A massive cataclysm has struck the universe, and destroyed most everything in its wake. The survivors are now trying to pick up the pieces, and figure out exactly what has befallen them. Gather together, lightsiders!! The darkness has shattered the peace and calm of the galaxy...and they will do anything to stop anyone from finding out exactly what has been done! This is our first sitewide RP plotline. Lightsiders, you are looking for the source of this massive event. Clues must be found, lackeys tracked down, and bits of memory discovered. Darksiders, you guys don't want that to happen....because of the one behind the whole thing is furthering his ultimate goal. Mandalorians, and non-force users, you guys can decide where you stand on this line....do you side with the Jedi, and try to discover the reasons behind the ruined universe, or will you side with the darkness, and protect those secrets. Will the secret of the cataclysmic reaping be kept under wraps? Or will the Jedi and their allies find out the truth? Your RP and writing will decide the outcome!
BATTLE ARENA
Welcome to The Saga Continues. We have a section called the Battle Arena. Here you can use your characters to fight other characters. Hone your skills and see what you are made of. Don't worry, anything that happens here, does not effect your characters in posts, so if your character dies, you can still use them over and over. Have fun and check it out!
The Saga Continues is the product of the mind of ADMIN ADI; all contents are copyright their original owners. All characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. All images are copyright their original owners. This skin Operation Mindcrime was made by pharaoh leap of Pixel Perfect and put together by ADMIN KRYSTAL
Before the Bulwark even thought about a counter attack against The Redemption Admiral Larkin continued issuing orders, “Dip our bow by ten degrees and roll the ship! And place full shields maximum to our underside! Sublight engines full speed!” He knew he wasn’t winning this fight the moment the Captain had told him they attacked the Bulwark without informing him first. He also knew that his ship was half as big and largely more maneuverable.
“But Sir! Showing our underside will cripple us for sure!” replied Kirk with a worried look on his face.
“It’s the strongest part of this ship and has the least vulnerabilities. Just do it! And don’t question me Captain!”
“Sir, yes Sir.”
The Redemption had just finished its first third of its corkscrew maneuver when a Lieutenant fearfully called out, “Sir! The enemy ship is firing its starboard weapons! The cannons on that thing will rip us to shreds!!” The Venator not being in the same location it was less than a minute ago kept it from taking the full impact of the assault, but it did not keep it from getting hit. The ensuing ion bombardment caused the ship to lose all power and system functions. Admiral Larkin watched as the portside command bridge exploded from the following turbo laser fire that peppered the side and undercarriage of the ship. The Redemption rotated one more time as it continued moving in its trajectory and rotation underneath the Bulwark due to its momentum from the its previous maneuver. The angle at which it moved would keep it from hitting the twice-its-size ship, but it would also keep it relatively safe for its next objective: getting a call out for help.
Admiral Larkin turned to Captain Kirk, “Get a shuttle with a long-range transmitter out of that hangar bay NOW! We have to get a message to the Republic and any ship willing to render us aid.” He said, annoyed at the rashness the captain had portrayed earlier in the fight. He then turned to the lieutenants who were sitting at black screens looking at him for their next orders. “Get me a status report on damage, and get this ship’s systems back online as fast as you can.”
A chorus of ‘Sir, yes Sir’ rang throughout the bridge. Larkin looked out into the vast expanse of space and wondered how things could have gone wrong so quickly. Both he and his ship were too old for battles and war, that was the only reason he was given this relic of the Old Republic. A tear scrolled down his cheek and into is grey beard as he remembered his younger years of the Rebellion, saving the galaxy from tyranny, gaining his first command. He had had his share of victories and losses. He was never supposed to see war again; now he and his ship were a glorified transport ship. The fact that the Dual Turbo lasers had fired at all was a miracle. The Medium lasers were supposed to be the only operational large defense on The Redemption.
He watched as a lone Lambda-class shuttle exited the hangar bay and flew straight up from his perspective, directly below the enemy Bulwark ship if they could have seen it. The battle raged below them, their bombers trying their best to knock out the jamming array, while their fighters desperately fought against all odds to stop the transports.
The T-65 X-wings were able to match the speeds and maneuverability of the oncoming ARC-170s but the overall armaments of the ARCs were positioned for a 360-defensive stance, the X-wing’s armaments however were only forward facing. If an ARC-170 got behind an X-wing, they were more than likely fried, and the superior forward-facing firepower of the IX4 laser cannons didn’t always destroy their prey before the ARC-170 rear cannon got them. Not to mention they were now in a 2-1 dogfight they were quickly losing.
The BLT Y-wing bombers had no problem keeping out of range of the oncoming Nimbus-class V-wing fighters. Their onboard swivel turrets were able to keep any V-wings from approaching from the rear or above, but an attack from underneath would be devastating. The escorting T-65 X-wing fighters, outnumbered 2-1, were faster and stronger than the V-wings however. But they still could take heavy losses from rear attacks like most attack/interceptor style star crafts. The X-wing’s quad IX4’s could outgun the V-wing Dual Light Laser Cannons in any head-on attack.
