Introductory Fiction - Week 2
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One week before the Horizons outbreak
Arcona Citadel
Estle City
Selen
Slender fingers caressed ruby lips; they wandered slowly across soft features, through a golden corset of sunshine hair. A body carved from lust, a body cast of impulse. Her smile was that of a lover’s smile. She was a temptress. And she knew it. She could manipulate men, mold them like warm putty. They would fall to their primal instincts, and that was partly why Zoraan had chosen her.
She smirked as she pulled the bed sheet to cover her exposed skin. Procuring plans for the Citadel from the engineer had been surprisingly easy. To his credit, he had satisfied her basic impulses, but little else. Behind her, he was sprawled awkwardly on the floor, a candelabra lodged deep within his chest cavity. It was fascinating how even the strongest of men were weak at the peak of their performance.
--==[]==--
Jareese Na’Sel walked into the small office and greeted Garan with a grin.
She sat in front of the desk and pulled out a datapad, silent. The assassin knew it would irritate her partner. Garan shook his head and clenched his jaw. “Don’t toy with me, Jaree. Did you get the plans?”
“Perhaps.” Her smile was playfully uneasy, and entirely unreadable.
“Perhaps?” Garan slammed his fist down on the desk and leaned in to his partner. He spoke through gritted teeth, “You would do well to give me a more conclusive answer.”
She stared at Garan for a short while. At his archetypal beauty. It was the way of the Hapan; chiseled features, high cheekbones, thick eyelashes, dark hair. It was a shame he had been marred by an unhealthy lust for power. He would have made quite the companion.
“I have done more than that,” she finally replied. “I also planted the contingency...”
“What? So soon? Were you not seen?” Garan stepped back. “How?”
A smile teased at the corners of her lips as she stood up and walked behind her chair, “That is of little concern.”
Garan made a motion to lunge at his younger counterpart, but thought better of it. For all her beauty, for all her femininity, she had the agility of a Nexu, and enough skill to eviscerate him in a blur. He pulled out a small holoprojector and put it on the desk, “Then we must notify the Captain.”
Victory flashed through bright eyes as Jareese bored Garan with a piercing stare. After a short, silent exchange, Garan rescinded. He brushed past her and bolted the door shut. A few seconds later the skeletal spectre of the thinset captain flickered into life. Jareese and Garan bowed, and the Captain nodded in return.
“I do hope you disturb me for good reason.” The Captain’s coarse voice carried even through the tinny speakers of the holoprojector.
“Yes, my Captain,” Jareese nodded once more and stepped forward, hands clasped in the small of her back. “This is our final check in; we have planted the contingency.”
“Well, this is interesting news.” The Captain brushed his sunken face with long, bony fingers.
“What of the other infiltration teams, Captain? Have they reported in?” Garan’s voice was nothing more than a nervous quiver.
“Enaias has planted the contingency within the Jusadih system, but no others have made contact. And the affliction? Has it spread?”
“I’m sure of it.” Jareese’s response was a whip-crack.
“Good. Continue as you are. You know your assignments.” The Captains visage disappeared, and the duo relaxed.
It was only a matter of time. If the affliction could not destroy the Brotherhood, the contingencies certainly would.
--==[]==--
Present
Hangar Bay Aurek-14
NSD Ascendancy
Kapsina Orbit
Jusadih System
A symphony of blaster fire reverberated around the hangar, a rainbow of colours and flashes illuminating the cavernous, emergency-lit expanse. Upturned TIE fighters, flaming electrical panels, scolding jets of steam. And amongst it all, Zoraan’s encroaching forces.
The all-too-familiar hiss of super-heated air stung his ears as another bolt passed overhead. Crouched behind an upturned cargo crate, Kal Vorrac contemplated his next move. Orders, screams, and cries amalgamating into a deafening cacophony within his earpiece, the pain piercing his shoulder, and the convulsing corpse of a pilot from Chaos squadron all attempted to cloud his judgement. But before he could think, another resounding clunk shook the ship to its core, throwing him to the floor. An ominous drilling was soon followed by a shower of sparks.
Another boarding shuttle.
