felline felt the release of tension as Fearless left the immediate danger; both Strike Cruisers were attempting to flee for their lives, the Acklay had not exploded her reactor, and Decimator and Victrix were coming up to support Arbalest, which moved like a disinterested titan. The enemy had four Star Destroyers left to them on the field, and they had paired off on two of the Interdictors, whose shields were flashing dangerously. The third was turning about to get behind the traitors' four vessels, keeping them locked down while attempting to stay safe.

"Shields and deflector screens are cycling, Captain. Fifty percent. We should have full shielding in five minutes."

"We have two at most," Felline responded.

"Damage reported to three heavy laser emplacements; four, seven, and ten. Both heavy turbolasers are on cooling cycles."

Felline frowned. Without the use of heavy turbolasers, the Raider II was not much more use than its predecessor. Larger and an easier target, perhaps. They did have three missile tubes, however.

"Bring us about to match Arbalest's heading. Once heading is fixed, two-thirds speed. Route that last third to shielding cycles. We're fast enough that we should just reach range to fire before either Arbalest or Decimator."

"Sir, getting transmission from Decimator. Inquiries as to our status, Captain."

"Tell them Fearless is in good condition, and moving into position to support the engagement on the remaining enemy destroyers."

[Palara Iscandar]

Iscandar was kneeling behind Atrapes when Vissica entered the bridge. Atrapes seemed to be ignoring her, simply staring intently out at the remaining Star Destroyers making quick work of the Interdictors.

"Where are their escorts?" the Captain asked in frustration.

"Both Excelsior and Villifier were damaged beyond use, sir. Villifier's reactor was contaminated during the battle and its crew is either dead or in escape pods. Excelsior had nearly every weapons system either destroyed or damaged enough only a station would be able to fix it."

"And the Interdictors continued to hold down the command ships? Brave of them." The Captain said. "Signal Victrix. Surrender of command destroyers is top priority, by order of Lord Atrapes. Move into formation and prepare to fire."

Atrapes turned and regarded Vissica as she drew closer, his customary expressionless features remaining unmoving..

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Lady Vissica entered the expansive bridge of Arbalest with Captain Orgern and his 79th Legion troopers in possession of precious cargo. As they moved along the observation deck, crewers below stole careful glances, lest they betray their posts for longer than a moment of curiosity. The Selonian giantess moved in thumping footfalls, the boots of her custom flight suit hardly her first choice of attire. She approached the threshold, dropping to her haunches in three point submission with her intent gaze fixed upon the deck.

"What is your bidding, Knight General?"

[Reikkel Orgern]

Pausing with mindful distance behind the Knights, Captain Orgern placidly tucked his gloved hands behind the small of his back to await the dispensation of the Jedi prisoner. Arrayed at each corner with a stormtrooper guard as if attended by pall bearers, the floating carbonite slab of Kyle Rayner could be seen in vivid cold terror-laden repose.

[Rossos Atrapes]

"This is the Jedi," Atrapes asked, though it was more of a statement.

Atrapes turned back to Vissica and Iscandar.

"Aboard those three command vessels are men and women with answers to questions. They must be delivered here alive."

The Captain of the Arbalest watched the scene with interest. One was not often privy to the workings of the Empire's movers and shakers, inner or outer. An ensign stopped next to him and whispered in his ear, before stepping away, quite eager to quit the company of the Knights. Sometimes, the Captain wished he could do the same; even if he was not afraid for his life serving with Atrapes as one would be serving with Vissica or Alexia, the man felt wrong.

"Milord," he said, stepping up. "I apologize for the interruption."

A pause, and the Captain was quite aware of Vissica's gimlet eyes on him.

"Of the three command ships, most of the transmissions are coming from Thresher. That would be my best guess for the higher placed commanders. We can have strike teams available to support your Knights immediately."

"Our Knights, Captain," Atrapes answered. "Iscandar, Vissica. You shall take one. Captain, assemble four strike teams. The best you have."

"Right away," the Captain answered, bowed, and made haste away from the assembled Knights.

"I will speak to this Jedi," Atrapes said, levelling his eyes to the macabre sight of Kyle Raynor's terrified frozen face. "Release him from carbon freeze."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica rose to her feet, bringing up her right paw which grasped an unfamiliar weapon.

"The Jedi's lightsaber, Knight General."

The Selonian's dark eyes flitted to Kyle Raynor's masque of undeath. A pity he did not fight. Perhaps the Knight General would find a way to motivate him. Or Kyle Raynor would meet his destiny.

Either way, Vissica surmised that she was just as likely to find a comrade as she was a corpse when she made her return from her new assignment aboard the Thresher.

[Palara Iscandar]

Iscandar rose as well, sweeping aside her blue cloak as she did so, while Atrapes took the lightsaber.

"Ze commanders will be captured, mon général. Will zere be Inquisitors aboard?"

"It is likely that at least some of the command staff with the answers I seek are former Inquisitors," was the Knight-General's reply. "Those remain alive. Understood?"

"Aye, général. It will be so."

Iscandar did not stay to watch the Jedi's release from his prison. She avoided torture wherever she could, and that included watching it. She turned smartly in an about-face, the blue of her cloak swirling about her feet, and marched purposefully from the bridge.

[Rolth Wygraant]

"Curious."

Captain Wygraant had returned to the war table to oversee the dynamic field of battle as Decimator prepared to traverse the field on a crossing ventral vector relative to Arbalest. To their port, Victrix, Esk, and Aurek squadron were gleefully carving up the Strike Cruisers, rendering the enemy's desultory movement utterly impotent. Far on the port bow lay the shifting battle line as the enemy attempted to break the interdiction screen. Arbalest savaged the immediate threat, but her unoccupied guns gave very little attention to the bulwark that held the traitorous flank. From the array of battle and from comms analysis, it appeared that the destroyer Thresher was conducting command operations for the enemy. She'd bled her shields earlier in the fight, but as of yet, the Knight General had seen no need to press his advantage.

"Arbalest is not attacking this ship."

Commander Belgen looked to the field alongside Wygraant.

"We received word on the matter just now from Arbalest. No direct attack against Thresher. Engines and point defenses only. We mean only to keep them from escaping."

A shared glance between the Captain and his executive was cast in blue light from the war table's projections. Rolth frowned, tucking his chin against a gloved fist in thought.

"The Knight General must have something special planned for them. Very well, continue course. Prepare to cut across Rampart's position to draw enemy fire away. Array shields heavy port inflection."

It wasn't ideal. To take the traitor's line of sight off the closest Interdictor cruiser, they would open themselves up to the potential concerted firepower of two other star destroyers, with the ability to focus the full weight of their batteries against them. Yet with the Interdictor preventing the enemies from taking flight, their maneuverability was half of what it would be otherwise. They were a slow and conspicuous target.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

A sequence of buttons was pressed on the monitoring panel mounted upon the side of the carbonite block. One beep followed, then two, then three in rapid succession, before the panel glowed green, a countdown loop displayed. From within the block's frame, a low hum formed, slowly growing higher in pitch and intensity as the countdown loop ticked down to zero, and then the carbonite itself began to glow red. Hal's face, frozen in his scream of sheer agony, shifted slowly from charcoal ash to brilliant crimson, as if a demon were rising from the molten pits of hell. Drops of carbonite fell, at first, from his nose, clawtips and other forward extremities before rivulets of the material poured down the block's surface, dissipating into steam as their structure broke down. A nose appeared, then teeth and a tongue, paws black and soiled by oil and automotive grease came next, before at last the frozen form fell free of its prison, and directly onto its face.

For some time, there was no movement, not even breath as Hal lay still upon the floor. Then a racking, hacking cough erupted from his throat, and he curled into a ball as he hacked carbonite mist from his lungs, a piteous, convulsing lump upon the floor.

This was a Jedi? From his grease-stained appearance, and mechanic's shirt, he looked nothing of the part. Besides, who had ever heard of a Nehantite Jedi?

[Alexia Sturkov]

Alexia's nails scraped noisily across the viewport as the second Strike-Class was reduced to a burning ember. The massive loss of live echoed through the force, sending shockwaves that would be felt for lightyears. It played like a melody in her mind; filling her with warm fuzzies as dopamine was dumped into the pleasure center of her brain. The Victrix's turbolasers continued to fire, blowing the burning chunks into smaller bits. There would be no survivors. Those who managed to flee to escape pods were being chased down by the legion of starfighters battling it out in space.

