Military Recon of Tarthos

Alabrek Castle
Tarthos
Orian System

The Quaestor studied the holographic map in front of him. Along with the principle cities on Tarthos a number of smaller sites were highlighted, with indicators of troop and member assignments. “It looks as if we have most of the first phase covered,” Hades commented, “our members are pretty thinly spread though.”
“The call has gone out to others,” Locke replied, “we are awaiting responses. We can hope our fellow house may send volunteers to assist.”
“Perhaps,” the Quaestor said thoughtfully, “though they have their own issues on Aeotheran and Inos.”
There was the sound of footsteps from behind, and an officer entered. “You have a visitor Quaestor,” he announced.
Hades turned. “Who?”
“The Quaestor of Shar Dakhan, sir.”
“Malisane?” Locke replied in surprise.
“Show him in,” Hades ordered.
They waited until the armoured figure entered the room, and removed his helmet to reveal his burned and ripped features.
“Greetings Malisane,” Hades said with a slight inclination of his head. “How can we help you?”
“You requested volunteers Quaestor.”
“We did indeed.” Locke confirmed cautiously.
Malisane turned to the Aedile. “I am volunteering.”
Hades glanced at Locke, and then back at his fellow Quaestor. “Very well. As you may be aware we are investigating a number of defunct facilities here on Tarthos. To see if they are worth restoring or deconstructing. We have several remaining in our first phase.”
“Give me the coordinates and some troopers and it will be done Quaestor.”
“Very well. Hades replied, “We are sending you to facility Vesh, at the north tip of Luger Mau. It is not one of ours so we suspect the Collective built it. It's designation is unknown and scans reveal nothing. A platoon and a LAAT will be waiting for you in the shuttle bay.”
Malisane nodded. “Good day.” He inclined his head, and then turned and departed.
Hades turned to Locke. “What is he up to? It seems odd him turning up.”
Locke considered this. He had spent several months working with the Dakhan Quaestor. “Do you want me to be honest?”
“Of course.”
“He gets bored easily.”
Hades frowned. “I see.”

Facility Vesh
Luger Mau
Tarthos

Malisane watched the cold and mostly featureless landscape pass. Tarthos at its best was cold and bleak and uninteresting, unless you liked dilapidated ruins or extreme hunting. He had spent a few months here a decade or so ago and had not missed it. He glanced at the young Lieutenant who was stood at the front near the cockpit. Currently the Chiss was trying to avoid the stare of the assassin droid. Zero did not like strangers and had no shame in showing it.
Lieutenant Obena, as his name was usually abbreviated to, turned to the Warlord. “Sir, we are here. We will land a safe distance away and make our way on foot for safety.”
“Very good,” Malisane replied.
The LAAT landed and immediately the Ragnos troopers deployed around it, as Malisane made his way down, followed by the assassin droid. He could see in the distance a short and squat building. Either the facility was very small or it lay below ground. At a signal from the Lieutenant the platoon began to approach and fan out surrounding the facility. A couple of troopers using specialist equipment approached ahead scanning for any defensive mines or alert systems. Malisane followed, letting his senses explore the area. He did not sense any danger. He looked down at the black assassin droid, who rolled along the hard ground smoothly as its lights flashed on and off.

They reached the door, and Malisane watched as one of the specialists worked on the lock. There was an impatient tone from Zero, as the droid watched the trooper's efforts. Malisane's head turned to regard the droid. “Quiet.” The droids head turned to him for a second, and then back to watch.
The door opened and four troopers slipped inside taking the lead, followed by the Lieutenant, Malisane and Zero. The rest followed, except for a rear guard remaining outside the facility.
It was dark inside, as the lead soldiers torches scanned the entrance room. The entrance was mostly empty, save for a few broken pieces of equipment and a desk with a missing chair. There was also a lift at one end, its panels dark.
“We need to restore the power,” Lieutenant Obena commented.
Malisane nodded, and glanced at a trooper who was examining a panel on the wall. The specialist turned. “The panel is inactive,” he replied, “the system seems to be locked out.”
“Zero,” Malisane addressed the droid, “see what you can do.”
There was a deep, sonorous tone from the droid, but it moved forward to obey. It extended it's tools and began to work on the panel. Finally it turned and made another deep tone, this time of annoyance. The Lieutenant turned to Malisane questioningly.
“We will have to do this the hard way,” the Battlelord replied.
“We can cut the door open sir.”
“Allow me,” Malisane said and walked forward, igniting his saber. He raised it and inserted it between the gap in the doors, and then began to slowly drag it downwards with a shower of sparks. Finally he turned it off and raised a hand. With a groaning sound the doors slid open revealing the empty dark shaft. At a signal from the officer a trooper stepped forward and dropped a flare into the shaft, and it fell downwards. They looked down. It was perhaps a hundred feet down, and the lift car was at the bottom.

At a signal from the Lieutenant the troopers lowered ropes into the shaft. Malisane pushed aside and went first, sliding down quickly to land on the roof of the car. A second later he was joined by two troopers who examined the roof. There was a panel and one of them skilfully opened it. They dropped into the lift and Malisane joined them. The doors were open and the Warlord looked into the darkness. He could sense something in the darkness, but his helmet display showed nothing. Slowly the two troopers with him moved forward, rifles raised. Behind him he could hear the sound of more troopers making their way down. Slowly the troopers advanced forward, more joining them at the bottom of the shaft.
“Here sir,” a trooper said pointing to another panel, “this one is lit.”
Malisane gestured to Zero, who grumblingly made its way forward and began to work on the panel, the two specialists ready to help if needed. The rest of the troopers lead by their Lieutenant made a defensive screen, their weapons ready as several shone weapons into the darkness. The room appeared to be large, and several desks and terminals could be made out.
“What is this place?” Lieutenant Obena asked, as the Chiss surveyed the darkness, “it does not look like a military base.”
Malisane shut his eyes, his senses reaching out into the darkness. “There is something here, hostile.”
“What sir?”
The Warlord opened his eyes. “I am unsure.”
The droid made a triumphant noise and a loud whirring of machinery filled the room, as the lights came on, briefly blinding the troopers who shut their eyes against the burning brightness. Malisane, his integral lenses protecting him beneath his helmet visor, was unaffected, and looked around him in surprise. Beyond several desks and cabinets, and tables in the centre of the room were a pair of corridors leading off to the left and right of the lift. There were several skeletons on the floor, surrounded by shredded pieces of clothing and armour and some discarded weapons.
“It would seem you were right sir,” the Lieutenant observed.