“Fall back!” Kal screamed to the few remaining Plagueians as he pushed himself to his feet and batted wayward blaster bolts back to their source. Two novices fell as he protected the doorway leading into the corridors. He dropped back into the narrow doorway just as the second boarding shuttle erupted. But not before the blast-door slammed shut. He slashed the control panel and turned to his peers.
Seven remained from a force of forty.
“Gorram it!” Kal barked. There was a momentary lapse in the Coruscanti’s usual stoical demeanour as he ripped the communicator from his ear and smashed it against the floor. “Where are our reinforcements? Jaek, hand me your communicator.”
The Aedile took the earpiece from his counterpart and tapped into the bridge’s channel. He felt a twang in his shoulder again as he moved his arm. The blaster bolt had done some damage.
“Tra’an?” Kal motioned for the six remaining Plagueians as he jogged through the warren of hallways in search of the closest turbolift.
“Recei- ...o ahead!” Static was interspersed by fragmented words.
“We’ve lost the lower decks. I repeat, we’ve lost the lower decks.”
“Copy. Evacuat- ...area.” Tra’an’s voice petered off into solid static.
Kal pointed as he rounded a corner into a small junction. To their left was the turbolift; to their right, a squad of Zoraan’s grunts. They scoured the dark corridors, cones of light darting and dashing between rooms. While the remaining Plagueians made their way to the turbolifts, Kal stalked off toward the mercenaries. It wasn’t long before he was in range; it wasn’t long before he erupted. Tapping into his connection to the Force, he channelled through his body. It converged to create a superheated ball of pure Force energy. And Kal launched it right into the narrow corridor occupied by Zoraan’s men.
The concussive Force blast ripped through corridor and men alike. Metal and flesh exploded in a cataclysm of blood and dust. Walls were ripped, torn asunder. Partitions collapsed. The lower hangar deck seemed to shudder with the force. One flashlight came to rest. Attached to its handle was a single hand.
Kal turned and made his way back to the turbolift.
--==[]==--
The Bridge
NSD Invicta
Kapsina Orbit
Jusadih System
The Hapan struck quite the imposing figure in the command centre of Arcona’s naval attack. Hands clasped behind his back, silky raven hair framing his pointed features; he was a phantasm of authority. An amalgam of all to which he strived. He had developed from humble beginnings. In Arcona, he had been responsible for Oblivion Brigade; Qel-Droma’s answer to Galeres’ Soulfire Strike Team. Now he led from the trenches, relaying the orders of the Arconan Consul in a clan-wide naval assault. And not two years had passed between. It had been an astonishing ascension, and it would soon be tested.
In front of him was a sprawling holographic representation of the battlefield, and at its centre was the an emerald Ascendancy. The two Victory II-class Star Destroyers flanking either side were three-dimensional sapphire frames, and Arcona’s encircling fleet shone a deep rouge. The Shadow and the Darkest Night, each led one of the Majestic-class Heavy Cruisers round in a pincer manoeuvre. With the two attacking Star Destroyers focused on the Ascendancy, the Arconan vessels were given a relatively clear path into position. Now they waited.
“Lictor, focus all firepower on vector 937.” Marick’s slender silhouette was outlined against the destruction outside the viewport. “Shadow, follow up with an attack on vector 924.”
“As you command!” Socorra’s crisp voice shook her holoprojection. A motion of her hand was all required; a silent display of turbolasers poured forth from the Arconan vessels in unison. A sea of red and green careened into the bridge of one of the attacking Destroyers. They had been working on it for some time, attacking shield generators and bombarding hangars which had a seemingly endless supply of fighters. The Shadow’s Interceptor Squadrons had trouble holding them off, to the point where only a few full squadrons remained. They had to draw on the Invicta’s Squadrons for cover. Now, though, they were on the backfoot. Concentrated firepower upon its hull had caused it to grind to a halt, its engines misfiring. They were sitting wamp rats waiting for the Arconan coup de grâce.
“Direct hit, Your Honour.” The Quaestor confirmed.
