With the war for Quermia back on, things have not been going well for the Odanite Forces. While the Vauzem in theory were fighting a two front war, their troops had not truly engaged with the CIS droids currently wrecking havock on the east of the planet. Instead they seemed to be focusing on reinforcing the western hemisphere into a power base.
With this in mind, an elite force was put together from across the different units sent to Quermia under the command of Colonel Valan Gundyr. The team is told that their plan is to deal with the CIS forces, looking to secure local support for the war effort as the West seems to be falling more and more under Vauzem influence.
The shuttle you are all taking shakes as it enters the combat zone, blasts can be heard all around.
Miho sat in one corner of the shuttle, absorbed in her own thoughts. When was the last time she had been like this? Crammed into a ship with gods only knew how many? Seemed like forever ago to some, but for her, time was a slippery thing still. For her, 25 years past was a blink. Slid through time like an eel through water. It reminded her of her brothers going down to that planet. Reminded her of the suffering that followed.
She wasn’t a child anymore though. She gave her weapons on last check, running a fingertip over the stylized dragon each weapon bore. A symbol of her family.
“It never ends. Does it, brother?” She murmured half to herself. “The constant fighting, the war. I’m so sick of it.”
But, without it, you would be out of work. The nastier side of her nature whispered in her mind. You are a killer and quite proud of that fact.
The Proconsul, known as the War Councillor, wondered what it would be like to live a life without conflict. Maybe she would tend an old rundown shrine to a long-forgotten god.
Maybe she’d become a drunk and exist only to tell stories to bored young people.
With a shake of her head, Miho pulled a datapad from within her overcoat and began tapping through the screens. She needed to be prepared for whatever waited on the ground for them.
Tierra dragged her third puff of the cigarillo and exhaled thick smoke for good measure. Her foot had been tapping for a while now, the usual and clear sign of her nerves and her lack of focus before a battle. The cigarillo helped. A Red Devils tradition, she recalled. The 2nd Armored was strange with their traditions: smoke some Harakoan tobacco to calm the nerves. A last drag for the soon-to-be-dead. How many had truly found their end after one such smoke. She did it every time on a mission, even when she spied for SENNET. Uphold tradition was important, and so were rituals. Unfortunately there was no Harakoan tobacco left around, and the best she could come up with was a poor imitation. Still, it put things into perspective, who she was doing this for and who she was sworn to die for if necessary, and it leveled her head to boot.
The shuttle shook from incoming flak drawing the nervous attention of all who were present. Ticks and nerves galore, she noticed. Soldiers heading into battle usually had their little rituals. And they were all soldiers, Jedi, governors, and Councillors alike. A soft smile crept across her features as another puff escaped her lips. She had checked her armor three times, her slicing gear at least five. Her pistols were clean and clear, and with that last puff so was her head. She dropped the cigarillo and squashed it, like so many memories she’d have to suppress in the upcoming fight. She exhaled a long held breath of smoke, donned her helmet, and readied herself.
Frenek’s knuckles grew even whiter around the steering controls as another blast rocked the troop transport. Instinctively, he chanced a look away from the dashboard toward Syrena Valkar to ensure she was safe. Not that she needed his help. Still, he couldn’t help helping.
He returned his concentration to navigation. Help! Help was on the way. It was a vindicating sort of feeling to be delivering that help for a change. Come what may—mistakes, failure, death—at least he could tell himself he was doing all he could.
Help. This planet sure needed help. Frenek did his best to survey the scarred landscape of the Quermian combat zone, squinting to see through thick clouds of smoke that filled the lower atmosphere. He coughed. Wait—isn’t that smoke supposed to be on the other side of the glass? he thought. Sniffing the air, he detected the scent of cigarillo smoke wafting into the cockpit. He turned around to identify the source—it was Tierra. He tried to muster some annoyance toward her for blowing the distracting smoke, but the best he could manage was jealousy over the fact that she wasn’t sharing any of her top shelf tobacco—Harakoan or not.
“Now—to find a suitable landing zone…” Frenek mumbled to himself. “Pockmarked earth—nope; squadron of CIS droids—let’s not; ah!—small undisturbed clearing—that’ll do.”
Pressing the controls carefully, Frenek guided the ship down onto the somewhat level ground. He unwrapped his knuckles from the controls and shook out his hands.
With the booming thud of each blast growing closer, Syrena instinctively steadied herself against a wave of turbulence. She drew in a deep breath to herself, trying to find a sense of calm. Casting a glance towards the radio controls on the main dashboard, Syrena fought the urge to switch on music, if only to drown out the sounds of the blasts for the time being. But she knew better than that, with the awareness that any signal posed the threat of an interception.
Instead, pressing her lips together, Syrena hummed a soft melody under her breath, focusing on each harmonic note. Her eyes fluttered closed, as she willed her mind to steadily relax. Yet with each passing sound, she began to subconsciously tap the heel of her boot. Letting out an exasperated sigh, her eyes suddenly flashed back open, their silver depths holding a mild look of frustration. “How are Jedi supposed to do this meditation thing…?” Syrena finally said in mild annoyance, shaking her head to herself.
As a recently converted Jedi, the very fact of being one was still unfamiliar territory to her. Yet despite this, Syrena yearned to try her best, if not for herself then for the Knights of Allusis. Even if she hadn’t yet mastered the art of meditation fully, there was one mindset of the Jedi that Syrena had always agreed with– Offering protection to those in need, and battling against injustice.
She paused, stretching her arms over her head and flexing her knuckles, ensuring that her shock boxing gloves were properly secured, along with the additional attachments of a recently acquired flame projector and prod pistol fastened to each wrist. Casting a glance over her shoulder into the main cabin, Syrena gazed upon the familiar faces of her companions, Miho and Tierra. "We’ve got this… Right?” Syrena half began to say to them, mostly trying to convince herself, as a slight smirk came to her lips.
“And you… If anything happens, I’m entrusting D-O into your care. You know how much that little one depends on me,” Syrena said in a quieter tone to Frenek, thinking fondly of the small droid she’d left safely back at his shipment facility for the time being.
As Frenek’s focused efforts paid off to her relief, the ship soon came to a landing at a small clearing, near the edge of the main combat zone. Syrena rose to her feet and began to make her way to the transport’s back door once it lowered, her hands curling into tight fists and her icy silver gaze shifting to a look of determination. She dropped into a defensive stance and carefully exited the transport, beginning to survey their surroundings.
The area around the ship was torn apart by artillery fire. Odanite troops had drug trenches into part of the battlefield, while a seemingly endless horde of B1s had begun fortifying a few kilometers out. Several soldiers ran past without remarking on the group whatsoever. It seemed on this half of the planet, seemingly not that far from the Dominions holdings that they were not even a passing concern.
