The Halberd

Engineering Deck

“Quickly! On me!” Called out a voice amid the chaos. Four hours ago, Tarentum had succeeded in sending the first boarding party to mark the beginning of the grand assault aboard the Halberd, yet they had quickly found themselves easily outmanned and outgunned by the sheer volume of personnel resisting their attempts to take control of the flagship. The most perplexing of all was the recent lack of a fleet defending the Halberd. Instead, any surviving ships of the mercenary fleet had either escaped back through hyperspace, or had been ripped and torn apart by the unrelenting bombardment of Tarentum’s own fleet. Which could only mean one thing.

We’re out of time.

While the main assault was stalled by the sheer numbers of resistance, the diversionary team found themselves faced with a much larger issue. Only minutes ago, the stage three alarm had been sounded as the remainder of the crew had begun attempts in scuttling the ship in one last desperate attempt to repel the invaders, even if it meant costing them their own lives.

“This is Kaira Rohana of the diversionary team to Jason, there’s no time left. Tell your troops to pull back to the shuttle bay.” Called Kaira through her personal comlink through an impenetrable layer of static. They’ve blocked all communications. There’s no time.

Taking a deep breath, she surged forwards in a final attempt to buy the main assault more time.Switching her posture to conform to the offensive stance of Ataru, she lunged into the thick of the action, her only goal to buy the assault some time. Able to keep her emotions under perfect control, she made her advance towards the engineering deck, carving a bloody passage as she unleashed flurry after flurry of overwhelming strikes at her opponents. Blaster bolts zipped overhead as she succeeded in swatting away volleys launched directly at her. However, her advance was cut short at the untimely arrival of yet another group of reinforcements, weapons loaded and ready for the kill. Suddenly outmatched and out-maneuvered, Kaira caught a glimpse in the corner of her eye at the mercenaries surrounded her on all sides, blocking off her only way of escape.

There is no death.... There is only the Force.

Kaira remembered these words; she had recited them countless times when rehearsing the Jedi Code. There was no escape as she stood with her lightsaber raised, it’s emerald blade casting reflections off the rugged armor of her would-be executioners.

“No!” Shouted a voice beyond the circle of mercenaries. In confusion, the mercenaries turned their heads to the source of the commotion, briefly forgetting the Jedi before them for a second. A second was all Kaira needed as she swung her lightsaber outwards in wide, swift strokes. A lightsaber arced through the passageway, streaming behind it a cerulean trail as it continued on its trajectory towards a group of enemy soldiers. Suddenly, it became clear as the figures became visible over the extensive carnage littering the room. The Jedi of Odan-Urr have arrived, along with a handful of the Tarenti. Like an unstoppable tide, they rushed headlong into the battle, severing limbs as they stormed the engineering deck with the Ratchets Maintenance Department in tow along with Tarentum’s own combat engineers.

Halberd

Outside Bridge

The crew of the Halberd were indeed putting up an effective defense. Much better than Jason Hunter had expected from mercenaries, simply hired soldiers who typically tucked tail and ran when it became evident that the credits didn’t cover the kind of offensive that Tarentum and Odan Urr were presenting. True, the majority of the merc fleet had done just that, but the forces on the Halberd weren’t rolling over and giving up. In fact, they were buttoning up and trying their damndest to defend the ship.

To make matters worse, rumor had it amongst the men that they were making ready to scuttle the ship. Thusly adding to the urgency with which Jason and his squad were battling their way towards the bridge.

“Any progress on comms?” Tarentum’s Aedile queried as he batted a blaster bolt back towards a mercenary, sending the crimson energy projectile screaming down the corridor towards its point of origin. It ended its flight with striking the soldier square in the chest, dropping the man to the deck amongst his comrades. They looked down at the dead man in shock then turned wide eyes on the lavender-haired man with the cybernetic arm and the red lightsaber--who flashed them a toothy Corellian grin from the other end of the hall--and they broke into a dead, chaotic run in the other direction and around the bend that lead to the bridge door.