“Good. Have Void escort Dark Sight Squadron on a bombing run over their reserve generators on the aft of the hull.” Marick focused on the pseudo-battlefield, his eyes transfixed by the attacking Destroyer’s ‘vital’ stats hovering closely above.
The two squadrons swooped in, pinpricks in the three-dimensional holographic grid. Marick waited intensely. If they failed, the possibility of the Destroyer focusing all remaining power into their turbolasers and setting upon the Arconan fleet was likely.
Nothing. Neither confirmation of a hit, nor a change of attack by the Destroyer.
And then Marick saw it.
The Destroyer’s nose was slowly dipping. Main engine function had been disrupted. The Qel-Droman attack had been successful. The Destroyer slipped down and fell away from the Ascendancy.
“Dark Sight have been successful, Your Honour.” Socorra said finally.
“Congratulate Andrelious and Damon. Fall back around and join up with the Galerean fleet. The Ascendancy has been given some time.” Marick nodded to the executive officer; a signal to bring the ship around and line up the second Destroyer.
“Don’t get complacent.” The bark in his ear reminded the Proconsul he was under scrutiny. The Dragon was still watching, listening. He had directed the attack, Marick had been his proxy. It was partly for the Hapan’s need for naval command experience, and partly to raise his standing within the clan. “Now we focus on Galeres.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Marick responded obediently.
It seemed the tides were changing yet again. And for the better.
--==[]==--
Hangar Bay Aurek-17
NSD Ascendancy
Kapsina Orbit
Jusadih System
“Fire in the hole!” The words were barely out of his mouth before it exploded.
A concussive blast ripped through a fifteen-strong squad of mercenaries. They were thrown violently outward by the explosion as the secondary charge of shot sprayed them with molten fury. They collapsed, a few dead, most injured. A handful were able to stand, but they were of little concern; Valhavoc simply deflected a few sloppy shots before cutting them down like Banthas at the abattoir. The remaining injured were left for the rest of Dark Forge to eliminate as the Corellian made contact with their partner team, Spectre Cell.
“We’ve taken hangar seventeen. What’s your status?”
“We’ve hit some resistance. There’s a huge forc... incoming!” Valhavoc ripped the communicator from his head as an explosion tore through his ear. The ship shuddered a little underfoot.
“Etah?” Valhavoc queried calmly as he reattached the earpiece. Screams and shouts were the only response. “Etah, report.”
“Reporting.” The strained voice of the former swooper chimed in the Knights ear, “hangar fourteen is brimming with bodies. We managed to see a couple of the remaining Plagueians fleeing just as our boarding shuttle opened, but we’ve yet to make any progress.”
“E.T.A for rendezvous?” Valhavoc replied nonchalantly.
“We’ll meet you on the upper levels.” Etah grunted, evidently forced back into an evasive manoeuvre.
Valhavoc simply removed the earpiece and turned to face the Forge. Another boarding shuttle rattled the hangar, and two plasma saws made quick work of the Ascendancy’s hull. The boarding craft opened to reveal Soulfire Strike Team and their small army: The Erinos Mandalorian Clan.
“It looks like we have company.” Valhavoc nodded to Elgar, the clan chief, and the Captain of Soulfire Strike Team, Celahir Erinos. “Gentlemen. I’m glad to have you at our backs. Dark Forge, let’s move. We’ve got some mercs to fry.”
Celahir reciprocated with a nod and a smile. “You heard Val, let’s move!”
--==[]==--
The Bridge
NSD Ascendancy
Kapsina Orbit
Jusadih System
“Reports of a large number of boarding shuttles keep coming in, your Excellency.”
“And how many are Arconan?” Tra’an demanded.
“It seems that around 30% are now Arconan.” Furios replied.
“And have we any reports about progress? How far have Zoraan’s men made it into the ship?” Tra’ans eyes fluttered between the one remaining holographic display of the battlefield, and the piercing emerald stare of his battle team leader.
“Thirty minutes ago, they’d captured the lower levels. With the Arconan forces now arriving, there are reports of large sections of the Aurek hangar bay being cleared.”
“Progress,” the Quaestor nodded, rubbing the unusual dusting of stubble on his jaw. “And what of the Instigator?”