Malisane nodded. His senses were growing stronger now, there was something near by. “We need to search.”
Lieutenant Obena turned to his sergeant, a burly man stood nearby. “Sergeant, send two teams into each corridor. Maintain silence unless you find something significant. One team will remain here.”
Malisane watched as the NCO disposed his troops and then followed one of the teams down the right corridor, the droid following him. Malisane pushed forward to walk next to the sergeant who was leading, the Lieutenant having taken the opposite direction. He could still sense hostility somewhere near, though he could not tell what. They reached a junction, with a blank wall ahead and two more corridors leading off left and right.
“Which way now Sir?” the Sergeant asked.
Malisane looked left and right, and then his senses suddenly ramped up in intensity. “Back!” he ordered as the sound of scrabbling paws could be heard. As the eight troopers and their NCO reacted dark creatures bounded down each corridor towards them, with yellow eyes and sharp teeth. “Fire!” the sergeant ordered as his troopers took defensive positions backing off into the single corridor. Malisane drew his shotgun and fired into the creatures. Two were hit and staggered, blood bursting from them, but they kept coming as more scrabbled past them in the narrow corridor. Dropping the shotgun he ignited his saber, and as his blood began to surge he leapt forward towards the creatures, to the surprise of the troopers behind him who were backing off and firing their blasters.

Planting his feet, he scythed his white saber blade back and forth as the creatures leapt at him, as blaster fire shot past him. A second later there was an explosion as Zero fired an explosive round into the horde pushing forward, raising cries of pain from the creatures caught in the blast. Malisane backed off slightly into the single corridor, as the troopers covered him. More of the creatures burst from the two corridors and the Sith raised a hand, and then made a gesture at the ground and the floor rocked in a telekinetic detonation, sending the four legged attackers backwards as they rolled and scrabbled to right themselves.
“There are too many sir we must retreat,” the Sergeant shouted.
Malisane snarled, and then he began to back off, waving his saber warningly at the creatures as the troopers began a withdrawal, firing their weapons at any creature which bound round into the corridor from either direction. Zero loosed another explosive shot that burst amongst the creatures, causing them to roar in pain as several were torn apart.
In twos the troopers pushed back through the doorway into the main chamber. From the left corridor Lieutenant Obenas section were doing likewise. They were now moving out into the chamber, taking defensive positions to maximise firepower on the corridors. Malisane backed off into the centre of the room, Zero beside him.

Suddenly everything went quiet, aside from a quiet growling and the sound of many claws on metal concrete flooring. “They're waiting,” the sergeant observed.
The Lieutenant looked at Malisane. “They have us surrounded. Do we or retreat?”
Malisane looked back at the lift. Despite the power being back on, the controls and display were dark. “The turbo-lift is out of action, probably due to our entrance. The only way up is to climb two or three at a time. When enough of us are out the remainder will be overrun. Retreat is not an option.”
“What are those things?” the Sergeant asked, “I don't recognise them. And what are they doing down here?”
The Lieutenant glanced at Malisane who shrugged. Obenas looked around at everyone slowly. “Either they were brought in here for, or there is a secondary entrance or air filtration pipe they entered by and killed the inhabitants. Either way we have no idea how many there are left.”
Malisane walked over to a terminal in the centre and examined the display. “The fire suppression system is still operational.” He looked around at the helmeted troopers. “We all have an oxygen supply. We can flush the base with retardant gas and flush them out of whichever way they got in.”
The sergeant looked at him dubiously. “That may flush them all in here sir.”
Malisane shrugged. “That is possible. It is better than waiting. Prepare yourselves.”
Lietenant Obena nodded. “Everyone check your seals and make ready.”

As Malisane hit the controls, a loud alarm began to sound throughout the facility, and a second later gas began to pour down from the ceiling. He tensed himself and readied his saber, as around him the troopers readied themselves, gripping blaster rifles. Above the sound of the alarm a loud roaring could be heard from the corridors, and he felt the sudden emotion of panic and anger from the creatures. A second later the troopers began to fire through the gas as some of the creatures burst into the room, and the battle begun. As he braced himself, and then attacked with his saber, Zero moved forward to fire it's blaster cannon at the creatures that burst into the room, as many more were mown down by the troopers weapons. One soldier was dragged to the ground by a maddened creature that ripped at his armour seals, before a companion shot it dead. Malisane focused on any enemy that came close, keeping his feet planted and his saber swinging with both arms as creatures leapt at him through the fog that was now filling the room. One near him reared up, and then fell gasping as the air supply was pushed out up the lift shaft by the increasingly heavy blanket of gas. Finally it was harder to see in the room, and he focused on the force to see any creature that entered. Finally it went quiet.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy with weariness, tension and the gas. “I think it is over sir,” Lieutenant Obena called across the room.
Malisane nodded. “Zero, switch it off and vent it.”
There was a deep tone from nearby, and then they heard the droid motoring across the floor. Finally the alarm quietened, and a few seconds later the gas jets turned off and the sound of the air conditioning turned up. Malisane waited while the room slowly began to clear. There were several bodies of unlucky troopers, but more of the creatures. He reached out with the force and found only emptiness. Either they were all dead or many had escaped another way, but the only living creatures within a hundred metres were himself and the troopers.
“They are gone.”
“Thank the maker,” the Sergeant commented.
Malisane ignored the derisive tone from the assassin droid and turned to the Lieutenant. I will take a squad down the right corridor. Commence a search of the left.”
Lieutenant Obena nodded. “Sergeant, secure this location.”