In the fight if both the V-wing squads and 170 were to try and take out the X-wing escort first by numbers (that they would need) the Y-wings would be able to complete their mission, and deal damage to other parts of the Bulwark with ease. If one of the V-wing squadrons were to chase the Y-wings they would be barely outpaced by their prey. On the other hand, they could be destroyed with no small effort from the ARC-170s.
The shuttle left the hangar bay as soon as the green light was given. It made its way away from The Redemption as quickly as it could before it shut its systems down, drifting away from the battle like a glorified escape pod.
"What did you go and do that for Jack?!" exclaimed a worried co-pilot as all the systems shut down, "We are going to run out of air, or get blasted to oblivion! We need to power up and go as fast as we can to get away from here!"
"Kimberly, no!! Don't you dare touch those controls!!" yelled a worried and angry pilot, "I powered down so that behemoth of a ship cannot track us on their sensors. We are out of visual range, and if we were powered up they would spot us on their scanners and snuff us out before we could complete out mission. Do you understand??"
The co-pilot looked at him, defeat and panic in her eyes, "How long do we have life support for?"
"I would say a few hours at the least with just the two of us. That should be more than enough time for us to drift out of range of that thing and send out our signal."
The battle in orbit raged ever onward, the vibrant display of streaking colors painting a vivid image across the blackness of space. The flames of ravenous fires flourished about in their chaotic ways, leaving countless plumes of smoke billowing forth in their wake. Yes . . . Honoghr's cleansing was well under way now and the infection that was the weak, would soon be treated. A cancer put into a joyous remission. Yes . . . this was a day to celebrate for all here would play their part in the salvation of the galaxy from that which plagued it so. Today there would be many hero's for today saw to the first steps of a galaxy reborn - free and just.
The "Reverence's" sublight engines cut in an instant, leaving the hulking vessel to drift leisurely forward until the planet's gravity pulled it into a stable orbit. The starboard side now faced the planet and Nystao, which burned so vibrantly below, the concussion from the continuous volley roaring as a thunderous applause as the Imperious-class's armaments kept their sights trained on the various targets below.
A ensign approached the Admiral on the bridge now, leaning in to inform the commanding officer of the various statuses of the events unfolding around them. With and nod, the Admiral dismissed the young ensign, queuing the lad to return to his duties. The Admiral now spun on heel again and face the hulking, armored figure again. He bowed his head slightly before moving to speak.
"M'Lord . . ." the man started, drawing the attention of the Sith Lord once again, "We are on schedule and the Venator-class has been rendered inoperable thanks to the 'Messiah.' Your transport awaits your command." Finally fished, the Admiral bowed his head once more and returned to ushering his commands to the officers on the bridge which them swiftly and meticulously carried them out with perfection.
The Sith Lord, still not saying a word, stood gazing through the transparasteel of the bridge's viewport, hands clasped behind his back, pressing the black fabric of his cloak to the ornate, metallic armor that clad his large figure. Bright red-orange orbs leered through the void, obscured only by the crudely designed mask that shrouded his face. Nirwos was its name and it was a rather new addition to the Sith Lord's attire.
Finally, after a few more moments passed, the Sith Lord, turned and left the command bridge and made his way to the vessel that awaited him in one the large star destroyer's various hangars. Once aboard, the heavily armored Nu-class Attack Shuttle lifted and powered its way forward into the planet's orbit before quickly diving downward into the clutches of the Honoghr's atmosphere and toward the razed city below that. Quickly, two squads of TIE/AG Aggressor-class Starfighters (8 starfighters each) and a squad of TIE Heavy Bombers (6 aircraft) formed up around the single shuttle and sped their way to the surface below.
"Dip the bow, keep our fore facing that ship at all costs!" The Admiral barked as he watch the scene before him unfold. The Redemption attempting to dive beneath them, while rolling, so that it's belly would be facing the Messiah's own unarmed undercarriage. And although the Venator class star destroyer was small and more agile, it had a much greater distance to cross, while the Messiah only had to pivot on its stationary axis. It was clear the opposing star destroyer was doing anything it could to stay alive, but Admiral Lynn would have none of it. "Keep all guns at our fore firing! That ship must stay disabled as we tear through that hull." And so the constant barrage of 200 ion cannons and 600 turbo lasers continued. The Redemption had bought tried to buy itself time, but it seemed that it wasn't enough.
In that moment, an ensign ran up to the admiral and offered a quick salute before reporting. "Sir! Sensors have picked up the enemy destroyer launching a single Lambda-class shuttle, which headed away from the fleet before disappearing entirely off the grid, Sir."
