Session export: GJW XVII - [Sadow Specialists]

Deep Space Outer Edge of the Cor’neria System Gravewing

The void beyond the viewport burned with distant war.

Cold pinpricks of emerald and crimson flashed soundlessly across the black as the Brotherhood armada emerged from hyperspace in fractured waves. Great dagger-shaped destroyers drifted into formation alongside carriers, frigates, and cruisers bearing the heraldry of the Seven Clans. Their engines were the size of towers that glowed against the darkness, while swarms of starfighters spilled from distant hangars like embers cast from a forge. From beyond them all, hanging beneath, waited Cor’neria.

DarkHawk stood motionless upon the elevated command platform of the Gravewing, his broad shoulders squared beneath dim crimson lighting as tactical holos flickered across the bridge around him. The blackened corvette moved silently beneath the shadow of the greater fleet; its hull lights were nearly nonexistent against the stars.

Then a stream of encrypted fleet traffic rolled across the holotable before him. It showed picket resistance at the Lagrange point and the Collective fleet repositioning. Orbital defense batteries signaled activation around Isabella Ship Yard on sensors.

The Consul paid little attention to the opening fleet engagements. He trusted his officers to command the line to bleed the enemy’s ships against the fortifications because that was not why the Gravewing had come.

Distant eyes settled instead upon the slowly rotating image at the center of the tactical display. The face of Rath Oligard appeared—the face of the Collective.

DarkHawk remained silent for several moments before speaking at last, his voice low and measured against the hum of the bridge. He then gave the command to begin the final approach. Around him, the Gravewing stirred quietly to life, and his crew moved between dim consoles.

His ship’s cloaking systems cycled through preliminary diagnostics. Somewhere deeper within the corvette, the heavy mechanical groan of sealed hangar clamps echoed through the ship as preparations began around Creon’s docked Firespray-interceptor below.

Creon had the MR-72 Slugthrower Carbine fully field-stripped across a reinforced workbench inside his ship. Tools were laid out in a specific order: notepad, datapad, torque drivers, bore scopes, ultrasonic cleaners, spare recoil buffers, and a digital micrometer array.

Hovering nearby whilst constantly adjusting position with small thruster bursts was his BD-unit.

Creon rotated the rifle’s bolt assembly between his gloved fingers, studying the machined steel with a narrowed gaze.

He noted that the upper receiver and barrel assembly used a cold-hammer-forged, chromium-molybdenum barrel with polygonal cross-section grooves. He wrote down “7.62x40” on a notepad. He then inspected the integrated gas piston system before moving to the lower receiver. Its reinforced-polymer-metal insert skeleton impressed him. He was surprised again when he looked at the ratchet system, which was so unlike a blaster’s energized chamber and regulated gas cycling. Heavy tungsten weighting on the bot carrier group, he assumed, was for assisting with recoil management and preventing impingement.

The BD-unit was perched near the edge of the workbench, its photoreceptors focused downward onto the rifle’s open receiver. A small holographic projection flickered into existence, displaying an enlarged schematic of the MR-72’s internal assembly with highlighted stress points in glowing amber.

A readout on a nearby datapad relayed a message from the BD Unit:

// BD = Component Status Report // Barrel: Polygonal rifling estimated 4,200 rounds remaining before accuracy degradation. // Gas Piston System: 96% efficiency. Slight carbon fouling detected. // Bolt Carrier Group: No binding detected, testing dry-cycle. // Creon = efficiency increase by 14% with a variable-mass recoil buffer tube module containing tunable magneto-rheological fluid dampers linked to a miniature inertial sensor suite. //

Creon glanced briefly toward the droid. “You already scanned it?”

The BD-unit chirped once affirmatively before extending a thin utility arm toward the recoil spring assembly resting near Creon’s hand.

“Overachiever.”

The droid answered with another series of quick whistles before carefully organizing several loose receiver pins into a neat line near the edge of the table. A tiny manipulator arm, extended a cleaning cloth to Creon as he seated the bolt carrier back into the upper receiver and slowly pulled the charging handle rearward.

“Could you go help Zenti with those drifting port stabilizers for me, little buddy? We’re about to deploy.” The BD-unit answered with a whistle before retracting its utility arm. It hovered briefly above the workbench, then darted off toward the docked Firespray with surprising speed.