Malisane lead the team of four troopers, one of the specialists and Zero down the corridor. They briefly searched the right turning at the junction, and found it led to a supply room and a large hole in the wall, with a battered door hanging off his hinges, presumably the way the creatures had broken in. An inclining tunnel lead off into the darkness, coming out somewhere near the cliffs. Leaving two troopers to secure it he lead the remainder back and along the left tunnel, until he came to a sealed door.
“Warlord, sir,” Lieutenant Obena's voice came over the communicator, “we have secured the right corridor. It simply leads to mess and sleeping facilities.”
“Acknowledged,” Malisane replied, “we have located and secured secondary entrance. We have found another chamber and will investigate.”
“Acknowledged sir, Obena out.”

Malisane examined the door, and tried the panel. It did not respond. He glanced at the specialist who came forward and examined it.
“It requires a palm or retinal scan sir,” she replied.
“Can you override it.”
“It will likely have an anti tamper system sir,” she told him, “and possibly trapped. It will take some time to safely bypass it, even for your droid.”
Malisane looked down at the droid, who made a deep tone, it's meaning lost. He made a decision. “Stand back.” He turned to the door, and focused on it, letting his mind search down through it's components. Painstakingly he began to slowly shift key levers and mechanisms. The troopers and even the assassin droid watched cautiously. Finally there was a loud clunking noise and the door slid open.

Malisane pressed inside, followed by the troopers. The room was dark, but he located a switch. Suddenly the chamber was illuminated, and even the world weary Sith was surprised. They were stood at the top of a platform, with metal steps leading down into the room. On the wide floor below were banks of terminals, and in front of them was what appeared to be an immense holo projector. Malisane led them quietly down, as Lieutenant Obena joined them from behind. They reached the bottom and approached the central terminal and examined it. He pressed a few buttons experimentally, and then there was a loud whirring noise. Instinctively the troopers grasped their rifles and looked around them cautiously. Then a lights on the holoprojector lit and the giant mostly frozen ball of Tarthos appeared in front of them, shimmering slightly. There was a pause and then features began to appear, first the cities of Kar Alabrek and Markosian, and then Mucenic, and then others began to dot across the planet, some already on the map he had seen earlier, and others the Ragnos Summit probably did not know about.
“A Map?” Lieutenant Obena asked.
Malisane shrugged and clicked a few more buttons, and the planet shrunk slightly, and projected moons appeared, and flickering shapes of ships moving in the planets orbit. The data pinpointed an Acclamator and Vindicator amongst other smaller ones. More much smaller images were moving across the surface of the planet, the biggest concentration around the population centres.
“More than that I think,” Malisane observed. “I suggest we return to the surface and report back to your House Summit. I suspect we have found something very useful.”

Vibrations from the air resistance as the LAAT/i descended came through in the electronic helmet voices of its stowed Stormtrooper platoon as the ships lateral gunners continually confirmed no contacts and relayed unimaginative information about the frozen landscape below as far as the eye can see to the platoon leader.

* * TWO HUNDRED METERS. GO IN TEN * * — came the call. The pilot complained about a lack of visual references and not knowing where to land. There was no facility and their orders clearly stated the drop-off location was a structure. Largely ignored the pilot took their frustrations out on the landing and by extension an eagerly unbuckled trooper who left the floor and clattered to the deck as the LAAT/i bumped its landing hard.

* * GO, GO, GO! **

The large lever doors dropped open on either side and the interior became part of the harsh cold climate instantly. Reactively the door to the pilots compartment snapped shut as wind and sleet blasted through the previously crowded cabin, the troopers had pridefully setup an outward facing perimeter securing the ice outside from nothing but scattering flightless birds, but despite their discipline there wasn't a single one not shuffling in the cold trying to fend off the temperature.

Nikana stood at the exit of the LAAT/i and from under their hood took a slow deep breath and exhaled a long warm dewy cloud that froze and disappeared as a gust of wind whipped the air, pelting the side of the LAAT/i with snow and ice as he disembarked.

---

* * Orders, Sir? * *

The LAAT/i took off sharply and for a few seconds its wake darkened the air with lifted snow which offered a brief clear glimpse through the ice below before it was lost once again as more snow fell.

The planet Tarthos is so distant from its star that seasons offer nothing more than a shift in freezing temperatures. However when travelling in close proximity to the nearby crystalline planet Ombus the additional reflected heat catching in Tarthos' thick moist atmosphere generates unusual warmth. Due to this the planets frozen oceans and large glacial masses have been noted to shift, rise and fall over the course of centuries. 5000 years ago during the reign of Urias Orian, this was not an ice sheet, recovered historic data showed this was a peninsula of the Lugar Mau continent, and was the site of a Sith temple built upon ancient ruins. Now it was supposed to be the site of an excavation and research station.

Somehow the weather was becoming less welcoming. Pressing two fingers against his military style throat comm Nikana spoke, "Captain, I could make out a tunnel roughly 4 meters below the ice."

* * Affirm, Sir — BT-244, setup a thermal drill, 3 meter depth — TK-337, ready 2 thermal detonators on a 30 second timer — Everyone else, CLEAR THE AREA! * *

Though listening to the communications below the LAAT/i above still veered unexpectantly in the sky as a column of vapourised ice and debris was flung hundreds of feet into the air with explosive force. Once the vapour clouds had dispersed what remained was a shallow bowl crater the bottom of which neatly carved into what must've been a tunnel from the excavation, it's dark passages leading deeper under the ice. As the troopers moved to secure an area that now had tactical value, the wind whipping over the edge of the crater howled hauntingly.

---

The Stormtroopers crowded both passage ways turning on lights affixed to their blasters, a few thick cables lay on the floor and lights occasionally hung from the passage ceilings but there was no power. Nikana pushed through the mess of bodies, peering into the darkness as the pathway sloped down and seemed to curve back on itself in a large downwards spiral.

Knocking on a Stormtroopers helmet, Nikana pointed down the passage, "Two of you, up front. Two squads follow.", pointing to the cables on the floor, "... have a third Squad follow these cables, look for a power generator."