“No, sir,” replied Jason’s communication’s sergeant, a pair of fingers to his ear. “They’re jamming all frequencies ranging from comlinks to HoloNet Nothing coming in, nothing going out.”

“Great. Sounds like we’re on our own.”

“At least we have a Tarenti with us, sir,” the sergeant said with a wry smile on his lips as he hefted his carbine in his hands.

“Yes, we do have that going for us,” Jason agreed, returning the smile. “We’re pressing on, squad; that bridge isn’t going to open up for us on its own.”

Twelve blaster weapons of various types were raised into the air to signal confirmation of Jason’s order. He knew these men would follow him regardless, such was Oberst’s training. I’ll have to mention to him how well he’s trained our people. Too bad he already knows that.

The thirteen of them carefully picked their way towards the bend in the corridor where the mercs had fled earlier. Upon reaching the apex, Jason held up a hand and curled it into a fist, signaling his team to halt. Reaching out, he probed ahead with the Force and found that the door to the bridge was heavily defended with infantry and a pair of E-Web turrets positioned on the other side. Outside, however, were a handful of soldiers that were apparently set up to be little more than a delaying tactic.

“They’ve got it defended heavily inside,” the Corellian said, glancing over his shoulder as his mechanical fingers fidgeted on his armory lightsaber. “Outside the door are five sentries, and they’re nervous. They’ll make for easy pickin’s. We take them out fast, then move on the bridge, which I’m sure is shut down tight.”

Just then, a volley of blaster fire erupted from behind them. The two rearmost of Jason’s soldiers fell with smoking holes in their backs, their bodies inadvertently acting as shields to buy the others time to throw themselves to the deck and allow the rest of the bolts to zip past overhead. A group of mercenaries--two squads worth, from the looks of it--had circled around to Jason’s rear and effectively caught them in a dangerous pincer maneuver between them and the forces in the bridge. If they made it through, Jason was sure Oberst would have a few select words about his tactical oversight.

As it was, if his group didn’t get out of the corridor, the Marshall wouldn’t have his opportunity to berate the Aedile.

In one direction, there was the twenty some-odd mercenaries that had just arrived, and that had just now come under fire from Jason’s squad. They had spread themselves across the corridor and at an adjoining one to provide themselves some cover from which to fire upon the Tarentum forces, but the invaders had already fallen a few. That way was the path of retreat, but one that would have to be dealt with in any event.

The other way, was the most heavily defended. More foes, and with heavier weapons. And with the clock running down to the assumed destruction of the Halberd, Jason was quickly coming short on time to make a decision. Either way meant death, but only one would make progress towards completing his objective.

“Sergeant!” He called towards the man he spoken with earlier, who had the communications bud in his ear. “Hold off their rear guard while I take the bridge. Feel free to join me when you’re done here.” He hardly gave the man a chance to respond before he sprinted off towards the frightened men guarding the door to the bridge, lightsaber grasped firmly in his hand.

I only hope there’s enough left of me to join, Jason thought as he leapt at his first target.

Halberd

Engineering Deck

“That’s the last of them.” Said one of the Tarenti, the crimson blade of his lightsaber still lodged in between the shoulder blades of his latest victim. Meanwhile, the Ratchets were hard at work tearing the engineering deck apart to find the armed bomb before it was too late. It was unknown how much time was left, but it was evident that their time was running out. And quickly.

“I got something!” Shouted one of the Ratchets as he removed one of the wall panels. Deep inside, the faint pulsating glow of the mercenaries’ last gift to the invaders grew steadily in speed. Almost immediately, Tarentum’s combat engineers set to work, pooling together whichever tools they were able to carry aboard the flagship as one set about inspecting the device.

“We have a problem.” Echoed the combat engineer as he along with a handful of his comrades pulled the bomb back for a better view, “If this goes off, we’re all vaporized. Along with the rest of the fleet. Let’s work double time, gentlemen, there’s no telling how much time we have left.” He said as they set to work with examining the bomb.

Halberd

Bridge

Fingers twitched on triggers and grips, sweat beaded on brows. The clamorous sounds of conflict made their way through the door in a muffled manner; the blaster reports and shouts and curtailed screams greatly reduced in intensity and volume by the shear thickness of the durasteel construction.