“Eiko, with the help of Arden and Alaris, has held the bridge. Arconan forces, led by one of their Aediles, Cethgus - a former Plagueian himself - are currently sweeping the ship.”
“Good. And have we heard anything about the VSD that fell from our flank? How many casualties on Kapsina?”
“That...” Furios hesitated, “Is something we cannot find out.”
Tra’an let his hand wander down to his belt and tucked his thumbs behind his aurodium belt buckle fashioned into the Plagueian emblem. “At least we are safe to protect our system. I must speak with the Arconans. You are dismissed.”
Furios scurried off into the emergency-lit bridge, and Tra’an found his way over to the communications officer. He dared not think what might have happened would it have not been for the combined forces of Arcona’s Expeditionary Force.
The now all-too-familiar visage of the Dragon flickered into view on the deck. For the first time, the Arconan Consul was not wearing his mask. In its place was a deep cutting stare from sapphire eyes.
“Tra’an.” Wuntila acknowledged.
“I would like to say thank you for your efforts. Without your help, events would have certainly played out differently.” Tra’an nodded humbly.
“Consider it a gift. The preamble to a long-standing Arconan-Plagueian relationship.”
“That I will.” Tra’an stopped, but before he could continue, the spectre of the Arconan Consul rescinded into the ether. Lights flickered and died, systems began failing. And then they felt the explosion.
A deep grumbling ripped right through the ship, shaking people from their feet, and throwing them around the bridge. The Arconans must have seen it first from the bridge of the Invicta.
The payloads.
Bombs, each the size of picket-ships and with similar engines had been ejected from the second Destroyer. One for each of the planets in the Jusadih system. Kapsina had become the first casualty. A cloud of yellow-green smoke engulfed the planet in a matter of seconds. The other planets would surely face a similar fate.
Tra’an pushed himself to his feet and rubbed the sanguine from a cut on his forehead. He did not notice it at first. It took the screams of a crewmember to shake him back into the present.
Out of the viewport, swirling emerald clouds enveloped the atmosphere. It was biological warfare. Tra’an knew it instantly. There could only be one biological weapon capable of taking out an entire planet with one strike... The Blackwing virus. Those few not killed in the primary nuclear blast would be infected in a matter of hours, turned from sentient humanoids and species into walking nightmares.
Hell had arrived on Plagueis’ doorstep.
--==[]==--
Throne Room
Arcona Citadel
Estle City
Selen
The image of Tra’an flickered from view unexpectedly, and the Consul could not help but think the worst. Had the Ascendancy been destroyed? Arcona’s fleets with it?
Anger. Pain. Anguish. They enveloped him like the comforting embrace of a former lover. They overloaded his synapses, a chemical cocktail racing through his throbbing veins. Adrenaline kicked in. He sprung to his feet.
He stormed from the dais out to the forward operating base, a bull on parade. Two officers scrambled around in an attempt to repair the link. But they ventured a little too close to the maniacal Dragon. They were jolted from the floor, their legs dangling helplessly beneath them, clutching helplessly at their necks. Wuntila closed his outstretched hands into fists and with a snap their heads bobbed down, chins resting on chests. The Consul threw the two corpses into the fires behind effortlessly and strode towards the senior communications officer, batting another low-level conscript off his feet with a heavy gauntlet and as much strength as a Rancor in heat.
“What is the fate of my clan?” The Dragon spoke with heavy breaths through gritted teeth. “Are my summit and my men alive?”
“I... I don’t know.” The communications officer had lost all sense of composure. He stared into the face of death itself.
“Lord Consul!” The calming voice of Invictus, former Quaestor of Qel-Droma, resonated through the chamber. Wuntila snapped his head toward the Chiss. “A flotilla is headed toward Selen. A droid strike force must have been activated. We are seriously outnumbered...”
“What? How?”
“I don’t know, Wun.” Invictus’ Sapphire complexion had turned a few shades lighter.