* * SIR. * *

With two troopers ahead lighting the way progress should've been quick, but the deeper they went the thinner the air became and it was obvious the troopers were slowing and breathing more heavily. Whatever ventilated this passage previously was no longer functioning. Nikana tapped his comm, "Captain, have you found a generator?"

As they spoke Nikana could hear the static coming through the commlink of the closest Stormtrooper, there shouldn't have been any interference. Reactively each trooper tried their own commlink creating a pitiful cacophony of unanswered requests and resulting static. Hidden amongst the noise the tunnel groaned painfully.

Ordering the troopers to wait, Nikana relaxed and slowed their breathing before taking one of their blasters and the underslung light it provided. They continued deeper now only accompanied by silence and the intermittent crunch of frost underfoot.

---

After a dozen rotations downwards the silence changed, footsteps began to echo as the passage ahead opened into a large chamber it's floor covered in a cracked and uneven classical mosaic distantly surrounded by walls of crystalline ice arching into a high ceiling.

The once detailed mosaic seemed to be a depiction of Urias Orian seated atop a black hemisphere with scepter and sword in either hand. His face seemed dispassionate, his pose exalted. This should've been a central feature of the old temple surrounded by a grand hall and ante chambers, but it seemed to be all that remained between the clear ice walls peering out into the black, leaving the mosaic as if floating in an infinite void.

Inspecting the mosaic closer, the sword was obviously Orians famous weapon pulled from darkness and wielded with great destructive power. But to Nikana the scepter was new and the smooth hemisphere throne; was it representative of the Star of Ombus? On hands and knees Nikana brought their face close to the ground to take in details, a sweet smell of decay thickened the stale air. Seven symbols were engraved on a ring of stones that had done their best to hold the mosaic together. The air was becoming distressingly thick and taking a deep rasping breath provided no relief, trying to stand gravity somehow proved too strong. Held in place on knees that felt ground into the floor, Nikana fell forward and laid their cheek to the mosaic as their arms splayed at the elbows giving way to gravity, their exasperated spittle mixing with the dust and the dirt with short struggling breaths. Nikana's vision glazed over as colours and the memory of light gave way to the encroaching darkness behind the lids of their eyes.

---

"Plees! Anagi omhi Dar Itha! Anagi omhi!", there were many nearby voices stained with emotion baying out in reverence and fear inside the brightly lit grand hall of a large golden temple. At its center a man sat cross legged in meditation atop a translucent glass-like obsidian hemisphere, a scepter in one hand and a sword in the other. Unlike his mosaic he didn't just look exalted, he had the presence of a god.

Throngs of human-like faces cried out in their native tongue over and over, part praise part seeking forgiveness or respite. But neither came as like Nikana, their bodies were held down by the overwhelming presence at the center of the hall. Heads bowed low yet voices were high as their cries slowly became a chant and eerily the words began to make sense.

"Lord Emperor, I live to serve! I live to serve!", as the voices changed so did the bodies, some falling to the stone floor writhing in excruciating pain, others clawing at themselves as their skin thinkened in scaley patches, some with their limbs enlarging, still others pulling the hair from their heads or simply nursing engorging tumours that were slowly killing them. These were sithspawn, they were Ekind, the enslaved Ombi people.

As agonising moments passed, the screams faded, with bodies either still or dead the voices began to unify, chanting their one purpose, "I live to serve. I live to serve. I live to serve."

Urias Orian opened his eyes.

---

Nikana opened their shocked eyes to darkness and fresh echoing screams, lucent ethereal forms of men and woman were entering the frozen chamber backwards on all fours, their horrific movements sharp and agonised, joints bending at incorrect angles as they seemed forced to move towards what had been the Urias Orian mosaic but had now fallen away to reveal a gapping black maw, a seemingly bottomless pit that desired to be filled.

Attempting to retreat from the dark aberration of the maw, Nikana scrambled back into the passage to make their way up to the surface, but the horror continued. Slumped on the floor of the passage otherwise prestine Stormtrooper armour lay soaked in blood as if bled out from the inside. Unpowered overhead lights flashing in the presence of more tortured lucent forms pulled towards the hungry maw below. The walls of the passage groaned and strained, as cracks snapped through the ice sheet like ballistic gunshots, the passage itself beginning to break up and sheer, the pathway beginning to fall away as Nikana reached the surface and with one defiant leap jumped through a violent haze of updrafted snow and ice to the edge of the crater and continued to run as the original landing area collapsed in on itself.

A short distance away the LAAT/i lay broken on its side, the pilots drained corpse pressed against cracked cockpit glass, like the troopers its blood on the outside, dripping through the cracks in the cockpit and forming frozen red icicles. Nikana shattered the already failed glass, the pilots blood slick body still hung from its harness and quickly froze from the exposure. Scrabbling around the cockpit controls, lights flicked on and off as switches were thrown or buttons pressed, there was still power.

Nikana picked up a wired commlink tied into the ships more powerful communication array and clicked to transmit, "Priority 4. This is recovery team RT-16, requesting EVAC — one survivor. The research facility is completely destroyed, likely rigged to explode after entry", they lied, "it's gone there's nothing left to recover.", Nikana paused momentarily and clicked again to continue transmission, "I live to serve."

Restore the Security of Our Borders

Vindicator Life of Orian
Aeotheran Orbit
Orian System

Commander Kala Miros sat in her command chair, watching the screens. Ahead was a blank featureless grey moon, in orbit of which their prey was allegedly hiding.“Do we have any update on the sighting?”
Her first officer shook his head. “Not as yet no Captain,” he replied.
She revolved in her chair and focused on the bearded man sat behind her. “Are you sure about your intelligence Colonel?”
“It is as good as we have Commander,” he replied, “there have been three separate sightings of these vessels.”
“And you have no idea who they may be?”
The intelligence officer shook his head. “We do not believe they are Collective, they apparently lack the level of technology we associate with their ships.”
“So we could have two taskforces searching the moons of Aeotheran and Inos for pirates?”
“That is entirely possible Commander,” Senth replied, “however their activities seem suspicious for pirates. They have made no attacks on civilian freighters. They just flee when they see the Warhost, but only to a fallback position.”
Miros nodded. “We will have to see what we can do about that.”