The polish of the hull on Creon’s Firespray loomed overhead beneath the Gravewing’s dim hangar lighting. Creon ascended the cockpit. It was dimly lit, with the low amber glow of standby systems casting long shadows across the reinforced viewport. Displays awakened one after another across the control panels as Creon lowered himself into the pilot’s chair, rested one hand against the central console, and pushed a button. The console displayed: // S.T.A.R. AI Boot Sequence = Initiated. //

A deep, resonant hum built from the heart of the ship as the modified reactor spooled up to standby power. The main holographic projector above the console opened into a crisp, semi-transparent interface with subtle tactical overlays.

“STAR, we’re undocking from the corvette and entering the active battlefield”, Creon said and inserted a code cylinder into a console port.

The holographic display grew wider as S.T.A.R. ingested the full Cor'neria System intelligence package provided. Multiple orbital maps, topographic overlays, and threat assessments populated the main holotable.

“I’m thinking we fly by their ship yard, drop the seismic charges, and reroute to Nei’joule City. Calculate a capable flyby trajectory and seismic charge release timing.”

// STAR = Recommend using Geo-Rangefinder to designate optimal release points for seismic charges. //

“When we arrive, scan for any internal manufacturing spines or docking support lattices.”

The droid brain continued to process his orders when he left for the hangar bay to check on Zenti’s progress.

In war, nothing ever goes as planned.

The Firespray accelerated beneath the burning shadow of the fleet battle while Isabella Ship Yard continued expanding across the canopy ahead. Its layered defensive shields shimmered faintly across the structure against the impact of the Brotherhood destroyers.

Targeting overlays flooded the forward display:

// Defensive shield harmonic density exceeds parameters. Turbolaser tracking vectors exceed resistance capabilities by sixty-three percent. Interceptor launch corridors. No identified potential seismic insertion paths. Shield cycling windows insufficient.//

One after another, amber firing solutions shifted to red.

// Probability of successful = below mission viability thresholds. //

Creon remained silent and kept his mind clear as the tactical overlays continued rotating while the Firespray threaded between expanding battle debris and streams of distant weapons. The Force brought to his attention hundreds of glowing objects that drifted in controlled orbits around the shipyard. The asteroids were irregular chunks the size of small freighters. Their surfaces still shimmered with dull red heat, leaving faint trails of ionized gas as they moved.

“STAR, what are those collected asteroids doing? That doesn’t look naturally formed.”

The display shifted immediately as S.T.A.R. isolated several of the objects:

//Confirmed industrial ore masses. Refined ferrous and mineral payloads awaiting processing transfer into manufacturing sectors.//

“Why are they outside the station?”

The AI paused for a moment, processing.

// Analysis suggest potential logistical overflow accelerated by wartime production demands.//

“How did they move them like that?”

A new planetary overlay appeared across the canopy.

Highlighted along Nei’kapo’s surface was a sprawling industrial launch complex positioned near one of the planet’s massive refinery regions.

// Source identified. Ore payloads transferred via magnetic acceleration cannon on Nei’kapo. Electromagnetic mass drivers launch material directly from gravity wells. //

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Creon’s face. He sat back, the glow of the distant molten chunks reflecting in his eyes like the faint glow of burning Sith eyes.

“That’s our target,” he said calmly. “Transmit fragmentary order to the Gravewing.”

“Standing by,” a naval officer of the Gravewing said in a comms channel.

“Direct seismic insertion aborted due to defensive saturation. We are rerouting planetside.” Behind him, Zenti blinked once.

“You’re seriously planning to hijack their ore cannon?”

“Yes, that’s the artillery we need.”

The Firespray streaked beneath the shadow of a burning destroyer while streams of green turbolaser fire crossed the void ahead of them in violent arcs. Above Nei’joule City, squadrons of fighters clashed with attacking craft in a swirling dogfight. Explosions bloomed against the planet’s atmosphere as capital ships traded punishing broadsides near Cor’ena.

STAR piloted the Firespray through an expanding cloud of debris from a shattered frigate. In the distance, the Isabella Ship Yards spat red lances with its automated cannons. A sudden flash lit the cockpit from an exploding heavy cruiser near Elizabeth-II. The Firespray dipped and accelerated to the upper atmosphere of Nei’kapo.

Below them stretched a scarred, rust-colored wasteland with endless fields of twisted scrap and refineries. The Firespray shuddered as it punched through the turbulence of the lower atmosphere and settled over a sprawling complex of catwalks and torn rail systems. The Firespray turned vertical and opened its cockpit and Creon jumped out to the edge of a crumbling platform. His long, tattered coat fluttered in the dust-choked wind as he advanced through the ruined processing sector in measured silence.

