Ruhnuk Low Orbit - The Cabur 44 ABY
The Keldabe-class Battleship drifted in high orbit above the pale brown world of Ruhnuk, its hangar humming with the quiet patience of a warship forced to wait. Above the folks forced to ‘hurry-up-and-wait’, Baelor Pwyll leaned heavily on the railing overlooking the service deck waiting for new orders. Nothing had come in for nearly two hours. Baelor exhaled through his nose.
At his age, the breath came slower than it once had. His beard was steel grey now and hung in a thick braid over the breastplate he still insisted on wearing even aboard ship. It irritated the quartermasters endlessly.
A junior officer cleared her throat.
“Duke Pwyll, the Consul-”
“My nephew.” Baelor reminded the officer. His sister’s son may now be a Consul, whatever that means, but Baelor was still a Duke and etiquette matters.
“Forgive me, Sir. Your nephew’s directive remains unchanged. Your assignment is oversight of orbital logistics and-”
“I know my assignment,” he said dryly. Baelor turned just enough to fix her with a look. The officer straightened immediately. Baelor returned his attention to the service deck, looking for an opportunity.
Lontra has all these folks searching for a rumoured forge…but what else is down there?
That was the rumor anyways, some ancient Mandalorian furnace buried somewhere in the settlements scattered across Ruhnuk’s surface. Something older than the clans currently fighting over scraps of territory. And because Baelor was old, and because he was the Consul’s uncle, he had been placed aboard the Cabur with what the official dispatch called strategic oversight responsibilities.
Which was Lontra’s polite way of saying:
Stay the heck out of danger, old man.
His jaw tightened.
“Tell me,” Baelor said slowly, with an intensity building behind his words. “How long does one normally wait before deciding that reports are overdue rather than merely delayed?”
The officer hesitated.
“Protocol suggests four hours, sir.”
Baelor snorted.
“Your protocol also suggests a man of my age should be napping.”
He pushed away from the railing.
The movement surprised the officers nearby and several glanced up as the old-timer strode toward the exit with more purpose than his years should have allowed.
“Sir?” someone called but Baelor didn’t stop.
“I’m going to the deck.”
The Cabur’s service deck roared with the usual activity; technicians moving crates, pilots arguing over flight plans, loaders clanking across the deck.
The moment Baelor stepped onto the platform, conversations quieted slightly. The former Duke was hard to miss. He walked straight toward a sleek craft resting near the launch racks, a Kom'rk-class fighter, recently serviced and still gleaming. Orange paint on the side of its hull shared its identity: Fire-Forged
A mechanic looked up from a diagnostics panel.
“Uh, sir? That one’s cleared for Striketeam support only.”
“Yes,” he said. Baelor placed a hand on the hull like an old man greeting an old friend. “That’s precisely why I’m taking it.”
“Taking it?” The mechanic blinked.
Baelor climbed the boarding ladder with slow, deliberate confidence.
“I’ve spent forty years commanding soldiers,” he called down. “If I cannot still fly a fighter, someone should have informed me earlier.”
He lowered himself into the cockpit with a grunt, strapping in while the mechanic stood below looking increasingly alarmed.
“Sir! Command hasn’t authorized…”
Baelor powered up the craft. The engines whined awake.
“Then it’s fortunate I didn’t ask.”
Moments later, the Cabur’s internal comm network crackled. Baelor’s voice filled the hangar, the command deck, the barracks, and every cockpit preparing for launch.
Calm, amused, & dangerously enthusiastic.
“Attention, crew of the Cabur. This is Baelor Pwyll speaking.” Several officers on the command deck froze. “I have concluded that waiting for reports is a dreadful waste of a perfectly good afternoon.”
The Fire-forged’s engines rose to a steady roar.
“Therefore I will be conducting a brief reconnaissance descent to the surface of Ruhnuk to see whatever our strike teams have missed. Anyone looking to start a little trouble are welcome to join me aboard the Fire-forged.”
And across the hangar, several faces exchanged identical grins before sprinting towards the Fire-Forged.
Nothing could wipe the smile from Jhefi’s face as he hoisted his K21c over his shoulder and started sprinting. Finally, something exciting! Just waiting around on the ship had been utterly mirshepar'la, and he’d been about to blow something up just for a change. Besides, this way, there’d be no way he could make it to that snoozefest with the other diplomats.