One such pod even passed in front of her viewport, neglected by the point defenses which were busy shooting down the enemy fighters. Reaching out and pressing her hand against the glass, she reached out with the force and found the pod, pulling it closer until it bounced against the particle shields. With a twist of her wrist the pod rotated until it's own viewport lined up and she could see the frightened faces crowded within. She waved to them. They just stared. Laughing she folded her hand into a fist and the pod's viewport cracked and then exploded, the shards were sucked into the pod and with Alexia's influenced turned the inside of the pod into a glass maelstrom. Like a blender who's only product was limbs and blood.

"Knight Sturkov, we had orders from the Arbalest to engage the Thresher but not destroy it. Disable only."

Turning from the viewport Alexia cast an annoyed looked at her comms officer, who sat down in his chair and waited for the end. "Very well. Make course for the Thresher. Keep us in pace with the Decimator. We cannot risk getting singled out."

[Vance Felline]

"Captain, we are in range."

"Sir, we have received word that strike teams from Arbalest are underway to the command ships."

Felline's brows rose, but otherwise he gave no physical indication of his thoughts on the matter.

Always something more to things with the Knights.

"Very well," he said after a moment's thought. "Load ion torpedoes into the fore missile tubes."

The initiative to make the lighter elements of Imperial Starfleet more than mere fleet support, able to conduct different operations without heavier ships to make up for their lack of specialization, had resulted in the redesign of several more successful and newer ship classes. With the Raider II corvette, this had been the addition of two turbolaser turrets on either side of the bridge, and three missile tubes roughly in the middle of the ventral hull, one rear facing and two front facing. The missile tubes, designed like the heavy laser cannons and other armaments of the ship save for the two turbolaser turrets, had plates which when closed gave the corvette a continuous and sleek hull profile, had various missile and torpedo stores to give the ship more various weaponry without drawing on the reactor and thus allow it to carry out more missions without extensive fleet support needed. Among these were concussion missiles, starfighter killers which would explode with a wide area of effect, reducing the need for more precise targeting systems which could be allocated to the heavy laser cannons, and ion torpedoes.

Ion torpedoes gave the corvette a capability which other lighter ship classes of roughly the same size lacked: the ability to disable a target's systems with the same technology that made ion cannons a fairly standard weapons system on heavier ships that could bear the power requirement necessary for them. Against a ship the size of a Star Destroyer, the missiles lacked the sheer force and firepower necessary to completely disable them, but when fired accurately enough, some key systems could be weakened.

Felline had heard, through various channels, that there were thoughts that if the missile tubes proved effective enough, there would possibly be ships capable of firing Starkiller missiles soon among the Imperial fleet.

Shunting such troubling thoughts to the side, he instead focused on the situation at hand. They were now passing the Interdictor line, which was under heavy fire. One had lost shields completely, and was a hairsbreadth from utter destruction.

"Torpedoes ready, Captain. Target?"

"Target the closest enemy destroyer's forward weapon banks with both torpedoes. Let us see how capable these new weapons are."

[Palara Iscandar]

After yet another turbolift and tram ride from the bridge to the hangar, Iscandar was positively ecstatic to see the sleek, small forms of the attack transports she and the other strike teams would be using to board the rogue Imperial ships.

"Milady Iscandar. Lady Vissica," the Arbalest's hangar commander bowed. "Your shuttles and marines are prepared. Aurek and Besh will be boarding Mutilator, and Cresh and Dorn will be landing on Potent."

"No support for Vissica and I?" Iscandar asked.

"Esk will be formed, should you require it. But the current targets and team placement was ordered by Lord Atrapes."

Iscandar frowned. While they would likely be able to take the ship by themselves, capturing and subduing multiple individuals and keeping them subdued would be a difficult task on a ship the size of a Star Destroyer. Did Atrapes know something they did not?

"Ready zem. But Vissica and I shall not wait. Send zem as soon as zey are ready. Understood?"

"Aye, milady."

Iscandar nodded and marched onto the attack shuttle, while the Marines boarded their own.

[Rossos Atrapes]

"Bind him," the Knight-General ordered. Two stormtroopers stepped forward. One roughly brought the alien's arms behind his back, and the other locked a pair of binders onto his wrists. "Lift him up. He will be disoriented."

"Can this be a Jedi?" the Captain asked, looking at the alien with an understated expression of scorn. "Surely not."

"Which is why you are a Captain, and not a judge of who may be Jedi," Atrapes answered. "Do not presume to speak on matters of which you have no comprehension."

The Captain turned to argue the point with the commander of the Imperial Knights, only to find two cold eyes already locked onto him. A chill ran up the officer's spine, and he bowed quickly to hide it.

"Of course, milord. My apologies."

Atrapes ignored him, and turned back to the Jedi.

"What is your name?" he asked, almost idly, as if wondering aloud to himself. His voice though thrummed with the Force into the Jedi's mind, a command to speak if the alien could speak at all.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal offered little resistance as he felt his arms seized, his paws shackled together once more. He could scarcely move, other than to convulse with each cough until at last they sputtered away. Around him, all was a swirling blur, his head spinning, and for some time he did not even realize he had been asked a question. Head rolling with the spin of the room, he could feel himself hauled up onto his knees. There was no strength in his body to stand, and so he flopped back against the Captain for support.

"What is your name?" the question came through at last, as if through a murky haze. Unfocused eyes blinking, he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a dry crackle. Piece by piece, the Nehantite's body began to wake, every part of himself crashing into the other instead of operating as a fluid machine.

At last, he swallowed and replied, with labored breath, "Kyle. Kyle Rayner." That was the last name he remembered, though he wasn't sure why until after he said it, and slowly all the pieces began to fall into place.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Trailed by a pair of interceptor escorts, the Knights' assault shuttle charged ahead with little delay in pursuit of Thresher. In the distance, the fleet engaged the command ship with carefully limited fire, picking off turbolaser batteries as they were able. Wisely, Thresher had not shown her back to the Knight General, and her engines were as of yet still functioning.

Within the shuttlecraft, Lady Vissica took advantage of the short trip to remove her TIE atmospheric suit. No longer needed, she preferred being able to move with her full agility. The Selonian languidly slinked back into the seat opposite her Twi'lek counterpart, her muzzle peeling open into a yawn as her eyes snapped shut and her tongue curled. Cracking open one eye, Vissica pivoted her head slightly towards the cockpit.

"Distance?"

"Fifteen hundred meters and closing fast."

The shuttle buffeted slightly, and began to make sharp course corrections to her advance as she parried a nest of anti-starfighter laser cannons poised at Thresher's bow. No sooner had they opened up on the shuttle than a well-placed concussion missile from an escorting Interceptor took care of the threat. As the shuttle now dipped below Thresher's equator band to align for ventral approach, a pair of enemy TIE fighters cut across their axis, spraying cannon fire that wicked across the shuttle's shielding. The Knights' escorts moved quickly to chase the enemy craft away from the assault shuttle's vector.

"We must establish our foothold quickly. Their chance of dislodging our attack will be greatest in the hangar bay."

Captain Orgern and a squad of the Arbalest's elite troops nodded their heads in unison. Each began the final preparations to board, checking charge packs on blasters and readying other heavy weapons to deploy. On final approach, the assault shuttle's quad laser cannon opened up, brutally stitching across the array of point defenses that protected Thresher's hangar bay from exactly what they now intended to do. A half dozen rockets also snorted into the ether, leaving behind curling contrails as they rammed into laser cannon nests with impressive explosive force. Before the spall had time to clear, the assault shuttle was sharply banking up through the main hangar recess, adjusting it's trajectory and speed with intense gouts of retro-engines, so that they slowed enough to coast through the atmospheric field on inertia. The skids dropped with a rough thud as the gangplank clattered. All at once, the invasion was underway. Stormtroopers quickly piled out, running for the nearest cover on the hangar deck as they took an aggressive advance which met no resistance.

Quickly behind the troops, Palara and Vissica followed, sabers at the ready. The Selonian's black eyes flitted left and right, searching for a threat to manifest itself. The traitors did not press to meet them with force at their moment of landing. Strange. Advancing through the hangar, the Knights pressed their momentum onward as the assault troops fanned out. Vissica's gait was not lengthened with purpose. She cast her eyes here and there, confusion on her expression. Then, the sense of real danger closed upon her mind like a noose.

"Look out!"

The atmospheric force field deactivated behind them, and a deafening din howled like a hurricane as the hangar bay began to decompress explosively, popping the Selonian's ears painfully as she dropped low to splay all four clawed paws against a screeching deck.

[Rossos Atrapes]

He could feel the Jedi's confusion, fear, and also his burgeoning understanding. With it came a sense of reservation, as if he were building walls about his mind to protect himself from siege. Atrapes remained quiet for a moment.

