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Post by Whill Shaman Erevis on Apr 9, 2013 11:23:35 GMT -8
The gas giant Yavin Prime, one of the most well known planets of its type in the Galaxy, holds prominence as the third orbital body in the Yavin System, of the Gordian Reach sector in the Outer Rim. Within its orbit is the historically significant Yavin IV, home to, at varying points throughout the millennia, prominent Sith Lords Naga Sadow, Freedon Nadd, and Exar Kun, the high command of the Rebel Alliance during the Battle of Yavin, and later, the Luke Skywalker's Jedi Praxeum. Yavin Prime also has twenty five other moons, including the habitable Yavin Eight and Thirteen.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Apr 26, 2013 18:39:18 GMT -8
In orbit of Yavin Seventeen...
The Imperial class Star Destroyer Brilliant Guardian broke orbit, a course laid in for its usual holding stations over the fourth moon, its mission over the barren, inhospitable rock of Yavin Seventeen complete. As it pulled away, two tiny objects launched from its forward hangar, jetting away from it at a sharp downward angle on jets of pink-red fire. The Star Destroyer paid the departures no heed, continuing on its path to Yavin four.
The departing objects were two starfighters, custom specification X-Wings. The leading fighter had fresh paint on its wings, fresher than the weathered and faded paint of the main hull: the wing markings were dominated by a single red stripe, marking the fighter as the leading craft in its squadron. The second fighter's wings were absent the call sign designation markings, and sported fresh paint on its body. Together, the craft looped down into the moon's thin atmosphere.
The lead fighter was under the control of Dav Man'Sell, and the fresh paint on his wings designated his newest position: Dragon Leader. The role of mission commander for Dragon Squadron was one he had taken before, and he had often led smaller units under the Dragon Squadron banner, but as of a fortnight earlier, Dav had officially taken command personally.
He was both excited and slightly apprehensive about this new role.
Command was not something he was a stranger too, of course. From Jedi General in the Clone Wars, to Fleet Commander with the Peacekeeping Taskforce, to a seat on the Jedi High Council and one of the leading Jedi of the Yavin Praxeum, Dav was arguably one of the most experienced leaders in the Galaxy. No, the apprehension came because Dragon Squadron had been Ksandra's baby. She had held the number one seat for ten years, even though the Squadron had spent most of the last year in a state of unintended and unofficial disbandment. It was an elite squadron, a combat unit, but it was also a tremendous extension of who she was, her way of focusing her innate talents for flight into a powerful weapon against evil. Now he was in command of its renaissance, and he had to give the Squadron purpose anew, rebuilding it for a darker time.
Perhaps, though he was reluctant to admit it, there was another reason for his apprehension.
=Alexis Karidian=
::So that's where we're heading.::
Alexis, his Padawan, under his protection and his tutelage. She had trained hard in the nine months since he had took her on. She had developed good basic Force skills. Her bladework with a Lightsaber was good, having already gained a solid grounding in Shii-cho and Soresu, which Dav had insisted on teaching her to give her decent defensive skills, and he had begun her training in Makashi and Ataru. And since he had put her into her first flight simulator, she had developed skills as a Starfighter pilot, too. Now she was a perfectly competent pilot, as indeed many Jedi were - their talents lent well to the handling of starfighters - and seemed to really be getting a grasp on the advanced mechanics of piloting. She had trained hard; the truth was, he had trained her hard, very hard, ensuring that even when he wasn't on Yavin himself, she had followed a comprehensive and challenging training regime with the other tutors. She'd risen to the challenge admirably.
And yet, so often when she had asked to accompany him on his missions, his response had been a smile and an apologetic 'not this time'. Those tasks she had travelled with him on had been, to say the least, relatively routine and safe.
Of course I couldn't take her on all of them; I live a dangerous life. My missions are usually the most dangerous ones the Jedi face. I couldn't let her risk herself on them. I couldn't let her be killed because I took her with me on missions she wasn't ready for.
Dav was quite aware, though, that she had been ready for a while now. He'd distracted himself with reasoning that there were just a few more skills he wanted her to pick up, a little more knowledge she needed to possess, but everything he set her to learn, she learnt quickly and thoroughly, and he had run out of excuses. He had to face the truth.
You're being too protective of her. She's chosen the path of the Jedi and she has committed to the sacrifice that entails. She's ready to face these challenges, and you know better than anyone that learning through doing is the best way to do things. It's time to give her the chance.
So that was what had brought them to Yavin Seventeen that day, and, as Alexis had observed, ahead of them lay their destination; a piloting obstacle course. A series of rings, dropped into place by the Guardian, lay suspended by repulsor fields above the surface. They wove down into the atmosphere, eventually leading into a ravine on the surface, and from there, into a series of winding caverns through the terrain of the lifeless rock beneath them. Off towards the horizon from where they were, the cavern opened out into a mountain range, and beyond the range lay a pair of beacons. The beacons marked the finishing line. Their challenge was to fly the course. Dav would fly it ahead of her, to set a completion time, Alexis following a short way behind, to see how close she could get. He didn't expect her to to match or beat his time - he had seventy five years experience as a pilot to her eight months, and he had designed the craft they flew in, so no-one knew their performance limits better than he did.
But if she could come within a reasonable margin of it, that alone would be a demonstration of skill.
That was the purpose of their presence here today. Her simulator scores were exceptional. If she could manage this course, in the real thing, then it would be the indicator that she was ready; that his very last remaining excuse had been disarmed.
If she can do this, she's ready to fly as a Dragon.
He was suddenly aware that he hadn't replied to her comm message. Less than a minute had passed, but that was a long time to go without a reply on military channels; he'd been so lost in his thoughts that he just hadn't said anything, and now that he externalised his focus again, he could feel the fringes of a subtle concern echoing from her in the Force. The Jedi activated his comm as he, and a moment after him, Alexis, lowered his throttle to zero and held just outside of the tipping point of the moon's relatively meager gravitational pull.
Yep, that's it. The course is spread over forty five klicks worth of tunnels and caverns. Those rings are supported by heavy duty repulsor systems - flying close to them without flying through them would knock your fighter for a spin.
=Alexis Karidian=
::But if I miss a ring close to the surface, and go into a spin, I'll end up crashing.::
Don't miss a ring, then.
There was a flicker of dry exasperation in the Force from the young girl, and Dav couldn't help but smile as she clicked the comm back on.
=Alexis Karidian=
::So glad you're teaching me these things, Master. I'd never have thought of that myself.::
He probably ought to take umbrage with the fact that she almost only ever called him 'Master' in a sarcastic fashion, but he discovered he actually found it an incredibly endearing trait. She was respectful of him, absolutely, but they'd become close enough that formal titles seemed somehow... improper.
I'm starting to understand that particular personal tick of Jago's now.
He smiled broadly into his flight helmet.
I'm going to fly first. Wait ten seconds, then follow me in. Your Astromech has already been instructed to track your time starting from the first ring - your job is to keep up with me as best as you can, and score the best time you can.
His eyes fell across his displays, to the power-boards, the system diagnostics, and the navigational data. Everything was green and ready to go.
Are you ready?
=Alexis Karidian=
::Ready when you are.::
Good. Commencing ten second launch countdown on my mark.
The throttle control pressed into his glove as he wrapped his left hand around it. His right hand sat on his flight stick.
Mark.
A jet of pink-red flame burst from each of his four fusial thrust engines, and the XJ9D X-Wing, newly painted with the markings of Dragon Leader, raced into the course.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Apr 28, 2013 8:42:14 GMT -8
His X-Wing cleared the first ring, and the clock on his Holographic Heads Up Display begun ticking.
Here we go.
The first few rings were easy, a direct line outside of the main layers of the moons thin and sparse atmosphere, which he took at full throttle. Then the first turn came, a gentle curve out to the right - beyond it, a sudden shift back in the opposite direction occurred with a ring dead in the centre of the curve's apex, which would force a reasonably tight turn from them. Dav rolled his X-Wing onto its port wing, putting the first curve to his belly, which would give him maximum visibility through his upper viewport going into the second. It was simply a formality, of course, an example of text book flying style, and the upcoming turn was in truth an easy one for anyone but the greenest pilot. Any Dragon could have made the turn in a three hundred meter spice freighter with a heavy load and an even heavier list. The X-Wing cleared the turn with ease, and he dropped into the next stretch of the course, weaving casually through the delicate zig-zag of the next four rings.
The navigational sensors blinked in his peripheral vision on the control board in front of him, but he didn't spare them a glance - they were, he knew, simply indicating that up ahead, atmospheric density was about to undergo a fast increase. The first real challenge of the course.
The X-Wing shudder ever so slightly under the stick as he passed through the upper edges of the atmosphere, slipping through a handful of rings on his way down. With casual and instinctive ease, his left hand found the shield controls, and just a momentary glance let him switch the profile to something a little more atmospheric friendly, forming an aerodynamic tear-drop around the fighter. Heading straight down into the atmosphere as they were, they would get a little wind shear further down which would attempt to push them off course - another part of the test, to see how atmospheric factors would affect a pilot's flying style. Many rookie pilots had faced a messy end because they'd only ever trained in combat flying in space, and once they hit an atmosphere in battle, they had quickly lost control as they failed to compensate for the environment whilst trying a turn - or crossing air currents.
Even Dav didn't know what was coming up. The course was created at random with each time they set it up. Some sections of the caverns and mountain passes, obviously, were very predictable, but the sections with rings, and which turns they would be making in the underground tunnels, was a mystery to him as much as to her. He hadn't examined meteorological reports, so the weather of the moon - which, in this instance, could generally be paired down to two factors, fast wind or slow wind, and wind direction - was just as unpredictable for him.
More rings down, including one tight twist where the rings had led him on a corkscrew course, and he was thick into the atmosphere now. The moon's surface, and the canyon run, was only a matter of seconds away.