He grinned as he leapt aboard. He sent a quick holo to Haro so he wouldn’t worry, checked his Bag O’ Bombs to make sure he had everything he needed, and found a seat. The anticipation was killing him almost as effectively as the boredom, and he couldn’t sit still. He was finally gonna get to blow something up!
Tracyn Settlement Ruhnuk
The wind was howling across the desert as Korvyn made his way on foot to the Tracyn settlement. A dust storm had made travel difficult. His face was wrapped up under the hood of his large duster so that only his eyes were visible. The settlement itself looked rather small from the outskirts. A thick stone wall measuring close to 4 meters in height surrounded the buildings. It looked as though it was keeping the sand and wind out more than it was for any sort of defense. A small opening was visible where large doors probably had once stood.
Two guards appeared as he neared the opening. Neither looked rather imposing but Korvyn learned a long time ago not to underestimate those who edged out survival in a place as inhospitable as Ruhnuk.
“My speeder broke down in the storm a couple clicks out.” He said raising his arm wide in a show of peace. “I just want shelter from the storm. Then I will be on my way.”
The pair looked at each other. Some unknown communication between them was exchanged before they both raised their Blasters at Korvyn.
“No one comes to Tracyn by accident.” The one on the left said with a thick accent. “State your business on Ruhnuk”
“Just looking for scrap and junk to salvage off world. A Mandalorian friend of mine sent word to me of a ship in the hollows I might be interested in. Perhaps you have heard of him, Declan Roark.”
They looked at each other again momentarily before opening fire.
Gnawing on the stub of an unlit cigar, Kel Cerar watched a young man practically clicking his heels as he ran towards the docked vessel. In that moment, he briefly remembered what it felt like to be excited for something in this wretched universe. His blonde haired Gamorrean girlfriend snorted and gave him a side eye. She was one of those Force Sensitive types and was always prying into the void between his eyes.
“Everything’s good, darlin” He winked and leaned forward, slapping his meaty paw down onto the shoulder of Iggy, his IG droid. “Let’s go, bud. Let’s see what we can get ourselves into.”
“Sure thing, meatbag.” It so affectionately replied.
Kel chuckled deeply from his belly and shoved aside a young dock-worker as he passed, who at this point, was failing his arms in anger. That is until he noticed the large war axe strapped to his assaulter’s back. Clenching his buttocks, the worker scuttled away without any further trouble. It was probably for the best.
Kel was an easy going type but he had a short fuse. It was written all over his armor. The chinks and dents, scratches and scrapes becoming ornamental decoration for the tried and tested battering ram of Clan Vizsla. Yet, behind his reputation was a man looking in the review mirror; only to witness his prime passing him by as he walked with a limp and was nearly as scarred and battered as his armor.
“You seem like a good time, kid.” He called out to Jhefi. “Remind me of myself. A few pounds lighter of course.” He feigned a stern look, waiting for a reply as would an uncle messing with a nephew.
“Vor'e!” Jhefi replied with a laugh as he took in the flesh boulder boarding the ship, not seeming to notice the faux stern look. Alongside the man was an unarmed combat droid, painted bright silver and gold, seemingly intended to stand out. “I’m Jhefi. You?” The man was a few inches taller than him, and clearly far over twice his weight. He looked like he’d be good at get'shuk, maybe even better than Haro, though Jhefi had his doubts about that assessment.
Jhefi watched as the man sat down. It took two seats to fit him. Jhefi couldn’t imagine ever getting that big. He shifted slightly in his seat to subtly emphasize his new rocket launcher, hoping this new companion would notice and ask without his having to bring it up.
Orianna Malenon, known to most as just Scylla, crouched next to her speeder in the cargo hold of the Siren’s Revenge, installing new thrust coils and occasionally throwing treats to Kora’s massive varactyl, who also made her cargo hold home. The captain of the Siren’s Revenge almost always had some sort of music playing and today was no exception; her multicolored speaker droid, EK-0H, blasted heavy rock as she worked. The music, however, didn’t cover up the sounds of shouting and people running by the open ramp. Without any prompting EK-0H dropped the volume to a background level as Scylla stood up and went to see what the commotion was. She just caught the end - Anyone looking to start a little trouble are welcome to join me aboard the Fire-forged.