A single shuttle? That was it? Was it an evacuation of a high level Republic official? Where they sending an unescorted shuttle out of range to secure a connection for a long range transmission? The admiral had been in enough battles to know it was probably the latter. "Thank you, Ensign. We will not pursue, let them call for reinforcements. By the time anyone gets here, this will be just be a graveyard. It will send a message that the Order of Ruin has risen." The admiral turned back to the viewport as the Ensign offered another salute before double-timing it back to his station. "Status report on the advancement of a transports and of those incoming bombers!"
:"Command, this is Black leader. All forces have been eliminated and we are clear for ground assault. Casualties minimal.": The all clear was given, Andor's shuttle, the transports, the squad of bombers and Black and Gold squads of ARC-170s continued their trajectory to the Red Dawn Medical Center. Now, it was only a matter of time. Meanwhile, the accompanying ARC-170 Grey squad, having suffered 6 casualties (only 6 remain), was rerouted to help reinforce those currently engaged with the attacking X-wings and Y-wings.
:Wraith, Banshee, and Red squads, this is Grey leader, looks like you all could use a hand. Wraith and Banshee squads, take out those bombers from underneath. Red squad, you all form up with us and we'll take out those remaining X-wings.":
Quickly, the remaining 18 ARC-170s (consisting of both Red and Grey squads) scrambled to overwhelm any remnants of the X-wing squadron, while the leftover contingent of V-wing ships (12 total) broke apart to intercept any remaining y wings below. This was their last run before the y-wing bombers would be in range of launching their proton bombs and torpedoes.
"Divert half power from the engines and use it boost the shields. A small number like that will take time to penetrate this war machine." With the Messiah already in position to continue its forward assault on the disabled Redemption, the Admiral was willing to slow his own ship down to power the shields. After all, the enemy capital ship wasn't going anywhere. The shields (having recharged since the single volley from the opposing star destroyer earlier) only needed the extra power long enough for the friendly squads to eliminate those pesky bombers once and for all, if they could even survive a first pass.
Meanwhile, aboard the Upsilon class command shuttle, Andor was tuned in to his force's communications. He was pleased with the efficiency of his troops and of his fighters. And naturally, he was impressed with his Admiral, a man who hand long served the Lord of Deception and had never failed to disappoint.
"Pilot, form up and keep us close to Abaddon's forces. Send the bombers to destroy the city. We leave nothing but fire."
Within moments, the squadron of bombers broke off from the rest, heading into the heart of Nystao, where they would unleash destruction like the planet had never seen. The four transports, Andor's shuttle, and the two squadrons of ARC-170's would then form up near Abaddon's position so that they would have strength in numbers until they reached the ground.
“Okay, we should be far enough away from the enemy ship to be able to send out a transmission.” Said Jack after a long time of silently drifting. The Juniper’s systems quickly came to life as its pilot flipped through the powerup procedures.
“Comms are still jammed.” Stated a worried Kimberly after she attempted to send out the distress call.
“Let’s get a little further out. We can’t be that far away from the edge of that jammer’s range.”
“Comms are clear!” Kimberly said excitedly then recited, “This is the Republic shuttle Juniper calling on all Republic and known friendly frequencies, we have a Republic cruiser damaged in Honoghr System. Require immediate aid. Enemy Bulwark-class and Imperious-class ships in sector.”
Kimberly and Jack switched on and off repeating the message until they got any confirmations of reception.
Y-Wing Run
The X-wing fighters easily outmaneuvered and wiped half of the V-wing forces that had been sent to intercept their mission. Unfortunately, the nine fighters left could only hope to deal damage to the reinforced ARC-170 squad. In a two to one fight the X-wings valiantly marked and removed some more ships before ultimately being removed from the endgame of the battle leaving the Y-wings to their own devices as they sped toward the problem that kept help from arriving.
The X-wings had done their job, their sacrifice to ensure the Y-wings escaped to the relay and destroyed it was almost complete. And that is where the enemy’s mistake was realized: instead of attempting to obliterate them, and taking the X-wing bait, they attempted to increase the shielding around the jamming array. But what they didn’t seem to account for was that Proton Torpedoes and Advanced Proton Bombs were built to bypass deflector shields. They could increase their shielding all they wanted to, it just wouldn’t matter.
The twenty-four Y-wings were safe from any underside attacks as soon as they reached the Bulwark-class Battlecruiser, as they immediately began to “trench run” the ship toward their objective. The swivel turrets armed with light ion cannons easily kept any V-wings off of their back as the bombers prepped their Proton Torpedoes and Advanced Proton Bombs for the liberation of planetary and orbital communications as the jammer came into targeting sight.