"That is not your name," Atrapes said after a moment, still using the Force to give his words added power. Each one seemed to send chills through the bridge of Arbalest, as if they were borne on cold mountain winds. "Jedi."

From the viewport, explosions were blanketing nearly every ship currently engaged. Atrapes ignored the battle going on around them, and focused on the Jedi.

"I have received the report of your capture. The ship you fled successfully escaped Imperial space."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"If it's not my name, my parents have some explaining to do," Hal answered. Then he realized what he said, and couldn't help a giggle.

The world around him came into view slowly, though in a worrying spectrum of only grays. A pit of fear gripped the Nehantite as he wondered if he'd now lost the ability to see in color altogether, and would never be able to pick the green W&W's from the blue ones. The vile, vile peppermint green ones. Walls took focus, as did the shape of a man, though Hal could not see with such clarity as to tell who it was - not that he expected to on an Imperial ship, full of humans who were born long after he took his first chilly cruise. Bursts of light pocked what he imagined were windows, or viewscreens, or perhaps terribly unfortunate advertising displays, and he could hear the calls of a working bridge engaged in battle. Probably not advertising displays, then.

Bit by bit, his mind came back. Fractured thoughts became clusters, clusters became nodes, and nodes eventually began to send information. He had been frozen, he knew that much, but this time he remembered the process, which launched a million more questions about the blank in his memory from the first time around.

Finding some strength, Hal pulled one of his knees out, getting a booted foot under himself, and pushed up to a stand, leaning heavily on the Captain behind him for support.

Stall for time, I'm not recovered yet. His higher senses whispered.

I'll try, but I'm not sure how good I can do. If we'd had lunch, or dinner, I'd be puking it up, right about now.

"Kyle. Kyle Rayner," he repeated, sounding almost unsure of himself, before shaking his head as if to clear cobwebs. "I'm only... sort of a Jedi, though."

Thank Garfife, the ship survived! We saved them!

But now who's gonna save us?

A hard swallow was forced down his dry throat, and he asked, "What's today's date?"

[Rolth Wygraant]

The bridge shuddered slightly, jarring the gait of officers as they strolled along the observation deck. Returning from the war table to the panorama, Captain Wygraant helped a particularly shaky-legged lieutenant hold his feet with a firm hand at his shoulder.

"Look lively! Act like you've been here before!"

Still, it was a damnable place to be, as Captain Wygraant stood at the fore, watching untold streaks of turbolaser fire peeling at him from port side. The ship shimmied and trembled under the unceasing din.

"Karnel, sound the rally for Aurek and Esk and bomb their flank."

From the distance, the harried Wing Commander pulled his earpiece free momentarily.

"They're some distance away and through hard fighting."

"Well they'll surely find hard fighting here too!"

Wygraant paced slightly, bracing against a window pylon after a particularly egregious hit.

"And rally the balance of our fighter screen! Shield status?"

"Sixty four percent, sir!"

Grim-faced, Wygraant stood tall once more, cinching down his duty jacket.

"Well, let's not make this easy for them. Intensify batteries against their heavy guns. Tooth for a tooth will do."

[Jarvan Trask]

"Get your goddamn arses into the shuttle!" Trask bellowed, waving his hand up the ramp as each trooper filed past him. A long line of identical plastoid armor and matching E-11 Blaster Rifles. "Combat seating, you know your places. Strap in. Weapons in the rack. We launch immediately whether you princesses are ready or not." The last trooper filled in and Trask followed, stepping up the ramp even as it began to close. Sealing them in. The Imperial Navy Commandos were ready. Walking down the narrow compartment, he checked their harnesses to make sure they were tight and occasionally slapped a helmet to confirm it was sealed. Satisfied, he pulled his own helmet up and over his shaved head and sealed the neck gasket.

"You know the drill. Wedge formation as we clear the shuttle. Elevens up front and Twenty-Ones in the back. Protect the heavies. We will need the firepower to shoot through blast doors. High ranking officers are to be subdued and taken for questioning. Only engage combat targets. You Elevens have a stun setting. Use it."

"Sir, we are getting a distress call from the first shuttle. The hangar has been vented. Our troops are getting sucked out."

"Launch us now, Goddammit. Prepare for zero atmosphere. Check all seals and oxygen levels. When we land Sabre Squad locate hangar controls and override them. Cerberus will secure hangar and force the airlock. We must get inside as soon as possible. We don't have enough oxygen to diddle dally."

The Arbalest was left behind as they rocketed out into the void. The ride was rocky and and turbulent as the starfighter battle continued to rage outside. Trask was unworried. He'd made a call before takeoff and requested a trio of certain Shadow Squadron pilots to escort them. Looking out the portside viewport he could just make out the shape of a TIE Defender spinning through the fray; the words "Maneater" stenciled in large bold letters on the hull. All around them enemy fighters made the mistake of engaging, only to be ruthlessly gunned down by the shadow escort. The docking bay loomed ahead. The shadows peeled off in perfect formation and ran back full speed into the space battle.

"Sir, the docking back is still decompressing."

"We'll have to wait it out. No sense landing in that maelstrom."

[Palara Iscandar]

Palara was not ready for the suddenness of the force exerted on her; she was lifted off her feet and sent flying into the shuttle's hull, where she was pinned. It was the only thing which had saved her life. While she had that stability, she looked about intently for the control room. The small panes of glass and the indistinct forms of people within clinched the guess, and she reached out for a TIE fighter hanging from a bracket above them. Keeping her calm, she wrenched the TIE from its moorings with a screeching sound that went unheard in the howling winds, and bent her will to launching it against the viewing panes.

The fighter remained unmoved. Palara grit her teeth and solidified her will around it, feeling every edge, contour, and even sensing the lines of power that were cold and unused at the moment. She raised one palm, and with a sudden gesture, a physical rendering of her mental command, pushed once more against the fighter, which launched into the control room and broke the panes of glass in a shower of sparks and glints of light off the pieces now flying towards her and the others. The troopers' and her armour would protect them well enough, but her face and head, along with Vissica, were exposed. A body flew past, a human, whose eyes and mouth were wide in terrified knowledge that death was coming to him.

The atmospheric controls were activated once more, and Palara fell to the hangar deck with a thud, gasping from her exertion. Even so, she quickly looked up to see who and how many had survived along with her.

[Vance Felline]

"Torpedoes have made contact!"

"What are the effects?" Felline called, bracing himself on a viewport while watching the battle unfold.

"Shields fluctuated, but no systems have been weakened, sir. Not enough power in the warheads to overcome something with that much reactor power."

Felline frowned. It had been a bit much to hope that some torpedoes could make a corvette a contender against a Star Destroyer. Still, they couldn't just sit back.

"Change torpedoes to concussion missiles. Both forward tubes. Same targets. Fire when ready."

"Decimator is entering range sir," an ensigned shouted to be heard over the cacophony that had overtaken the bridge. Only a few of the enemy's guns were trained on them, but those few were powerful enough to cause extensive damage.

"Let Decimator do what it will," Felline responded. "We must do what we can. Fire torpedoes when ready. Turbolasers mark the same point and fire at will."

"Aye sir!"

A moment later the two concussion missiles were launched, and impacted the forward weapons at almost the exact same time that both turbolaser blasts impacted. The explosion was bright enough to have all onlookers as close as they were to look away to protect their eyes.

[Rossos Atrapes]

Atrapes did not respond to the Jedi's question. He only catalogued the burst of relief that had roiled through the Jedi at learning of the ship's escape.

"One is not almost a Jedi," Atrapes responded. "One is a Jedi, or is not. What was your task in Imperial space?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The grey fog which had rolled into Hal's vision gently began to clear, flecks of color appearing here and there, while shapes gained greater levels of definition. Wobbling on his feet, the Nehantite processed what he had been asked, slowly, his mind chaotic as it tried to get things back in order.

"Actually, one can be almost a Jedi," he replied. "If you got trained by one, but never actually got knighted, or formally admitted into their Order, that'd make you almost a Jedi, wouldn't it?" here was confusion in his own voice, as if his brain wondered if that could be true. It also wondered a lot of things about ice cream, sending waves of hunger rumbling through his stomach, which in turn made him think of ice cream all over again.

Shaking his head rapidly, Hal's lips flapped slightly as he cleared his head. "What was I doing in Imperial Space? Trying to get out of it. I heard there might be some Jedi left in the Alliance side, and I was going there to see if I could get more training. My master has kinda been dead for a while."

That was true. All of it was true. Technically.