The soldiers that had been charged with defending the exterior of the bridge were being utterly destroyed, if the sounds could be trusted. Theirs was a mission of suicide in any circumstance, however, and they had gone to their post knowing that. The defense of the Halberd was of the utmost import, and every member of her crew would give his last breath in that defense.

In this instance, the bridge was heavily defended with two old but nonetheless effective E-Web laser turrets and two full squads of infantry. Each man had a standing order to go down fighting, and to not give in to the Tarenti and their forces. Despite their resolve, though, they were on edge; it was a dangerous combination, both for themselves, and anyone who managed to barge through that door.

A staccato volley of blaster fire was heard through that same door just then, just above someone shouting the same word over, and over again. It sounded like it was the word “No,” and it sounded as if the blaster bolts were being deflected around the antechamber by a lightsaber. The voice rose in volume and hitch just before it abruptly ended at the same moment the blaster went silent. The men holding the controls of the E-Webs near the door exchanged concerned looks as all fell quiet.

The pause in activity lasted for what seemed an eternity, as men sitting on the edge of action waited for it to arrive. The only sound to be heard was the shuffling of feet, the intake of breath, a drumming of nervous fingers on a rifle barrel, and ones own heartbeat in the ears.

Then, without warning or apparent explanation, the E-Webs leapt into the air and shot straight for the ceiling. One of the gunners was too stunned to release his grip on the weapon, and he met his unfortunate demise as he was smashed against the top of the bridge along with the turret. The other gunner let go about halfway along the ascent, landing hard on the polished deck. He rolled to onto his side, grabbing his knee almost as soon as he had hit the deck and grimacing in pain. Unable to move out of the path of his turret as it fell back down, he was crushed underneath the weight of the crumpled weapon as it simply completed the cycle of basic physics as it was once again subject to gravity.

The other soldiers took a few cautious steps back, giving them some more space from the door. They had never faced a Jedi before, just heard all the out-of-proportion stories, and their imaginations were working in high gear at the moment. Would they be swallowed by the deck they stood upon? Would they be turn to ash, disintegrated by the raw power of the Force? Choked to death as Vader was fond of doing? Or was their fate to be at the end of that glimmering, buzzing lightsaber that the Jedi so often used? Any possibility was there; all that had to come pass was that moment that set it all in motion.

And that moment was when, for the briefest of seconds, a shining crimson blade flashed through the seam where the two halves of the door met. It was quick and surgical, slicing clean through the locking mechanism. The door parted to reveal a human man of just above average height, muscular build, his determined face framed by violet locks. In his right hand--which was obviously a mechanical replacement for what he had been born with--was his lightsaber, blood red blade held in a casual but prepared manner. In his other, organic, hand rested something a little more immediately deadly, but much of the mercenaries still had their eyes locked on his lightsaber.

“I am Krath Priest Jason Hunter, Aedile of House Tarentum,” he said in a confident tone, underscored with a touch of anger. “You have trespassed in Tarentum territory and committed acts of war against my House. We have routed your forces, boarded your flagship, and demand that you surrender immediately. Failure to do so will meet with continued hostilities.”

Halberd

Outside Bridge

The Quastor darted through the narrow passageways aboard the Halberd, the palm of his hand resting nervously on the smooth steel surface of his lightsaber hilt. Having arrived on the final shuttle to the Halberd along with a handful of reinforcements - mostly additional engineers, Anshar knew his time was running short as he raced down the ruined hallways to relay the final part of his strategy. Recently informed by Tarentum’s engineers below the engineering deck, there was only one option left, and a costly one at that. Nearly exhausted, Anshar hurled a pile of debris with a slight motion of his hand, sending it crashing into the bulkhead and clearing the way into the bridge.

Busily working at the controls, Jason Hunter was at work with restoring communications aboard the Halberd. The console was scorched with multiple impacts from sustained blasterfire, and most of the panels had been shot out, leaving a trail of glass strewn about the bridge. A spark ignited with a deafening ‘pop’ as the shroud was lifted from the Halberd, re-opening connections to the Holonet.