Aboard the Redemption
The amount of damage that was released on the Venator would have destroyed it under normal circumstances, but the rotation of the cruiser kept the damage spread over a larger surface area of the hull instead of a centralized attack. The Redemption continued its smoke-filled spiral underneath and behind the enemy ship. Admiral Larkin looked out of the view port at the damage that had accumulated on his ship. So much wanton destruction for what? Pleasure? To prove a point? He had been told the other ship attacked the civilian city first and Captain Kirk had responded with his brash attack. And now his entire crew was going to pay for it, the only people who were most likely to survive this fight was the shuttle they had successfully gotten out.
Admiral Larkin unbuttoned the top of his uniform coat and pulled out a picture from an inner pocket and looked down at it. A young blonde woman stood under a Cherry Blossom tree a big smile on her face his granddaughter in her arms. He had promised his daughter that this would be his very last mission with the Republic Navy, and that he would put in his paperwork for separation. He would then return to their small town on Naboo where he could watch his little granddaughter grow up and be just as beautiful as her mother and grandmother had been. “I am sorry Lohse. I failed you for the last time. I won’t be making it home this time. Take good care of little Sera and never forget me.”
He then turned away from the destruction he saw through the viewport and addressed the rest of the bridge, “Men, I apologize for the predicament we are currently in. We will not be surviving this endeavor unfortunately. Today, Death floats above us as I speak, and it is an unforgiving and unrelenting beast, it wishes to feed on the helpless and broken.” He paused for a second to let the anger that had started rising in his chest subside, “Some of you probably signed on to fight against that evil. Many of you, I’m sure, signed on to explore the galaxy and go on grand adventures, I’m guessing some of you may have signed on due to a dare with friends.” He chucked, “But I also know that some others of you signed on to secure a paycheck to provide for your families back home. Today, as we end our last mission among the stars let your last thoughts be of them. Because I know that their thoughts are of you right now, wherever in this galaxy they are.” A tear trickled into his beard as he again thought of his daughter and granddaughter, and a lump formed in his throat. He had to pause to keep his old voice from cracking before continuing, “I know I will be thinking of my daughter and little granddaughter as I wait for Death’s embrace.”
Larkin then turned back toward the viewport, but he did not look on his ship, but rather toward the stars wishing against all hope to see his family one last time.
The volley of turbolaser fire seemed endless as the Reverence continued its onslaught of Nystao, blanketing the city in a hue of oranges and blacks as the fires raged on. It was a gruesome site to the average viewer, but it was necessary if the galaxy hoped to survive for as the body succumbs to fever in order to fight away infection, the galaxy had brought forth its own counter-force and one that thinned the galaxy greatly. Yet, just as with any infection, it would not go away without a fight and now it would have to face the antibiotics the galaxy had brought into existence. And that is what Abaddon and the Order of Ruin proved to be, the medicine to finally vanquish the disease. The Order of Ruin was saving the galaxy even if the rest of the narrow minded galaxy failed to see it.
The formation of fighters, bombers and a lone shuttle screamed toward the surface below, nearing ever more to Nystao and the Red Dawn Medical Complex. Sure enough, as though he could have predicted the inevitable, Andor's entourage had formed up along his position and seemed to desire to share in the glory of cleansing the galaxy alongside him. Abaddon welcomed it for it signaled a quicker end to this strand of the disease with more of the mind to fight against that which plagued the galaxy. Not one enemy vessel pursued the formation and any resistance from the city appeared negligible. It was a perfect fanfare to welcome the coming of the begining of the end to the terrible sickness the clung ever persistent to the fabric of the galaxy. Not one single ounce of resistance, but that wasn't to say that everything would continue to unfold without flaw and as the two groups closed in on one another, the squads seemed to mesh. Their movements were in near flawless synchronization.
However, the glorious image of triumph would be short lived and a single TIE/AG Aggressor in flight very near the position of Andor's shuttle began to spin violently and chaotically out of control as the ships moved of the city. It would take mere seconds before it would dive uncontrollably to the shuttle that carried the Sith Lord that was Darth Andor and to evade such a unsuspected flaw would be nearly impossible. The greatest hope that could be had was that either the shuttle would be able to withstand the impact of the fighter as it uncontrollably kamikazed toward the shuttle or, more likely, have a pilot skilled enough to safely pilot the large shuttle to an emergency landing among the debris of the city and RDMC.
It was by mere chance that such an event happened. A fatal hiccup in the systems of the starfighter that put it into complete hydraulic failure and a scenario there, at this point was no counter action to.