[Reikkel Orgern]

The hangar had become a hurricane - a maelstrom of atmospheric violence howling into cold and terrifying equilibrium. It threw everything aside in it's path to do so. Detritus, equipment, and the living and soon to be dead - all sucked into the greedy limitless chasm of the cosmos. Captain Orgern clung feebly to the cargo crate he used for advance cover, only to find when the gale began that it was far lighter than it looked. He went flying, bumping violently into one of his own men whose death knell (http://www.wilhelmscream.net/) pierced the thinning air as he pinwheeled into black oblivion. It seemed certain that Orgern was soon to follow when his right arm was nearly wrenched out of socket by an iron grip around it. Looking back, he stared at the unblinking face of his musteline savior.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"I told you, Captain..."

Vissica growled with restrained menace as she maintained her bruising yet life-saving hold of her army subordinate.

"...you don't have my permission to die, yet."

A sudden blast at the head of the hangar bay obliterated the control room's glass screen, sending it raining outwards as a hail of dangerous missiles. Vissica tucked down her thick neck as a few sharp bits of crystalline spall flecked her and Orgern. One sizable shard lacerated a thin trail across her left shoulder, it's presence masked by blood seeping under the thick fur below. The destruction of the control room engaged emergency failsafes that restored the atmospheric shielding, sending men and equipment tumbling back to the deck in helter skelter abandon.

Rising from her prone position, the Selonian jerked Captain Orgern to his feet, looking over the officer to an array of stormtroopers only half the size it had originally been. Even this paltry number was generous. Their casualties could have easily been total.

"Take stock of what men and equipment remain. We move at once."

Ahead, the blast doors were sealed tight. Vissica looked to Palara who was similarly recovering from being thrown against the shuttle. Her senses detected danger close by. A prudent enemy would take advantage of thinning the boarding party's numbers and set the terms of engagement at a choke point. Beyond the heavy durasteel barrier, she could feel moving dark intent. The Inquisitors. A sharp-toothed grin split Vissica's face as she released her greatsaber from it's catch across the back of her armor. The massive war blade growled in the air as it ignited. With the tip of her knightly weapon leveled upon the blast door, Vissica charged.


* * *


"Almost there..."

Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, Crewman Tareg continued tracing the double seams of the inner lining of the blast door with his arc fuser. Adjusting his dark goggles, he steered the blinding hot spark along a careful path, leaving behind a uniform fusion of molten metal that would hopefully nullify any attempt the intruders made to slice their way through hangar security. With it's tremendous thickness, the blast door would hopefully delay even an Imperial Knight enough to make them consider other options.

Inquisitor Volikar was not as impatient as Lieutenant Hursk, who took every five seconds to berate the crewman to speed the process along. The first platoon of Thresher's stormtrooper battalion had been mustered to hold the line here, but they hadn't yet set up cascading fields of fire and fallback points. Their position was strong, but not optimal.

"Time's up." Volikar's eyes opened from his moment of meditation. He sensed the swell of the tide beyond the gates, returning to overwhelm them.

Crewman Tareg shook his head at the Inquisitor adding to the Lieutenant's words of haste.

"I told you, I'm almost th-AAAAIIIIIGGGG!!!"

Six inches of greatsaber pierced the divide and Crewman Tareg's mouth, immolating his tongue before exiting the back of his head.

[Jarvan Trask]

"Atmosphere has been restored."

"Get us in there goddammit!" The assault shuttle engines roared as it shot the short distance into the hanger bay. Subtly and caution were tossed aside as it dropped hard on it's struts beside it's sister ship. The boarding ramp was already opening before they landed and hit the ground at the same time as the struts. The Imperial Navy Commandos filed out. A sea of plastoid armor that swelled into the hangar. True to their orders the standard trooepers with their E-11s took point while the heavy repeater troopers took up the rear. Trask took to the lead, his orange paldron setting his apart from the rest of the soldiers under his command. His own repeater rifle held up, shouldered, acting as his sight as he looked around the hangar for enemy elements.

Seeing none, he ordered his men to fall in line with the remains of First Squad. "Horace, Jorram see to the injured." Two troopers broke off, they wore gray paldrons with telltale red red crosses on them. Trask did not believe in casualties and brought his battle hardened medics on every mission. Contact was made with first Squad, and they fell in line behind Orgern and his men. Knight Vissica was leading the charge. The troopers fell in behind her. They hit a blast door, and while the Knight busied herself cutting through the thick plating, Trask set his men up in the space outside it. Whatever cover was utilized, overlapping fields of fire were set up, and a kill zone established just inside the doorway. Knight Vissica was in the way. He ordered his men not to fire until she was clear.

Now they waited while the door was surgically dismantled.

[Rossos Atrapes]

Atrapes continued to watch the furred alien intently, his consciousness surrounding 'Kyle Raynor', but not suffusing him. The image this Jedi was painting of himself did not align with the reports given by Vissica and Iscandar.

"There is no technicality that can save you here. Your training is too complete. You are a Jedi, even if not formally made one. The ship you were on fled into Alliance space, using Alliance military frequencies. And the Alliance military would not send a ship like that for one seeking to be a Jedi. You had a task."

"Lord Atrapes, all strike teams have landed."

Atrapes did not verbally answer the Captain; his only response was a quick gesture, a slight wave of two fingers, and the Captain turned and walked away stiffly. Atrapes regarded Raynor for another moment longer before nodding to the Stormtroopers.

"Keep him under guard. Wash him, give him clothing, and feed him. Then bring him back here."

[Palara Iscandar]

Vissica had gone to the door to face their enemies head on. Iscandar's first thought, borne from Inquisitorial training and years of practice, was to find another way around the blocked door. She stood and marched to the TIE, which had fallen into a wreck just below the control room's viewing glass panes, and jumped. One booted foot settled briefly on the top of the solar collecting wing, and with another Force assisted leap, she flipped into the room and stood. Every soul within the room had been sucked out into the abyss of space, leaving it empty, aside from herself and the myriad control panels and computers within. With an easy familiarity, the Imperial Knight went to one computer and began to enter commands.

Control rooms in Star Destroyers were accessible in two ways: a lift from the hangar floor, and a large door in the back; this design had been copied and used on the first Death Star, with the notable exception of the floor to ceiling glass windows. It was a simple matter to open the door.

"Zis is Knight Iscandar. Control Room is open. Three squads of troopers will follow my path. Ze rest shall back up Vissica in 'er assault."

The corridor leading to the control room was empty for now. Iscandar left her lightsabers on her hips and mentally mapped out the quickest route to the bridge.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The defending stormtrooper platoon dug in, two dozen guns fixed on the slow creeping circle of molten metal inexorably drawing to completion. Below, Crewman Tareg's lifeless body twitched in a heap, the last vestiges of firing neurons unloading across synapses with no response. Inquisitor Volikar still did not move, seated calmly in meditative state. The Gran's eyestalks remained closed as he felt the unseen presence beyond the divide. She was coming.

The molten circle connected, and in that instant, Volikar felt the wellspring build. His eyes opened as a gloved hand reached out, catching the massive durasteel disc just as Vissica commanded it to launch down the corridor and crush anyone in her path. Instead, the blast door section hovered in space like a giant coin, buffeted on each side by a force adept's will. Lady Vissica at last shoved it aside with a thunderous din to break the stalemate. Now with the opponents revealed the battle began in earnest as each squad of stormtroopers filled the space between with blaster fire. In their midst, the Knight and the Inquisitor stood at the fore, deflecting shots back across the divide. Volikar stood in easy counterbalance to the onslaught in Soresu, turning the invaders' shots against them. Vissica likewise defended her men, but with a growl she leapt through the glowing hole in the bulkhead door, impelling with aggressive intent as she bore down on the Inquisitor with strident force. The Gran quickly adapted his technique to meet the Selonian, but Vissica overpowered Volikar in a stroke, driving him to the deck with the force of their locking blades. With the push, Vissica's troopers began to pour through the aperture, but neither side traded more than a few shots across their dueling commanders. They waited with uneasy tension, skirmishing when the opportunity arose to do so.

Volikar quickly rolled across the deck as the Selonian wound up again, barely avoiding death as Lady Vissica disfigured the glossy floor with a glowing scar. The Gran regained his feet, but found himself on his heels and nearly pushed back into his own troopers who themselves were trying to tactically withdraw. The Inquisitor wisely deferred attempting to deflect Vissica's next strike by running into a backflip along the wall to avoid the greatsaber outright. He did so, but three unlucky troopers behind him did not, and the Knight's chasing white blade cut them in half with one fell incidental swipe.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal opened his mouth, unsure what excuse was going to come out, when Rossos Atrapes provided him with the perfect escape route. Mouth closing, the Nehantite nodded, then felt himself tugged backward, still woozy on his feet.