“Gather our forces. We have just lost our fleet and our men. I will not lose the Citadel.” Wuntila turned, bored the senior communications officer with a stare of dark intent, and marched back towards the throne.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Arcona Citadel
Estle City
Selen
Slender fingers caressed ruby lips; they wandered slowly across soft features, through a golden corset of sunshine hair. A body carved from lust, a body cast of impulse. Her smile was that of a lover’s smile. She was a temptress. And she knew it. She could manipulate men, mold them like warm putty. They would fall to their primal instincts, and that was partly why Zoraan had chosen her.
She smirked as she pulled the bed sheet to cover her exposed skin. Procuring plans for the Citadel from the engineer had been surprisingly easy. To his credit, he had satisfied her basic impulses, but little else. Behind her, he was sprawled awkwardly on the floor, a candelabra lodged deep within his chest cavity. It was fascinating how even the strongest of men were weak at the peak of their performance.
--==[]==--
Jareese Na’Sel walked into the small office and greeted Garan with a grin.
She sat in front of the desk and pulled out a datapad, silent. The assassin knew it would irritate her partner. Garan shook his head and clenched his jaw. “Don’t toy with me, Jaree. Did you get the plans?”
“Perhaps.” Her smile was playfully uneasy, and entirely unreadable.
“Perhaps?” Garan slammed his fist down on the desk and leaned in to his partner. He spoke through gritted teeth, “You would do well to give me a more conclusive answer.”
She stared at Garan for a short while. At his archetypal beauty. It was the way of the Hapan; chiseled features, high cheekbones, thick eyelashes, dark hair. It was a shame he had been marred by an unhealthy lust for power. He would have made quite the companion.
“I have done more than that,” she finally replied. “I also planted the contingency...”
“What? So soon? Were you not seen?” Garan stepped back. “How?”
A smile teased at the corners of her lips as she stood up and walked behind her chair, “That is of little concern.”
Garan made a motion to lunge at his younger counterpart, but thought better of it. For all her beauty, for all her femininity, she had the agility of a Nexu, and enough skill to eviscerate him in a blur. He pulled out a small holoprojector and put it on the desk, “Then we must notify the Captain.”
Victory flashed through bright eyes as Jareese bored Garan with a piercing stare. After a short, silent exchange, Garan rescinded. He brushed past her and bolted the door shut. A few seconds later the skeletal spectre of the thinset captain flickered into life. Jareese and Garan bowed, and the Captain nodded in return.
“I do hope you disturb me for good reason.” The Captain’s coarse voice carried even through the tinny speakers of the holoprojector.
“Yes, my Captain,” Jareese nodded once more and stepped forward, hands clasped in the small of her back. “This is our final check in; we have planted the contingency.”
“Well, this is interesting news.” The Captain brushed his sunken face with long, bony fingers.
“What of the other infiltration teams, Captain? Have they reported in?” Garan’s voice was nothing more than a nervous quiver.
“Enaias has planted the contingency within the Jusadih system, but no others have made contact. And the affliction? Has it spread?”
“I’m sure of it.” Jareese’s response was a whip-crack.
“Good. Continue as you are. You know your assignments.” The Captains visage disappeared, and the duo relaxed.
It was only a matter of time. If the affliction could not destroy the Brotherhood, the contingencies certainly would.
--==[]==--
Present
Hangar Bay Aurek-14
NSD Ascendancy
Kapsina Orbit
Jusadih System
A symphony of blaster fire reverberated around the hangar, a rainbow of colours and flashes illuminating the cavernous, emergency-lit expanse. Upturned TIE fighters, flaming electrical panels, scolding jets of steam. And amongst it all, Zoraan’s encroaching forces.
The all-too-familiar hiss of super-heated air stung his ears as another bolt passed overhead. Crouched behind an upturned cargo crate, Kal Vorrac contemplated his next move. Orders, screams, and cries amalgamating into a deafening cacophony within his earpiece, the pain piercing his shoulder, and the convulsing corpse of a pilot from Chaos squadron all attempted to cloud his judgement. But before he could think, another resounding clunk shook the ship to its core, throwing him to the floor. An ominous drilling was soon followed by a shower of sparks.
Another boarding shuttle.