Suddenly he felt the X-Wing's tail slip down and out hard to port - wind shear. He compensated quickly, straightening out before he had gone very far at all, and rolled the X-Wing to present his side to the oncoming heavy winds, a slimmer cross section than the large, flat surfaces of his upper S-foils. He wondered whether Alexis would think of that when she reached this height.
A little etheric rudder wove his fighter back and forth through the final rings of the stretch, and he rolled to starboard in preparation to nose up into the canyon. Doing so once again presented him with drift from the winds, but it was easily compensated for with a little rudder and a slight lean on his stick. Up ahead, the canyon, which was marked with beacons that would grant a time penalty if you didn't pass between each set, grew larger. Dav imagined that the view was not un-akin to the view that the Rebel Alliance pilots faced fifty years earlier when they dove into the trench on the Death Star.
"Heckuva legacy we've got here."
He'd always been very aware of, and very proud of, the legacy that Dragon Squadron had inherited. They were a Jedi Starfighter group, true, but they were also an elite X-Wing squadron flying out of the Great Temple on Yavin IV. In many ways, he'd always felt like they were spiritual successors to Red Squadron, and Rogue Squadron that followed it. Now, as Dragon Leader, that legacy felt larger somehow - or, perhaps, it weighed a little heavier upon him, since the legacy was now his responsibility to uphold. Following in their heroic footsteps was not something he minded at all, however. And so long as the Force was with them, he'd follow them with more of his Squadron intact at the end of the missions than Red Squadron took away from the Death Star run.
We have the benefit of Jedi powers, and better training. Of course we will.
The turn into the canyon was sharp, and with his dialed down inertial compensators, the g-force pushed him back into his flight seat as the terrain whipped down in front of him and the horizon line leveled out before his eyes. The Canyon, at its widest, could fly five X-Wings side by side, but at its narrowest would only just scrape one, and twisted through the terrain for nineteen kilometers - they'd clear it in under sixty seconds, but it would be sixty seconds of high quality flying, as the turns often came sharply and columns of rock formed out of the ground at random intervals throughout the canyon's path.
The first turn was upon him, and he rolled into it with precision, finding a line through the curve that let him take it at full throttle and with maximum efficiency; he was confident that whatever the mathematically perfect line for that turn was, he'd just come pretty close to flying it precisely. The next turn up ahead had a decreasing radius - it begun shallow, but became incredibly sharp towards its end. He raced in to it at full speed, but his left hand, resting gently on the throttle control, slid the power back as the curve continued, tightening his turning circle. The turn was complete in the blink of an eye, and he jumped back up from two-thirds to full instantly.
Ahead, the first of the columns of rock appeared. Carefully applied rudder let him weave around them, the columns acting as a kind of chicane that added a fraction of a second to his time. He had no incidents in traversing the stretch, and was through into the next section.
The next section provided the pilot with a choice. The beacons stopped for a stretch of four hundred meters, and within this space, the canyon forked into two paths. To the port, a wide stretch, easily flown at full throttle, which turned gradually to the right. Starboard, and the path was tighter, with difficult turns apparent from the get go. It was a significantly shorter distance, but more hazardous by far, and taking the full length of it at top speed was impossible for anyone, even the best pilots in the best craft - which, by all accounts, they were.
Most pilots would see the fork, and instantly pick between the two paths. It was a psychological blindspot born of evolving as land dwellers. But a species accustomed to aerial movement, like Ksandra's, or a pilot whose instincts had been trained and honed, like Dav, realised there was a third path.
The Jedi Master's hand brushed the repulsor lift controls, powering them up for a short burst, and bounced his X-wing up and out of the canyon. He took the third path, skimming the surface above canyon, passing between the two paths. His route had the benfit of ease of flying and a direct path, and his choice had a simple philosophical foundation; He had nothing to prove to anyone, and he had an objective - complete the course as quickly as possible, without skipping any rings or beacons - and any choice taken towards completing that objective was acceptable and viable. Showing off for the sake of showing off was a pointless activity, and a young man's folly.
The split was closing up again, the next set of beacons right ahead. Stepping on his left rudder, he swung his fighter across and over the edge into the valley. A little downwards nose, and he was down into it once more. He popped up onto his starboard s-foils for the turn, and blasted out of the split and into the last segment of the Canyon. Up ahead, the canyon's narrowest part sat - wide enough for an X-Wing by only a meter on either side, the slender pass had a gentle curve to the left, the sort that could creep up on you if you weren't paying complete attention. The obvious option was to fly through it rolled through ninety degrees, to make it easier; Dav took it level, applying delicate left rudder, keeping his wings almost perfectly a meter clear each side from the walls.
Ok sometimes, a pointless activity was still a fun one. He quite enjoyed occaisionally showing off a bit.
A few more columns of rock, a tight turn to the right, and the canyon came to an end - and, directly ahead of him at the end of the canyon was the beginning of the underground caverns - and entirely new challenge.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 7, 2013 5:52:48 GMT -8
Alexis sat nervously in the cockpit as she watched him jet off ahead of her. She wouldn't have categorised herself as an overly nervous person, especially not now that she was training under Dav, and especially not after the journey she had taken to reach this point in her life. But today, seated in the cockpit of an X-Wing, she was as nervous as she had ever been. Perhaps it was because, if she did as well in this run as she had been doing in the simulators, then it would cease to become an X-Wing and become her X-Wing.
That was part of it, yes, but she knew, in her heart, what the truth of it was. What the main reason for her apprehension was.
Dav had taken her as a Padawan, and he had truly taken that role seriously, training her hard, giving her the toughest exercises of anyone her age in the Praxeum, pitting her against challenge after challenge. But it had all been safe. She remembered the trip to Honoghr, all those months earlier, where she had felt so excited at the prospect of being included, but the mission had been routine in the end. All the missions he had taken her on had been routine, short, and above all, safe. And it wasn't because he lived a safe life; far from it, he told her where he'd been each time he left her at the Praxeum with the other masters, and what he'd been doing, and every one of those adventures had been fraught with danger and challenges. He was one of the most danger-attracting Jedi in the Galaxy, at least in her estimations, and yet she hadn't seen so much as a whisper of that challenge. When she'd first realised he was deliberately leaving her behind for those missions, part of her had felt rejected once more. Was she not good enough? Did he not trust her by his side? That spiral of self-doubt had consumed a weekend for her, a weekend when he wasn't around to ask. Ksandra and Jago had both been off world too, and Alexis hadn't known where to turn. Ultimately, in desperation, she had resolved to ask a Jedi, any Jedi, who had trained under him, what was going on. Why she was being left out.
It was a stroke of luck that the Jedi she had managed to find first had been Joshua Kierra-Solo, who had been Dav's Padawan before.
She'd meant to ask him about Dav, but it was the first time she had been close enough to appreciate the scarring of his skin. Of his face and hands and, she suspected, most of his body. As if by reflex, she had, instead, asked him what had happened, how he'd received those scars.
"Got myself into a little trouble" He had said. "I nearly died. I should have died. But I didn't."
She'd asked him how he'd survived, and he gave her a roguish, lopsided smile, one that said she should have known the answer to that.
"Sometimes, kid, nobody dies at all. Every now and then, when Dav comes to the rescue and the Force is with us, everybody lives. Not always. But sometimes."
They had talked for awhile after that. About Dav, about how he trained them, about how he lived his life, and the battles he fought. And as she went on, she realised, it wasn't that he didn't trust her. It was the precise opposite; he didn't trust himself. Before Joshua, Dav had a failed apprentice, one that had fallen to the Dark Side, become a murderer and a mercenary. And Joshua, who had been his closest, and most successful student, his personal Padawan. Even with all of Joshua's training, it had been little more than luck, Dav's sheer refusal to give in, and the will of the Force, that had kept Joshua alive that last time Dav had saved him. Their mutual Master blamed himself, even when the fault was not really his to bear.
He didn't completely trust himself to train her right. He didn't trust himself to be able to keep her alive, and safe from harm. He was worried that the day he came to save Alexis would be one of the many days where somebody dies, one of those days where he wouldn't quite be on time. He didn't want someone to fail, or to die, because he hadn't been a good mentor to them. He was protecting her, because he didn't want to let her down.
From the moment she'd made that realisation, she had worked hard. So hard, harder than she had ever worked before. She'd studied all that he had set before her, she'd pushed herself harder and harder, so that she had everything he felt she would need to protect herself, from the Dark Side, from death, from anything that faced her. She wanted, so desperately, to stand at his side as his Padawan, to fight with him like the other Jedi Masters did, because she believed that this time, she had someone who would do everything in his power to be there for her, and she wanted to be able to be there for him. She wanted him to know that she was strong enough to survive, and that she had learnt that strength from him.
So she was nervous. She was nervous because she wanted to fly with him, to fight with him. She wanted him to feel confident that the training he'd given her was enough.
=Alexis Karidian=
"Alright, Arr-Eight, get ready."
The dome-headed R8 Astromech behind her twittered a response that he was optimised and ready. The clock on her Heads-up display was at five seconds.
Four seconds.
Three seconds.
Two.
One.
She slammed the throttle up, and dove into the course after her Master.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 9, 2013 7:44:20 GMT -8
The canyon walls raced past, and then suddenly, they were all around him; he was into the tunnels, the great stretches of underground caverns that wove through the planet's crust. Every second, he was making adjustments - great, ten, twenty, thirty meter stalagmites, stalactites, and columns needed weaving around in the opening stretch. The tunnel narrowed, funnelling into a passage only half-again wide enough for the X-Wing. Dav dipped under the last of the stalactites between him and this passage, giving himself a straighter line entry. The walls closed on around him, darkening his cockpit - only the X-Wing's running lights and engine wash provided any kind of light this far in. He hit a switch on his right, and the tunnel ahead of him was illuminated by forward lighting from the leading edge of his wings.