After a few minutes of unloading the ships hologram began to ring.
“Well,” Jon said noting the soldiers rushing past without sparing the Jedi ship so much as a passing glance, “That’s either very fortuitous circumstances on our part, or a forboding omen of things to come.”
He pushed a spot of dust off his long coat, before walking over to the insistent holo-terminal, and said just before activating it: “Anyone care to place wagers on which?”
The hologram flickers to life, a figure appearing in it. It’s not Colonel Valan, but instead one of his subordinates. “Greetings. Your job is to get through the battle droids and open up a path to their factory. It will be difficult work, but the Colonel is counting on you.”
Her bright silver eyes carefully observed the swarm of soldiers as they rushed by. White armor gleaming beneath the dim light, a faint ripple of electricity shimmered across the reinforced steel plates of each glove she wore. Her breath came measured with a certain sense of control– each inhale drawing the weight of the inevitability of the fight ahead of them, as her senses began to sharpen.
Casting a side glance at Jon, Syrena thought for a brief moment on the matter. “An omen is neither fortune nor doom, but a whisper of the unseen… It’s meaning depends on the courage of the one who heeds it,” She finally said in a level tone of voice, gazing forwards once more.
The moment that the words were spoken by the hologram, the Knight-Commander began to step in the direction of the soldiers. “Very well,” was all that she said before falling silent, silver gaze burning with silent determination.
Syrena broke into a run, carefully weaving her way into the fray. The ground seemed to tremble with each advancing step of the battle droids, their metal limbs clanking, eyes glowing red with cold calculation. Now in close range, one began to lunge in her direction. Syrena pivoted with ease, sliding beneath it’s mechanical arm just as it readied it’s blaster, lashing out with her fist and driving it into a pressure joint. Sparks flew as the limb crumpled, and a volley of sharp kicks began to cleave through the series of wiring that once connected it’s head to it’s body.
With a quick backwards leap, Syrena lowered her stance, avoiding blaster fire from another droid. Twisting, she caught it’s arm, using it’s own weight to flip it onto it’s back. With the impact of a downwards punch, Syrena sent fourth a shattering wave of electric energy rippling through the droid. Her feet barely touch the ground as she continued through the first wave of droids, striking with precision, shattering circuits.
Yet the work was far from over, evident by the continual advancement of remaining droids. Drawing a deep breath, white lightning began to crackle at the Knight Commander’s fingertips, energy beginning to flow through her veins. “Let there be justice, for the lives of all you have already taken, and those you may have yet to take,” Syrena spoke quietly. With a single motion, she arched both hands forward, casting a wave of white lightning from her palms. The chain of electricity began to jolt through several droids, searing through wires, frying circuits.
Jon chuckled. “Well, the Knight-Commander certainly has an undying flair for the dramatic. Though I suppose we can’t let her have all the spotlight, eh?” Stepping forward, he let the tails of his long coat billow out behind him as he walked into the fray behind her, smoke and fire already rising up around them.
“Alright! Have at ya then ya pack of circuit-fried rust-apes!”
He reached into his coat pockets and withdrew a trio of long serrated knives, and in one smooth motion let them fly, spinning through the air to find purchase in the joint and wires of the three nearest B1s.
Frenek waited anxiously as the last of the soldiers unloaded from the transport. He had landed the ship facing a rocky outcropping and could catch only glimpses of the proceedings of the battle through tiny mirrors that could be extended out on either side of the dashboard with an old cranking mechanism. A flash of light informed him that Syrena must have found some droids to merrily destroy. A metallic gleam flickered across the mirror on the left hand side before a battle droid collapsed in pieces. He wondered if that could have been Jon Silvon. Frenek had witnessed Jon’s accuracy with throwing knives firsthand while running alongside him through the streets near the Western Gate.
As entertained as he was, Frenek couldn’t shake a growing feeling of helplessness. As he adjusted the mirror on the right hand side, he bore witness to foot soldiers being cut down by droid blaster fire. Grimacing, Frenek continued to crank the mirror’s mechanism until he caught sight of a TX-130 Saber-class fighter tank, halfway broken down on the fringes of the battleground. The right side of the ship was torn away in places, and most of the hull was rendered black by some well-placed artillery shell. The top seat, where typically the gunner operated, was completely destroyed. And yet, enough of the cockpit seemed, at least from this distance, to be intact…
Frenek frowned and looked back at the dashboard controls. His orders were to stay in the cockpit so that he could provide an opportunity for a hasty retreat should the battle go south. But with Syrena and Jon out there, dispatching droids left and right, surely the tides of battle would turn in their favor. And if that were the case, why shouldn’t he try to save a few more lives?
Cautiously, Frenek rose from his seat and exited the troop transport. He sprinted across the sixty-some-odd feet of open expanse that separated the two ships. When he arrived at the tank, he found, to his relief, that whoever had been operating the tank—perhaps up to four soldiers—seemed to have been able to evacuate quickly enough to have gotten away. Or else the artillery blast had been exceptionally thorough. Pushing that thought from his head, Frenek pried open the bent door frame to the cockpit on the left side of the vehicle. He clambered in, sat down, flipped on the ignition switch, and—sure enough—the engine sputtered to life. He could feel the vehicle rising off of the ground a bit as he reached for the steering controls. Turning sharply, Frenek positioned the vehicle before an oncoming array of battle droids, ensuring that his trajectory would not intersect that of his comrades. He may not have had a crew to properly pilot the tank, but that wouldn’t stop him from doing some damage with the blasted thing.
Pressing on the accelerator, Frenek spurred the tank forward into the mass of droids, many of which had started firing on the battered hull of the tank, drawing pressure away from some of his fellow soldiers. One by one he mowed down battle droids, feeling the crunch of metal on the undercarriage of the tank. Frenek could scarcely recall a bumpier ride—at least not at that moment. One clever droid grabbed hold of the right side of the tank, though it succeeded only in inadvertently tearing loose more of the ship’s components. Soon the pileup of droid carcassess, if such a respectable term here applied, proved insurmountable to the low-riding tank. Frenek pushed as hard as the accelerator would allow, but the grinding of metal didn’t give way to forward progress. With a great heave, Frenek shoved the broken door off of its hinges, knocking down an unsuspecting droid, and climbed out of the tank as quickly as he could. Looking forward, beyond the heap of droids, there seemed to be quite a few left in his path. So he decided to turn back and make a break for the safety of the transport ship while the trail he had forged remained open.