The incoming y-wing bombers were soon in range, having flew low, close to the Bulwark's hull, engaging in the traditional "trench run" tactic. Immediately, the Messiah's turbo laser fire was halted, as Admiral Lynn gave a final order: to power up all ray and particle shields. This battle cruiser was a mobile fortress, and years ago, while still on Kuat, Andor had made sure to have its shielding upgraded so that it was state of the art. Although ray shields were ineffective against proton torpedoes and bombs, as they were meant for protection against energy and radiation based weapons, the particle shields were meant for protection against physical, solid objects like torpedoes, asteroids, and colliding star fighters. The remaining ARC-170's and V-wings followed closely behind, the V-wings taking the brunt of the Y-wings turret defenses, while picking off a slightly larger number than the turbo lasers. ARC-170's fired their proton torpedoes and their laser cannons, trimming down the numbers even further, but not enough. The remaining Y-wings fired their torpedoes and bombs, which left behind the light blue trail as they seared through space, impacting into the shields. The particle shields materialized upon contact and sent a shimmering rainbow of colors coursing across the ship's hull as the Y-wings would surely break off to attempt a second pass.
"Shielding is down sir, and the jammer is damaged, but is still registering as operational. One more pass and it'll be completely offline!" The voice was that of an Ensign stationed somewhere in the bridge. The admiral didn't care to look to see who it was, his eyes were fixed on the space through the viewport, watching as the remaining Y-wings scattered, with his own ARC-170's and V-wings closing in for the kill.
"Resume assault on the Venator star destroyer. Once the shields are recharged, you may bring them back online."
A moment later, all of the fore mounted ion cannons and turbo lasers resumed their assault on the Redemption, sending it to its grave.
"Sir!" A different voice this time, a female one, "Sensors have located the missing enemy shuttle. It is out of jamming range and appears to be sending a transmission on a loop!"
"Once the Y-wings are dealt with, dispatch the fighters to take care of it. That should give them plenty of time to get out their desperate plea for help." The Admiral's voice was calm, unyielding, unphased. Once the y-wings were eliminated the occupants of the Juniper would soon find themselves being converged on by the remnants of the Wraith, Phantom, and Red squadrons where they would meet the same fate as the rest of their comrades.
Now a greater distance away from events in orbit, Andor's contingent of shuttles and fighters had finally merged into formation with Abaddon's. The Lord of Deception himself, sat in the chair behind the pilot's aboard the command shuttle, his eyes shut and his mind submerged in the current of the Darkside, as he had been since he had first boarded. He was alert and aware of everything around him: the auras of his 300 troops, his numerous pilots, Abaddon's pilots, and of course, the presence of the Lord of Ruin, himself. He was prepared for anything: should the Jedi below somehow manage to regroup for a counter-attack that could intercept the descending transports. But nothing ever came. The Order of Ruin had moved quickly, taking advantage of their element of surprise to truly destabilize any hopes of a swift counterattack.
But then, the Darkside came to Andor, gifting him with Sight. The hair on the nape of the Dark Lord's neck shot stiff as goose-bumps erupted upon his white flesh. His eyes snapped open and his icy voice sounded before he even truly knew what was happening, "Pull up!"
The pilot, who's extreme conditioning to obey orders without question and to react quickly in even the most stressful of circumstances, without hesitation yanked hard at the controls. The ship jerked upwards, the sudden increase in G's forcing Andor deeper into his seat as the rose higher. Outside, there was the sound of an explosion as the engine of one of the many TIE/AG Aggressors lit into flame, causing the ship to careen through the air, spinning uncontrollably towards the terrain tens of thousands of feet below: and through the space where Andor's shuttle had been not but a few seconds earlier.
Andor watched until the ship disappeared out of his line of sight, his anger seething. If it hadn't been for his gift of foresight, that ship would have taken him down. But what angered him even more was that Abaddon, who as of late had seemed to become blindly absorbed in his own self-righteousness, had let his military personnel become relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, that they weren't even able to properly identify an "at-risk" ship with faulty mechanics during who knows how many routine system checks. An accident as preventable as that would never happen under Andor's watch. He sat in his chair, his fists balled so tightly his knuckles cracked and his hands turned a sickly combination of red, blue, and purple. His crimson eyes burned holes through Abaddon's own ship, which was cruising to his two-o-clock position. Hell, he should just have the Lord of Ruin shot down for his incompetence, but alas, that's not why they were here.
They were here to wreck chaos. They were here to make the weak perish.
“Let’s keep the thrusters on low, so we don’t burn up too much fuel but keep moving away from the fight.” Suggested Jack, to which Kimberly heartily agreed. This had been her first mission after the Academy and she had promised her mom and dad that it would be a safe and easy job. Nobody to shoot at or get shot at by, just shuttling equipment and people around for various reasons. But here she was heading away from her first assignment in fear for her life trying to call for aid. The Empire had been destroyed so long ago, and any remnants or factions that had stirred in the wake of its destruction had been snuffed out by the New Republic. Why was there an enemy now? These weren’t your average pirate ships either, pirates don’t try to destroy what they are going to steal. They try to take first and destroy what they can’t have. So, who were they? And what did they want?