The tunnel wove, not too suddenly, but often, giving him practically no time off of maneuvering. It narrowed ahead, forcing him to roll up on one wing to pass through it - the narrow section spiralled slightly, requiring a constant gentle roll to continue flying through it. It was an unusual geographical quality, and an interesting obstacle in the flight. But for Dragon Leader, it was also easy, and he was clear and into more open tunnels again in seconds.
Ahead, the tunnel opened into a cavern that stretched out into vastness to one side, but presented a wall within thirty five meters of the tunnel's exit directly ahead. Dav rolled his fighter again, putting the direction he needed to turn to above his head, just as he had done in the rings at the start of the course - this time, however, it served more purpose than just good flying practice. His left hand rested on the throttle controls, dipping his speed in the last dozen meters of the tunnel, and then sliding the repulsors up once again as he nosed up hard. The invisible cushion beneath him helped tighten his turn as it pushed him away from the wall, and he leveled out into the long, expansive cavern.
The wall he had just turned away from opened beneath his, revealing the endpoint of an underground river tunnel. The flow of liquid - likely not water, as the temperature on the inhabitable moon was low enough that water tended to be ice uniformly everywhere - dropped away in a colossal waterfall (for want of a better word) that raced in the same direction he now flew; he was diving deeper into the planet, straight down. The foam from the liquid's impact point at the base of the cavern, now meters away, obscured any sight of his next turn. A normal pilot would have to slow into the final stretch, and use their navigational sensors to see where they were to head next, costing them seconds. A Jedi pilot had another option to hand.
Dav's eyes half closed, his journey through the cavern seeming to slow for a moment as his perception of time was altered, his thoughts reaching into the Force, feeling out ahead of him, probing the walls. All sides were solid, but there, at the base of the falls, behind the stream of liquid, was the continuation of the underground river. It was difficult to register the precise size of it in the abstract senses of the Force, but he could tell it was large enough - it was his path onward. His eyes opened, time returned to its natural speed, and he rolled the X-Wing one-hundred and eighty degrees. He nosed up, gently at first, until the liquid was splashing at his canopy and nose. When the base was just a few meters away, he increased his angle of attack dramatically, and, the X-Wing's nose temporarily submerged completely beneath the surface of the river, sending great, dramatic crests of liquid flying up either side, he raced into the new tunnel. Leveling out lifted him above the river once more, but the space beneath his belly and the surface of the river was so slight that his progress upset the waters greatly. In the darkness, he could see the beacons flashing by, indicating his route; ahead, the yellow spots of two of them, higher than the water line, indicated that his path separated from the river here, pulling up. He, of course, obliged, his stick coming back towards him, his nose lifting into the divergent tunnel.
He was granted the respite of a long, straight, turnless tunnel for a few moments - a lava chute, long dormant - and then was once more thrown into tight weaves and turns in the darkness of the planet's core.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 16, 2013 15:56:07 GMT -8
Just above her eye-line, the clock begun to tick. The first few rings were cleared easily, the gentle curve to right, the sharper turn in the opposite direction, which, like her master before her, she flew with casual ease and textbook technique. The zig-zag, also easy. Her holographic HUD blinked before her, indicating the increase in the atmospheric density ahead. She responded by reaching over to her shield controls, glancing at them, switching them to something a little more aerodynamic, and slipped into the wafting gases of the atmosphere. She had to correct her course ever so slightly as she looked ahead again, having drifted a couple of degrees off of her flight path. The course correction was a simple affair, and she cleared the next couple of rings with little trouble. Even the corkscrew was easy, and she allowed herself a small smile of victory as she --
The X-Wing suddenly bucked downwards, the tail slewing hard out behind her. Changes in the atmospheric pressure had caused heavy winds, and the craft slipped out of line with the course as it caught her by surprise. Part of her wanted to give way to panic, to the surprise, but it was the significantly lesser part of herself. She pulled on the flight stick, counteracting the wind shear, swinging back in line - her slight overshoot was compensated by letting the rushing winds nudge her again, and she wiggled through the next ring. The X-Wing kept trying to drift her out of line, the winds proving to be stronger than she had expected on such a desolate moon. Her path through the next ring, which wasn't in line with the previous one and required an arching, adjusted heading to pass through, shunted at the last moment, and again, she scrambled to correct, skimming her port side shields against the inside of the ring as she slipped through it. More bucking and lurching greeted her on the other side, all in the same direction, down and to the left, making her job that much harder.
It's these damned wings. Flying straight down into the atmosphere like this, with wings that are big flat solid surfaces presented to the winds, it's like presenting a couple of sails to catch. She frowned slightly. The X-Wing series of fighters had always been acclaimed as excellent multi-purpose craft, capable of great maneuverability in both space and atmospheric conditions. And yet she found herself struggling with it. It was bucking like an old TIE Fighter trying to turn in a hurricane. It's just like a TIE fighter's solar panels, flying at this angle into the atmosphere. Catching the wind, forcing the rear-end off course, two big flat surfaces. TIEs struggle so much they have to roll to turn --
Oh.
The obvious answer had taken her a little longer than it should have. She mentally admonished herself for not thinking of it sooner, and then threw her fighter over on its side. The roll presented a narrower, more aerodynamic cross-section, and suddenly, all her woes with the atmosphere conditions were at an end.
Kriff, that probably cost me some time. Stupid.
Her challenge a little easier now, she focused on making up some time, taking the shortest route she could through the weaving set of rings before her, flying most of it on the etheric rudder. Now, ahead of her, sweeping out to one side, was the canyon. She exhaled through pursed lips, eyes focused on the rocky gorge, judging the turn. She cleared her thoughts. Her hand dipped the throttle. She pulled back and to the side in the same instant, rolling and pitching into the canyon.
Pressed back into her flight seat by the g-force, her fighter's nose swept up, and suddenly, she found herself barrelling down the canyon, whipping between beacon markers. A smile blossomed on to her lips as she corrected a slight over-roll, and tilted her fighter into the first turn.
=Alexis Karidian=
"So far so good."
Her Astromech chattered a response to her self-directed remark, but she didn't tear her eyes from the route ahead to read the translation on her control panel - she still wanted to stay focused. The turn wasn't too difficult, she'd needed to dip her throttle only slightly mid-way through to help correct her route, and it was behind her in moments. Now she found herself faced with a series of upward rising pillars of rock. A little roll into the X-Wing helped her weave through them, lining her up for her next challenge.
She blinked, eyes darting down at her navigational readouts for a split second. Two paths lay ahead of her - there were no beacons in either path, simply, as far as she could tell, at the far end of them where they both joined together again. Both were acceptable routes, then. One of them was clearly longer, but it looked like a much easier path. The other was full of tight turns, narrow passages, tricky flying. She could handle it, but the throttle dips necessary would cost her time, possibly even enough time that the longer path was still quicker.
Teeth grit, Alexis thought furiously about her choices.
Dav said complete the course as quickly as possible. He said nothing about fancy flying or safe flying or anything, just as quickly as possible. So which is quicker?
What route did he take?
As the distance between her and the division rolled down, the thought dominated her mind and spirit... and a sensation washed over her. She'd experienced it before... a strange otherworldy sensation, an abstract perception of the universe. Her skin felt cold. The X-Wing's flight was slowed to a stop and rushing ahead at lightspeed all at once, and it all disappeared as she felt her mind slip from that place. The name that had been given to what she was was seer - a Jedi with the gift of distant sight, for whom visions of the future, the past, and places far away came easily.
She could see the canyon ahead of her, the XJ9D X-Wing cockpit around her, everything as she had seen a moment ago, but from slightly higher up, with the colours somehow muted, different. Her hands were not her hands, they were too big, felt too strong around the stick. Her legs seemed to stretch on eternally. She had no control over her actions, merely watching.
It took a moment before it occurred to her that she wasn't actually watching things from her eyes, but from Dav's, a few seconds earlier, when he had faced this choice.
The X-Wing's nose swept up, the repulsors firing beneath the craft, and the land swept by mere meters beneath his X-Wing's belly. Both paths raced by on either side. He had taken a shortcut, a third route that had the best of both worlds - ease of flying, direct path.
Just as suddenly as it begun, it ended, and with a sudden, sharp intake of breath, and a dizziness in her ears, she was back in her own body, her own form. The split was a matter of three seconds away, and fiery death against the canyon wall, half a second after that.
Without even thinking about it, she grappled the repulsor controls, and repeated Dav's action, leaping her fighter out of the course and following the same path along the surface he had taken. As she settled herself again, she begun to realise that this third route was the most sensible one, the choice of the smart pilot who didn't let themselves get limited to two dimensional thinking. It was obvious, really. She wished she hadn't had to be prompted by the Force, and those accursed visions which she still hadn't achieved complete control of. They were better, they plagued her, undesired, much less than they once had. But there were moments - seemingly random and inexplicable moments - where unsought for they presented themselves to her.
Alexis shook off her frustration, focusing herself on the dip back into the canyon. She trod on her rudder pedal, slipping out over the canyon. She pushed the flight stick down, spying the yellow lights of the next beacons ahead, diving in at them. Her fighter bounced on it's repulsors as it skimmed close to the canyon floor, and she was back into the course.
Ahead, the narrowest part of the course she had seen so far lay ahead of her. A gentle curve to the left made the pass a little on the tricky side, and she didn't want to take any chances on it - she estimated that the gap was only just wide enough for an X-Wing, and the slightest deviation off of a precisely central flight path could end in disaster. She stood her X-Wing on its left guns, and slipped through the gap.
The young pilot wove her fighter through the last few columns, eyeing the entrance to the subterranean tunnels ahead. She swallowed, set herself, and dove straight into the darkening depths of the moon's crust.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 17, 2013 7:49:16 GMT -8
Up ahead, the last of the tunnels was ending, his path through the caverns completed. The next, and final, stretch, consisted of a combination of rings and beacon gates within a long and treacherous mountain range. He was, perhaps, a minute from completion now. But the last minute was going to be just as tough as the rest of the course - now was not the time to rest on his laurels.