The trip to the sonic showers allowed most of his vision to return, but it would still be another hour or so before he could actually read anything. His shirt, trousers and underwear wound up in an incinerator, but he was allowed to keep his boots as there was no footwear available on board which would fit his unique footpaws. Manacles removed, Hal relished his moment of freedom, even if he was being watched in the shower.

Kinky.

Not now. Seriously.

Fiiiiine.

Basic clothing was provided, and a knife slit helped to crudely accomodate for his tail. Tucking his trousers into his boots, the Nehantite no sooner had pulled a white tunic on over his head than he felt the manacles go back on - this time in front, and it was off to the mess hall. Many eyes were cast his way, but Hal pretended not to notice, and he wolfed down his mostly tasteless meal, interspersed with numerous glasses of water. Bland as it was, it was his first meal in over twenty four hours, and he was starving.

All told, it took just over half an hour before he was returned to his captor, but that time had been enough for his brain to work out a cunning plan. He would be Kyle Rayner to them, a Nehantite engineer who was picked up by a Jedi on the run, and taught their ways. He rehearsed his backstory in his head over and over until even he began to believe it. If they knew who he really was, surely the Empire would use him as a tool against the Jedi. But, if they didn't know he was part of the active Order, well... that made things more flexible. Be it in danger or in bed, flexibility was never a bad thing.

[Jarvan Trask]

Orgern had this choke point. With a short command the Navy Commandoes grouped up and marched for the control room, which now was open. No sooner had they slipped through the door then they heard a thunk and blaster fire from down the hall they just exited. Vissica was through. The enemy was engaged, and distracted. Deep down Trask was disappointed that he wasn't engaged in that fire fight. Hopefully Knight Iscandar's route will be as eventful.

Forming up behind the Knight they marched down the seemingly empty corridor behind the control room. Marching in line, weapons ready, they tried to move tactfully but it was difficult in a corridor enclosure. They were exposed, without cover. It was frightening. Nerves were on edge.

And then it happened. A white plastoid helmet peeked out from a split off side corridor; the twin black lenses of the eye sockets standing stark in contrast to the rest of the helmet. A call went out, and the rest of the trooper stepped out, weapons raised. Trask was ready. His finger slipped under the guard and pulled into the trigger, and his repeater sputtered to life, cleaving a line of energy that ripped up the plastoid armor from navel to neck. The trooper went down, his blaster firing harmlessly into the air as he fell. "Take cover!" Trask called out, and his troopers did their best to move to the side of the corridor and find cover wherever they could behind obstructions, constructs, and in doorways and split offs. A few more enemy troopers peaked around the corner ahead, and Cerberus Squad returned fire with superior accuracy that hit exposed helmets, shoulders, and arms; quickly killing or injuring the few enemy soldiers.

The firefight was over and quickly as it began, and they advanced. "They know we're here now, Knight Iscandar."

[Palara Iscandar]

Iscandar frowned and crossed her arms in thought. Somehow, she had remained untouched throughout the engagement, and she had not moved into cover like the Stormtroopers had done.

"We must 'urry zen," she answered. "Wizzout z'element of surprise our targets will move to avoid us. To ze bridge. If zey believe all is lost, z'Inquisitors may execute ze officers to keep zeir knowledge from us."

Iscandar turned and led the Cerberus squad in a quick jog down the corridor. Her familiarity with the layout of Star Destroyers meant that she didn't need to think about finding a tram station to take them to a turbolift. She turned a right, and then made a left, stopping at a blast door. She frowned, seeming to stare through the solid metal to the other side.

"Open zis door," she said. "And be careful. Zere are many opponents on ze ozzer side."

[Rossos Atrapes]

Atrapes was still standing in his spot on the walkways above the pits where the main bridge crews were calling back and forth to each other and monitoring their systems. Once Kyle Rayner had entered, he was led to the viewport with a clear line of sight to where the battle was still raging. One of the Interdictors sported multiple hull breaches, but was still operational thanks to the harrying of the corvette and the grim determined wall the Decimator had made of itself.

"Tell me of your training, Kyle Rayner," Atrapes said, not turning away from the battle. "And your master."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal looked up to Atrapes, knowing the gravity of his situation. He had a performance to give, and it would be the performance of his life. Literally.

After a deep breath, Hal cleared his throat, and stood proudly, despite his captivity. "I was sixteen when he found me. I got contract work as junior engineer on a passenger ship. I'd been on the job about three weeks before he showed up. He looked at me funny, and I didn't know why. At first I thought he might just be some perv who had heard things about the males of my race. Thankfully that wasn't true." Hal paused, then pulled his cheek. "Well, I mean, he did know that about us, but that wasn't why he was looking. Three days into our voyage, we get attacked. It's bad. Really bad. We were a passenger ship, no armaments, and the thing gets shot to hell. Terrified, I run to an escape pod, and this guy grabs me and pulls me into his, and off we go.

"Naturally, doesn't really work out, and the guys who attacked us send out ships to catch all the pods. I'm about ready to piss my pants, but this guy, he's not afraid. He waits for the door to open, and then, vwam! green lightsaber all over the boarding party. Pants-pissing ensues. I'm in shock, he turns to me and asks if I want to stay, or if I want to escape with him. I really don't know what I said at that point, but the next thing I know, we're speeding off and punching into hyperspace in this ship we just stole. It's then - well, actually I had a sonic shower and changed my pants, first - that he tells me he's a Jedi. A knight, named Abin Sur. I was like, what? I thought the Jedi were all dead, I certainly didn't expect to meet one, and then he tells me he senses the Force in me. He wants to train me.

"Well, I'd just kinda lost my job, and I didn't know where we were, so, I sorta had to say yes. He sets us down on some habitable moon called Oa, and we set up camp. For the next year, he trains me, teaches me what the Force is, and slowly, I start to learn. It was hard, at first. I really didn't get a lot of it, and we didn't have a lot to work with, but, we did our best. When I had the basics down, we leave, and I tag along with him for the next three years as his student. It wasn't easy. We were on the run, a lot, from this droid gang called the Manhunters. He teaches me the lightsaber, and more things as we go.

"Abin Sur was a good man, but he was also a bit reckless, even by my standards. In the end, an old enemy of his got us pinned down. Darth Sinestro, Abin called him. I was too busy fighting off Manhunters, I couldn't help my master. Darth Sinestro killed him, cut him down before my eyes, then escaped. I spent the next two years tracking that bastard down, and when I found him, we fought like hell. In the end I broke his neck. I knew I shouldn't have done it. Abin Sur told me that revenge wasn't the Jedi way, but... I couldn't forgive Darth Sinestro. I guess I'm not a very good Jedi, because I still don't regret it."

Waves of anger and hate rolled off of the mongoose as he spoke about his slain opponent, rage as if Darth Sinestro was still alive, and had actually existed in the first place. Fists balled, Hal closed his darkening eyes, needing to take several breaths to calm and focus himself.

"Since then I've been on my own. Lying, stealing, doing dirty work just to get by. Then I heard that the Jedi weren't dead. That they were still alive and rebuilding in Alliance space. I stole a ship, and went from contact to contact until one of them knew how to get me onto an Alliance ship who could take me there. I... didn't know where else to go. I may not be a very good Jedi, but, to be honest... I'm not a very good engineer. Going to find them, to learn more, seemed the right thing to do.

"And then your forces attacked my ship. I... I couldn't let them die, so I tried to distract you. Brilliant plan, huh?" Hal raised his manacled wrists in front of his chest to emphasize his point.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Inquisitor Volikar could not stem the tide. The Gran tried mightily, squaring his base into Djem So to meet the Selonian's strength, but he lacked the leverage to do so. He gave ground on her, his own troops scattering as Vissica pushed the scrum further down the corridor. His technique was rote and utterly textbook, and it was almost as if he'd never had to duel with his life on the line. Unfortunately for the Inquisitor, it certainly was.

"I feel your anger, Inquisitor. Your hatred."

Vissica growled coolly between locked blades as she torqued the moment of conflict ever closer to the three-eyed alien's face.

"It is not enough to defeat me."

From her foundation of leverage, Vissica steadied on her tail, springing both footpaws upward into a double press kick that sent Volikar flying through a clattering scrum of troopers. One impossibly brave and foolish trooper took a moment of unimpeded time to raise his blaster for a shot, only to find his neck broken and his body flung to the ceiling with a crunch. The Selonian pounced, throwing wide her greatsaber as it indiscriminately chewed through another four troopers. Beyond them, Volikar ran. In his moment of defeat, he could not face death with dignity. He headed for a turbolift, and Vissica's senses rang true his intent to head to the bridge.