The landing had been fairly rocky. The small BD that clung to Mihoshi’s shoulder beeped in what could be considered agitation as the Warmaster stood slowly.
“Was he trying to land or kill us?” She murmured to her little companion. The droid whistled spitefully at her which was largely ignored.
Checking her gear one last time, she held her bow lightly in one hand. “Time to get to work, Bee.”
Exiting the transport, the small woman bolted for the largest outcropping and seemed to vanish entirely into the terrain. Years and years of training had been spent on the woman when she was a child. Between her brothers and her masters after she was captured, Miho had learned her lessons well.
Nestled into the rocks, Miho and her BD began to scan the area visually, her bow at the ready to provide any cover she could. “Keep an eye out behind us, Bee. I’d never be able to live it down if a droid snuck up on us.”
“From this moment I step into my next. From this place I step into my next.” Tierra calmly whispered under her helmet as she stepped out of the transport ship moments after Syrena and Jon. Several droids took note of their arrival, three of which leveld ther blasters at her. She flicked the hidden switch on her holoshroud and vanished from view, leaving the droid’s target-recognition systems momentarily confused.
“From this life I step into my next. For I am one with the Force.” She rushed across the battlefield, closing the distance to the first cover, rolled behind a rock and peeked out for an opening shot. The Maxalan Smart Pistol sang with explosive fury at where she assumed the droids would be, as the shot went wide. The cartridge bounced harmlessly off of an enemy tank and exploded in the air. Tierra cursed internally as she drew more attention and her holoshroud fizzled for a few seconds. “Sithspit!” She ran as a barrage of blaster fire decimated her cover, her holoshroud partially concealing her movements and confusing the targeting systems of the droids.
As she ran she draw her disruptor and shot at the enemy before rolling into the next closest cover. The disruptor beam flash-blinded the nearest droid’s photoreceptors as it tore through two of their companions and rendered them into molten slag. The pistol hissed as the pack recharged for another shot. “You’re rusty, Tierra, get your head in the game!”
She dared to peek out of her cover, taking in enemy composition, their positions, dugouts, killzones. “This fight is going up Sith creek really quick.” Her keen mind processed the information as quickly as a droid might. The beginnings of a plan began to form in he head as she opened the comms channel to the War Councillor hidden somehwere in the rocks.
“We’re not stopping this so easily. Lightsabers are only so much help against a horde of blasters.” She peeked out again as several soldiers took cover next to her. “I have an idea, but it’s risky. They have at least several commanders. Getting to one of them will let me disable at least part of their forces, at least for a while. It might help us turn this around.”
<@227653769842655233>
Aboard the Fury-Class Interceptor Raven’s Nest, Aryn “Jade” Erinos-Magnuri deftly piloted the vessel over the pockmarked battlefield whilst her free hand occasionally flipped switches in her peripheral vision. Almost idly, she wished for a co-pilot, but that was a worry for another time.
Unlike their comrades, the Mandalorian had taken her own ship into the battle to aid as best she could. Whilst she could handle herself in the field on the ground, Jade was a fighter pilot, first and foremost. Though, before she could truly join the battle, the Human did have one task.
Speaking of which…
Her free hand reached out, deftly flicking on the internal communicator that allowed her to speak throughout the ship. “There’s no time nor a remotely safe area to land, so you’re going to be dropping into the fray. Opening the ramp,” Jade explained briskly, as she flicked the required switch to do so. “Good luck down there, brother.”
“Understood. Try not to hog all of the action for yourself, Jade,” came the immediately reply from her brother-in-law, which brought a small smirk to her lips.
(|)
Point of View Swap
“No promises,” Jade’s voice retorted over the intercom almost playfully, though it lacked a certain something in her state of concentration.
That was the last of the Mandalorian’s words Celevon Werd'a could hear clearly, as the ramp lowered, letting the rushing wind into the hallway off of the main hold to the exit.
A small sigh of relief beneath the Beskar Masque escaped the Shaevalian-Umbaran as it did, no longer feeling enclosed as he began stepping forward, taking in the chaos below absently. With that, Celevon leapt out, channeling the Force through his body to avoid damaging himself via landing.
Seeing that he was about to land on a droid, the Seeker flicked his left wrist, ejecting the hidden blade of his Mandalorian Vambrace. As he landed, the beskar slid through the back of the battle droid’s neck, momentum crushing it down.
Miho surveyed the ground quickly as Tierra came over the comm channels. “Risky would be nice, right about now.”
She popped up from cover and fired a few bolts from her energy bow, the shots landing where they would do the most damage. “I’ll provide what cover I can.”
A couple more shots, less designed for damage and more of a “hey look a target”. Hoping to keep herself hidden from view, she watched as several droid heads turned her way following the bolts of energy. “Well, shit. Time to go, Bee.”
She keyed her comms up, “Tierra’s got a plan.” Miho quickly surveyed the grounds again as she ran. “Any available forces back her up.”
She shook her head as she ran, hoping to lead a number of the droids on a merry chase. “Well, Bee. Looks like we did it this time.”
The droid beeped at her spitefully.
“This isn’t my fault!” She lied to the poor thing without a second thought. “Well, maybe it is.”
To try and entice them to follow her, she fired several more bolts of energy as she ran.
“Acknowledged, War Councilor,” Celevon responded promptly, releasing a grunt as a multitude of blaster bolts struck the beskar plates of his armor, bouncing off back at the droids surrounding him. The Seeker’s entrance had certainly drawn a lot of attention, which was just fine as he retracted the hidden blade in his vambrace and drew both his Sith and Force-Imbued Swords. “You need a callsign, War Councilor,” he added cheekily.
“Agreed, Stalker. War Councilor, I’m backing you up from your flank. Joining you once I can make my way there, so you don’t get overwhelmed,” Ruana spoke up from the comlink in her ear beneath the helm of her ARC Trooper armor, hefting her AB-75 Bo-Rifle to her shoulder as she moved across the field, then took a knee behind cover and blind-fired rapidly.
“Acknowledged, War Machine.”
From her peripheral vision, Syrena caught sight of a flash of green making a dash through the battlefield, and was able to infer it was Tierra. Moving in the quick arc of a flip, she twisted in a blur of motion to avoid blaster fire. Syrena landed lightly on her feet, dropping into a defensive crouch to take cover.
Casting a quick glance over her shoulder at her teammates, she took a deep inhale as she mentally prepared herself for what was to come next. Her silver gaze quickly surveyed the mangled droid parts littering the ground from those they’d already decimated– Useless in a fight, ideal for the creation of a distraction.