The light was almost blinding as he crossed out of the underground caverns and into open sky again, darkening the auto-tint on his viewport as they raced into the day-side of Yavin Seventeen. He let his Force senses guide him as his eyes adjusted, slipping starboard to find the first ring. The second, third, and fourth encouraged a gentle downward arch into the mountain range proper, guiding him into a maze of rocky out-croppings and strong winds.
He cut his snubfighter to the right, darting between two close peaks before diving into the next ring. A strong cross-current bucked his fighter as he cleared it, but etheric rudder countered the drift, and he pulled up, sweeping between two beacons that marked the next step in his journey. He rolled onto his port wing to cut a tighter line around the next rock face and through the next beacon gate. Immediately he was forced to reverse his roll and pull in to the next ring, an incredibly sharp turn, followed by levelling out and pulling up to race through a series of rings floating a few meters from the surface of one of the mountains. The rings arched up away from the mountain's summit, forcing him to pull right back on his stick, headed to pass through the last one in the series inverted, with the moon's surface above his head.
Where's the next one? Where's the next one? Ah. There it is.
He'd spied it, the other side of the mountain's peak from the series of rings that had guided him up into the air and inverted. Getting to it from the end of the upwards series required either a full loop, or sweeping away and turning back in. The loop was, by far, the quicker option, but getting one tight enough was the challenge. Another choice between risk-free ease and speed. Dav opted for speed.
His hand dipped the throttle to nothing, slowing his forward momentum, and he felt the fighter begin to drop as gravity over-came lift. The Jedi yanked the flight stick back as hard as he could, until it practically pressed against the life-support pack on the front of his flight suit. The horizon swung away, the mountain range beneath him racing past. For a split second, he could see the exit of the underground caverns. It was gone just as quickly as it had come.
Then the peak of the mountain was racing up at him, fast, so fast, a sight that could strike terror into even an experienced pilot, but Dav faced it with no worry, no fear. He slammed the throttle back up to full, increasing the speed of his approach to the mountain, but using the increased momentum to give him the lift he needed in his nose. The fighter bounced slightly as the repulsor cushion beneath it caught the rock face, and before he knew it, he was through the loop and racing down the other side of the mountain, and towards the very final stretch.
What lay before him next was a slalom course of harsh rock faces, deep shadow, tight turns. He threw himself into them with all his skill and fervour, cutting tight lines, whirling his fighter's wings around, dipping his nose through the rings and beacon gates. At one point, the sunlight blazed suddenly from around a turn, threatening to blind him, but he allowed his auto-tint to do its job once more and let the Force guide him through his momentary blindness through the next ring, twenty meters below his flight path.
And then, a tone from Dirty signalled that he had passed the last marker, that the course was complete. He breathed out, dialled his throttle right down to a quarter, and swung himself around for a view on the course's end. If Alexis had flown the course as well as he hoped she had, he should be waiting less than a minute for her to arrive.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 18, 2013 15:37:03 GMT -8
The caverns proved the toughest flight she had ever flown. The tight turns, the squeezes, the darkness that her running lights barely cast aside, all of it tested her, challenged her. When she had reached the waterfall - although, in temperatures as low as they were on this moon, she doubted it was actually water - she had had to let her navigational computer guide her, show her the route - it'd worked, however, and she'd found the hidden river. She wondered if Dav had had to do the same, or if he had done something else? Some Force ability which had worked faster than slowing down and running a nav-scan?
Now, as she whipped her X-Wing through an upward directed, spiralling tunnel, she could see from the Nav-computer that the tunnels were almost at an end.
She could also sense him. On the edge of her perception, just beyond the reach of clear-seeing, she could feel his presence, waiting... she thought there was an anxiousness there, but she couldn't be sure. Focusing to find out would distract her for her flying, and that was the last thing she needed.
Alexis straightened her X-Wing out, and was greeted with daylight at the end of the tunnel. She exhaled, suddenly realising that for a little while there, she had been holding her breath. There couldn't be much more to the course, right?
For all I know, Dav could have another challenge planned for me. A wing of Bes'uliik, perhaps. Or a Star Destroyer. Or thirty gallons of Jago's Ale to drink.
Ok, those three were unlikely, but she knew Dav wanted to push her hard, wanted to make sure she was ready for virtually anything. There could be a test yet to face.
Or this could actually be it.
She decided it was best not to try and predict the actions of her Master. She'd heard Master Sor say that not expecting something from Dav Man'Sell was dangerous. Some had paid a hard price for thinking they knew what he would or wouldn't do. He excelled in the unpredictable and the unorthodox, so they said.
Whether that was true or not, she was realising that sometimes his mind worked at such astonishing pace, and with such flexibility and dexterity, that it made her head spin.
=Alexis Karidian=
"Well, let's see what he has in store for me here."
Her sleek X-Wing bombed out of the tunnel at breathtaking speed, and she found herself wincing away from the sudden glare of sunlight as it tinted her canopy and her visor. She cursed as she realised she couldn't see the next beacons. Her eyes fell to her navigational display, away from the glare - there was a ring to starboard, but she was going to overshoot it, and, in all likelihood, get knocked for a spin by the repulsor field.
She wasn't about to let that happen.
She pulled up hard, the tightest upward-turn she could get out of the fighter, feeling her head tingle and her chest compress as g-force pushed all the blood from her brain. Her left hand slammed the throttle to zero, and though she continued her upward momentum, it was quickly failing her as gravity overcame her dwindling inertia.
Her fighter's movement stalled in mid-air for a moment, and that was her time. Planting her foot on the rudder pedal and throwing her flight stick over until it pressed against her thigh, she guided her nose to the right. Gravity's hold finally begun to take effect, and her fighter dropped, tail first, but swinging to the right hand side -- and there! The ring she'd nearly missed, straight ahead of her. She gunned the engines, throttle right up again, snap rolling through an inversion, as she whipped through the ring and back on course. Her fighter needed a reasonably tight upward motion to meet the next ring, but the two following it were gentle curves down into the mountain range before her.
Rings and beacons whipped past her, and before she knew it, she was following a series of rings up the side of a mountain. She cleared the peak, the next target not readily visible to her at first, but whipping her head around, she spotted it tucked in the mountain's rear-face. She gained a little distance from the rings, and then pulled a tight downward half-spiral that put her back on course for the mountain top. Dipping her nose as she past it, she just about managed to drop in to the ring, and back onto the course.
Left - right - right - left - right again. Down. Up. Beacons and rings passed her by at such speed, and with such frequency, it took all her skill to make them all. But make them all she did, even when a tight turn around a rocky wall had tried to blind her again with a course straight in to the sun's rays.
Ahead of her, she could make out Dav's X-Wing, hovering a thousand meters to her starboard side. And his nose pointed at a particular ring - the last one of the course. It was one turn away.
She grit her teeth. She'd done everything she could, as she rounded that turn and lined up for the home straight. Now, it was out of her hands - she hoped she'd done enough...
~~~~~
Dav watched her X-Wing clear the final marker, and instantly, his eye fell to the box on the HHUD display which showed her time, transmitted by her Astromech droid. He blinked, and looked at the time again. And then for a third time.
"Huh."
~~~~~
Her X-Wing swept around slowly to face his, and gradually, she dialed her velocity down to zero, letting her repulsor engines hold her in place a sixty meters from his fighter. Suddenly, she was anxious. Very, very anxious. Had she done a good enough job?
For what felt like an age, but was actually only twenty seconds, she waited in silence, only the sound of her own fusion engines keeping her breathing, and the beating of her pulse in her ears, company. Finally, the comm crackled to life.
Alexis, plot a course back to the Praxeum. I'll meet you in the Hangar.
~~~~~
The two X-Wings swept up and away from Yavin Seventeen, their course for Yavin Four direct and as quick as their fusial thrust engines could manage. Soon, they were passing through the atmosphere's upper layers, and then, dipping into the clouds, lost to the sight of anyone watching from orbit.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 24, 2013 15:10:16 GMT -8
 The Mandalorians have brought war to the Galaxy once more. Under the leadership of Mand'alor ASHRAH INTALBO, and his General CORR VHETT, they have begun a campaign against the Galaxy's Force Users. The Jedi World of Yavin IV was the first hit, a strike at one of the greatest Jedi strongholds. The Mandalorians took YAVIN STATION, the mighty orbital defence platform, thanks to a brilliant infiltration strategy by DUKE AUSTRALIS, and under the order of Jedi Master DAV MAN'SELL, the Jedi forces retreated from orbit. With the Jedi fleets scattered, the Mandalorians took their attack to the surface.
However, the Jedi defences were not so easily overcome. With starfighter cover lead by Jedi Master JAGO PULASTRA, and ground defences overseen by Jedi Knight ADI MATANGO and Falleen strategist TZA'UAX, the Jedi were able to force the Mandalorians to withdraw to orbit. However, the defence is not without sacrifice - redeemed former Dark Sider DACE CONCORDIA, at the beginning of his path to reclaim the mantle of Jedi, was slain by the Mand'alor in bloody, vicious combat.
Now the Mandalorians are settling in for a long siege on the Praxeum, blockading the planet and seeking constantly to take out the shield generator and ion cannons that form the backbone of the Praxeum's defence. Dav, Jago, and the other resident Jedi of Yavin lead the hard fought and desperate defence, whilst Adi, working with Master WILL SON'TIR and Jedi Knight DIAMONTE TUHLUTE, and the Jedi Watchmen, seeks to prepare the Jedi, and the worlds of the Republic, for the inevitable assault to come.... =================== When the Mandalorians came, they did not come meekly. Mand'alor Ashrah Intalbo had his sights set on war, the ultimate holy war, against all Force Users. It was the campaign he had reached for his entire life, the campaign he had been bred for, and at long last, as Mand'alor, with the might of the entire Mandalorian people behind him, he had the means at his disposal to erase from the Galaxy, at last, those that wielded the power of the Force.