Throwing another half dozen troopers aside with a blast of the force, Lady Vissica carved a path that her assault team was only too eager to exploit, as they began to unload precise firepower on the scattered and confused defenders. A few straggling fools ahead of Vissica made an attempt to oppose her. The Selonian easily sheared one apart at the waist, then threw another one to the deck where her greatsaber upended and slammed through the floor to the deck below, spearing the unfortunate trooper mortally. She wrenched the blade free from the man's back to intercept another volley of blaster fire, catching yet another stormtrooper in the face in a shower of sparks. Just beyond him, Vissica could see the lift doors opening, and Volikar making haste to enter. With a snarl, she smashed the nearest trooper in the face with the pommel of her greatsaber, shattering one of his oculars from the impact before bringing her blade down to split him in half. Vissica extinguished her blade in a smooth motion even as she spun to smash another trooper across the face with her tail. In fluid action, the Selonian dropped to all fours, sprinting through the aid of the force to close the distance.

It wasn't enough. Just as she reached the lift, she could see only the barest sliver of Volikar's head swallowed by the sealing door. Vissica arrested her charge with a screeching of claws against the lift door. Already, she was improvising to her next move.

[Palara Iscandar]

The doors opened, and Inquistor Farro frowned. There was no one on the other side.

But he could sense the danger, taste it almost. The enemy — for a moment he allowed himself a small modicum of ironic displeasure at calling other Imperials enemies — was there. But where?

The lift pinged. He turned quickly, as did the rest of the Stormtroopers with him, tasked with holding off the attackers until their escape was made, only to see the Gran Inquisitor, Volikar, stumble in. Farro's frown deepened.

"Volikar," he murmured. "Have you dealt with the attackers from the hangar?"

Volikar huffed a laugh.

"One does not just deal with the Knight I have been faced with, Farro," he said. Farro's response was cut short as a hail of blaster fire from the direction of the still open blast doors cut down several of the troopers around him. Farro turned, igniting his lightsaber. A small team — a squad, couldn't have been much more than that — was firing from around the corners and small spaces in the hall.

"Come along, Volikar. Even for an alien like you, one Knight shouldn't be too much of a challenge for both of us."

Their stormtroopers fell back under the onslaught of the attacking Stormtroopers, but numbers were undeniable. The volume of fire the defenders could lay down outstripped the attackers greatly, until with a blaze of white light, the Knight revealed herself, a twi'lek clad in the Knights' standard armour. A graceful flip had her in the midst of the defending troopers, who died or backed up. The divided attention already was beginning to take its toll on his troopers.

"Come in! Come in! Attackers coming up grid 4! Attackers coming up grid —"

Farro was beginning to feel like his frown was becoming a permanent fixture on his face.

"Take care of it, Volikar. I'll deal with this one."

Farro stalked forward with a cruel smile stealing over his face.

"Kill the troopers! I'll take care of the Knight!" he called, igniting his own red blade and sprinting towards the Twi'lek. Another blaze of white light erupted, and he threw himself to the side to avoid a curling light whip, which carved through everything around her. Without even pausing her attack, she leaped into the air and he barely rolled out of the way of the still ignited lightsaber impaling the deck along with himself. The whip curved around to follow him, and he continued to roll, the cracking buzz of her whip, wielded with the same grace she moved her whole body, carving scars into the ship.

"Well?" the Knight purred, her eyes intent on him. "Kill me."

[Jarvan Trask]

"Keep their attention!" Trask called out even as his blaster rifle roared in his hands. They had a defensible corner position, but it only allowed a few of them to fire around it at a time. It was not optimal for taking the room, but perfect for drawing attention and laying down cover fire. Even as Knight Iscandar lept into the fray, Trask and his men had immediately laid down the blanket fire necessary to force the traitorous troopers inside the room to focus on them. They were the gnat biting obnoxiously at their heels. They were forced to deal with them for risk the devastation of leaving their enemies open routes of attack.

"Dragon Gambit, on my mark. Three, two, one!"

Pulling free his standard issue Thermal Detonator and pulled back his arm. He tossed the heavy explosive into the fray of enemy forces, who took one look at the bouncing orb and immediately dived, rolled, and ran for cover. There was no explosion. The standard Dragon Gambit required an explosion. Too busy looking at the dragons teeth to be ready for the fire breath, as they say. However, he didn't want to kill Knight Iscandar. The second stage of the gambit still went off, as both of his heavy rifles stepped around the corner and opened fire, blowing away the scattered enemy troopers and allowing them a foothold and some breathing space, even if just for a moment.

[Rossos Atrapes]

Atrapes listened to the alien speak, rambling on and going off on slight tangents. His eyes did not waver, and he kept a steady eye on Kyle Rayner as he weaved his words. His body language, tone, and even his emotions bleeding into the Force all indicated he was telling the truth. The tale itself was garbled and spotty, telling a story but little in the way of facts about training and the people themselves. However, the Knight-General was able to glean some facts: that Rayner was trained, even if haphazardly, enough to kill a better trained user of the Dark side of the Force; and that Rayner himself was reckless and a risk taker.

Reports came in from the assault teams. Atrapes ignored them for the moment, instead focusing all his considerable control and discipline on Rayner. He'd read the reports forwarded to him by Iscandar and Vissica. The picture painted by them and their own considerations of the Nehantite before him were somewhat at odds. Vissica clearly did not think much of him, yet he had escaped from under the watchful eyes of multiple Stormtroopers, and had knocked them out with time to flee and gain distance before the Imperial forces could follow. He had run a considerable distance and would have run more and likely fought if the odds hadn't been so considerably against him, according to Iscandar. Such control over one's own body did not come without training. Yet he was painting himself as some half-trained, lucky apprentice. The discord was echoed in the Force, though much was of it was the death and destruction that had been wrought in the battle.

"Describe to me the personnel aboard the ship. Where did you board? Where were you going to cross the border into Alliance space? Who were your contacts?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal stood there in his binders, eyes slowly focusing. At the moment, he wouldn't be able to tell Rossos's face from a wasp's nest, but at least general shape and movement were becoming more clear. Blinking hard, he visibly strained to see his captor better, killing just enough time to round out his response.

"The personnel aboard my ship were polite enough, though I didn't interact much. They were a ride, it was some sort of military craft. I wasn't allowed outside my little area, to be honest, just like I don't think you'd let an outsider just wander about this... I'm presuming we're on a ship, right? Or is it a station? I can't actually see what's going on out those windows, over there, I think the cabonite may have messed up my eyes."

Shaking his head to get back on track, Hal then took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "As far as where I was coming from, I'd been stuck on Bandomeer for a while, got some work fixing some of their mining machinery. I was a junior engineer, after all, and fixing a digger is a heck of a lot easier than working on a hyperdrive. Heh, they had this one digger, an old TD-09, it was always breaking, and they kept blaming me for it. Not my fault that model is a piece of dren, I just worked there, and..."

Hal could feel the irritation of his captor, his tail sinking slowly as he swallowed, trying not to get off track again, lest nasty things be done to him. "Anyway, Bandomeer was supposed to have just been a layover, but, the ship I'd been stowing away on to get there got raided by local security, and it took a while to find new transport. I paid some of the black market to find me a way into Alliance space. I didn't care where, I just needed to get there, and they said they could take me. I've heard that there is a new Jedi headquarters, there, and I thought that's where I'd go. I... didn't really know where else to go. So, when they were passing by, my contact messaged them I was coming, I stole some piece of shit little ship, and bailed before local security even knew it was gone. And, I'm sorry, but I promised to not divulge the names of my contacts, and I take promises seriously."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The turboshaft's lockout was prudent, but predictable. Vissica was being denied access to the conning tower levels. Captain Orgern certainly had a combat slicer in his boarding party, but they were still bogged down in carving up the rear-guard. Beyond sight, the Selonian could sense the weight of the force shifting above along a fulcrum of conflict. With the arrival of the next lift, Lady Vissica took the car as far up as it would allow, her greatsaber spearing the roof even as it ascended. When the upward inertia regulated itself, the Selonian stood free to let a glowing orange ring of durasteel clang to the deck, and vaulted up on top of the car. While physical lockouts were in place to prevent further ascent, the Knight could see a cramped and unassuming ventilation shaft tube running parallel at the junction. Two angry swipes of her greatsaber scored the tube open, and the Selonian clenched a webbed fist as the force drew forth to wrench the opening wide. With nimble dexterity, the tall musteloid contorted herself into the aperture and began to shimmy through the claustrophobia-inducing confines. Her grunting breaths echoed all around as she carefully negotiated the vertical length. There were no hand-holds to support her weight, so this was a matter of careful body positioning. The Selonian braced with her tail, bunched, and pushed a distance more with her legs before bracing with her arms and allowing the cycle to repeat. A few careful repetitions were all that were needed before the precarious locomotion came natural, allowing her to move past the cordon in a manner that a human would be loathe to duplicate.