Scylla chewed on her lip, thinking. She had been a pirate for longer than she had been alive and she was used keeping herself busy while waiting for new jobs to come up. But they had been sitting in the hanger bay of The Cabur for a while now, and eventually boredom would always set in. She needed a little bit of fun.
“Hey Ness! I’m headed out for a bit, keep an eye on the ship, will ya?” The Nautolan called up the hall, . Nessie poked her head out of a doorway, the Miralukan’s vestigial eye sockets uncovered as always. Scylla has known her for a while now, but it still sent a shiver up her spine every now and then. Not that she would ever tell Nessie. She knew that was the goal and the 19-year-old didn’t need anything else to inflate her ego.
“Is it something you need me for?“
“Nah, probably just stirring up trouble.” The young scholar seemed to light up at the idea. “You’re welcome to come, if you’re not too busy.”
Nessie looked conflicted. The promise of trouble was a strong lure for hot headed youth, but the lure of her research was stronger today. She waved off Scylla. “Nah, I’ll watch the ship, I’ve got a lot to get through and I wanted to have some time to tinker later. Need me to look at Echo?” She nodded to the speaker droid hovering over Scylla’s shoulder.
Scylla shook her head. “I’m gonna take him with me. He’ll be good when the excitement starts.” The speaker droid played a few tones in response. “Exactly. Alright, We’ll see you later. Don’t let anyone commandeer my ship.” The Nautolan couldn’t prove it but she was pretty sure Nessie rolled her non-existent eyes at her before disappearing back into her bunk.
“Whatever!”
Scylla chuckled to herself and grabbed her bag, before giving Orla another pat. “You’re in charge, got it?” The varactyl gave a chirp and settled in, facing the ramp. Scylla knew that the varactyl was just following previous commands from Kora, but at least she seemed to listen to the Captain a little bit. Maybe.
Scylla put on her coat as she exited the her ship, watching various figures running toward the only ship with engines on. The Fire-forged presumably. With her helmet under her arm, she made her way over, thankfully not too far from her own ship. As she boarded, her eyes flicked around, instinctually getting the lay of the ship and those inside, not to mention any valuables.
Once satisfied, she leaned against the wall and looked down at the two men, balancing her vibrodagger on her fingers and EK-0H hovering over her shoulder.
“Gentlemen. I heard we were kicking up some trouble?”
The mechanic stared up at Baelor as he climbed into the cockpit. A mix of emotions coursed through her mind as she weighed her options. On the one hand, this dude was old…too old from the looks of him. Grey hair growing out of everywhere, wrinkled worn skin, slow old person walk. He also didn’t follow protocol and seemed to lack a respect for authority.
On the other hand, he seemed to know his way around the ship’s controls well enough and he was a Duke or something. Riina couldn’t remember exactly, but he was someone important in addition to being the Consul’s uncle. Aaaand, he was the highest authority currently on the Cabur.
What seemed like minutes of internal arguments was probably only seconds. The spooling ion engines whined, drowning out the usual hum of machinery and conversation. However, as others started to join the geriatric skyjacker, Riina made up her mind. She looked around at the gathering comrades. Adventure and glory was more exciting than sticking around here fixing other people’s ships. Besides, the old man outranked her and had approved it. She wouldn’t get in trouble if it went south.
She dashed over to her locker and grabbed her go bag. It weighed a karking ton with her armor in it, but there was no time to don it. The impatient silverback had already started the engines and was fixing to leave. She would just have to change on the way. Riina grimaced as she looked down at her oil stained coveralls and had to remind herself that she did not have to be pretty all the time. She loaded the large duffle onto a grav-sled and made for the ship.
She watched a mountain of a man bulldoze his way to the Kom’rk-class transport. The brute shoved past Derek, who started to complain, but thought better of it.
“Hey Derek! You should watch where you’re going. I’d hate to have to scrape you off the floor,” she jested as he walked by.
“Shut up, Riina. I’m not in the mood for your shit. Don’t you have something to fix instead of annoying me?” Derek snapped back.
Riina smiled as she responded. “Na, I think I’ll go for a change of scenery today.” She gestured to the ship as she loaded her pack onboard and returned the grav-sled to its place.
Derek stared in surprise, “You are going with them? Be careful out there.” Riina nodded and waved as she stepped aboard.