Creon intensified his concentration, fending off distractions that flooded his senses: the rising stench; the sharp and treacherous terrain; the sound of wind which whistled through twisted spires and snapped stanchions.

Ahead, a small but heavily armored enemy, clad in green tactical gear and wielding a blaster, witnessed Creon’s approach and broke the environment’s stillness with a sudden burst of blasterfire.

With a decisive surge, Creon ignited his crimson lightsaber, charged forward by leaping across broken walkways and fractured plating. He rotated his wrist with practiced precision, deflecting the first volley aside. Creon vaulted over a gap in the platform, spinning mid-air whilst whipping his lightsaber around in a blazing arc to close in the distance. Nearby explosions erupted from stray shots striking nearby volatile fuel cylinders.

Creon landed directly in front of the soldier and drove into a rapid close-quarters flurry from a Sith variant of Shien, causing the soldier to drop lifelessly in heaps of carved cauterized pieces.

Continued through an oppressive gloom of the collapsed industrial underbelly, Creon emerged into a labyrinth of shattered walkways and hanging wreckage. Metal beams and massive slabs of debris eventually blocked his path forward. With a focused glare Creon extended out his hand in channeling the Dark Side of the Force.

A surge of energy then erupted from his palm in a powerful Force push that tore apart the unstable structure before him. The massive overhead beams groaned and shifted violently before being ripped free. Creon hurled them aside with raw telekinetic power and anger, sending enormous chunks of metal crashing and tumbling into the depths below.

Dust filled the air as the wreckage cleared and Creon moved deeper into the ruined chasm. The air itself felt heavy and hot. Distant groans of the foundry echoed through the maze of scrap like the breath of some immense beast.

More blaster fire erupted from ahead.

A bolt raced toward him, only to be ricochet harmlessly as Creon angled his lightsaber. The reflection illuminated the advancing troopers for only an instant before he dashed forward with amplified speed like a predator closing in on prey. Creon twisted through another volley, using his blade like a spinning wall of scarlet light. Sparks bursted from surrounding metal as redirected shots reflected back into the enemy line. Creon thrust out his free hand again and caused an explosion which ripped through the corridor. Fire washed into the wreckage like a violent wave and hurled more debris outward as nearby soldiers staggered in disarray beneath the concussive blast.

Before the smoke had even cleared Creon advanced directly into the surviving resistance with accelerating momentum. His saber swept broadly through the industrial gloom as the defenders retreated deeper into the scrapyard. Without breaking stride Creon closed in like a blur at two heavily armored collective soldiers that moved to intercept him. The first fell from an overhead strike, yet the second surprisingly held his ground in a desperate point-blank barrage of bolts. Creon hurled the enemy back with a powerful telekinetic push, then followed up with a single slash across the torso.

A Rodian mercenary with a heavy repeater had joined the fray, leaping in with aggressive counterattacks. Creon threw his lightsaber to cut through the shower of blaster fire in a rounded arc as he dove for cover. The lightsaber decapitated his assailant before being recalled back to his hand.

Advancing deeper into the shattered industrial trench a corridor ahead twisted between more scrap of fractured durasteel. Bolts ricocheted away from his saber in bursts as he pressed forward with unnerving calm. Enemy soldiers on higher platforms ahead used the broken terrain as an elevated firing position while shouting over the roar of machinery.

Creon raised his free hand and seized one of the troopers with the Force. The soldier was ripped violently from his footing and hurled into the air, limbs flailing helplessly until drifted across the battlefield like a ragdoll. The body slammed into the surrounding wreckage with bone-shattering force and collapsed motionless among the scrap.

Silence lingered only for a moment from bearing witness. The remaining defenders hesitated at the realization they were no longer fighting an ordinary opponent. Morale soon shifted, however, when a dropship descended from above. Its reinforced doors hissed open from decompression. From within its hold emerged a hulking walker. Its mechanical legs stomped forward with heavy metallic thuds. The walker turned its cannons toward Creon weaving through the chaos and unleashed searing red laser fire.

When the walker engaged, Creon vaulted high using the Force, executing a mid-air reverse grip flourish before driving the saber downward into its upper chassis. The machine staggered. He finished it with a surging Force repulse that sent it crashing. Creon landed amid the wreckage, lightsaber still ignited, and still surrounded by enemies.