Y-Wing Run
The Y-wings were successful in taking down the shields the Bulwark-class Battlecruiser had been able to throw up before the barrage of Proton Torpedoes followed by APBs hit and damaged the troublesome sensor array. Unfortunately, the static comms still meant that their job was not complete. But the shields being down was an opening for an even better target: The Bridge. Both squadron leaders and their envoys knew this, and they didn’t need commlinks to relay that information to their squads. The continued a forward assault instead of the predicted round-about maneuver bombers would normally take to perform continuous runs on the same objective.
Ion cannons blasting at both V-wings and ARC-170’s alike, the slowly dwindling numbers of the now nineteen Y-wings sped toward their objective. They soon released their payloads on the command center of the massive ship knowing the shields couldn’t have recharged soon enough to protect against the onslaught. Not only was it the safer call to keep the defending craft at a slowly diminishing distance and yield less casualties than a second run. But it would also strategically move the defending crafts away from the primary objective and prepare it for a second destructive run if the bridge was not destroyed.
Aboard the Redemption
The Redemption had floated far behind the enemy ship, but not far enough that its rear was out of range of the cannons that started firing once it had come into view. Larkin knew the relentlessness of the enemy and the damage sustained by his ship meant their time was fast approaching, “Get to the escape pods if you can.” He said as he turned to his crew, “If you can save yourselves from this hatred of life try, The Redemption will not hold together for long. As for me, my story in this life is over. May the Fates smile upon you.”
More than half of the crew quickly moved to get to the escape pods while they still had a chance, while the rest sat patiently awaiting their demise. They knew they didn’t have any more of a chance in the pods versus staying where they were. The enemy would most likely shoot each and every pod that escaped the doomed vessel. Larkin turned back toward the viewport to see some pods eject from the sides of the ship; he knew the crew that had just left couldn’t have made it there yet and that was other crew members trying to save themselves. He pitied them for their false hopes, but he knew that it was all they had left to hold onto.
It was then that a giant eruption occurred, the main engines had been destroyed, soon the erupting fuel, aided by the bombardment, would destroy the rest of the ship if it continued. But, if they were able to reach beyond the cannon-fire before that happened the ship might have a slim chance of survival.
"Damn it! Take those bombers out!" The Admiral's patience was wearing thin. These fighter pilots were proving to be more incompetent than he liked to admit. Were they just rusty from the years that the Messiah had run unopposed? Either way, there were no excuses. The expectations that Andor had for his fleet were high... very high, and the Admiral Lynn would not be the one to lose his head over his subordinates' lack of discipline and execution. The Y-wings were coming straight for the bridge, no doubt emboldened by their delusions of grandeur that their first rounds of torpedoes and bombs had met their mark. But even as the shield generator that covered the fore section of the ship was overheated, and cooling at a rapid pace, the aft shields were still online, their power being supplied from a second generator. Another one of those enhancements that Andor had oversaw himself during the construction of the battlecruiser. The aft shields, being fully operational, encompassed the engines, the hyperdrive, the bridge and more. With the dwindling numbers of bombers, their effectiveness at penetrating the shields were diminishing.
"Brace yourselves!" And ensign shouted just moments before the bridge was rocked with explosions as the viewport lit up in flashes of blue and purple. The admiral's hands clasped tightly around the railing that kept him from falling into the pit of electronics and troops below. His muscles budged and his jaw locked tight as he was jostled. "What's are status report?"
"Aft shields at 20%, sir. Fore shield generator is almost cooled and will be online momentarily."
The admiral barked another order for the pursuing ARC-170's and V-wings to push forward and overwhelm the remains 19 bombers before they could turn around, regroup and come in for a second pass. ARC-170's launched their torpedoes, while flashes of deadly green erupted from their laser cannons, while the V-wings dipped beneath the Y-wings and fired at their exposed underbellies.
Meanwhile, the Messiah continued to rotate on a central axis, the fore-side armament keeping target of the Redemption as it hopelessly tried to pass beneath them. Flashes of light shimmered in the dark of space as sensors indicated ejecting escape pods, but those shimmers where nothing compared to the sights as the Venator burst in the flames, explosions erupting along its hull.
"Continue assault on the Venator. We have them now. We will capture those escape pods when our airspace is clear."
After passing the Bulwark-class ship’s bridge, the Y-wings pulled up and straight away from the surface of the battlecruiser removing half of the remaining bombers out of the path of the oncoming torpedoes and cannon fire. Their last order before they had left the Redemption hangar bay was that if they were unsuccessful at any point in their mission there would most likely be no place left to go. They all knew they were not making it back alive with how close the ARC-170s and V-wings had gotten. They were already down to ten bombers and there was only one choice: Kamikaze. All bombers quickly finished their vertical loop [in orientation to the cruiser] and fired their ion cannons, proton torpedoes and advanced proton bombs at the bridge, raining waves of blue and purple followed by the reds and oranges of Y-wings impacting the Bulwark-class battlecruiser’s bridge.