Making haste, Syrena dragged several of the fallen remains into a pile, quickly whirling around to face another droid that approached behind where she stood. With a quick upwards punch, chanelling more strength into the shock-infused strike through the force, her fist tore through the wires of the droid’s torso. It fell backwards with a sharp clank, landing in the pile of metal husks.
She caught sight of what had once been old reactor’s of the shattered droids, their core’s still faintly glowing with their final remnants of power. A slow, knowing smile spread to her lips. There came the roar of fire, as it lashed forwards from the ZX projector secured to her wrist, the white flames licking hungrily at twisted metal. Hollow eyes of the deactivated machines grew molten red as their torn circuits fried, the heat warping their exoskeletons into grotesque shapes.
She ducked to narrowly avoid the swinging arm of another advancing droid, twisting to aim a sharp kick into its side, sparks erupting as its body fell into the flaming pile of wreckage. Syrena could only hope that the blaze would draw the attention of the sensors of the remaining droids, a thick pillar of smoke now rising into the sky.
Turel silently cursed his lack of diligence with his lightsaber practice as it took noticeable effort to focus on deflecting stray blaster bolts from his position. He certainly didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the new knight commander or Ed. Any inkling he had of looking glorious like Obi-Wan from one of the old clone wars holos was quickly dashed.
The Sentinel’s lavender blade wove around his body in tight orbits as he strived to draw fire away from a wave of OUSC ground forces landing behind him. As the last of the transport’s troops rushed down the ramp and into cover Turel’s com crackled to life.
“Tierra’s got a plan. Any available forces back her up.”
He immediately recognized the War Councilor’s voice and that she was slightly out of breath from running. The plan seemed workable enough, anything to reduce the number of these blasted clankers he thought as he batted away stray bolts. He noticed Edgar out of his peripheral vision living up to his Hothfather reputation by dispatching droids with practiced ease.
Turel inched his way toward one of the squad sergeants as he kept up his defensive stance, “I’m needed to back up the good governor, yall gonna be okay here?”
The sergeant smacked her chestplate with her free hand, “we got this Master Sorenn go do what you need to do!”
A warning shot through the Force as Turel noticed a B1 taking aim at this position with a rocket launcher. He most definitely could not deflect that level of ordinance. Instinctively the Sentinel Master reached across the currents of the Force to grab the miniscule flows of electricity in the droid’s logic circuits and disrupt them. The droid froze up with a loud “WAAAAAAAAH” and fell over like someone had just flipped a switch on it.
“Whew!” Turel sighed as he turned toward Edgar and shouted “Hey Ed, wanna go bail out Sunrider with me?” He knew the appeal to house pride would sway his old friend.
<@224731543153803264>
Tierra’s got a plan, any available forces back her up.
Jon heard Miho’s voice over the comms.
“Acknowledged,” he grunted. “Heading your way once I–” he was cut off by a warning flare at the back of his mind, and instinctively dodged to the left, narrowly avoiding a vibroblade that would’ve pierced his spine. He piroetted on one foot, coat flaring out behind him as he thrust his lightsaber elegantly into the droid’s central processing unit. He watched it spark as it collapsed into a heap, thoughtful.
Disconcerting, how quickly he was getting used to the new Force-senses that had been jostling his mind for months, but he hadn’t the time to dwell on that.
He almost casually flicked another knife from within his sleeve to slam into the neck-area. He barely paid it a glance as he surveyed the battlefield, letting intuition guide his eyes.
Through the chaos of battle he could catch glimpses of his allies, all changing course and making their way through the maelstrom of iron and plasma, slowly converging on Tierra’s location.
Progress. Some kind of strategy was emerging from this storm, and it just might give the Odanites the space they needed to push for the base and the droid brain at the heart of it. He couldn’t spy Frenek and – no, wait, was that a troop transport careening through the droid battlelines? Well that was almost certainly Frenek.
But what of Syreena–?
That was when the explosion rocked the battlefield, and for a few heartbeats, everything was silent, as flesh and steel alike reeled in response.
Jon smirked. Nice plan. The droid’s sensors had been momentarily overloaded by the fire and noise; it wouldn’t last more than a few heartbeats, not enough time to turn the tide of battle, but maybe enough time to nab a hostage or two.
Jon’s eyes locked on one unit that, at a glance, he figured was probably a leader. He tossed a pair of knived into the servos in its elbows, crippling its blasting arms. As it reeled to face him, comically flailing about with neither arm to fire, he lifted his left arm: a grappling hook fired from his vambrace, wrapping around its form. He pulled taught and watched it fall to the ground.
Unfortunately, that was when its compatriots roused from their stupor and turned their attention towards him.
Jon swore, and dragged the struggling droid as fast as he could across the barren ground through blaster fire, stray shots singing his coat and clothes. He saw a tipped over tank, and ducked behind it.
“Good news, bad news gents,” he said into his comms. “Tierra, I’ve got your leader droid – I think – wrapped up with a nice little bow; unfortunately, I’m pinned by his cantankerous crewmates.”
A BOOM rattled his teeth as a grenade went off not far away. Jon grimaced, and ducked his head to hide from the shrapnel that followed.
“If someone would be so kind as to come pick me up so I can deliver this package, I’d be immensely grateful!“
The battle was raging and for the veteran Marauder, it’s been a long time since he has been in a true fight. It has also been far longer since Edgar found himself in a fierce fight with his old friend Turel. It was like old times again and they seemed to get back into lockstep covering each other’s back even when one of them seemed to fumble a little bit. Edgar didn’t have time to comment now but he thought there would be plenty of time for that later.
Hearing the call for aid on the radio Edgar instinctually switches his stance to cover his friend who took the call and proceeded to talk to the men. Getting a little carried away he barely noticed the droid with the rocket launcher before Turel took care of it. Watching it fall over he turned to his friend and responded to his request.
“So this really is like old times we are off to save the other House, huh? Where would Odan-Urr be without House Hoth, “ Ed said smiling ” Ok, so let’s go get them out of there.” The two of them took off running with Edgar following his friend not really taking the time to go around some groups of droids finding it easier to slice through them as they made their way to the rendezvous coordinates.
Just as they were getting past one group of droids Edgar stopped and signaled Turel to stop “ Hold up a second pointing to his communicator when their compatriot came over the comms “ … so kind as to com toe pick me up so I can deliver this package, I’d be immensely grateful!“
Look at Turel with renewed vigor “Well he is a little out of our way but it wouldn’t be us if we didn’t make the detour. Especially for a Fellow Knight.” commented Edgar.