Panicked bolts rained toward him from multiple angles. Creon followed with rapid spinning horizontal slashes. The blade left glowing trails as he pivoted on the balls of his feet in tight, economical footwork reminiscent of ”Arnis kali” weapon transitions. Creon’s body was a blur of motion intercepting the nearest trooper. The red blade carved upward in a violent arc, forcing the soldier backward as Creon chained the strike immediately into another. The remaining defenders attempted to regroup along the upper platforms.

Creon extended his hand sharply toward the catwalk above. The Force erupted outward like an invisible shockwave. Metal screamed. A massive section of loose wreckage tore free from its supports and crashed through the elevated position, engulfing the defenders beneath a rain of shattered metal.

Dropships descended through the smoke. Creon met the reinforcements with forward aggression advancing with tight, controlled steps while deflecting blaster bolts in precise parries.

He planted his feet in a wide, stable horse stance , raised his right arm extended in a commanding forward palm thrust whilst channeling the Dark Side. The gunship lurched violently as Creon pulled it toward him groaning in protest.

As the gunship drew close, Creon transitioned into a low crouch-run across the platform, coat tails whipping behind him. He leaped with explosive power, grabbing onto the open side door of the hovering vessel. Inside, a trooper scrambled in panic. Creon vaulted fully into the troop bay with predatory grace, immediately engaging with a swift low sweeping kick combined with a Force-assisted grab-and-throw, hurling the trooper out of the gunship into the abyss below.

As he pressed onward, jumping across gaps, vaulting over railings, and charging along elevated walkways, Creon saw beams of light cut through the hazy air, illuminating the colossal scale of the central ring structure ahead.

Molten metal poured from containment channels in waterfalls below the walkways while fractured conduits sparked across the chamber from refinery cranes swung overhead from damaged rails.

The last remaining defenders came through the central reactor platform. Heavy repeaters opened fire immediately, flooding the chamber with overlapping streams of blaster fire meant to bury Creon. As their bolts screamed through the smoke, some caused unstable machinery to detonate nearby in violent flashes. Entire sections of the platform began to buckle beneath the bombardment. Yet still Creon walked forward.

The glow of his blade burned through the smoke surrounding him as soldiers fired blindly in terror. One final trooper emerged from the haze and unleashed a desperate volley directly at him.

Creon angled his blade once.

The reflected bolts struck the defender instantly, hurling the body backward into a collapsing reactor support. The structure failed moments later, vanishing into the inferno beneath the chamber floor.

Silence now claimed the battlefield, giving him a sense of approaching peace, approaching victory. Only the roar of collapsing steel and the thunder of the dying refinery remained as Creon reached the reactor platform.

The complex consisted of multiple concentrically stacked platforms of thick durasteel plating with reinforced girders and grated walkways for weight distribution and thermal expansion. The elevated walkways were supported by heavy cantilevered beams anchored into massive central towers and cliff-like structural walls.

Multiple tall, fortified towers with vertical emitter arrays, power routing spines, and glowing status indicators. These emitter towers generated tractor beams, stabilizing the movement of fired ore. A massive spherical smelter filled with churning molten material. Heavy reinforced piping and multiple vertical and angled radiator arrays ran as cooling units along its exterior.

Segmented cylindrical housings at the base and mid-sections containing energy storage and distribution nodes

Creon stood before the central distribution node with one gloved hand extended toward the towering spires above. Creon’s jaw tightened.

He hated the Collective for their ignorance. He hated machines that dominated sacred and delicate worlds. He hated the gatekeepers who denied him greater knowledge in learning true mastery and understanding over the Force…

Hate

The power of the Dark Side filled him. Strength coursed through his veins, swelling his heart with resolve. He would not fail.

A blue-whitish lightning branched from his fingertips like extending roots from his nervous system. The discharge crawled up the rail spine into the central junction. One overload became a domino effect.

Creon did not stop. He fed more hate he had held for years into the machine.

Lightning chained between the towers. Capacitor housings bursted apart and the magnetic field projectors destabilized. The tractor beam harmonics had collapsed. The ore cannon’s trajectory shifted several degrees downward, now directly toward the heart of the shipyard. And through his eyes reflecting the consuming lightning, Creon felt good.

Rotational instability built while more ores continued tumbling. Instead of entering the collection area close to the station, their launch collision tore open entire sections of the station. Creon stared upward through the storm as distant fire rained from orbit. The burning wound across Isabella Ship Yard could be seen even through the atmosphere.