Honoghr – Open Orbit – The Redemption
Larkin knew by the continued thundering on the aft hull of The Redemption that the end was nigh. He turned his watering eyes back to the photograph in his hand. His tears dripped onto the image as he looked one last time at his daughter and granddaughter. Another explosion erupted on The Redemption as the main fuel cells were finally hit knocking the old man to his right knee. He heard the worried exclamations from his remaining bridge crew. “Ladies and gentlemen.” He said as he stood up and looked at his crew, “I would like to thank you one last time. It has been an honor to serve with you all until the bitter end. Please do not incite more terror than you need. Fear will not save us from this. Remember your loved ones, you will be with them shortly. You won’t feel a thing, you have my word as Admiral of this vessel.” Just as he finished speaking a final explosion erupted from the back of the bridge. A bright flash of orange and red swept through the deck and then everything went black. Larkin closed his eyes as the fire blast hit him, he felt no pain, no anguish, just as he had predicted. The rest of the ship soon followed after.
Admiral Larkin couldn’t see anything, yet a familiar smell was about him. He opened his eyes and he saw his childhood house. The smell he smelled was like to the pies his mother had loved to bake when he was a child. He walked toward the entrance to his house, pressed the panel on the side and the door sprung open to the presence of a man standing in the doorway. The man looked at Admiral Larkin, in his newly pressed dress uniform, and smiled, “Welcome home son. We are glad you could make it. Your mother just put the pies out to cool.” The man who looked just like his father, but no older than thirty waved him in, “Come in, come in! Martha! Look who made it!”
Larkin passed by the entryway mirror and caught a glimpse of his own image, he himself looked no older than thirty. He was puzzled at the image, “Is this the afterlife then?” he thought out loud, to which his father turned and simply stated smiling, “Yes, it is.” Larkin’s mother soon came around the corner, apron covered I various fruits and dough, “Welcome home son!” she started for a hug then remembered her current look, “Oh my, silly me, I’m going to ruin your new uniform! Let me go get cleaned up.” Larkin smiled at his mother as she hurried back around the corner.
He then looked down at his uniform and unbuttoned the top button and reached inside. He withdrew the image of his daughter and granddaughter, and a tear quickly made its way down his cheek. “Don’t worry son. They will remember you, and time passes by quicker here. They will live a full life and then they’ll be here before you know it.” He looked up to his father’s concerned face, “Thanks dad.”
.The intensity of the brief, yet violent, skirmish in space was coming to a dull throb. All that was left was the remnants of a desperate Y-wing squad, aiming to hit anything they could before their demise. But ultimately, their efforts were in vain and the nine remaining bombers fell prey to the fighters of the Messiah. Below the Bulwark remained the charred corpse of the Redemption. Escape pods jettisoned, shooting out into space where they remained on active scanners, leaving them vulnerable, defenseless, and no doubt in fear of what was going to happen next.
"Round up those escape pods and that shuttle broadcasting the emergency transmission. Let's give them a little welcoming party when they arrive on board." The Admiral had a sneer across his hardened face, his hands clasped behind his back and boldness in his eyes. Another victory for Lord Andor. The first of many victories for the Order of Ruin. "I will accompany them personally."
No sooner than the orders were given, then the Messiah's tractor beam was powered up, immediately targeting and snagging hold of The Juniper. Slowly, it would find itself inevitably dragged into the belly of the beast, shortly followed by any surviving escape pods. Waiting for them in the hangar, were 25 troopers, armed with an armament of blaster rifles and stun cuffs, and in the front and center, a very proud Admiral Lynn, standing at his fullest, with only a blaster pistol holstered at his right side.
“Sensors indicate the jammer is still active on the battlecruiser.” Stated Jack as he read the instrument panel, “That means The Redemption failed and is most likely destroyed.” He swung The Jupiter around to view Honoghr once again.
“I don’t want to sound like a scared baby, but is that ship doing what I think it is?” squeaked Kimberly pointing out the viewport of The Jupiter at the now small looking Bulwark-class battlecruiser. The large ship had begun to turn toward them and the glare of the planet’s namesake and light source showed small dots flying toward them like little hornets from a hornet hive. Jack immediately turned The Jupiter around and finished punching in the hyperspace coordinates.
“Doesn’t matter, cause we won’t be here to find out.” Jack said, a hint of anger and determination in his voice. “We have to make sure this emergency broadcast gets to Republic space. And that won’t happen if we get ourselves captured. Or worse, killed. Hold on!”
The Jupiter's navi-computer finished plotting it’s course to the nearest out-of-sublight-reach system, where it would plot a second course to throw off any possibly tracking ships; And before the ARC-170’s or V-wings, or even The Messiah itself could get into firing range, the little shuttle would flash from visual and instrumental sight to the safety of another solar system in the galaxy.