The first world they hit was Yavin IV.
The small moon had been a home of the Jedi for decades, and stood as a testament to their resiliance, their treachery, their ability to persist even after their supposed extinction. The Jedi Praxeum was a great and powerful stronghold, a challenging target that could very well prove insurmountable if given a chance to strengthen itself. If left unchecked, it could prove their undoing, as the Jedi of Yavin IV were perfectly placed to strike at the heart of their holdings, Mandalore itself. So they struck first, their opening salvo, their declaration of war on the Jedi.
Yavin had received only the barest of warnings. Jedi Knight Joshua Kierra-Solo and cyberpunk Jedi Padawan Syla Ulfsdottir managed to send a transmission warning them of the approaching fleets; with just barely an hour, the Jedi readied a hasty defence. The Mandalorian's had timed it well - with numerous substantive parts of the Jedi Peacekeeping Taskforce away on missions, Yavin's defensive power was severely diminished.
The battle opened with the Mandalorians' arrival in orbit of the great gas giant. Jedi Master Dav Man'Sell, a member of the High Council and one of the leading Jedi of Yavin IV, exchanges words with Ashrah Intalbo, the Mand'alor. The words were brief, far from cordial.
The battle was joined, the opening attack an Electromagnetic Pulse detonated by Duke Australis and his crew from inside Yavin Station, the primary defensive platform and the point from which all of Yavin's defences were coordinated. The station fell dark, and the Yavin defence was thrown into disarray as the fleets engaged each other. The Jedi Forces fought hard against the Mandalorians, but with Yavin's defenders outnumbered and suffering the loss of Yavin Station, the Mandalorians quickly gained a slight advantage, which they pressed relentlessly. Before long, the Mandalorians had both boarded Yavin Station and put boots on the ground on Yavin IV, managing to get a few dropships past the defending fighter squadrons and into the rainforest outside of the Praxeum's shield perimeter. In orbit, losses begun to mount on both sides, but the Jedi were suffering more than the Mandalorians, and were eventually forced to pull back and regroup closer to the moon and Yavin Station.
On Yavin Station, the Jedi and the Peacekeeping Taskforce had two goals; repel the Mandalorian boarding parties, and get the station back online. Will Son'tir helped to lead the defence, whilst Dav Man'Sell and Diamonte Tuhlute worked to restore power. Monte managed to get auxiliary power back on line, permitting Dav – after a run in with a member of Duke's crew – to restore access to the central computer, and bring the sensors up. Regrouping in the control centre with Taskforce flag officer Ptrelli Stargazer, Dav realised that the Station couldn't be saved, that the Mandalorians already had too much of a footing and that continuing to try and reclaim the station would only lead to countless deaths. They opted instead for a running retreat, slowing the Mandalorian assault down, defending the control room as a primary objective.
On the surface, the Jedi and their defence forces proved formidable defenders, taking advantage of their knowledge of the terrain to slow the Mandalorian advance significantly. Small skirmishes raged across the rainforest, as the invaders, from their forward command point outside of the Temple of the Blueleaf Cluster, sought to penetrate the ground defence. Within the Praxeum, realising the loss of Yavin Station had led to a loss of co-ordination of the fleets, Chief Marshall Tza'uax sought to aid the orbiting defenders however he could.
The fleets continued to pound upon each other in brutal close-ranged combat, the Jedi forces scrambling desperately to unite their lines against the unrelenting Mandalorian war machine. When all looked lost, Tza'uax's assistance came, in the form of devastatingly effective and coordinated strikes from the two V-150 Ion Cannons on the surface. The Mandalorian fleets were forced to pull back to prevent falling to the two Cannons, dropping out of their range and taking up a holding position there, granting the defenders a much needed respite.
On the station once more, The Mandalorians pushed their assault, leading to a last-line of defence not far from the control room. Dav and Monte managed to create a complicated, multi-layer lockdown of the central computer, an encryption sufficiently advanced to all-but-ensure the Mandalorians would never manage to breach it. They retreated from the control centre, regrouping with Will and the Peacekeeping Taskforce personnel that still fought near the hangars. In one last push, they managed to create a route for the civilians to evacuate. Under the cover of the remaining defending fleets, the civilian ships launched, and the Jedi abandoned Yavin Station. Dav ordered the retreat and regrouping of the remaining fleets, and, with aid from a small force of fresh craft, the Jedi fleets were able to punch their way through the Mandalorian lines and out of the system. A few ships from the Peacekeeping Taskforce sacrificed themselves to ensure that the rest of the evacuating forces escaped.
Dav, Jago, and some of the remaining fighter squadrons, headed down to the planet to attempt to aid the defence of the Praxeum, which had now reached the walls of the Great Temple itself. The shield generator remained undiscovered, the Ion Cannons unassailed, the fighting focused on the Praxeum itself. With the arrival of the fighters, the cover of Yavin's Anti-Aircraft batteries concealed in the rainforest, and the strength of the defence of the Temple itself, the Mandalorians faced a fight that they could not win straight on. They were blood thirsty, brave, and daring, but not stupid. They knew there was no point dying when pulling back and reassessing could enhance their chance of victory.
They made the choice: pull back from the Praxeum and regroup.
The battle ended, both sides bruised and bloodied. In orbit, more Mandalorian forces arrived, setting in to establish a blockade around the moon, their larger ships remaining outside of the firing range of the Ion Cannons. They begun to form a base on the Station, where they hold a few hundred hostages and prisoners of war – from crew members to soldiers to civilians that didn't successfully escape, the Mandalorian occupiers have enough people to ensure that the Praxeum doesn't strike out at the partially-powered station.
On the surface, the Mandalorians set their sights on moving in to the Temple of the Blueleaf Cluster, to make it their base.
The Jedi started to reinforce their defence, looking to take advantage of the terrain, their powers in the Force, the still-standing defences, and the people and Starfighters they have, to the maximum possible effect they can in order to hold off the Mandalorian forces just beyond their shield perimeter.
Yavin IV is under siege.... |
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Corr
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Affiliation: Clan Vhett
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Post by Corr on May 24, 2013 17:04:30 GMT -8
Somewhere outside the orbit of Yavin Station - A day after the initial Mando attack...
The stars twinkled in their velvet tableau, the massive red orb of Yavin Prime centered in display, turning slowly in its stately progression through its orbit around its distant star. Closer to the views origin the small green shape of Yavin IV twinkles softly as it reflects the distant sunlight, its dense jungles an infinite spectrum of greens under the light of the system's sun. Into the scene stabs a grey dagger, savaging the stillness of the shot with its technological terrors. Bristling with weaponry the dagger expands into a wedge, then into a ship, powerful sublight engines flaring brightly as they pass the lookers viewpoint. The ship was soon joined by another of equal size and magnificence, cruising alongside and slightly behind the first. Soon it was joined by more ships of varying sizes, all looking scarred and damaged as they lurked in the system, keeping their distance from the mottled green orb.
Drifting at the very edges of Yavin IV's gravity well, in a direct line with the Praxeum and Yavin Station, the Concord Dawn Victory Fleet licked its wounds. The battle had been short but fierce, both sides savage in their pursuit of victory to the extent that nobody truly knew who the victor had been. While both forces had taken a pounding it was unclear the extend of the losses at this early stage, not where it comes to personnel anyway. So many had attempted to make the run to the moon on the Mandalorian side, doggedly running the gauntlet of Jedi defenders, while so many had attempted to flee the system on the Jedi side, fleeing for the supposed safety of open space, that it had resulted in a massive furball that spread from the upper atmosphere into lower orbit. Civilian shuttles had joined up with commercial freighters as they tried to pick their way through the chaos and escape into hyperspace, dodging past the fiercely dueling fighters and blastboats. Likewise the massive capital ships had sprayed devastating light and ordinance attacks at each other, heedless of the smaller ship that tried to weave their way through the veritable storms of hot light and explosive warheads. The Mandalorian shuttles and freighters had been decimated as they flew into the teeth of the combined Jedi defenses. The Yavin fighters squadrons, led by Jago Pulsatra, had swarmed in a cloud around the attacking Mando ships, tearing them to pieces. Even the ultra-tough Bes'uliik fighters had struggled to hold their own against the Jedi forces. The combined fire of the Jedi, as well as their Force-enhanced reflexes enabling them to co-ordinate with pin-point precision, had been successful in overwhelming the Beskar armour, the relentless pounding making them vulnerable to missile blasts from opportunistic pilots. With so much confusion, the wreckage of countless ships beginning to make Yavin IVs orbit a danger to any approaching ship, it was impossible to tell what assets were still in the field, how many had made it to their intended destinations, or whether certain objectives had been attained. The massive orbital station was still dark, Duke Australis' EMP bomb right at the start of the engagement having the desired effect, and showed no sign of becoming active any time soon. The last report from there was that the systems had been locked out by Jedi Master Dav Man'sell and another Jedi, some kind of encrypted algorithm that constantly shifted making it near-impossible to crack. There were rumours of an expert slicer with some prior knowledge of the Yavin Jedi and their security being employed by the Mandalorians, whether by force or paid to assist only the higher ups in the Mando command could answer.