Opening his communicator Edgar talked as clearly as he could in a noisy battle. “Jon, Hold tight Turel and I are on the way. Try to give us updates and we will get you and your prize out of there soon.” <@185939710005215232> <@230809550297497600>
The explosion from nearby startled even the veteran Blade Master, though only for a moment. He turned his head just slightly, spotting the Knight Commander he recognized from various gatherings lowering the arm bearing a flamethrower from the source of the explosion.
For the B1 units, with their slower processing speeds, this caused a lull in the battle as they stopped firing to turn and stare.
Beneath the helm, Celevon’s lips curved into a wicked smile. Forgetting for a moment that his comlink was on, the male spoke up as he sheathed the Sith Sword over his shoulder. “Thank you for the ammunition, my dear Syrena. I can definitely work with that…”
-# <@607619766752116771>
The Shaevalian-Umbaran had practiced extensively with his Telekinesis, honing it to a point where he could affect the very molecules in the air. With his full concentration at the task, he could create small bursts of flame or slowly freeze an area by alternately rapidly vibrating the molecules or slowing them entirely. Manipulating the elements themselves that were pre-existing, however, was another matter.
His lone organic eye narrowed as Celevon reached out his now-free hand toward the burning remnants of the droids, beginning a kata he had practiced extensively in a form of moving meditation. As the cybernetic arm flowed back from reaching out, a stream of fire flowed across the battlefield, growing larger as it fed on the oxygen it passed through. A rushing wave of fire, much larger and massively more intense than the small ember the Force Disciple has initially grasped rushed over a group of the droids.
Turning his body into the flow his free arm had taken, the phrik of the Force-Imbued blade sliced through the neck of a B1 unit. To the others, it appeared as though the Seeker had begun to dance, blade in one hand whilst Celevon’s free hand called on more fire with the Force from each new pyre he created.
He laughed as he heard Ruana make a comment about ‘showing off’.
In the deep focus of this particular form of moving meditation, calling on his skills as a Martial Artist, Blade Master and the Force herself, the Seeker paid no mind to the screams of the droids. Equally, Celevon ignored the eruption of blaster bolts as the droids opened fire on him.
His mind was on the fight around him, as well as not injuring any of his allies with the blasterfire ricocheting off of his armor and blade.
It had been a while since he could safely cut loose like this and the Shaevalian-Umbaran was thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. Overhearing both Jon Silvon’s call for aid, as well as Edgar and Turel’s answer, Celevon grabbed a stream of fire with the Force and pushed along a line, forming a burning barrier to keep the droids away from their position momentarily.
Gasping for breath, Frenek completed his sprint to the troop transport ship. As he chanced a glance back, he could see waves of battle droids already closing the gap he had carved with the discarded tank.
Regaining his breath, his attention was hijacked by an incoming message on his comms “…someone would be so kind as to come pick me up so I can deliver this package, I’d be immensely grateful!”
“You can count on Mausmatic Deliveries™ for all of your shipping needs,” Frenek spouted in a rehearsed lilt.
Rushing to the pilot’s seat, Frenek fired up the engines of the troop transport. What with the sheer volume of artillery flying through the airspace, he decided to keep as low a flight path as possible. He sailed over the pile of battle droids he created previously with the tank and on through a particularly large cloud of smoke from some rogue fire that had apparently broken out on the battle field. For a moment his dashboard was consumed in murky darkness. Frenek forced himself to exhale completely and slowly, an old trick he used to buy himself time before panic could set in.
Just as he was ready to inhale, his view suddenly cleared, and he could see Jon Silvon diving behind an upturned tank. A moment later, Frenek caught the sound of a grenade exploding near the fellow Knight even through his dashboard. “Hang in there, Jon,” Frenek said over his comms, “I’m coming in for a landing.”
This landing proved more difficult than he hoped his tone had made it seem. As he approached, it became clear that Celevon had cast a wall of fire near Jon, which protected him for the time being but complicated the descent. Briefly he considered leaving one of his notices—“We missed you! We’ll attempt the delivery once more in 24 hours.”—but decided to go for it, anyway. He could feel the crunch of metal as a half-dozen remaining droids were crushed by the troop transport.
Frenek pulled the lever that opened up the hangar and turned his head, calling out to Jon and anyone else within earshot, “All aboard. And don’t forget to rate my service!”
<@230809550297497600>
Momentarily shifting her gaze away from the erupting blaze and oncoming droids, Syrena flashed a fleeting smile towards Cel. “The pleasure is all mine,” she said.
It wasn’t long until she felt another blast of heat radiating near where they stood, followed by a sudden surge of fire that consumed even more of the droids, the flames reflecting in the shimmering depths of her bright silver eyes. “How lovely…” Syrena remarked with a smirk. “Perhaps I’ll write a song about this one day…”
-# <@248237225202941964>
Syrena quickly shifted her thoughts back towards the task at hand, refocusing herself as she leapt back into action. Through the entwined notes of the Force, she could begin to sense an all too familiar presence nearing closer to their destination…. A certain deliveryman that had proved to be her closest companion for the past few months. But more than that, she knew that his ship could prove vital when it came to bringing them closer to the base, and aiding in Jon’s special delivery of a captured droid.
“Heading your way now… A few others are currently down here as well…. The Proconsul– Or rather, your Mentor… Edgar, Turel, and Celevon..” Syrena began to relay to Frenek on a mental level, honing in on their bond to form a line of telepathic communication.
As a thick haze began to rise into the sky, Syrena broke into a sprint towards Frenek’s ship, knowing that its presence would possibly catch the attention of any remaining forces. Leaping over various fallen droids, evading the twisted wreckage, she moved swiftly. Fire roared to her right, a few flares of blasters tearing through the smoke. Breathing fast, she paused only once she spotted Jon nearby, and the rapid descent of Frenek’s ship.
Now standing on the landing ramp, providing coverage to Frenek while he manned the vehicle, there came a soft click as she extended the crossbow strapped to her wrist. Catching sight of a large approaching droid in the distance, Syrena locked her gaze on its weakest point– A vented metal core.
She could hear the rumbling of machinery as it advanced closer to the ship, its metal arm shifting into position as it aimed a shot directly towards them. No more time to waste. Syrena took a steady breath, centering herself, and pulled the trigger.
The arrow sang through the air, slicing past the growing pile of debris and flickering embers for a heartbeat. Then– Impact. The flare of a blast erupted from the machine’s core , fire and shrapnel bursting outward as it’s frame shattered into pieces when met with the strike of an explosive-tipped arrow.
“Well, Frenek… You won’t have to waste any packaging! Jon already made sure to pre-wrap the delivery for you, from the sounds of it,” She finally managed to say, though kept her gaze locked in place where it was, not yet lowering her prod pistol.