“Captain, we have a signal,” her first officer reported.
“Identify it,” she replied.
“The trace is faint but it matches the size and speed of the target vessel.”
“Move to intercept,” the Commander ordered, moving forward in her chair.
“You must proceed with caution,” Senth urged from behind her.
“I am aware of the mission parameters Colonel.” In truth she did not want the intelligence officer here. For all the official status his rank and position gave him since they and other former Dlarit officers were drafted from the Dlarit military to the Warhost, she had been around long enough to know who the Colonel was. She was fully aware of the advanced commando programme and knew him for his actual status, at best an agent and at worst an assassin. Following his recent perceived success at Inos he had been promoted to full Colonel, but he was still an officer on paper only. She herself had faced prejudice and mistrust amongst some of the Dlarit military in the old days when she had joined from the True Brotherhood, but she had earned her place in the decade or more since.

The cruiser moved forward at a steady pace, the viewscreen ahead showing the moon as the Vindicator moved around it. “What are they doing?” the Commander asked.
“Holding position,” her first officer replied, “they show no sign of detecting us.”
Senth hummed. “That matches other sightings,” he commented, “they seem slow in detecting our vessels until they are close, though their speed still exceeds most of our fleet.”
Miros nodded. “If we can catch them in the moons gravity well we can be on them before they have time to manoeuvrer.”
“And if not?” Senth asked.
“We have our secondary option.”
“Good.”
They watched the screen as the moon moved beneath them, and then in the distance they could see the shape of a Carrack cruiser in the distance. It was sat motionless, its power and engines clearly low.
“Increase to attack speed and open fire.” Commander Miros ordered. “And break silence to the Satyr.”
“Remember we want that ship alive,” Senth urged.
“I know what I am doing Colonel.”

As the Vindicator closed in and opened fire, the enemy Carrack began to manoeuvrer, it's engines powering up as the Vindicator poured turbolaser shots into its shields. The Carrack returned fire with its side and rear weapons as it turned, hitting the Warhost vessels shields. Commander Miros had positioned the Vindicator well and the enemy ship was having to tightly manoeuvrer to gain distance from the moons gravity and get clear into open space. However the Carrack was built for speed and handling, as well as its deadly weapons array.
“They are getting away Captain,” Senth said, his voice raising slightly.
“Signal the Satyr to join us.”
As the Carrack continued to move away, its rear weapons attempting to defend against the Vindicators weapons pouring into it's weakening shields, a new threat appeared as the Arquitens cruiser made a sub light jump directly in the path of the escaping Carrack, followed by a squadron of X-Wings. As the Carrack struggled to respond to the new attacker the Satyr and it's escorting fighters joined it's firepower to that of the Light of Orian.
The two Dakhan cruisers pincered the Carrack. The enemy ship war firing at both vessels now, and its heavy weapons were weakening their shields, but the combined assault of them and the fighters was beginning to take their toll.
“Enemy shields failing Captain,” the first officer reported.
“Target their engines and power supply,” she ordered, “and open a hail.”
“Done ma'am.”
She raised her voice. “Hostile ship, this is Commander Miros of the Orian Warhost. You are ordered to surrender. If you do not you will be destroyed.”
There was no response.
“That may be their orders Commander,” Senth commented.
“Well that is not going to happen.”

The Carrack was slowing as its shields failed and the shots from the two Dakhan cruisers began to bite into its armour, targetting critical points. Finally there was an explosion from its rear and it began to list, slowly rotating in the moons gravity.
“Bring us in close and lock a tractor beam on them. We need to keep them away from that moon. Order the Satyr to assist. Order the special missions company to prepare for boarding.”
Senth nodded in approval. So far the ambush had been textbook. “With your permission Commander I will accompany the boarding party.”
She had no reason to deny the request, though she would have if were possible. She did not appreciate the faux intelligence officer interfering in her task.“Very well Colonel. Meet them in the hangar.”
Senth saluted and left the bridge. Kala Miros was not sad to see him go.

Senth sat aboard one of the CR25 troop carriers as they made their way out of the Vindicators hangar and out into space towards the prone Carrack, accompanied by several wings of escorting fighters. He watched as the enemy ship grew larger. They separated, each heading for an insertion point in the cruisers hull, and his own ship made for the port hatch. The detachment was under command of a gruff senior sergeant, who clearly knew his business, and was split into troopers, sharpshooters and specialists. They were arguably the finest soldiers House Shar Dakhan had at their disposal and inclusion was earned by the best from the other companies.
The CR25 lined up with the port hatch and two of the specialists began work in the hatch. Sergeant Malox looked over at Senth. “You may want to hang back when we go in Colonel, and let my boys and girls handle the rough stuff,” he said gruffly, “we wouldn't want you to get hurt sir.”

Senth looked back at him coolly. However good the sergeant and his troopers were, the former clone commando had been literally grown to “handle the rough stuff” and had lost count of how much of it he had seen over the years. However he was an observer here. “Very well Sergeant.”
Sergeant Malox turned to his troopers. “Okay this is it. We go in, neutralise anything we meet and take the vessel corridor by corridor. We don't know who these people are so assume the worst but do us proud.”
The hatch opened with a flash and the specialists stood quickly aside as in rows of four the troopers and sharpshooters quickly made their way inside, firing their blasters at defenders who lined the corridor. Sergeant Malox, holding a vibrosword in one hand and a heavy blaster in the other, charged in after his troopers. Then Senth followed, gripping his carbine.

The defenders were lining the corridor, hiding behind hastily assembled barriers or doorways, as the Dakhan troopers took the fight to them. Senth remained near the hatch to the CR25, aiming and firing his carbine with deadly accuracy. Several of the Dakhan troopers hurled grenades over the heads of the defenders, to explode causing them to as several unlucky ones were caught in the explosion and went down. The defenders were undeterred however, and fought back with skill and proficiency. Senth studied them as he fought. They were not the badly trained and armed pirates or insurgents he had been expecting, they were professional troopers in black armour that looked oddly familiar. He watched as one came forward, meeting Sergeant Malox with a sword of her own, and the NCO battled with her as their blades met and the blaster bolts from both sides sizzled around them. The enemy NCO's blade carved a gap down the side of Maloxs armour, before the Sergeant knocked her blade away, and then swung the hand carrying the heavy pistol round to smash into the side of her armoured head. As she fell he raised his sword and drove it down into her chest.