The Concordian fleet was poised at the halfway mark between the Mandalorian blockade, that was getting into position in a geocentric orbit on the edge of the planet's mass shadow. One of their number still floated near the sprawling orbital complex, lights dimmed, being slowly claimed by Yavin IV's gravity well as the crew raced against time to restore power. Not long after the initial attack two of the Victory Class ships of the Concordian flotilla had sought to secure orbit above the Jedi Academy in order to make the runs by their shuttles and fighters safer. Little did they know the range of the V-150 Defender Anti-orbital Ion Cannons and had fallen prey to the powerful weapons. One of them managed to retain enough power to limp back to safety but had left its twin lolling in space, vulnerable to more attack from the Yavinites who were sure to be intent on seeing an asset denied to their enemies. Along with the Concordian flagship, "Ori'gehaat'ik", cruised a Keldabe-Class Battleship and the one surviving Victory-Class, the sad remains of the Victory Fleet from Concord Dawn. The rest, another Keldabe and two Victory-Class Star Destroyers, had met their demise in an epic contest with the Jedi Star Destroyer, "Brilliant Guardian", that had resulted in all of them being destroyed in a titanic series of explosions that lit up space, taking a host of smaller ships with them. It was a tragedy for both sides as nearly all hands were lost in the intensity of the encounter, though the mighty Jedi ship did succeed in creating a gap for the majority of the Jedi forces to retreat.
Now both sides took a breath, the Jedi fleets fleeing to re-group while the Mandalorians set up shop in what had been, for decades, a Jedi controlled system. In some ways their actions were already a victory, their success in driving the Jedi away from one of their fabled strongholds an impressive feat of the Mando war machine. The blockade would be a means to insure that they have the peace, if you'll excuse the twist, to stomp out this Jedi bastion before turning their attention to targets further core-ward.
The Concordian flotilla was not alone in its injuries. The combined Mando fleets had all suffered in the intense struggle against the Jedi forces several reduced to debris completely. Some, like Clan Vhett, had pulled back to effect repairs and plan a siege while forces on the station and the moon went about readying a beachhead for assaults on the praxeum itself. Even with the ion cannons in place the Mandalorians had managed to land a few shots on the Praxeums shields, mostly from strafing fighters. Enough to know that it was night-impregnable anyway and enough for them to alter their tactics and begin massing for a ground assault. The fleets had pulled back to a safe distance while more assets had arrived to set up the blockade of the planet, the cordon stretching to where the giant red orb boiled in the background. The net tightened as more Mando ships arrived, mine layers deploying to sow their deadly seeds in an attempt to thwart any ships jumping to or from the planet. The Mando's dug in with all the efficiency of those bred for war, getting ready for the long haul of a protracted siege that would change all involved and would leave its mark on the history of this galaxy....
On board the Concordian flagship, "Ori'gehaat'ik"...
Corr stood in the hangar bay with his massive arms folded across his equally massive chest. A big man anyway, his archaic armour, carved with sigils and runes unlike the usual Mando styling, bulked him significantly, making him look like some giant iron titan of epic proportions. The gothic armour was adorned by talismans and strange beads that would have been more at home adorning a Ryn mystics headdress rather than a warriors armour, especially an apparent civilised one. Then again, could one really call a hick Mando from Concord Dawn civilised...
His visored gaze was locked on one thing you would not expect to see on a Mandalorian ships hangar deck...
A Jedi X-Wing.
Can you bypass the security the droid has enabled or not, ad'ika?
His voice growled out of his helmets comm, the usual flat snarl that sounded almost too guttural to be a human voice. His head turned to look at the only other person in this part of the bay, a slight girl compared to the towering form of Corr Vhett. Her hair was a riot of colours, one side red while the other alternated between blue and green stripes. A slicer with a hidden background she had been shanghaied into service by Maraak, Corr's agent, on Algara II to investigate some of the Xan government and had proven to be extremely adept at the electronic arts. How she had ended up on the Concordian fleet nobody seemed to know but after professing some knowledge of the Jedi and their security systems to a few of the vode in the mess hall Corr had sent for her, intended for her to attack the problem of Yavin Station. Despite her somewhat shrill protests she had finally, and grudgingly, agreed to help though Corr got the impression she would jump ship as soon as the opportunity arose. He grunted to himself in Mando'a, calmly stating that she would earn a blaster bolt in the back for such an action...
They were both looking not at the fighter itself but at the droid ensconced in its socket behind the canopy, its photoceptors looking right back at them. The droid had thwarted every attempt they had made to access the StealthX to the point where they couldn't even get close to it now. The men at Algara II had somehow managed to get a restraining bolt on the astromech but not before the pest had locked out all the X-Wings systems and rigged some rather nasty countermeasures that had resulted in two men in the medbay with severe electrical burns.
The khi chakaar seems to have a talent for mischief...
The droid bleated a scornful note at this, prompting a smile from Corr that was thankfully hidden behind his helm. After all, he had a reputation...
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Post by Eliana Shan on May 28, 2013 11:22:13 GMT -8
*Alena looked back over her shoulder at the towering figure of Corr Vhett, arching an eyebrow. She wasn't exactly short, but the Mandalorian's height put him over a foot taller than her; normally, no one could see her gaze through the orange strip visor that covered her eyes, but this man had that advantage over her already. She had no extra knowledge over Corr, though. Sure, she had heard the rumours: that the Core Worlds were named for him, that he knew the Unknown Regions as simply "the Regions", that he didn't wear a buy'ce because that was his face -- one that her visor seemed incapable of disproving, to her shock. But she knew that those were just rumours; no one ever gained her respect without earning it firsthand.*
"Of course I can bypass the shabla security. Otherwise, you wouldn't have me here, would you?"
*She rolled her eyes and walked forward, towards the X-Wing, fully aware of the black-and-white astromech's renewed and intense focus on her. She knew that he was fighting the restraining bolt as best as he could, and she smiled at that. Droids developed personalities after too long without a memory wipe, and that personality was always unique. It reminded her of her old creations, designed to start with unique personalities determined by her own mood at the time the imprint was taken, branching out to find their own way after they started to interact with the people she had assigned them to seek out. It was a new take on an old method; they could wipe themselves at any time, but they were designed to be alive, and as much as they might want to forget some things they could do, they would always find themselves realizing that their experiences defined who they were.*
"And of course he's going to cause some mischief. He's fighting for his friends, more than I can say for some of the other shuk'yc beksar'ade I've had to repair or get past before, and definitely more than I can say for most people I've met, too." *She turned around, locking her eyes -- half-hidden behind the visor -- on the T-shaped visor that either shielded his eyes or -- if the rumours were in any way true -- was his eyes.* "Were you in his place, can you honestly say you wouldn't do the same?"
*She didn't stop walking backwards towards the fighter, stopping when the proximity sensor in her visor indicated that she was within arm's reach of the X-Wing. With one final smile towards the Mandalorian general, she whirled on the heel of her boot, planted her palms firmly on the fighter's S-foil, and lifted herself up onto it, crouching down to face the R7 unit.*
"Now then. As much as I respect and understand your efforts, I have to get past your security blocks." *She reached up and placed her left hand upon the astromech, aware of the fact that he would not be happy about the touch, until he realized that she was tapping out Blink Code on his dome, out of sight of the Mandalorians..*
I have friends down there too.
*She smiled at the droid, then pulled her hand away and pressed a finger to the side of her visor, initiating a scan of the fighter.*
"Alright, beskar'ad, or whatever your name is... What have you done to her?"
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Corr
Member
You can lead a fool to knowledge but you can't make him think.
Posts: 940
Affiliation: Clan Vhett
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Corr on May 28, 2013 15:15:17 GMT -8
A low growl escaped Corr's helmet at the girls petulant answer. She sounded far to much like Sidara for his liking. Moody, abrasive, derisive... Time of the month perhaps... Ah, who was he kidding? For Mando women it was ALWAYS the time of the month. It didn't matter to them because Mando women didn't bleed, or when they did it was molten Beskar. Or toxic hypermatter in some of his ex's cases, he thought ruefully. He tracked the woman from behind the azure glare of his visor, or eyes if you prefer the rumours, stepping forward a couple of paces in her wake. What was her name again? Elaine, was it? Or maybe Alan... No. That's a blokes name. Fuck it. He'd call her Al!
Vaabir nu jurkadir sha, cyar'ika...
His voice was dangerous as he cautioned her not to fool around in any way, letting it be known that her smart-ass remarks would not be tolerated in this setting. His helm tilted to one side as he watched her reach the Jedi fighter, stopping to pull herself up on the wing and talk to the droid. Clasping his hands behind his back and turning ninety degrees to the ship and Alena he began to pace, his voice ringing out of his buy'ce, and ignoring the fact that she was otherwise engaged. After all... when Corr Vhett spoke, everyone heard.
Ibac beskar'ad -bal- te can'gal... Ibac'ner!
He disengaged his right hand from its twin at the small of his back and thumped it against his chest plate to accentuate his words, righteous zeal in his voice unmistakable despite the comm distortion that turned it into a flat growl. Oh wait! I jst had a thought... Perhaps that actually -is- his voice...
Vercopa ibac tenn de ad'eta-olan ra bic... Rangir! Ibic shuk me bal liser be naastare. Te beskar'ad balyc. Di'kutla sakagal!
He trailed off as an uneasy feeling came over him, chilling his soul with the nebulous assertions that something was amiss. He swung around, knowing the gut feeling for what it was, and fixed his stare on Alena. His buy'ce HUD showed no alert so it wasn't a threat that had alarmed him and the spike of mischief seemed local, indicating there were shenanegans afoot. She was crouched in the same position as before, muttering sweet nothings to the stupid droid. As quickly as it came the feeling went though Corr was now alert, stomping over to where she worked, drawing a fearful howl from the droid.
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Post by Brightsky (DasGeneral) on May 28, 2013 16:06:07 GMT -8
David Brightsky
Ships in fleet:
1X Thranta-Class Corvette (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Thranta-class_Republic_Corvette)
1X Dynamic-Class Freighter (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Dynamic-class_freighter) [Note: Dynamic-Class is currently docked in Right-hand Fighter Bay of Thranta-Class Corvette.]
Green lights blinked as David Brightsky threw the toggle switches on the engineering console.
“Hypermatter reaction, green. Ion engines, green. Nav Computer…huh, that’s odd.”
Brightsky checked the readouts again. The navigational computer was showing a secondary computer memory failure.
“Three thousand years of drifting in space, you can’t expect everything on it to work properly.”