Well, that didn’t go as planned, Korvyn thought to himself as he withdrew from the settlement back into the dust storm. Thankfully it provided him cover as he circled around and climbed over the low wall. He didn’t know how long the guards would look for him in the sandstorm.
An older speeder bike was parked out by one of the houses. He hoped onto it and hit the ignition switch. It protested slightly then roared to life and Korvyn hit the accelerator. He flew past the two guards and out the gate, making his way to the location Declan Roark had provided to the Regent.
Ruhnuk Tracyn Settlement 44 ABY
The roar of the ancient speeder failed to alert Korvyn to the attention he had caught by fleeing the settlement.
A blaster bolt screamed past Korvyn’s shoulder, close enough that he thought felt the heat bite through the fabric of his duster. [1] This is what caused the man to look back and take note of the dozen or so armoured men that had joined the two guards. It was from this crowd a second bolt emerged and smashed into the speeder’s engine. [2] The ancient vehicle had little to no armour, so the speeder fired in protest and before angrily sputtering out. Thrown forward over the handlebars, Korvyn was thankful for the sand dunes as he fell to the ground and rolled with the momentum.
“Not the response I wanted.” The man muttered under his breath as he hurriedly crawled back to the speeder wreckage and took cover. Fumbling in his clothes for a comlink with one hand and for his lightsaber in another, he found success and slowly poked his head up over the wreckage to reassess the situation.
The bright flash of a muzzle answered him, but Korvyn found his body being pulled by an invisible force and even surprised himself to find his lit lightsaber blocking the assault by instinct. Pew-hiss-dew went the exchange as another bolt came from the approaching crowd and the bolt was deflected back by Korvyn’s blade. [3] The bolt caught one of the armoured men dead-centre on his forehead and the being fell to the ground with a meaty thud.
Korvyn retreated again behind the speeder and cursed his odds. To the comlink he felt his attention pull.
Ruhnuk Atmosphere - The Fire-forged Like a hot knife through butter, the Fire-Forged cut clearly through the upper atmosphere of Ruhnuk. Even with the added, unexpected weight of some of the crew, the ship handled beautifully despite the chaotic weather of the planet. Inside the cockpit, Baelor Pwyll sat firm against the vibrations with one gloved hand steady on the controls while the other rested near the throttle with a familiarity of long practice.
Despite the claims of others, age had not dulled the old warrior. If anything, it had sharpened his patience - which was needed now with all the whining coming from the back cabin.
As if on cue, it was that moment that Riina entered the cockpit and gracefully moved into the co-pilot seat despite the ongoing shake of the craft. [4] Behind her, the open cabin door let in the complaints of the remaining crew.
“Easy now!” Came the husky howl of Kel, as the ship hit some more turbulence and a dull thump announced him being thrown to the durasteel floor. [5]
“I told you to sit!” Announce Scylla as she and Jhefi laughed at their comrades misfortune. As the cabin door closed again, Riina took a moment to steal Baelor’s attention.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Only the Force & fortune knows…” Baelor responded with a slow shake of his head. “We are nearing the desert area, but the last reports from The Cabur say a recon team has already made it there and cleared out. Not sure they would have left much for us…”
A dull tone sounded from the communications terminal, as if announcing he was wrong, which caused Baelor and Riina to share a look of concern. When Riina returned his gaze with a look that suggested she didn’t know what button to hit, Baelor nodded for Riina to take control so he could get it.
It was at the moment more turbulence struck the ship and violently shook it. [6]
Even through the closed cabin door, Baelor & Riina could make out the cries of pain behind him as this time more than one body was thrown. Cursing their luck, Baelor fell back into his seat and smashed the announcement button.
“More turbulence ahead folks, get butts in seats - now!” Turning to Riina, Baelor pointed at the orange button lit over her head. “Hit that one!”
Immediately after Riina touched the proper switch, the cabin was filled with the sounds of a firefight.
“Broken Arrow…Broken Arr-” Came the call as the audio was drowned by more blaster fire. “Anyone receiving?!”
“This is Fire-forged.” Baelor began before looking at his displays and figuring out where the call was coming from. Noting on the screen was the callsign for Korvyn, Baelor figured out that the icon was hovering near the Tarcyn settlement - which was odd given as the settlement had been reported cleared earlier in the day. Yet, the codeword ‘Broken Arrow’ meant that Korvyn’s position was being overrun.