“Jason!” Called out the Quastor, as he gripped the corners of the durasteel doorway,” There’s no time! Get all the remaining crew to punch in coordinates outside of the Yridia System and get to the hangar bay! We’ll take him with us.” He announced, raising an index finger towards a sharply dressed man who he could only assume was the commanding officer responsible. A sudden inferno from the panels above forced them to take shelter, burying their heads towards the ground as a hail of molten debris rained down on them in the form of sparks.

“Go!”

Reaching up to the console he had just abandoned, Jason slapped the control to send a burst transmission to all in the vicinity of the Halberd to make for a rally point outside of Yridia. He then clambered to his feet and darted for the rakishly dressed man who appeared to be unshaken by the shower of sparks still cascading from the panels above.

“You’re coming with us, Bantha karker,” Jason snarled as he tightened a fist around the man’s silken shirt collar.

“As you wish. You do know, we will never make it off the Halberd,” he said with a haughty lilt to his voice and a holier-than-thou tilt to his chin.

“We’ll see ‘bout ‘dat, rich boy,” Jason replied, speaking in a drawl. Gripping the man’s shirt tighter, he practically dragged him through the bridge to where Anshar was still waiting in the doorway.

“Done having fun with your prisoner?” the Quaestor asked.

“Just getting acquainted.” The trio then made for the nearest turbolift, stowing themselves inside as quick as possible with Anshar depressing the button for the deck which housed the hangar. The trip was made in silence, with the two Tarenti watching the illuminated deck number indicator tick by with anticipation. Jason’s ward didn’t try to break free of the Aedile’s grip, seemingly knowing that he had absolutely nowhere to go when guarded by these two. Once the lift halted its flight through the bowels of the Halberd and the the doors hissed open, they were moving again, practically sprinting towards the hangar and whatever craft they may be able to get their collective hands on to make their getaway from the imminently exploding capital ship.

“There!” Shouted Anshar, gesturing towards an antiquated Lambda-class shuttle with a finger. The ship had been new during the days of the Empire, and this example of Sienar engineering was assuredly showing its age. Without hesitation, however, the tiny band angled towards the craft with due haste. They had little option, for it was the only one left in the sprawling space.

Anshar immediately sprinted towards the cockpit upon boarding, leaving Jason to guard their prisoner. The Corellian roughly deposited his charge into one of the sturdy couches lining the port bulkhead just aft of the flight deck and took up a seated position directly across from the stuffy man, threateningly twirling his armory lightsaber in his cybernetic hand while staring him down.

“Don’t move, now,” Jason said, eyeing him. In response, the assumed captain of the Halberd simply glanced down at an ornate wrist chrono, then turned a bemused smirk on Jason as he sat back to get comfortable in his uncomfortable seat.

In moments, the boarding ramp was raising just as the Lamba was lifting from the deck. Anshar turned the lumbering craft towards the magcon field and punched the throttles full force, rocketing the ship out into the cold expanse of space. The hum of servos could faintly be heard through the fuselage as the stabilizers were folded down into place, granting the shuttle just a smidge more maneuverability. What they really needed, however, was speed to escape Yridia II’s gravity field in time to make the jump to hyperspace.

“The rest of the fleet has already cleared out,” Anshar called back from the cockpit.

“I think it’s about time we did the same,” Jason replied. He rose and turned towards his Quaestor, but still kept a wary eye on their captive.

“We’re almost there. Almost at the envelope of the gravity well.”

Just then, a blinding, white flash overtook then. Sensor readouts turned to static, klaxons hooted and lights flashed. The “captain” next to Jason let out a hearty laugh, but was cut short in his revelry as the Aedile planted a fist into the man’s temple, dropping him into unconsciousness.

“I think it’s time we just went for it,” Jason said, climbing into the copilot’s seat and donning a headset.