Brightsky quickly entered commands into the ancient computer system, rerouting navigational access via a backup navigational system.
“Hey D4, make sure that navigational computer successfully transferred to backup nav systems,” Brightsky politely asked the utility droid.
“Beep, whoop beep beep bo,” D4 responded.
“Alright, let’s do the final rundown. Navigational Computer, showing green readout.”
“Whoop beep,” responded D4.
“Ion engines, green.
“Beep”
“Defensive systems: Showing red readouts for bow turbolaser cannons, laser turrets two, four, seven, eleven, fifteen, and nineteen showing red for firing but green for tracking, remaining laser turrets showing green for firing and tracking. Concussion missile launchers showing green for firing, two torpedoes in the tubes remaining stocks depleted.”
“Beep, beep boop, whoop beep,” D4 responded.
“I know, it’s not promising if we run into any trouble, but we’ve got to take the risk,” replied Brightsky.
“Fighter Bays: Right-side fighter bay showing negative on launch capability due to large freighter in launch bay, left-side fighter bay showing negative on launch capability due to jammed launch doors.”
“Beep whoop,” said D4.
“I know, I know, I’m getting to that. Upper and lower cargo bays showing positive pressure, no atmospheric leakage, good job D4,” Brightsky said.
“Beep beep whoop,” D4 said with what Brightsky believed to be a bit of arrogance.
“Final checks completed. We are locked in for a jump to the Adumar System. D4, please prepare a short message to the port authorities informing them that we would like to dock with the lower-orbit dry dock for repair and rearmament, all costs to be borne by pilot David Brightsky, citizen of Cartann City, account Alpha 2-7-8-9-9-0-4-2-9-8 at Cartann City Bank.”
“Beep.”
“In three…two…one…engage…”
With that, Brightsky pulled the lever to engage the ancient but functional hyperdrive. The stars stretched into white streaks, the ship hanging momentarily on the edge of space/hyperspace, then jumping into hyperspace entirely.
The moment that they entered hyperspace, Brightsky knew that something was wrong.
“Whoah, D4 we’re showing red on the nav computers, I thought you said the memory was successfully shunted into the backup system,” Brightsky said in a panicked voice.
“Beep beep, whoop whoop beep,” D4 replied almost histrionically.
“Calm down D4 and tell me what we’re seeing,” Brightsky said in a more calm tone of voice.
The engineering computer display split in half, half showing D4’s analysis of the problems with the other half still reading off the current status of systems.
“Alright, so we’ve got a negative on nav computer, but the nav system is still tracking. D4 see if we can lock onto any system in the nav banks and bring us to there, at the very least if we can limp into a system we can hopefully get someone to come out and help us to repair this, or at the very least strip the nav data banks from the Star’s End and install them in the corvette for the time being,” Brightsky explained. He knew that there was a fair chance they’d end up somewhere with fighting, out in the Eastern arm of the Outer Rim, the fighting was nearly endemic. He’d been out in uncharted space for a few months, so he was not sure where the recent fighting would have been. He’d have to take a chance.
“D4, I’ve got one system that is still showing green in the nav computer, and that’s Yavin IV. Looks like we’re going to have to pay the Jedi Praxeum a visit,” Brightsky declared.
“Dropping out of hyperspace in three…two...Sith! D4 we're getting pulled out of hyperspace!”
Stars streaked white and compacted back into their normal shape as the Thranta-Class corvette was wrenched out of hyperspace and thrown back into normal space. The moment that the ship did, alarm klaxons began blaring across the bridge.
“Sith, Sith, Sith! D4 we’ve got a problem! I’m reading multiple unknown ships in orbit of Yavin IV, these ancient systems don’t recognize them, but the hull readout looks like a fleet of Mandalorian attack ships blockading the planet. I’m reading wreckage in orbit, many of the blockading Mandalorian ships are damaged but operational, and no sign of Jedi forces in orbit,” yelled Brightsky.
Brightsky ran over to the defense station, nearly tripping over a pile of conduits ripped out of the bridge pit and piled on a small ledge to get there.
“Activating defensive shields, bringing all laser turrets online for defensive fire, D4 I want you to activate the Star’s End in case we can’t make a run for it. Things are about to get really dicey for us very fast,” said Brightsky.
The ancient corvette slowed its approach to Yavin IV. As they approached the Mandalorian blockade and Yavin Station, Brightsky was sure that there was no way they could get away without anyone noticing. He could only hope that the Mandalorians were in the mood for negotiating…
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Ander Tagira
Member
Well, I'll be...
Posts: 567
Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Ander Tagira on May 28, 2013 19:06:53 GMT -8
In silence, the great coalition fleets of the Mandalorian clans hung in orbit around the satellite moon of Yavin 4.
The once great stronghold of the Jedi Praxeum, and nerve-center of the mighty Jedi Peacekeeping Taskforce, now locked into a vice-grip by the strength of the Mandalorian Empire. Their fleet has been scattered, their forces have been routed. After only days of conflict, the Mandalorian war machine has forced their adversaries into retreat beneath the heavily shielded Grand Temple. No help is coming for them.
The clans are pressing forward.
The siege has begun.
There were many in the galaxy who knew the Jedi of Yavin 4 were under duress. Though there were many more who did not. David Brightsky was one of the latter, a man brought into the Yavin 4 by naught but a combination of bad luck and a well placed gravity well mine. His vessel was jerked violently from the realm of hyperspace, forced to revert and fall into the hands of the Mandalorian fleets, or risk his ship's utter destruction.
However, it was not one of the Mandalorian clans that picked up the entrance of Brightsky's vessel from hyperspace...
It was instead an Imperial-II class Star Destroyer broadcasting as the Basterd's Hand, and flying under the banner of the Galactic Security Assistance Force. One of three sister-ships, the Basterd's Hand was assigned with maintaining the security of the Yavin 4 blockade, as were the majority of the Mandalorian battleships. While GALSAF landing craft funneled personnel and supplies to the moon's surface, dodging the fierce and relentless air support assets of the remaining Jedi forces, the backbone of the GALSAF fleet held their orbit.
Because in this blockade, no one ever enters...
And no one ever leaves...
On board the Basterd's Hand
Captain Tessok Yalara narrowed her eyes at the forward viewscreen. Through all the debris and destruction left in the wake of the Mandalorian attack over Yavin IV, a corvette of some sort had been pulled from hyperspace just moments before, and the sensory station officer had brought it up on screen at Yalara's request. The vessel was old, that much was apparent from the images they were pulling. Unfortunately the vessel was coming in on the night-side of the planet, and both Yavin Prime and the system's sun were on the opposite orbit. This prevented enough light from refracting off the ship and giving Yalara a decent view of its condition. When she checked, the vessel was not broadcasting any sort of transponder code or name. No registration, no distress signal...the ship merely kept limping along like the runt of a litter of bantha that had been left behind.
Tessok adjusted her tunic, flattening the fabric that had rumpled over her breasts. The uniform itself was annoying enough, whatever Tagira had had in mind when...well, for the moment, Tessok assumed syphilis is what he'd had in his mind when he decided on such scratchy uniforms for bridge crews. Crossing one leg over the other, Yalara leaned back against her seat and keyed for open communications. As long as the vessel had a functioning communications array, the crew would hear her.
Unidentified Vessel, this is Captain Tessok Yalara of the GALSAF Star Destroyer, Basterd's Hand. You have been pulled into realspace by a gravity well mine and you will not be released until our dealings with this planet and its inhabitants have been concluded. Little did their crew know what the Mandalorians had in store for the Jedi of Yavin 4. Tagira and Staton better know what they're getting us into, Tessok thought briefly, before clearing her throat and keying the communications panel once again.
You are ordered to bring your engines to cruising speed, power down your weapons and hold position on this vessel's lower port side upon reaching two thousand meters distance from it. At that point you will power down your vessel's engines and await guidance into our docking bays by tractor proxy. Failure to comply will result in destruction. Acknowledge, Unidentified Vessel.
Tessok glanced over at the Battle Coordination team. "Scramble an escort of X-wings to intercept at twenty-thousand meters. If that ship so much as coughs, destroy it." The coordination officer nodded his acknowledgement and turned to his console. Tessok Yalara grimaced slightly and watched as a squadron of XJ7 X-wing starfighters lanced away from the Basterd's Hand to intercept the unidentified vessel. While awaiting the ship's response, Yalara ran a hand through locks of long auburn hair, thinking on GALSAF's purpose in the Yavin system.
Fight in the holy war, they said.
It will be fun, they said.
Little did most proponents of war know, it's a terrible thing to wage for a good reason, let alone a crappy one. Killing Jedi just because they're Jedi...Tessok shook her head. Eye for an eye was all fine and dandy, but you don't take the other person's eye until they take yours. If everyone in the galaxy went about taking each other's eyes well...we all live blind then, don't we? Tessok sighed out loud. Her commission with GALSAF was a dream come true, working with such military leaders as Jethroe Staton and Crass Traven was something any decent soldier could enjoy. It helped that GALSAF stuck true to the tenets of its charter...until now. Yalara frowned. Tagira had spoken true enough when he said the galaxy was left to rot in the wake of wars waged between Jedi and Sith. But like any race, specie, or culture, there were good batches and bad.
The Mandalorians had yet only taken prisoner's of war, and the only slain were combatants for the most part, but something dark lurked just beyond the periphery of Tessok's vision. Something kept nagging at the back of her mind like an unsatisfied lover, crying for attention. In the end, Captain Tessok Yalara suspected one thing.
The Mandalorians would slaughter them all.