Senth moved forward with the troopers, forgetting his promise to stay back. The armoured defenders were fighting bravely, and amongst them were uniformed crew that added to their numbers, but Malox's elite troopers outnumbered them and were driving them back. Another enemy defender with a heavy sword drove at the commando officer, and Senth angled his body so that the sword whistled past, and then grabbed the arm pulling the enemy closer to him, and then pointed his left vambrace directly at the eye socket and drove a sharp dart straight into the right eye, before dropping the corpse. Slowly the remaining defenders backed off, as the Dakhan force had a renewed surge of confidence. As they moved forward more troopers came from the opposite direction towards the hangar, the force on one of the other CR25s, and with reinforcements the boarders gained more ground against the outnumbered defenders and their lightly armoured allies. Suddenly an order seemed out to the defenders, and their retreat quickened, fighting backwards as they aimed their shots at the assaulting Dakhan troops.

Sergeant Malox stopped for a second, and nudged one of the dead defenders with his foot, looking at the man in black armour. “They're good are this lot, not what you expected, eh sir?”
Senth looked down at the trooper, a slightly sick feeling washing over him. He recognised the armour now, it was very familiar to him even though the pattern and insignias had changed. “ No Sergeant, they are definitely not what I expected. We must take the bridge quickly.”
“Aye, we will sir. Follow me.”
The bridge was at the end of a long corridor, and the defenders were battling to protect it. Any attempt to persuade them to surrender had proved fruitless, and each fought bravely and relentlessly. Senth fought alongside Malox, the Sergeant now apparently accepting that the Colonel was not just some intelligence desk jockey that needed nursemaiding. The two made an efficient pair, as they took the centre as Dakhan troopers either side battled driving back the defenders or mowing them to the ground, and many of their own numbers suffered the same fate.
Finally the attackers were too much and they battled their way through the doors to the bridge, kicking aside crates that had been placed in the entrance. There were less than twenty remaining defenders now, and they stood fiercely around their leader, firing at the attackers as they were picked off one by one. Sergeant Malox leapt forward at the leader, a man in familiar heavy armour. The man moved left and grabbed the Sergeants wrist, twisting and flipping Malok, who hit the deck hard, the wind knocked out of him. As his troopers raised their blasters Senth shouted, “Hold your fire!” As the troopers obeyed, Senth looked at the enemy officer, his eyes sweeping up and down the ARC armour, until he focused on the symbol on his chest, the twenty-ninth letter in the Aurabesh alphabet. “Onith.”
The officer looked at him through his helmet visor. “Senth.”

Onith slowly pulled off his helmet, revealing his white hair and the features that were practically identical to Senth's own, except for a long scar running from brow to chin down the left hand side. The other former DAC met Senth as the Colonel pulled off his own helmet. “So,” Onith commented coldly, “you remain their puppet.”
“What are you doing here?” Senth demanded.
“We came home,” Onith replied, “to take revenge. For what they did to us, breeding us to be their servants.”
“To take revenge,” Senth repeated, “with small force of Dlarit marines and three old Carrack cruisers, against the entire Warhost?”
An amused look washed over the face of he scarred clone. “Of course not, things are much more serious for you than that. As Naga Sadow will soon see.” He looked into Senth's eyes. “So, do you still serve the madman?”
“No but I work with him occasionally,” Senth replied, “So, do you surrender?”
“Of course not,” Onith replied, “but then you knew that.”
“We need you alive,” Senth replied, “you might be conditioned against interrogation, we all were, but you know what the Clan are capable of. You will tell us.”
The cold smile remained on Onith's features, and then with a sudden movement he hurled himself at his fellow advanced commando, grabbing Senth and aiming his own vambrace laser at Senth's head. Senth grabbed the wrist and aimed a blow with his free hand at Onith's face, his armoured fist striking the enemy clone's chin. Onith grunted as his head was driven back, and his leg lashed out hitting Senth's chest. As Senth was knocked back, Orinith raised his wrist and fired at Senth, the shot burning along the left hand side as the Warhost officer moved quickly to avoid a lethal shot.

Sergeant Malox was on his feet again, and he bade his troopers to wait as they watched the two clones exchanging blows and shots as they circled each other. He could probably hit the enemy clone as they quickly moved around in front of him, but there was a risk and he was now slightly in awe of their combat skills. The blond hair scarred features of Onith and the dark haired and short bearded matching face of Senth were locked in intensity at each other. There was nothing between them and though each of their armour showed cuts and blaster marks, neither had sustained a serious injury. Then Onith extended himself slightly too much and Senth grabbed his arm pulling him close, and a small blade extended from his right vambrace, finding a gap in the clones armour and driving it in. As Oniths face twisted in pain he smashed a flailing first into Senths head, as the Warhost clone twisted the blade inside him. Finally he collapsed as blood squirted from his wound.
“Surrender,” Senth spat, his usually calm demeanour gone now.
“Go to hell!” Onith snarled through his pain.
“Who are you working with, what is this threat?”
“You will find out puppet!” Onith replied. He made a sudden biting movement, and then a substance began to dribble from his mouth and his eyes glazed over.
Senth dropped the body. “Damn. We needed him alive.”
“Aye sir,” Sergeant Malox replied. “I'll get my tech boys to give their databank a look over. We might find something useful.”
The Colonel nodded. “Hail Commander Miros and request she sends a skeleton crew to take over. I will inform the Summit of what we have found and tell them what to expect from the other Carracks. If there are others like Onith one might be taken alive.” He turned and left the bridge.

## Forged in Failure

Gravity wells, whispered Midshipman Tamil suddenly launching to her feet, “Sir! ... I’ve got it!”, she struggled to run the length of the command bridge of the Vindicator Class heavy cruiser Phoenix, continuing to exclaim her breakthrough as she went.