“Fall back!” Kal screamed to the few remaining Plagueians as he pushed himself to his feet and batted wayward blaster bolts back to their source. Two novices fell as he protected the doorway leading into the corridors. He dropped back into the narrow doorway just as the second boarding shuttle erupted. But not before the blast-door slammed shut. He slashed the control panel and turned to his peers.
Seven remained from a force of forty.
“Gorram it!” Kal barked. There was a momentary lapse in the Coruscanti’s usual stoical demeanour as he ripped the communicator from his ear and smashed it against the floor. “Where are our reinforcements? Jaek, hand me your communicator.”
The Aedile took the earpiece from his counterpart and tapped into the bridge’s channel. He felt a twang in his shoulder again as he moved his arm. The blaster bolt had done some damage.
“Tra’an?” Kal motioned for the six remaining Plagueians as he jogged through the warren of hallways in search of the closest turbolift.
“Recei- ...o ahead!” Static was interspersed by fragmented words.
“We’ve lost the lower decks. I repeat, we’ve lost the lower decks.”
“Copy. Evacuat- ...area.” Tra’an’s voice petered off into solid static.
Kal pointed as he rounded a corner into a small junction. To their left was the turbolift; to their right, a squad of Zoraan’s grunts. They scoured the dark corridors, cones of light darting and dashing between rooms. While the remaining Plagueians made their way to the turbolifts, Kal stalked off toward the mercenaries. It wasn’t long before he was in range; it wasn’t long before he erupted. Tapping into his connection to the Force, he channelled through his body. It converged to create a superheated ball of pure Force energy. And Kal launched it right into the narrow corridor occupied by Zoraan’s men.
The concussive Force blast ripped through corridor and men alike. Metal and flesh exploded in a cataclysm of blood and dust. Walls were ripped, torn asunder. Partitions collapsed. The lower hangar deck seemed to shudder with the force. One flashlight came to rest. Attached to its handle was a single hand.
Kal turned and made his way back to the turbolift.
--==[]==--
The Bridge
NSD Invicta
Kapsina Orbit
Jusadih System
The Hapan struck quite the imposing figure in the command centre of Arcona’s naval attack. Hands clasped behind his back, silky raven hair framing his pointed features; he was a phantasm of authority. An amalgam of all to which he strived. He had developed from humble beginnings. In Arcona, he had been responsible for Oblivion Brigade; Qel-Droma’s answer to Galeres’ Soulfire Strike Team. Now he led from the trenches, relaying the orders of the Arconan Consul in a clan-wide naval assault. And not two years had passed between. It had been an astonishing ascension, and it would soon be tested.
In front of him was a sprawling holographic representation of the battlefield, and at its centre was the an emerald Ascendancy. The two Victory II-class Star Destroyers flanking either side were three-dimensional sapphire frames, and Arcona’s encircling fleet shone a deep rouge. The Shadow and the Darkest Night, each led one of the Majestic-class Heavy Cruisers round in a pincer manoeuvre. With the two attacking Star Destroyers focused on the Ascendancy, the Arconan vessels were given a relatively clear path into position. Now they waited.
“Lictor, focus all firepower on vector 937.” Marick’s slender silhouette was outlined against the destruction outside the viewport. “Shadow, follow up with an attack on vector 924.”
“As you command!” Socorra’s crisp voice shook her holoprojection. A motion of her hand was all required; a silent display of turbolasers poured forth from the Arconan vessels in unison. A sea of red and green careened into the bridge of one of the attacking Destroyers. They had been working on it for some time, attacking shield generators and bombarding hangars which had a seemingly endless supply of fighters. The Shadow’s Interceptor Squadrons had trouble holding them off, to the point where only a few full squadrons remained. They had to draw on the Invicta’s Squadrons for cover. Now, though, they were on the backfoot. Concentrated firepower upon its hull had caused it to grind to a halt, its engines misfiring. They were sitting wamp rats waiting for the Arconan coup de grâce.
“Direct hit, Your Honour.” The Quaestor confirmed.
“Good. Have Void escort Dark Sight Squadron on a bombing run over their reserve generators on the aft of the hull.” Marick focused on the pseudo-battlefield, his eyes transfixed by the attacking Destroyer’s ‘vital’ stats hovering closely above.