“Hold on, Korvyn, on our way to you!”
Ruhnuk Tracyn Settlement
Throughout the entire descent, the storm did not let up.
As the Fire-forged touched down, the desert continued to churn its sand with jagged winds. The landing thrusters screamed against it, fighting for control as Baelor guided the craft down with stubborn precision. Yet, once the crew emerged it was hard to tell what had happened here as the shifting sand covered all tracks.
“It’s a wonder this settlement still exists.” Baelor spat as the group moved diligently through the ruins. “Decades of shifting sands should have buried it.”
“It may already have been,” Jhefi offered as he couched near one of the walls, he pointed to something written at the base of it, before digging a small hole to reveal more. [8] “The storms seem to be revealing it once again.”
Much of the group gathered for a moment to look at the writing but its weathered state offered few details. Two pairs entered the settlement at opposite ends while Scylla walked the perimeter, each of them focused on what clues they could find.
Baelor and Jhefi had no luck finding anything on the north side of the settlement. Yet, Kel & Riina then called from one of the foundations further inside. [9]
“I have no idea what this says,” Kel pointed to the carvings in the stone foundation as Baelor and Jhefi joined. “But it looks like someone was already here and found this.”
“Yeah, Hector and his team were here earlier and then moved on to the mountains.” Baelor announced while looking over the strange markings. He couldn’t make sense of them but he knew from earlier reports from Hector that Deathwatch had cleared the settlement without resistance and then moved on after finding a lead. This must have been it. “No signs of Korvyn though?”
“Over here!” Scylla shouted over the short, four foot wall and waved for the group to come to her. [10] As the group approached, they could see the wreckage of a speeder still slightly smoking in the distance when the sandcloud parted. Yet, Scylla stood by a half buried body.
“This doesn’t look like a desert dweller…” Jhefi immediately offered as the group came together.
“No, he looks like the scavenger group from the plains.” Kel offered as he looked at the light attire and boots of the man. As the conversation continues, Kel could be seen measuring the size of the boots against his own.
“Did you find any other bodies?” Baelor asked, looking at Scylla. “Korvyn’s?”
“No, no footprints either but looking at this guy - it’s likely to all be buried by now.” Scylla muttered while looking off into the hazy distance. “I feel like they took him.”
“Sounds like we are off to Buurenaar, then?” Kel announced as he stood, wearing his new boots.
“Aye,” Baelor started, continuing to look down upon the dead bastard. “If Korvyn was listening during the SERE training, he’s gonna need a ride.”
[1] Roll 1: 7 [2] Roll 2: 5 [3] Roll 3: 10 - critical [4] Roll 4: 8 [5] Roll 5: 4 [6] Roll 6: 2 [7] Roll 7: 7 [8] Roll 8: 3 [9] Roll 9: 6 [10] Roll 10: 6
The stormy winds began to lull even further. It was by no means pleasant on the world but it was becoming tolerable. For now atleast.
Kel slapped his war-axe down onto his left shoulder and the whining of his arm-cannon powering up in his dominant hand caused the others to briefly pause and look over at him. Their eyes begged the question..
“Ya never know..” Kel grinned, expecting, but also praying to Kad Haran'gir that things would go, just a little bit sour. He had been itching for some action and his axe was getting thirsty. He winked at his new boots saying to himself - “it hasn’t been a complete waste.” then offered a nod to the corpse in some kind of sick gratitude with a hint of respect.
“Lead the way.” He spoke with a throat full of gravel, to whomever was listening.
Jhefi followed along with the group as they piled aboard the Fire-Forged again. “You know,” he said to Riina in a nearby seat, “I kinda wish that storm had left some adate alive for us. Yeah, we’d have had to avoid getting shot, but at least then I’d be able to blow something up sooner.”
He shifted the rocket launcher on his shoulder to a more comfortable position, then was caught completely off guard as Riina actually responded to him.
“Yeah,” she said, twirling a hydrospanner around her fingers as she talked, “a fight would definitely make things more interesting around here. My trigger fingers are getting itchy.”