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Reaching out, Anshar grasped the handle that would send the Lambda into hyperspace. He pulled down just as the ship began to shake and rattle as the leading edge of the concussion wave from the destruction of the Halberd reached them. They escaped into the stretched star lines and swirling colors of hyperspace, making a microjump before correcting their course to rendezvous with the rest of the Tarentum/Odan Urr fleet.

---

Bridge of the Magnus Kaerner

One half astronomical unit away from Yridia II

Oberst watched the satellite imagery as the mighty Allegiance-class

battle cruiser was torn apart by a thunderous explosion; or, at least, it would have been thunderous had there been any atmosphere in the vacuum of space. “Sir, scans report the arrival of one shuttle,” called out the sensor chief. “It is the Quaestor.”

“Anything from the drones?” asked Scion, referring to the sensor drones left at the scene of the explosion to monitor the situation.

“Nothing, sir,” came the reply. “No other vessels reported in the vicinity. There was a pause. “Sir, wait, sensors indicate large portions of the enemy vessel are still intact. One is headed towards Yridia II.”

“Projected destination?” asked Scion. A brief pause, interrupted only by the beeping of the computer, came and went.

“Northern hemisphere, thirty kilometers off of the polar ice sheet,” replied the chief. “Computer projects tidal waves, but inhabited areas are out of the danger zone.”

“Let it crash,” said Oberst, calmly. “Order the fleet to return to Yridia II orbit and to begin repairs immediately.”

“Aye, sir,” came the reply.

---

_Messina

Anshar’s Private Estate_

“I must say, Anshar, that I am surprised that you would invite us here,” said Drodik, taking a small sip from his drink. His aedile, Morotheri sat to his left and across from Jason. “Still, I suppose this is a gesture of goodwill, one that I am willing to accept.”

“I can appreciate that,” replied Anshar. “Now, to lay this all out, I promised you some things in return for your assistance. I am prepared to offer assistance in the building of the Sanctuary, a non-aggression pact, use of our repair yards for your ships, and a twenty percent reduction in tariffs for your trade through our system.”

“All very generous,” said Drodik. “I must admit that the idea of a non-aggression pact sounds good, but are you telling me that you are prepared to go against the Iron Throne, should they ever decide to try and wipe us out again?”

“I have always done what I thought is in the best interest of Tarentum,” replied Anshar. “Besides, there are other things coming that will keep the Dark Council and the throne occupied. I fear that the coming year will see more death and destruction. Whether we remain as enemies or not is in your hands.”

“I’ll take the non-aggression pact,” replied Drodik. “However, I will take it with a grain of salt. You Sith and Krath have not always proven to be the most trustworthy. Now, as to those tariffs, I want a sixty percent reduction.” Drodik smirked slightly.

“Twenty-five,” shot back Anshar.

“Fifty.”

“Thirty.”

“Forty, or I walk on everything,” said Drodik.

“Thirty-five- final offer,” replied Anshar. The two House summits stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Drodik broke the silence.

“Agreed,” replied the Nagai Quaestor. He then stood up to leave. “Well, I can’t say this hasn’t been fun. Perhaps there is hope for you, yet.”

“And some for you,” replied Anshar. Drodik and Morotheri left the room, escorted by a protocol droid.

“It seems to me that we gave a lot away,” said Jason once the two Jedi were gone.

“Perhaps,” replied Anshar. “It certainly seems like a lot, but in the end, it had to be done. I don’t know what the Dark Council has planned, but I sense that there will be conflict ahead. We are not as strong as we used to be, and though I would hardly call Odan-Urr our friends, we are on better terms now. The same goes for Plagueis and their assistance in Operation: Supremacy.”

“We’ll see,” said Jason, still skeptical, but wanting to trust Anshar’s judgment. Time would tell.

---

I would like to thank everyone for their participation, both members of Tarentum and Odan-Urr. The final results for every event have been posted on the Tarentum message board, under the message thread we have been using

Tarentum won the feud, with a final score of 41 to 36. This literally came down to the last event to be graded (week 1 fiction). We were tied up until then.

Overall results:

1st Place- Anshar

2nd Place- Levathan

3rd Place- Raiju