-# <@230809550297497600> <@1292362530299183208>
“Get me close enough to drop!”
A series of beeps followed her command as her ship hovered just above the battlefield. Siv hung from the ramp underneath surveying where she’d best settle in. Despite having done this so many times already, going into the fray, her nerves still sizzled every time. It never got better. The droid currently piloting the ship, ES-70R, whirred in alert as a shot of blasterfire hit the side of the ship. BD-3113 settled into Siv’s backpack just as the Chiss woman saw her chance– a familiar Mirialan who looked like she could really use some help.
Siv took a deep breath, slipped the rebreather she had on, pulled her mask over it, and sent out a silent prayer. Both of her sabers were fetched from their spots at her hips and activated, their white blades humming softly. The Chiss bounced a few times, still holding onto the hinge holding the bay doors open, then effortlessly stepped into open air.
And dropped.
Twin ribbons of light, like lightning, accompanied her descent.
It had been something she had trained with Ruka, something he had done quite a few times. It required knowing several very key things– like how long you had till you hit the ground, how hard you had to push, how to not dislocate your shoulders being dumb and show-off-y. She was not as gifted with telekinesis as her adopted father, but she had done this with that knowledge.
She only had maybe three or four stories to fall, instead of trying to drop a 100-odd-something feet like him.
Her impact was still hard though, and her shoulders still screamed as she timed a telekinetic push against the ground just before she would have otherwise smacked into droids like a rock. The push was twofold– both breaking her fall and pushing the droids just under her out with a small shockwave. Metal clanged against metal as droids were thrown into their compatriots, causing a moment of confusion and disarray she hoped would give the others fighting nearby an advantage.
“No time to mourn your rotator cuffs, Siva..” She mumbled to herself.
Before the droids could recalculate to the sudden, tiny blue interruption, the Odanite transplant adjusted her stance, readied herself, and pushed off through them like a bullet– deflecting blaster fire and weapons as she went. Where she found weaknesses, like a droid not paying attention or distracted elsewhere, her sabers cleaved through metal like butter.
It took a few minutes but she reached the cover where Tierra was hiding. Sivall settled beside her, sanguine eyes intense and focused. The adrenaline-fueled rush of battle hummed through her; she was alert, sharp, ready.
“How can I be of assistance, Governor?”
-# <@690640377262243843>
Tierra immediately poked her head out again and called out another group of droids coming in. “Ten clankers inbound, bearing five-zero, twenty meters. Third squad, take cover behind that tank. Donnal, Vale, grenade that position.”
As the audible ‘plunk’ of grenade launchers preceded several EMP explosions, Tierra dropped back into cover. “Dystrra, stay in cover, wait for Jedi support.” She ordered as she saw one of the younger members of third squad stepping out for pot shots. She immediately retreated as droid blaster fire inundated her position.
“Sergeant Randas, the enemy is pressing with numbers, but there’s no strategy behind it. Once the Jedi are here, make the push. Mortar that crater the droids are using for cover, take out those tanks with heavy weapons, and make the push. Clear the way so I can get to that damned droid brain.” she yelled into the comm.
“Yes, Colonel!” several acknowledging shouts followed.
Tierra’s helmet popped open to reveal a painful grimace. Her left hand moved revealing covering a blaster burn across her ribs, a gift from the droids that barraged her position earlier. She had been pressing it down until now, coordinating the nearby troopers to advantageous positions and calling out important targets, focusing on the problem and pushing through the stress.
“I could use a top-up, doctor.”
<@264959101384130560> <@185939710005215232>
Marius Edraven had been making his way toward the Governor’s position even before his father’s… dramatic… arrival to the battlefield. The emerald blade of his lightsaber wove a protective field, redirecting blaster bolts back toward the droids themselves, the staff he normally carried in his hand secured in a sling on his back.
The half-Sephi rolled his eyes as he overheard his father’s flirtatious-seeming comment over the comms toward the Zeltron he had never been formally introduced to. Then, Celevon had begun what the Arcanist had jokingly deemed ‘The Dance of the Dragon’, manipulating the flames that were incredibly bright to the physically blind part-Shaevalian.
It had taken a long time, but a Miraluka had trained the young Jedi in the method that allowed him to view the world with the Force.
As the transport ship that had brought them buzzed overhead, Marius shoved a group of droids with a blast of telekinetic energy, sending them stumbling into their fellows, which were then crushed by the shuttle’s landing.
With that, as well as the distraction his father provided by soaking up blaster bolts and annihilating droids by the score — in a matter that, in times long since past, would have him mistaken for a god of fire — the Arcanist raced toward the Governor’s position.
He skidded to a halt as a Chiss that shone as a bright spark to his senses offered the Zelosion medical aid.
“I can provide assistance if it’s needed as well, Doctor,” Marius spoke up softly to the Chiss, giving both women a swift bow of his head.
Even in the midst of battle, it was difficult to fight back the manners his father had drilled in him beyond what the Monks had taught him.
-# <@690640377262243843> <@264959101384130560>
(|)
Viewpoint Shift: Ruana
The Pantoran ducked and weaved, moving from cover to cover as she blasted droids with bright amber bolts from her bo-rifle, finally arriving at the War Councilor’s side.
-# <@227653769842655233>
His old friend looking at him sighed and commented “I guess there is no end to the trouble you get me into is there”?. Giving his old friend Edgar a quick smile Turel turned and quickly dispatched 2 droids that were trying to sneak up on the pair of Jedi’s. “OK, Ed, where are we going”?
Edgar taking a second to close his eyes and reach out in the force to locate and touch the mind of his fellow teammate and sensing his stressed state, sprang up like a child’s toy pointing to the north and shouted “ Jon is that way”
“Ahh!: Shouted the 2 shocked nearby droids who were trying to surprise the Jedi coming from the opposite side of the ones Turel just found. Apparently they were trying to surround them. Edgar who wouldn’t admit it later also was very surprised to see them since he was preoccupied with finding his comrade, let out his own shocked yell and for a second the 3 of them looked at each other before Edgar felt Turel leap over him dispatching the droids in quick fashion.
“How did you not get yourself killed while I was away”? Turel yelled mockingly.
“Yeah well it was much quieter then I guess you just bring trouble with you. Now let’s get moving. Our fellow knight is getting into our level of trouble so follow me.”
Leaping over the cover he was behind and took off running in the direction he pointed. Turel followed him. The pair didn’t waste as much time traveling with Edgar who was now rushing to save a fellow knight; his skills became sharper than Turel ever saw him become. Turel barely had to break stride when they came up on small groups since his friend was cutting them down quicker each time and barely slowing his run.