Jhefi noticed a couple others in the group nod, agreeing. It seemed like a good fight would give them all a morale boost after being stuck on that all too peaceful battleship. Unfortunately, whether or not that would happen wasn’t up to any of them. So instead they all just sat there as Baelor took off, flying to Hod Haran knows where.
Jhefi sent up a silent prayer to the luck god for there to be a good fight wherever they landed. But for now, all he could do was sit and wait.
Chatter erupted through the comm system of the Fire-Forged - it was an unfamiliar dialect at first but Mando'a was heard intermingled with what someone on the vessel perceived to be “ALEENA, I knew I recognized it!”
“Firefly.” Came a word that everyone could interpret.
Kel rested his face in his palm
“If you all think I’m crazy, you have no idea what you’re in for.…”
In that very moment a black VCX-100 - heavily modified, corkscrewed into view.
“Who the hell is that?”
Kel straightened.
“Surely you’ve heard of Salvo, the Firefly, Lord Sleemo himself.” He grunted a chuckle.
“Firefly?”
“Yeah, he flies around and lights s#$% up”
Just then the comm flickered back to life.
“Pew pew!” was all that was heard with a high pitched and tight laugh.
“How long has he been following us?”
“Eh, probably the whole time. Hell of a Hunter, oh, but don’t mention his height.”
Jhefi looked on as if now he HAD to mention it.
Kel just shook his head. “Ill advised.”
”A fight would definitely make things more interesting around here…”
Riina’s word held in the air as the Fire-Forged rode the edge of two worlds.
Jhefi watched out a side viewport, taking in a last view of the desert that stretched out behind them. The endless dunes of sands that had been bleached by a relentless sun while heat shimmered off its surface and distorted the horizon they left behind.
Staring in awe out a viewport on the other side of the ship’s cabin, Syclla took in the stark change in scenery. To her, there was an endless rolling plains of deep green while above them a churning sky refused to stay still. What appeared to be towering storm cells crawled across the horizon, their bellies swollen and dark. Lightning stitch out these storm clouds, in jagged veins of white and violet, that illuminated the grasslands in stuttering flashes.
The whole team in the cabin then turned to the nose of the Fire-forged, through the open door to the cockpit, to see the split in the land below them. As if some ancient god had dragged a dagger across the ground, the desert appeared to end in a straight line across the grassy plains and the Fire-Forged pushed along the border.
“This interesting enough for you?!” Baelor shouted over his shoulder with a smirk of amusement to hide his concern. He may be a good pilot, but he wasn’t cocky enough to fly into the storm.
Salvo appeared to not have that problem.
The black VCX-100 swooped low over the grasslands, swaying back and forth as if to minimize the potential for a lightning strike. Yet, every time its wingtip just avoided being struck, the comms light up with a mad laugh from the Aleena.[1] The ship was just about out of sight from Baelor, meaning he was a couple klicks into the thunderplains.
“Crazy bugger,” Was all that Baelor managed to get out before switching his comlink on to the Black Mesa. “Salvo, do you see anything out there?”[2]
Nothing but static answered.
“Black Mesa, do you read?” Baelor gritted his teeth as he feared the storm had gotten the firefly…
“…like…there’s…convoy…” The broken chatter from the Aleena came with an uncharacteristic seriousness. [3]
Baelor sighed as he realized the storm was interrupting them and he needed to bank closer to the other ship. For the first time in his life, he prayed for the Force to aid them. Shouting across the grasslands as long as Baelor was comfortable flying, the Fire-forged pushed on in the direction of Salvo. “I count 15…they definitely have someone bound…there.”[4] Salvo’s chatter was less choppy as the Fire-forged approached the circling VCX-100. “Yeah, I say they have Korvyn down there-”
A flash of white reminded Baelor of the threat above as he drew up in view of what Salvo was circling.[5] Like the Aleena had described, there was a convoy of people slowly crossing the plains on speeders with a bounded person trailing behind him. Alerted to the circling ship, several of the speeder bikes had broken away from the main group while the rest had come to a stop and encircled their prisoner.
Baelor could spot blaster fire coming from the outlying group of speeders towards the Black Mesa but Salvo’s ship danced between the bolts. [6]
“Get ready folks!” Baelor shouted over his shoulder again, aiming the Fire-forged towards the defensive group. “We’re going in for a hot landing. Be prepared for blaster-
Another bright flash of white blinded the man and suddenly the world went quiet. [7] As the Fire-forged screamed towards the hilltop Baelor had been aiming for, every light upon the man’s consul dimmed. Panic grabbed the man when he felt no resistance in his yoke.