“Trainee Tamil!”, Commander Haggard brushed aside a crew member explaining an overly complex and likely flawed algorithm he held on a datapad, and turned to meet the no doubt oncoming wave of enthusiasm, “May I remind you Trainee, that this is *my* bridge and that you are on what is presently *my* ship, and until that changes you will conduct yourself with a modicum of decorum.”

Tamil arrived feet slapping to a stop on the deck and slumped over, hands on knees and gasped for breath between apology and explanation, “Apologies! .. Sir, I ... Think I figured out ... *that was waaay further than I thought it was*.”, Tamil hacked, coughed and wheezed as they attempted to stand up straight.

“Easy now Trainee Tamil, deep breaths.”, Commander Haggard stood motionless with arms folded, allowing only his eyes to follow as he waited for the Trainee to regain composure, “Now. Explain yourself.”

Tamil looked back over her shoulder to the datapad she’d forgotten on top of her station and closed her eyes tight before beginning her explanation with a thin lipped nasally sigh, “I’ve figured out how to anticipate the Carrack cruisers, Sir.”

“Go on, Trainee.”, the beginnings of a smile began to take shape on Commander Haggard’s otherwise impassive face.

“Gravity wells, Sir. With 7 planets the Orian System is obstructed by many gravity wells, which means when Hyperspacing from a point *in system* there are only so many destinations in proximity to other planets available at any given time. And if we force these Carracks to enter hyperspace at the right time, we can narrow down their options to a single destination. Sir, we’ll know almost exactly where they’ll exit hyperspace.”, beneath the enthused wide eyes and apprehensive expression, signs of confidence and competence were struggling to emerge on Trainee Tamils face. Haggard had seen it many times before as he shaped and refined generation after generation of Officers, it was moments like these that he defined his career by. He puffed up his chest.

“Well Trainee. Get those predictions to the helm, so we can pre-calculate the necessary jumps!”, as Trainee Tamil began a jog back across the bridge Haggard smiled.

---

** This is Sword 1, I’m aligned and the flight computer will have the jump plotted momentarily. **

The high frequency waves of his Twin Ion Engine Defender was the backdrop for comms chatter as Sword Squadron exited the hanger of the heavy cruiser Phoenix and took up positions for a formation hyperspace jump that would see Sword Squadron deployed as a wide net, along with the Phoenix, to collapse on their target shortly after exiting hyperspace.

** Sword Squadron, this is Commander Haggard. The Raider Accipiter will shortly engage the target Carrack Cruiser between the moons of Aeotheran. We expect them to enter hyperspace and hit the combined gravity shadow of Gamuslag and Sepros at the coordinates you’ve been provided. We will enter hyperspace directly after the target whilst they’re blind to our actions. Once we arrive, you will drop their shields and disable the Carrack Cruisers engines *without hesitation*, but you are **not** to risk damaging their computer systems with ion energy once their shields are down, you will **not** damage the vessel beyond what is absolutely necessary. Failure will be dealt with *swiftly*. **

His knuckles cracked as he squeezed the flight yoke. Looking out of the Defenders standardised octagonal cockpit, he could just make out the tip of the dagger shaped Vindicator making final alignment adjustments. It wouldn’t be long before the countdown came and —

** JUMP! **

“Damn it!” Was this amature hour? The damned monologuing fool. The nearby flash of the Phoenix entering hyperspace was blinding.

** Sword Squadron, this is Sword 1. Jump and engage the target. **

The stars in front elongated outwards as he initiated the jump to hyperspace. One by one the TIE Defenders of Sword Squadron popping out of existence within realspace.

---

On the bridge of the Vindicator Phoenix the blue streaked turbulence of hyperspace dropped away and reality snapped back into view. Ahead Gamuslag and Sepros were daylit and dazzling with the reflected light of the star Orian.

“Tactical, relay the enemy position to the helm and bring us about.”, Commander Haggard requested as he walked over to the view port and squinted his eyes to try and cut through the intense ambient light.

“Sir, they’re dead ahead, 50 kilometers out.”, a small flicker of light caught Haggards attention, as the hull of the Carrack Cruiser reflected back more light than the backdrop of Sepros’ atmosphere.

“Blast! Helm, give me full speed, adjust course 3 and negative 8 degrees. Do what you can to put us between that Carrack and open space. And where are those **damned** Starfighters!?”

---

** SHHHII — Sword 8: I’m right on top of them, damn near bounced off their shields. I can’t engage, too many laser cannons. **

** Sword 12: Inbound, keep ‘em occupied. **

** Sword 7: Same traffic. **

** Sword 4: I’m twelve klicks out. I won’t make it. **

** Sword 1: All engaged pilots, begin attack runs on their starboard side, they can’t shoot all of us. Burn down those shields and hit their engines. Then disengage to a safe distance. **

Three TIE Defenders of Sword Squadron began looping attack runs on the Carrack light cruiser, their ion cannons slapping and defusing across the larger ships’ shields. In response the Carrack put itself into a gyroscopic spin, turning as many laser cannons to bare as possible whilst spreading incoming fire across all shield emitters.

** Sword 7: I’ve lost shields! **

** Sword 1: Stay on target 7, keep giving their cannons as many targets as possible. **

As his Defender finally entered attack range, he was beginning to doubt his own words, *maybe they could shoot down all of them*. Checking system indicators his eyes hung on the 2 proton torpedoes in his loadout, far too much firepower for cleanly disabling a Light Cruiser and likely to get him executed by his superiors if he destroyed something of value — or worse, demoted. Switching to ion cannons, he entered the battle of attrition.

---

“Sir! Sword Squadron only has 4 fighters in range to engage, they’re badly outgunned and the Carrack will likely re-enter hyperspace any second now.”

“Tell me something I *don’t* know Lieutenant!”, Haggard gruffed as he pounded his fist on the view port. The Phoenix was still too far away to engage or impede the enemies escape, but close enough to see the flashes of ion blue and tibanna red weapons fire. His capture of an elusive enemy was quickly turning into an old man chasing ghost ships around the system, a narrative of failure that could lose him his commission.