The two squadrons swooped in, pinpricks in the three-dimensional holographic grid. Marick waited intensely. If they failed, the possibility of the Destroyer focusing all remaining power into their turbolasers and setting upon the Arconan fleet was likely.
Nothing. Neither confirmation of a hit, nor a change of attack by the Destroyer.
And then Marick saw it.
The Destroyer’s nose was slowly dipping. Main engine function had been disrupted. The Qel-Droman attack had been successful. The Destroyer slipped down and fell away from the Ascendancy.
“Dark Sight have been successful, Your Honour.” Socorra said finally.
“Congratulate Andrelious and Damon. Fall back around and join up with the Galerean fleet. The Ascendancy has been given some time.” Marick nodded to the executive officer; a signal to bring the ship around and line up the second Destroyer.
“Don’t get complacent.” The bark in his ear reminded the Proconsul he was under scrutiny. The Dragon was still watching, listening. He had directed the attack, Marick had been his proxy. It was partly for the Hapan’s need for naval command experience, and partly to raise his standing within the clan. “Now we focus on Galeres.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Marick responded obediently.
It seemed the tides were changing yet again. And for the better.
--==[]==--
Hangar Bay Aurek-17
NSD Ascendancy
Kapsina Orbit
Jusadih System
“Fire in the hole!” The words were barely out of his mouth before it exploded.
A concussive blast ripped through a fifteen-strong squad of mercenaries. They were thrown violently outward by the explosion as the secondary charge of shot sprayed them with molten fury. They collapsed, a few dead, most injured. A handful were able to stand, but they were of little concern; Valhavoc simply deflected a few sloppy shots before cutting them down like Banthas at the abattoir. The remaining injured were left for the rest of Dark Forge to eliminate as the Corellian made contact with their partner team, Spectre Cell.
“We’ve taken hangar seventeen. What’s your status?”
“We’ve hit some resistance. There’s a huge forc... incoming!” Valhavoc ripped the communicator from his head as an explosion tore through his ear. The ship shuddered a little underfoot.
“Etah?” Valhavoc queried calmly as he reattached the earpiece. Screams and shouts were the only response. “Etah, report.”
“Reporting.” The strained voice of the former swooper chimed in the Knights ear, “hangar fourteen is brimming with bodies. We managed to see a couple of the remaining Plagueians fleeing just as our boarding shuttle opened, but we’ve yet to make any progress.”
“E.T.A for rendezvous?” Valhavoc replied nonchalantly.
“We’ll meet you on the upper levels.” Etah grunted, evidently forced back into an evasive manoeuvre.
Valhavoc simply removed the earpiece and turned to face the Forge. Another boarding shuttle rattled the hangar, and two plasma saws made quick work of the Ascendancy’s hull. The boarding craft opened to reveal Soulfire Strike Team and their small army: The Erinos Mandalorian Clan.
“It looks like we have company.” Valhavoc nodded to Elgar, the clan chief, and the Captain of Soulfire Strike Team, Celahir Erinos. “Gentlemen. I’m glad to have you at our backs. Dark Forge, let’s move. We’ve got some mercs to fry.”
Celahir reciprocated with a nod and a smile. “You heard Val, let’s move!”
--==[]==--
The Bridge
NSD Ascendancy
Kapsina Orbit
Jusadih System
“Reports of a large number of boarding shuttles keep coming in, your Excellency.”
“And how many are Arconan?” Tra’an demanded.
“It seems that around 30% are now Arconan.” Furios replied.
“And have we any reports about progress? How far have Zoraan’s men made it into the ship?” Tra’ans eyes fluttered between the one remaining holographic display of the battlefield, and the piercing emerald stare of his battle team leader.
“Thirty minutes ago, they’d captured the lower levels. With the Arconan forces now arriving, there are reports of large sections of the Aurek hangar bay being cleared.”
“Progress,” the Quaestor nodded, rubbing the unusual dusting of stubble on his jaw. “And what of the Instigator?”