The Order of Ruin's attack had left a devastating, irreparable wound to Honoghr. Even from space, the smoke could be seen above the decimated remains of Nystao. It lingered like a black smudge on a beautiful canvas painting. Only now would Honoghr and its people flourish, as they were no longer tied down by the weak. Only now, would world start to rebuild, a stronger world.
But there was one thing left that Andor knew he must do. It was a goal for every Sith, no matter how weak or strong. One of the few things they all had in common, was their hatred for the Jedi. And now, it was time to finish what Palpatine had started.
Shooting out of the atmosphere, the transport ships with their escort of fighters and bombers, sharply reflected the light of the distant sun as they returned to dock in the hangar of The Messiah. It had been some time since the battle cruiser and its allied Reverence had seen the action that had brought an swift end to the Redemption. Those who had escaped the Republic vessel's destruction had been captured and sent to the detention level, where they were locked away and imprisoned, fully sentenced to a lifetime of servitude and slavery. Those that had resisted were terminated on sight.
Now, Andor moved into the hangar bay, exited his shuttle, a handful of troops hurrying to keep up as he barked out orders. "Have the prisoner brought with me to my personal chambers. I'll see to it that he is taken care of. Have Admiral Lynn hail the Reverence to inform them of Abaddon's failure and that they are now under our command. Make preparations to return to Ziost, but do not initiate until I have given the final command."
They could't leave yet.... Not until the few remaining Jedi left on Honoghr were properly disposed of.
Two of the surviving Cathar soldiers followed behind Andor, carrying Kirwin's unconscious body between them, his limp feet skidding across the floor. Finally, they arrived to Andor's personal quarters and they entered. The room was dark and bleak, having been cosmetically altered to resemble that of a stone dungeon. Across the ground was a large blood colored rug. Along the far wall was Andor's throne (a simplistic black chair whose arms were lined with silver) and two torches, one on either side. There was a closed door of to the left, which beyond was Andor's bedroom. The Lord of Ruin sat down in his chair, and relaxed, letting his arms rest on the sides as he let the two soldiers throw Kirwin's body to the floor. Then, they removed all of Kirwin's weapons and laid them out in a line in front of Andor's feet before bowing and exiting the room.
Andor tapped into Kirwin's mind, allowing his own mind to force its way in like a battering ram. "Wake up boy!" Andor's mental voice was that of his physical one: it was cold. It was thin. It was that of a wraith hidden in the darkest of shadows. With a push of the Force, Andor forced his thoughts upon the unconscious body in front of him and unceremoniously willed him back to the present.
‘Wake up, boy!’ The icy words slid through Kirwin’s mind like a razor. He opened his eye; its color had returned from crimson to blue. Even though his natural vision was hazy in the dimly lit room, his cybernetic vision was clear as day. Kirwin pushed against the red carpet beneath himself into a kneeling sitting position. Placing a hand on his head he drunkenly surveyed the room in front of him, his lightsaber and DL-44 sat in front of him.
“Where-” he began to ask out loud before realizing he wasn’t alone. Kirwin’s cyber-eye caught the vital signs of someone sitting in the large chair about two paces away. His exhausted body was slow to move as he attempted to reach for his blaster. If he could just get a hold of his weapon he would feel safer in this unknown location he was in. Kirwin didn't know who was there, but the view of the room had an eerie feeling to it, and he didn't like what he saw.
Andor smiled as Kirwin came to. At first, the dark lord sensed confusion, even before his new apprentice murmured a single word. Then, his smile widened as Kirwin desperately reached out for his weapon. But just before Kirwin's hand came within reach, both the blaster and the lightsaber hilt shot into the air, levitating high above Kirwin. Slowly they retreated to Andor, who's arms still rested on his throne. The two weapons idly spun in a circle at Andor's chest height as he looked them over, eyebrows arched in curiosity, "Ah ah ah. Not so fast. You know it isn't customary to immediately draw a weapon on your host."
Andor stayed as still as a statue, only his mouth moving with his words as he looked down upon the man in front of him. "Some people would say that's rude. But I," Andor's right hand closed into a tight fist, "I see that as potential."
Kirwin caught himself before he could fall face first into the carpet. He gathered his feet underneath himself and attempted to stand. Once the Jedi was upright, he looked at his ‘host’ sitting in the chair before him. Kirwin spread his feet out to keep his balance as the room spun a little before asking, “Where am I? I was in a battle and now I am here. But where is here?”
He couldn’t keep his eyes off of the sitting silhouette. Reaching out to the Force Kirwin attempted to sense the motive or alignment of his opposition. His weak connection to the Light told him that he must be in the presence of a Sith. Upon realizing this he staggered back a step, his face refusing to give emotion even when his body betrayed his fear, “Wait. You! You’re the Sith who killed Geir. What do you want with me?”