It was only when they reached an open field with a large contingent of droids including some B1 and B2 battle droids. The pair of Jedi took cover behind a downed speeder and some rocks and surveyed the area. Turel rushed over to his friend’s side clearly worried about his friend and commented “Ed, how are you doing? You were tearing through them, like a madman back there and we still need to get to Jon. why don’t you …” His friend interrupted him “ I know and it’s ok not to look here”>
Edgar already had a simple drawing on the ground and was about to explain his plan when from a distance they both heard the familiar sounds of a lightsaber and the droids giving frantic orders and the most familiar death noises. Both the Grey Jedi and the Sentinel look up from their cover to see Celevon raising a wall of fire between himself and the pair of them.
They were both about to jump in and help the Seeker; they both caught his gaze with a face full of determination and grit. He nodded at them and the pair understood. He would hold them at bay so we could go get our teammates out.
Giving Celevon his old Aedile a brief nod and a salute back the message was received and the pair took the opportunity and ran as fast as they could to Jon. As they were beginning to see their fellow knight a ship roared overhead and they both recognized it as Frenek’s shuttle. Seeing it hover and prepare to land near the stranded knight.
Turel commented, “Well at least we can catch a ride and get to Sunrider quicker, so get the lead out Ed we got to catch our ride.”
<@185939710005215232> <@1292362530299183208> <@230809550297497600>
Jon hefted the struggling droid off his shoulder and onto the troop transport, leaving the thing to flounder in its binding on the floor.
“Oh hush you,” he grunted as he lifted himself onto the transport after it. All Hell truly had broken loose on the battlefield; Syrena and Celevon had unleashed all manner of fire and destruction that Jon was positive would constitute war-crimes if performed on organic sentients.
But, progress was progress, and if he got away slightly singed from his teammates’ escapades, well, at least he he had gotten what they needed… he hoped.
*Take off Frenek,“ he called into the cockpit. "Get us to Tierra and Miho’s coordinates, quick as you can, and hope that she can do… whatever it is she thinks she can do with this thing.”
He gave the droid another kick as it tried to rise to its feet, and winced. He hoped that didn’t damage too much; Tierra probably wanted this thing intact for her plan. <@1292362530299183208>
At Jon’s words, Frenek took off. When it came to piloting, he didn’t need to be told twice. Moments later he, Jon, and Syrena, and their newfound droid friend were soaring over the smoky battlefield toward Tierra and Miho.
Arriving at the specified coordinates, he began carefully lowering the clunky troop transport, hoping that to his former mentor Miho it looked less like he was trying to kill someone with a ship than when they had first entered the fray.
Lowering the hatch, he turned back to Jon, Syrena, and the droid. “We know you have many options—thank you for choosing Air Frenek!” he called out with a wave. “And Syrena, darlin’,” he continued, “please be careful.”
With that, Frenek stood up from the driver’s seat and moved quickly to the gunner’s seat, readying himself to provide cover for the soldiers if needed.
-# <@230809550297497600> -# <@690640377262243843> -# <@227653769842655233> -# <@607619766752116771>
.
The troop transport made it to the manufactorum somewhat safely. The massive building was crawling with droids, as more poured out in a seemingly endless wave. The crew has a few potential lines of entry, with many possibilities of failure.
Worse yet, it seems that despite haing only seen B1s so far, several of these newer droids are B2s. It seems that with time the factory will only begin to improve the droids they are sending out. If left alone this single building poses more of a threat to the people of Quermia than the Vauzeem Dominion.
As Frenek landed the transport at the base of the manufactorum, she emerged from the landing platform, the features of her face now illuminated from the pale blue glow of her lightsaber and her white cloak billowing behind her in the wind.
Syrena advanced to the edge of the building before them, using the blade of her saber to quickly sear through the metal, effectively cutting in a point of entry. Casting a brief glance over her shoulder, Syrena began to address her teammates. “We’ve fought hard and come this far. Time to locate the shutoff point, and end this thing on our terms– strong, together, and victorious.”
But first, they would have to make their way through the metal clankers inevitably guarding the control point of the facility. Looking ahead, her focused silver eyes carefully analyzed the lines of droids that lay before them. Syrena advanced, weaving between fired blaster bolts in a series of twisting leaps to redirect them effectively back at the B2’s.
Pushing forwards, a pair of shimmering silver wings extended from her jetback. Syrena began to spiral towards a line of droids, moving in a blur of accelerated speed. With a single, fluid motion she drove the lit spear of her lightsaber forwards, slicing directly through steel and circuits in a dazzling arc. With her free hand, she channelled a momentary sense of concentration, sending fourth a wave of rippling white electricity from her fingertips through a second line of droids.
Jon rolled his eyes. Always the show-off.
Regardless, the Knight-commander certainly had the right idea.Even if Jon was still slightly singed from her last escapade. Jon ignited his lightsaber and casually deflected a blaster bolt back into a B1 unit, carefully observing their surroundings. The factory was standard design of the old Trade Federation, probably built before the Clone Wars; a multi-leveled, red hot pit spiderwebbed with automated assembly lines working tirelessly. A pit formed in his stomach as he realized that the droids Odan-Urr had faced on the planet th
us far were a fraction of the amount currently being constructed.
For every droid Syreena cut apart, felled by Edgar or blasted by Tierra, it seemed that four or five were ready, hot off the assembly line to take their place.
This place needed to go away. Now. Or the war effort was doomed, and every Odanite on the planet with it.
“Ok, if I were a massive droid brain, where would I be…?” he muttered to himself, offandedly throwing a trio of blades into the core processors of three B1’s on Miho’s flank. “Somewhere well guarded, far enough from the surface to not get immediately vaporized by an orbital strike…”
He glanced over the ledge of the factory and into the dull, industrial pit below; a dark fog illuminated red by the fires of machinery obscured everything past a few dozen feet. Jon scowled… then yelped as a pair of B1’s tried to shove him over the edge. He spun around just in time to bisect the
m both, but more were coming in fast.
*Stupid*, he thought to himself, glancing around for his teammates. *Let yourself get distracted, and now you’re separated from the others.*
Jon sliced the head off one droid while tossing a dagger into the servos of another, causing it to fire wide and shoot two more.
Still more came.
He swore under his breath. He had been hoping to save this until they got deeper into the belly of this behemoth.
Jon thumbed a switch on his vambrace before holding that arm high in the air, in the direction that the rest of the Odanites seemed to be fighting; a small device covered in light emerged from the vambrace, beeping once, then twice.