This little tidbit of Star Destroyer schematic wasn't memorized for this mission, but Vissica had the due diligence to make note of it far earlier, to consider the possibility that she may one day have to do exactly what she was doing now - cut the head off a traitorous snake. Another twenty meters and...there. A horizontal junction cast a matte circle of darkness against the glossier black of her metal confines. Vissica reached for it, pulling her flexible frame up and through. From here, she could be faster. Furious clawed feet and hands skittered as her heavy tail thumped in the tube. The acoustics of the shaft carried distant sounds of battle clearly to her, and Vissica knew she was closing once more on Inquisitor Volikar.

When the sounds had become deafening and the presence of the Inquisitor was nearly upon her, Vissica sparked her greatsaber, rolling it in a quick arc that severed the ventilation artery she inhabited. Behind Volikar and further beyond Trask and his men, the heavy ventilation tube affixed to the ceiling burst from it's support, wrenching to the ground as an angry Selonian spilled out on all fours, pausing only to throw the Gran off his feet and into the backs of his own diminishing defenders.

[Palara Iscandar]

Iscandar continued to keep her eye on Inquisitor Farro, her lightwhip hilt resting in her hand. A more traditional lightsaber burst to life in her other hand, and batted away a few blaster bolts that had strayed too close. Farro used that as his moment, throwing himself forward into a roll, which he turned into a spring forward. The gambit to bring himself closer without giving her time to react with her lightwhip worked; only he was unprepared for her to deactivate the whip and attack solely with her lightsaber, thinking it was a fall back weapon.

The way she wielded it, the whip seemed to be her fall back weapon. Her whole body was a weapon. His first strike was parried away, the movement to parry she used to spin to her left and strike at him again, which he ducked, and continued to pivot, only this time dropping low, and kicking out one leg, to sweep his feet from under him. He rolled backwards, seeing that she had planted the blade of her white lightsaber into the decking where he'd been not a second before. He settled his weight, only for her to push out her hand and force him once more onto his back, and with two powerful steps, still crouched low to the floor, launched herself forward to kill him.

Farro rolled backwards once more, and brought down his own red lightsaber in a powerful blow, only for her to corkscrew out of the way of his strike, using her hand to push herself to the left. She kept close to him, hoping the Stormtroopers would hesitate to shoot for fear of hitting the Inquisitor.

[Rossos Atrapes]

Not even a fake list of names? Curious.

Atrapes turned his attention to the battle reports. One Interdictor cruiser's gravity well had failed, though the life support systems were still operable. Arbalest was now in range, and the captain was moving the ship around the fight behind the three traitorous destroyers to cut off their escape route. Fearless, the corvette, was firing missiles at the shield generators and scanning stations, perhaps in an effort to force the larger ships to fire manually instead of relying on the accuracy of their computers.

"You seem to believe you are in a position where you can deny to answer questions," the Knight-General said. "Why is that, I wonder?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal shrugged and continued to play his dangerous game, and his answer was nothing but the honest truth.

"Because if you wanted me dead, I would be. If you wanted information, you'd torture it out of me. What you want is my respect, and I'm giving it to you, but a man cannot respect one while disrespecting another at the same time. I believe you understand why I choose not to divulge further than I have. If I were to reneg on the promise of anonynmity I gave to my ride, how could you trust anything I say? I'd rather be a frustratingly honest man than an untrustworthy liar."

[Jarvan Trask]

The call to advance went out, and the column of troopers pushed further into the room, gunning down their traitorous brothers and sisters. Every shot fired from his blaster cleaved through the chest plates and helmets of identically clad soldiers. He didn't blame them. They were just grunts following orders. No. He blamed their superiors, the Inquisitors, and those who led these poor souls astray. With every shot Cerberus squad forgave their comrades for their sins, and every soul laid to rest could at least die knowing they fought the good fight, even if for the wrong side. Glorious death in combat was the best end a Stormtrooper could ever dream for.

Finally his blaster rifle went silent, the smoke cleared and the ground was littered with the white carapaces and gray uniforms of the dead. "Cer-ber-us!" Jarvan called out, and behind him his men chanted "Fire and fury!"

The massive Imperial Knight Vissica had entered the fight, spilling from the ceiling, and engaging the Inquisitors. The room was won, and his troopers would keep their distance and hold the room. Half of them watched the duel, ready to give supporting fire if needed, while the rest moved to watch the doors and continue the firefight with those who would try to retake the room. On the floor an enemy trooper gurgled noisily. Dropping to a knee Trask disabled the neck seal and pulled the dying soldier's helmet free to reveal a young face. Blood was oozing out his mouth, and he was noisily choking on it. His eyes wild, unfocused, as he searched for something that wasn't there.

Suddenly his eyes focused, locked on Trask's helmet in a way that made him feel like the private was looking through the lenses of his helmet and into his soul. His arm came around from under his limp body. It was holding something spherical. "Grenade!" Jarvan's mouth pushed the words out without his brain even engaging. Already he was dropping the dying soldier and running, the troopers in the room also dived for cover, but there was no time. The explosion detonated, and Jarvan felt his skeleton shake violently inside his body even as the blast threw his through the air and into the wall.

All he remembered before darkness took him was pain. So much pain.

[Rossos Atrapes]

"You assume too much," Atrapes said, turning around. "I do not refrain from torturing you out of a desire for your respect."

The battle still waged in front of him was in its last stages.

[Palara Iscandar]

The explosion of the grenade whipped her past the Inquisitor with a surprising violence, but she still managed to land on her feet behind the large Inquisitor. With two sharp kicks to his knees, he was down, and her blaster pistol was to the back of his head. A stun blast knocked him out.

"Trooper, bind zis man," she ordered breathlessly, and took off for the lift that would take her to the bridge.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

A piercing sensation ran down Vissica's spine as she prepared to square herself against the Gran inquisitor. It wasn't pain - rather - it was a sensation through the force so pregnant of urgency and immediacy that it overrode anything she may have otherwise felt at that moment.

Danger!

The Selonian curled inwards on herself, tucking her head against her chest as her webbed paws raised with digits splayed. Around her, a dozen fallen stormtrooper bodies pushed away a heartbeat before they were sent flying in another sudden direction from a grenade blast. The air around Vissica seemed to dance; a pocket of force resisting against the grenade's shockwave. The effect was far from total. Though Vissica remained largely unharmed by the explosion, the tremendous din of it left her ears with a ghostly ringing.

The Selonian Knight drew back up to her towering height. The men who had fallen moments before were discarded across the room helter skelter. As Vissica untucked her head from her chest, she caught the sight of Major Trask slumped against the wall. He was one of the few survivors.

She didn't dwell on the sight, turning her bullet-shaped head back on a swivel toward another life form she could sense. Inquisitor Volikar had also survived the detonation intact, lowering his crossed arms slowly as he stood tall to hold his lightsaber once again. Him, a symbol of the Empress and her infinite power, now sullied and standing against everything he swore to uphold.

The growl built up in Vissica's chest as she reignited her greatsaber.

"TRAITOR!!!" she roared, through a spittle-flecked snarl.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"You refrain from torturing me because you want me to become one of your toy soldiers," Hal spoke to the Knight-General's turned back. "Just because I didn't get full training as a Jedi, you think you can re-shape me, mold me to be one of your knights. Well, you might be right. I have powers I don't know how to control. I have abilities I need training in, and from what I hear, your little team knows how to train someone like me. Am I correct, so far?"

[Rossos Atrapes]

As Kyle Rayner spoke, a few of the officers stepped away; glancing surreptitiously over at the implacable form the Knight-General.

Calling the Imperial Knights toy soldiers? Atrapes and his lieutenants were a little team?

Despite the disaffection towards the Knights most in Starfleet felt, speaking like he had just done was something of a challenge to the leader of the Knights. Seeing an opportunity, the Captain of the Arbalest stepped forward, his eyes on the alien in an expression of contained disgust.

"Milord, perhaps we should torture him?" the Captain said. Atrapes turned to face him. "Just to teach him a little respect, of course, nothing too permanent. There are facilities aboard that would serve this purpose nicely."

Atrapes looked thoughtful.