Haggard’s eyes widened, “What the hell was that?!”. A purple and orange light had lit up around the Carrack light cruiser, briefly silhouetting three of the Starfighters as small black dots.

Trainee Tamil looked up from her station, “A proton torpedo, Sir!”

“Damnit! I know what a proton torpedo looks like!”, another purple-orange explosion rocked the Carrack light cruiser sending it into a drift.

“It’s engines are offline, Sir!”, a secondary explosion lit up the Carrack as atmosphere began venting into space, “all systems offline it’s in a complete dead drift.”

And with that the narrative changed once more, now he was a Commander who couldn’t control his subordinates and therefore couldn’t follow orders. If he wasn’t careful this could lose him his *life*. Wiping his brow and drawing his hand down over his face, he composed himself in the manner he had taught so many others, “When in range dispatch a boarding team. And once they’ve returned have Sword Squadron report for debriefing.”, his tone dripping with menace.

---

The troopers aboard the transport swayed forwards as the front thrusters kicked back, the ship clanking as it made a contact-seal with the Carrack, followed by a rapid succession of micro explosions as hatch bolts were blown. A light above the door flashed red to indicate a lack of atmosphere on the other side, the transport door opened regardless. The troopers aboard the transport wore full EVA suits and carried blasters at the ready. Exiting the transport into the zero gravity of the disabled Carrack they dived from wall to floor, from ceiling to doorway as they explored the vessel.

** ST-142 to Phoenix, we’ve found the hull breach. We’ll need time to seal and repressurise this section before we continue, as we got a few pressurised sections remaining. We haven’t found any bodies, we’re assuming the crew are trapped in the pressurised sections. **

** Understood Sergeant. Keep me informed. **

---

Commander Haggard strode into the Officer briefing room refusing to look at the assembled pilots as he stepped up to the central podium and slammed down his datapad. He allowed the following silence to hang in the air, “... my orders were simple. But apparently not simple enough.”, he surveyed the room, heads were hung low, “Your insubordination reflects on not only on yourselves, but the Phoenix, her crew and her Captain. I will have to answer directly to the Sadow Council and in turn you will now answer to *me*. Who recklessly fired proton torpedoes on the target you were ordered to capture *intact*?”

Amidst the breathy silence and shuffling as pilots turned to one another one voice rose up, “I guess Squadron leader Granger did, Sir.”

“And *where* is the Squadron leader?”, Haggard pressed impatiently.

“He’s dead, Sir.”, the meek response came outlining in tone the feelings of the assembled pilots, “Sword 3, was crippled and adrift. Those of us at the Carrack had lost shields. She was spooling up her drives. But we never gave up, Sword 1 rallied us for a final attack run. We came in from a blind spot, but that Carrack is damned maneuverable for a big girl ... by the time we got close, we were taking dorsal and ventral cannon fire. Sword 1 took a bolt straight through the canopy, then flew straight into their shields. His torpedoes went off like a one two punch, took down the shields, crippled the engine.”

“I see...”, Haggard stood stunned, his bluster dissipating. He shrunk as he felt the weight of his responsibility in a manner he was not prepared for. “... Very well. You’re dismissed, Sword Squadron.”

As he shuffled from the briefing room, the narrative in his head shifted again. Now he was the Ship's Captain responsible for a pilot who had died a Hero, therefore he would be seen as the Ship’s Captain whose plan of action had allowed a Hero pilot to die.

---

** ST-142 reporting, we’ve sealed the breach and have life support back online for this section. We’re ready to access the rest of the cruiser. **

“Continue Sergeant.”, the noise of a bulkhead door being overstressed and forced open filled the bridge of the Vindicator Phoenix and Commander Haggard and crew winced at the high pitch sound of pistons giving way.

** We’re in! ... ... ... Oh my lord. **

The comm stayed unnervingly quiet, “Sergeant, what do you see?”

** Sir. Bodies, dozens maybe hundreds of bodies. **

“The crew did not survive then?”, Haggard pressed.

** No... I mean, the breach didn’t kill these people. They have what look to be lightsaber wounds, some have limbs cut clean off. **

“That’s not possible, Sergeant, you’re mistaken.”, growing impatient Haggard shuffled through datapads he’d had compiled on likely antagonists, “... this could simply be the work of pirates or brigands.” he mused out loud.

** Yes Sir. ... We’re approaching the bridge ... ... ... FALL BACK! **

“Sergeant, report!”, Haggard commanded before going limp at the sound of Blaster fire and a distinct vibrating hum followed by agonised screams which ended almost as suddenly as they had begun, “What the HELL was that?”, he exclaimed as the bridge remained as quiet as the comm.

Trainee Tamil turned from her station to confirm her readings with her own eyes, “Sir! The Troop Transport, it’s disengaged from the Carrack!”, a second voice from a nearby station spoke up, “They’re not reconfirming their clearance codes, Sir.”

“Blast! Tractor that transport immediately. Hold them!”, Haggard approached the view port and watched as the transport flew away from the Carrack and underneath the Vindicator heading towards deep space as the blue light of a tractor beam stalled its motion and began dragging it back, “Excellent. Train the point defense ions on that craft and ... !“

An explosion rocked the Vindicator Phoenix causing it to roll as gravitational stabilisers struggled to compensate for the sudden unplanned motion. Bridge crew fell from their chairs or clung to their consoles and Commander Haggard hit the deck with a slap and slid three meters before gravity realigned. Outside the viewport the Carrack light cruiser blazed, only it’s reinforced skeleton remained intact, it’s heavy armour plating either vapourised or adrift, it’s bridge and engines gone.

Commander Haggard struggled to his feet, Trainee Tamil at his side bracing his arm as he rose. And through the viewport the troop transport, blasted free of the Vindicators tractor beams, entered hyperspace.

Lost in his own thoughts, Commander Haggard knew that there was no story he could tell that would change the narrative of his failure.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1LOnPRrEcOSdqWWzbQHnAMdNEI3HwErXonJ_PfQhNgrs/edit?usp=sharing