He grinned, in spite of himself. It really was a waste, but damned if he hadn’t been itching to use this since he got it.
A whistling noise filled the air as a dozen tiny rockets fired out, each one of the whistling birds pinpoint targeting a specific droid, blowing them apart and sending their parts knocking into the others around them.
He didn’t wait for the smoke to clear; instead he took advantage of the heartbeat of chaos that ensued and rushed through the clearing, moving to catch up with the rest of the strike force.
“It’s no good,” he yelled over the din of battle. “There’s hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, coming off those assembly lines every hour! We can’t just charge through and hope we find the control center by coincidence! We need to figure out how to locate it, and fast!”
Following his Knight Commander’s lead, Frenek exited the transport, blaster at the ready. Syrena began clearing a path through the droids, drawing their fire. Seizing this window of opportunity, Frenek descended a flight of stairs to the lower level of the facility. Without letting his guard down, Frenek sifted through a hodgepodge of wires and electrical components. To him the task felt all too familiar, having grown up making repairs in factories and aboard ships.
“Feels a little bit too much like home! Complete with the angry metal droids who want to kill me…” he laughed weakly. At last, reaching the bottom of a nest of chords, he used his arc welder to unveil a hidden computer terminal, complete with keyboard and monitor, secured within the steel wall. With a flourishing crack of his knuckles, his fingers began to fly across the keys, doling out probing commands left and right. Before long, bright yellow text lit up the monitor.
Welcome, Admin! Please enter your credentials.
As he was typing one last command, booms from several explosions of Jon’s caused him to change course, executing a rolling dodge to narrowly escape flying debris from the blast. When he checked back at the terminal, maddening red lettering informed him that he must have inadvertently issued an incorrect code.
ACCESS DENIED. Emergency reinforcement sequence TS-208.6 engaged.
“Well… ain’t that just the way?” Frenek muttered under his breath, ducking to avoid a couple of welcome shots from a pair of approaching droids. Blaster already in hand, he returned the favor with a volley of shots, leaving twin trails of smoke rising from the droid chassis. Frenek approached one of his newest victims, making a mental note of the serial identification number listed on the lower—intact—part of the chassis. Armed with this knowledge, numbers began piecing themselves together in his head. He returned to the terminal to enter one final access code. At long last, green text illuminated the monitor.
ACCESS GRANTED. Welcome, Intern Greg.
Sighing a breath of relief, Frenek began to sift through the system, effectively disabling a gamut of locked doors. From the data, he was able to retrieve the coordinates to the facility’s primary control room.
“Alright, we’re in!” Frenek whooped, “Transferring the shutoff point coordinates to you now, Knight Commander,” he spoke to Syrena through his comm link.
“If y’all would be so kind,” he continued, “as to provide me some cover as I mosey my way down to the control room, I’d be much obliged!” He readied his blaster and steeled himself. Undoubtedly he would be greeted by many more droids en route to that control room, now that the system itself was under attack.
The moment she heard Frenek’s message via comlink, Syrena propelled herself to the lower levels and through a narrow hallway with her jetpack, moving in a blur of speed. What mattered most now, was ensuring he was able to gain safe passage to the command room, in order to hack into the system and finish the job.
The amount of droids within the lower levels overall had been drastically lessened, thanks to Jon’s array of explosions, yet still some remained lurking in the halls. Staying close to Frenek as they made their way down through the series of unlocked doors, she began to clear the path for him in a series of swift motions.
With each droid that stood in their way, mechanized enforcers of the facility’s last defense, Syrena launched herself forwards. Ducking under a swinging arm and driving her first straight through the mechanical core, a ripple of electricity was infused into each strike through her gloves, effectively cutting off power to the droid’s systems.
A whirring droid fired up behind her, but Syrena instinctively twisted, grabbing it from midair and slamming it down against the steel-plated ground, sparks flying as it crumpled under the impact. A final guardian stood at the end of the passage, reinforced steel glinting in the dim light. It began to raise a mechanical blaster, but the Knight Commander channelled her focus, moving faster. Weaving past its initial attack, she dove in one swift motion and drove a sudden uppercut into its exposed joint. One final kick with the heel of her boot cleaved through series of wires within its core, and the droid fell to the ground in a series of spasms, destabilized.
Through the dark hall, the control room loomed ahead, a single red light flashing beside the final door–Locked. Breathing hard, she stepped over the wreckage. With a sharp inhale, Syrena channeled a sense of strength through her arm, and drove her fist through the door’s control panel, shortening it out in a series of sparks. The heavy door groaned as they pushed it open.
“To any Odanite forces and fellow teammates within the facility, please do all that you can to prevent any remaining droids from gaining access to the lower levels,” Syrena stated as a directive through her comlink.
They had made it, and the command room was theirs for the taking.
Inside the command room now, Frenek crouched down beside the terminal, his fingers typing swiftly over the keys as he tried to splice deeper into the facility’s firewalls. Lines of code flashed across the screen. The factory’s automated defenses began to flicker and reset in response. He was just about to initiate the next sequence when, all of a sudden, an alert in red lettering flashed on the screen.
WARNING: SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE ENGAGED.
“Aw, whomp rats,” Frenek muttered under his breath. His eyes darted to the flashing red countdown timer that now displayed across the screen. With a thought to the nearby Quermian civilian encampments, his gut twisted. If this place went up, some of them along with his clanmates would inevitably be hit with the blast.
Forcing down rising nerves, Frenek took a steadying breath. “I can do this. No pressure, just defusing a bomb. Sorta like delivering a package,” he tried convincing himself. Frenek drew a deep breath, and his hands went to work, bypassing the security overrides with precise movements. He could hear the distant sound of blaster fire and the others continuing their fight, but he pushed those matters aside, focusing on this bomb’s internal wiring.
Red—or blue? No, it wasn’t that simple—this was a military-grade failsafe, designed to detonate if tampered with incorrectly. There was no margin for error. Sweat beaded on his brow as he traced the circuit lines with his eyes.
“That’ll do it,” he whispered, finding the correct sequence. With a careful twist of his arc welder and one final keystroke, the countdown froze—then disappeared entirely.
SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE DISABLED.
Frenek let out a long breath before immediately keying into his comlink.
“Bomb’s been diffused! Oh—also, there was a bomb. But it’s okay now. Diffused, I mean. The bomb is. And—ahem.—factory machines are shut down! This place won’t be producing any more droids anytime soon. We’re all clear!”
With the danger averted, he spent a few more moments securing the remaining systems, ensuring the facility’s production would remain offline for good. In response, the metal conveyor belts and machines of the factory came to a grinding halt, as their systems were shut off.