"If you were a fully trained Jedi, you would be correct," Atrapes said. "But you are not."

A chill permeated the bridge, and Atrapes turned back to the viewport, looking intently at the battle, as if he were aware of the circumstances without being told.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Status on the Immobilizers!"

"One has had its gravity well generator knocked out, but a Destroyer has put itself between us and the remaining two!"

The Captain of the Thresher was afraid.

"Every weapon at our disposal lock on to that Destroyer! Relay this command to our sister ships. It won't last long under a combined assault. We must get out of this trap before that Allegiance can close it!"

The ensigns aboard the bridge worked silently, but there was a definite sense of impending defeat.

And then the turbolift at the back of the bridge opened, and out stepped an Imperial Knight.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Then what's it to be?" Hal's question came with all the subtlety of a hammer blow. "You've got me here, and it's not like I'm going anywhere, so, what's to become of me?"

Behind him his tail swung with nervous apprehension. Though his words carried confidence, anyone capable of reading the more common body language of tailed species would see he was anything but sure of himself in that moment.

[Rolth Wygraant]

HHHHRRRROOHHHH!!!

The full-throated sound of twin ion engines at maximum burn was unmistakeable, and Captain Wygraant watched the stricken TIE fighter pinwheel off it's stable flight path. With one of it's solar panel wings severely crimped by a glancing concussion missile, it had no way to come out of it's now-fatal dive. It wasn't exactly veteran nerve that kept Captain Wygraant's eyes on the dying TIE fighter from his vantage at Decimator's observation deck. Rumor had it, after all that Firmus Piett had gone out that way. Hoisted upon his own petard, as the last fighter his ship's batteries shot down proved to be his undoing.

Balderdash. Admiral Piett scarely had time to relieve his bladder before his ship went down in flames. But telling it like he'd shot down one A-wing too many was the sort of too-convenient fairy tale that good reason could never kill.

So had he come to stare death in the face as this fighter fell so close to the bridge?

Impact. The ship shook, this close to where the TIE smashed against the shielding. Distressingly, an overhead conduit sparked, throwing a pair of tiny embers down upon Wygraant's duty jacket, which the Captain brushed away with a gloved hand; irritated chagrin on his face.

"Deflector screens at sixteen percent sir!"

"Keep us between the firing line."

A glance at Wing Commander Karnel returned little in the way of conclusive news. Esk Squadron was returning on a third bombing run at the flank. The traitors were thinning the ranks, however. The last run had cost them two bombers.

Commander Belgen was on his way up the short steps from the crew pit, and Wygraant calculated his news was also bereft of cheer.

"The enemy command has singled us out to get at the Interdictors, sir. They're focusing fire."

A pinched expression formed on the Captain's face. As a Star Destroyer man, you had to prepare yourself for the day that your fate may be left up to the statistics. There wasn't enough durasteel between the Empire and the traitors, and he had too few guns to turn the tide himself.

"Thank you, Commander. That will be all."

[Vance Felline]

"Another wave of fighters are coming from the destroyers, sir."

"Destroyers are focusing their fire on Decimator."

Captain Felline looked out the viewport, his fists clenched. There was no way Fearless could stand against a single destroyer's fire for long, and it was without the fire power to weaken them to prolong the Decimator's heroic stand.

"Power to anti-starfighter elements. Thin them," he commanded. They had to hold long enough for Arbalest to come into play. At that point, the battle would be over. The Raider-II's laser cannons erupted in a storm of light, as the computers locked onto the horde of TIE fighters incoming. "Put distance between us and Decimator. We will protect the Interdictors. They are their targets."

Both Arbalest and Victrix were still out of range, but coming closer. Would they hold long enough?

[Rossos Atrapes]

"What will become of you?" Atrapes repeated the question, looking back at the alien. "Wait and see."

The Captain's face twisted; he was being ignored, and his power play was going sour in front of his bridge crew.

"Milord—"

"Silence. There is a battle that requires your expertise. Focus on that, Captain."

The Starfleet officer's face smoothed over and he bowed.

"Of course, milord."

***


"Sir!"

"Close the blast doors! Hold her off!"

Captain Tiel Mar of the Star Destroyer Thresher turned, eyes wide to see the bridge security troops firing on a figure in blue near the back. His Vice-Captain turned also, and looked at him in grim humour.

"Now we know why we haven't heard from the Inquisitors," he said, pulling his blaster pistol and going to the rear of the bridge.

"This was supposed to be a secret route. Did she lie to us?" Captain Mar grimaced at the memory of the woman until an Ensign called out.

"Enemy destroyer's shields are down, sir! Power looks to be fluctuating!"

"Fire! Destroy it, quickly!" The shields were trying to restore themselves, and in the process of doing so under fire, they would automatically draw power from other systems. In this case, the weapons and engines.

"Sir! Reports from the Formidable and Sabre! Boarding teams have disabled some of their weapons systems."

"Sir, transmission from the Formidable."

Mar turned to the vidscreen to see Inquisitor Ruwel and his likely cybernetic eyes staring back at him.

"The battle is lost," the Inquisitor said. "Destroy the nearest Interdictor with our fighters and bombers and continue firing on the Imperial-II. I will take our cargo to the rendezvous point."

Mar felt his stomach twist.

"You may surrender when Formidable is safely away, or attempt to fight your way clear."

"I made my choice when I agreed to your commander's proposal, Inquisitor," Mar said. "Given the fate of the Acklay, I doubt they will spare any mercy for us. Go, and hopefully you can reclaim the Empire from the Pretender."

Inquisitor Ruwel nodded once, and the transmission was cut. Captain Mar stood, and turned back to the rear of the bridge, where the blast doors had been successfully closed, but the Knight's lightsaber was cutting a hole through them.

"All fighter elements: attack the closest Interdictor. Thresher and Sabre will continue to fire upon the Destroyer while Formidable makes an escape. At least one contingency plan went right. Most of their attention is on us. We will show these servants of the Pretender what True Imperials are capable of!"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Inquisitor Volikar brandished his weapon, leaping in to strike. Lady Vissica replied in turn, winding up her sinewy frame in a full cleave that kissed the ceiling conduits before raining down upon the Gran with the weight of her wrath. With a power and leverage advantage, even Volikar's Djem So strike was broken. The Gran left his feet, his saber wrenched from his grasp as the Selonian followed her saber strike with a thrashing from her tail to knock the breath from his lungs.

Sinking to the deck, Volikar gasped as he reached out to call his saber to his hand. The Inquisitor's weapon skidded along the floor, but before it could reach him, Vissica dipped the broad edge of her greatsaber to the deck in the weapon's path. Volikar's lightsaber cleaved into two sparking ruins as it bisected the white plasma. Horrified, he looked up to the victor. The Selonian paced her defeated foe, the trailing edge of her lightsaber scoring the deck, leaving behind a blood-red slag scar in her wake.

"This changes nothing. Nothing!You and your false Empress will burn in time."

Vissica listened to the Gran's words as she paced behind him. Her whiskers stood on end, and a broad paw relaxed and tensed along the knurled grip of her weapon.

"Perhaps we shall. But I give you the honor of going before us."

Lady Vissica reached her free hand down, grasping the Gran's center eye stalk, pulling it upwards to expose Volikar's neck. His two free eyes pivoted downward at the white glow that slowly approached his throat. The glow reflected in Vissica's black and unblinking eyes.

"Gloria Imperium."

"AAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!




* * *


Still grasping Volikar's now-severed head by the center eye stalk, Vissica paced to where Jarvan Trask had fallen. He was slow to rise and still shaky, but he would likely live.

"On your feet, trooper. There are more enemies for us both."

[Jarvan Trask]

Coughing, he looked up at the Imperial Knight standing beside him, and then looked down, balking at the sight of the severed head. His helmet was off and a medic was attending to him. The crusted bits of blood under his nose and ears suggested that more had been wiped away. The shock of the grenade had heard him badly. Already bacta had been applied to the worst parts, and his head was clearing. He was far from perfect, but goddamn if he was going to sit around while his men died without him.

Despite the medic's complaints he hoisted himself back to his feet, slammed his helmet back over his head, and grabbed his rifle. It was damaged from the explosion. Grimacing underneath his plastoid helmet and tossed the weapon aside. Looking around, he found one in better condition beside the body of a dead trooper. Pausing a moment he laid a hand over the helmet of the dead and dragged it down, as if closing the open eyes. Lastly he punched the chest plate and rose, a new fire in his gut. Pulling the energy cell free he checked the charge and then slammed it back home.

"Cerberus Squad form up on me. Let's finish this fight. After you Knight Vissica. Lead the way."