On instinct, a hard fist was delivered to the consul and a wave of relief flooded the man’s chest as the consul brightened and resistance returned to the yoke. [8] Baelor face began to hurt from how hard he was smiling as he felt the Fire-forged ease out of its dive and hang in the air above the hilltop.
From behind him, Baelor could hear thunder wash up the lowering landing ramp and the clang of leather on steel as the crew charged towards the enemy.
It had been a lucky shot, both by Korvyn’s standards and probably the guy who had fired it. Hitting a moving speeder trying zig zag away at full speed was either lucky or one of the most skilled marksmen in the galaxy. Korvyn was certain it was the former. He also considered it lucky because it hadn’t hit him in the back. Instead he had enough time to jump for it and roll. That’s when the Force abandoned him for the time being. He rolled right into a large rock, knocking him unconscious.
Now he stood bound in the center of ten combatants who were taking pot shots at a VCX like they were target practicing on a tin can. They were so focused on it they neglected to see the second ship swoop in and deliver what he was hoping would be a rescue party, at worst it would be a diversion for him to free himself. He had let Vizsla know he was going to be Planetside during their operation. It was both a courtesy and to make sure he wasn’t mistaken for an enemy. He was glad he had reached out now.
Riina cringed. She knew that last lightning strike guaranteed the need for field repairs before they vacated this enigmatic planet. Sliding her hydrospanner into its designated pocket, she donned her bucket and did a quick prefight checklist. “HUD, check. Vital stats, check. Flight controls, check. Fuel status, check. Ammo, check.” She pulled out her datapad and pulled up the Holocam function and struck a pose. “Fit, killing it! Now, we gonna go kill something or are we going to sit around here in this karking lightning rod until we get as old as our geriatric pilot?” Scylla and Jhefi were already rushing headlong down the landing ramp but Riina was stuck behind a behemoth of a man. “Come on, Kell. Get your hutt sized ass out of the way. It’s clobber time!” Kell turned his head slightly to look at the mechanic whose height rivaled his own but looked like her slight build would blow away in a slight breeze. “Hold your fambaas, kid. There’s plenty of targets out there. Just stay out of my way and I’ll show ya how it’s done.” He hefted his ax and barreled down the ramp. Riina followed close behind, a blaster in each hand. She reached the bottom just in time to see the bright flash of Jhefi’s K21c as its explosive ordinance homed in on one of the speeder bikes. As soon as she was clear of the VCX, Riina’s super commando jetpack roared to life taking her closer to the encircled enemy and giving her a better vantage point. Alternating streaks of red blaster bolts rained out of both her pistols in quick succession.
Jhefi thanked the god of luck as he shoved another rocket in his K21c, grinning like a madman inside his helmet. “Finally, some action!” He fired the ordnance, taking out a Rodian aiming a heavily modified HH-12, then slung his rocket launcher back over his shoulder and dashed into the fray as he spotted the bound figure trying to sneak away. He tried to skirt around the edge of the fight to get to Korvyn, but stopped when a man wielding a vibrosword exited the group and came face to face with him.
Jhefi reacted quickly, taking a step back as his left hand ran down to his blaster. The man swung at him, but slipped on the wet grass and fell flat on his back. [1] Jhefi drew his blaster and shot the man before he could get up, then grabbed the vibrosword and continued heading towards where he’d seen Korvyn, sending another prayer of thanks to Hod Ha'ran as he deactivated the blade. Once he made it to the bearded man, he used the sword to cut him free, then headed into the fight with his new weapon.
He felt good on two fronts, first his guess had been right, it was Vizslans on the shuttles. Second his hands were free. He likely would have managed that on his own eventually, he had escaped from a Collective prison after all. But the assistance sped things up.
His capturers had indeed been amateurs. So happy about their new hostage they didn’t even bother to search him for weapons. His twin lightsabers sprang to life without a sound. Modified so they were nearly silent, but the pure white glow was unmistakable. He had tried to spare the group back at their small hovel of a town. Now they had moved against him and for that they would pay dearly.
To be continued in part two…