“Eiko, with the help of Arden and Alaris, has held the bridge. Arconan forces, led by one of their Aediles, Cethgus - a former Plagueian himself - are currently sweeping the ship.”
“Good. And have we heard anything about the VSD that fell from our flank? How many casualties on Kapsina?”
“That...” Furios hesitated, “Is something we cannot find out.”
Tra’an let his hand wander down to his belt and tucked his thumbs behind his aurodium belt buckle fashioned into the Plagueian emblem. “At least we are safe to protect our system. I must speak with the Arconans. You are dismissed.”
Furios scurried off into the emergency-lit bridge, and Tra’an found his way over to the communications officer. He dared not think what might have happened would it have not been for the combined forces of Arcona’s Expeditionary Force.
The now all-too-familiar visage of the Dragon flickered into view on the deck. For the first time, the Arconan Consul was not wearing his mask. In its place was a deep cutting stare from sapphire eyes.
“Tra’an.” Wuntila acknowledged.
“I would like to say thank you for your efforts. Without your help, events would have certainly played out differently.” Tra’an nodded humbly.
“Consider it a gift. The preamble to a long-standing Arconan-Plagueian relationship.”
“That I will.” Tra’an stopped, but before he could continue, the spectre of the Arconan Consul rescinded into the ether. Lights flickered and died, systems began failing. And then they felt the explosion.
A deep grumbling ripped right through the ship, shaking people from their feet, and throwing them around the bridge. The Arconans must have seen it first from the bridge of the Invicta.
The payloads.
Bombs, each the size of picket-ships and with similar engines had been ejected from the second Destroyer. One for each of the planets in the Jusadih system. Kapsina had become the first casualty. A cloud of yellow-green smoke engulfed the planet in a matter of seconds. The other planets would surely face a similar fate.
Tra’an pushed himself to his feet and rubbed the sanguine from a cut on his forehead. He did not notice it at first. It took the screams of a crewmember to shake him back into the present.
Out of the viewport, swirling emerald clouds enveloped the atmosphere. It was biological warfare. Tra’an knew it instantly. There could only be one biological weapon capable of taking out an entire planet with one strike... The Blackwing virus. Those few not killed in the primary nuclear blast would be infected in a matter of hours, turned from sentient humanoids and species into walking nightmares.
Hell had arrived on Plagueis’ doorstep.
--==[]==--
Throne Room
Arcona Citadel
Estle City
Selen
The image of Tra’an flickered from view unexpectedly, and the Consul could not help but think the worst. Had the Ascendancy been destroyed? Arcona’s fleets with it?
Anger. Pain. Anguish. They enveloped him like the comforting embrace of a former lover. They overloaded his synapses, a chemical cocktail racing through his throbbing veins. Adrenaline kicked in. He sprung to his feet.
He stormed from the dais out to the forward operating base, a bull on parade. Two officers scrambled around in an attempt to repair the link. But they ventured a little too close to the maniacal Dragon. They were jolted from the floor, their legs dangling helplessly beneath them, clutching helplessly at their necks. Wuntila closed his outstretched hands into fists and with a snap their heads bobbed down, chins resting on chests. The Consul threw the two corpses into the fires behind effortlessly and strode towards the senior communications officer, batting another low-level conscript off his feet with a heavy gauntlet and as much strength as a Rancor in heat.
“What is the fate of my clan?” The Dragon spoke with heavy breaths through gritted teeth. “Are my summit and my men alive?”
“I... I don’t know.” The communications officer had lost all sense of composure. He stared into the face of death itself.
“Lord Consul!” The calming voice of Invictus, former Quaestor of Qel-Droma, resonated through the chamber. Wuntila snapped his head toward the Chiss. “A flotilla is headed toward Selen. A droid strike force must have been activated. We are seriously outnumbered...”
“What? How?”
“I don’t know, Wun.” Invictus’ Sapphire complexion had turned a few shades lighter.
“Gather our forces. We have just lost our fleet and our men. I will not lose the Citadel.” Wuntila turned, bored the senior communications officer with a stare of dark intent, and marched back towards the throne.
TO BE CONTINUED...