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Post by Brightsky (DasGeneral) on May 28, 2013 19:44:49 GMT -8
Alarm klaxons blared from almost every station on the ancient corvette's bridge. "No, no D4, I said reroute auxiliary power back into shields and weapons systems, not into engines!' David Brightsky yelled over the sound of blaring alarm klaxons. The obedient utility droid managed a forced, "Beep whoop" in response to its owner's barked orders. The two beings shuttled from station to station, trying desperately to head off one disaster after the other. The old corvette was seemingly held together at that moment by little more than power couplings and the happy thoughts of its current crew compliment of one human and one small utility droid. The gravity well had done considerable, but not life threatening, damage to the old corvette. The lower cargo bay had again been depressurized and Brightsky and D4 worked to keep the atmospheric venting limited only to the lower cargo hold and nowhere else. Suddenly, the speakers on the bridge crackled to life for the first time in three thousand years. "Unidentified Vessel, this is Captain Tessok Yalara of the GALSAF Star Destroyer, Basterd's Hand. You have been pulled into realspace by a gravity well mine and you will not be released until our dealings with this planet and its inhabitants have been concluded."
Brightsky and D4 stopped their work immediately at the sound of that announcement. "Uh oh, D4 what have we stumbled into?" Brightsky asked his droid. Both were startled by the second announcement as well. "You are ordered to bring your engines to cruising speed, power down your weapons and hold position on this vessel's lower port side upon reaching two thousand meters distance from it. At that point you will power down your vessel's engines and await guidance into our docking bays by tractor proxy. Failure to comply will result in destruction. Acknowledge, Unidentified Vessel."The little utility droid responded to her demands with a pathetically downward toned, "Whoop." The two companions stood motionless for a moment before Brightsky ran over to the tactical screen. "Sithspawn D4, that's a bloody Imperial Class Star Destroyer!" Brightsky announced to the increasingly frightened little droid. The tactical readout began to change again, this time showing a flight of X-Wing fighters leaving the vessel and flying in his general direction.  "Alright D4, let's give the nice lady what she wants." Brightsky said, defeated in tone and spirit. He walked over to the communications panel and toggled the "Intership Communication" switch: "Captain Tessok Yalara of the GALSAF Star Destroyer Basterd's Hand, my name is David Brightsky. I am a freighter captain out of Adumar. I apologize for not setting up a transponder before entering the system. I had a hyperdrive navigational error that brought me to Yavin IV. This is an ancient Old Republic Thranta-Class Corvette that I discovered while on my job and I've spent the past several months attempting to salvage it. I was on my way back to Adumar when my hyperdrive nav computer failed and my utility droid, T3-D4 and I were forced to divert to this system. My freighter, the Star's End is currently docked in the fighter bay, I will have my droid go to the fighter bay and turn on the transponder," said Brightsky, hoping beyond hope that his unassuming and apologetic tone would perhaps soften the captain's otherwise harsh rhetoric. "I would be happy to come alongside your ship and allow your crew to inspect this vessel. In all honesty, I was hoping to find someone who could render assistance before I was so unceremoniously yanked out of hyperspace. I have had several small systems failures, including the hyperdrive nav system and a number of other secondary systems that have failed on me and I would be most appreciative for any technical assistance you could lend. I will bring my engines to cruising speed and await your confirmation," Brightsky said. He walked over to the defensive station and promptly deactivated weapons and shields. He hoped that a conciliatory gesture would save his skin this time. Brightsky knew that angering a Mandalorian or anyone who worked for the Mandalorians was a one-way ticket to a quick death. "D4, bring us up to cruising speed and take us to two-thousand meters off their lower port-side, and see if you can't activate the Star's End's transponder from here. The last thing we need is for a bunch of Mandalorian employees to get itchy trigger fingers," he said. With that, Brightsky and D4 went to work hoping that whatever was waiting for them on board that Star Destroyer, they would at least get out of this alive. |
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Ander Tagira
Member
Well, I'll be...
Posts: 567
Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Ander Tagira on May 29, 2013 0:38:40 GMT -8
Tessok Yalara waited for the respondent to finish his long-winded tale, then keyed the communit installed in the command chair. "Thank you for the life story, now kindly hurry up and comply or I'll have you blown back to the Jedi Civil War." With that, Yalara cut the transmission, then pushed herself up from the seat and made her way to the bridge lift. She caught the attention of the Falleen male who served as her First Mate -- well, technically her third mate, depending on the task -- and jerked her thumb to the bridge console. "She's all yours, Heffest'us," Yalara quipped, then keyed open the lift doors and stepped inside. She signaled for her quarters, leaning back against the lift wall as the floor shifted beneath her.
In the handful of days since the initial push into the system, countless Yavinite lives had been lost. While Mandalorian casualties numbered rather high, they were lower than Yalara expected. GALSAF had suffered minimal casualties, despite the damage their Venator-class Star Destroyer Flatterer had taken. The nose of the ship had been nearly gutted by the massive quad cannons boasted by the Anakin-class Star Destroyer that had led the Jedi fleet against them. Though Staton had proved capable enough to salvage his portion of the battle. Not soon after that, the battle disintegrated into myriad different skirmishes and squabbles while their forces on Yavin Station attempted to wrest control of it from the Jedi.
Now all that was left was occupation, internment and...genocide. Tessok ran a hand over her face, then lightly smacked her own cheek in an effort to wake herself up. Serving as captain of the Basterd's Hand came with a tiring amount of responsibility and she could never imagine how exhausted Admiral Staton felt at the end of a day."And that bastard's old..." Yalara muttered to herself, stepping toward the lift doors as the vessel slowed to a halt. The doors opened with a hiss and Tessok made her way quickly to the small bedroom, containing little more than a cot and a desk and chair, for note taking and communications, if needed. Dropping onto the bed with a sigh, the Chiss captain stripped as quickly as she could and climbed beneath her blankets, falling into an awkward sleep cycle almost instantly.On the primary hangar deck of the Basterd's HandDesk Sergent Dermot Mulroney waved a gloved hand to the tractor station on the upper deck of the hangar bay. One of the two technicians sitting at the tractor console looked up at him; Dermot flashed his red beam to signal the bay section he was standing in. The technician nodded, then went to work at his console, manipulating the tractor beams for the primary bay to pull in the ancient and beaten Thranta-class corvette that had been yanked into the system no more than ten minutes before. Sergent Mulroney continued flashing his red beam and stepping back from the marker lines of his bay section as the large vessel floated further into the bay before dropping toward the deck surface.
Dermot felt a slight shudder run through the deck plating as the vessel dropped smoothly onto its likely final resting place, a squad of commandos from First Battalion arrayed outside the ship's primary airlock, their weapons at the ready. All were garbed in the customary Katarn commando armor with GALSAF marking each shoulder plate. The squad's leader stepped up to the airlock and slammed an armored fist against the hull, speaking aloud using his helmet's vocoder.Open up in there! Key the airlock and step out, unarmed, with your arms held outright, palms open and facing up.
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Post by Brightsky (DasGeneral) on May 29, 2013 9:25:11 GMT -8
"Thank you for the life story, now kindly hurry up and comply or I'll have you blown back to the Jedi Civil War."
The transmission was cut off after that. David Brightsky and his trusty sidekick, the utility droid T3-D4 stood silently in the bridge observing the approach of the X-Wing fighters dispatched to escort his corvette into the waiting arms of the Star Destroyer Basterd's Hand. It seemed that the Mandos were not screwing around this time, Brightsky thought to himself.
"D4, have you gotten that transponder onboard the Star's End working yet?" Brightsky asked.
"Beep, boop beep boop," replied D4, the unmistakable sound of defeat coming from the small droid.
"Hey now D4, we've been through worse than this. Remember that time with the Hutt pirates out past Nar Shaddaa?" Brightsky asked in an upbeat tone of voice.
"Beep, whoop beep," replied D4.
"Yeah, I know that time we were in a freighter with functional engines but still, I doubt they'd go to all this trouble just to throw us out of the nearest airlock, especially since I'm a freighter pilot. I know for a fact that these Mandalorians like to work with freighter pilots and smugglers all the time out here. They're way beyond their lines of support at Yavin IV, and the Jedi fleets will likely have been notified by now of the attack on Yavin, so all we need to do now is keep our heads about us and wait it out," Brightsky explained to the weary and frightened droid.
Brightsky walked over to the command station and flipped a few toggle switches, bringing up a security readout of the ship.
"Alright, as far as I can tell, none of the old security systems have been activated, so we can invite them to board the ship and verify our story. D4, make sure that the security systems on the Star's End are deactivated," said Brightsky.
Brightsky knew that they were lucky this time. He'd heard some things about the GALSAF now and again from traders, none of it was particularly horrifying but he knew that they were little more than glorified mercenaries, although from what he understood they had a reputation for helping innocents. So they're altruistic mercenaries, Brightsky thought to himself as he watched the star destroyer loom large in the main windows.
"C'mon D4, let's get down to the main airlock hatches before we're docked. And remember, no funny business. That means don't go pulling out your little taser and zapping the first storm trooper that tries to shove you along, they'd be likely not to take that kindly," Brightsky said to the droid.
"Beep, whoop beep boop!" D4 exclaimed.
"Don't go expecting me to pull your bantha fat out of the fire when you try to electrocute a storm trooper and they decide to play a game of disassemble the droid with blasters," Brightsky said to the droid, which responded with a short and annoyed "Boop."
The two beings walked out of the bridge, and down the old corridors towards the air lock. He knew that it was a 50/50 chance he was taking not running here. The corvette could have made a quick jump to another system, but the odds would not have been in their favor to make a third after that. The engines were taxed, the nav computer barely functional, and the weapons systems all but non-functional. Had he been in the Star's End, they would have high tailed it out of this system the moment they saw the ISD on the scanners. But in this ship, this old bucket of power conduits and frayed wiring, he saw real potential. If I can play my cards right, Brightsky thought to himself, maybe I can get the GALSAF to see the usefulness of a ship like this running supplies for their blockade.
A hard "Thud" echoed throughout the ship as the ancient corvette came to a rest on the cavernous, polished floor of a GALSAF operated star destroyer. A banging soon reverberated through the airlock.
"Open up in there! Key the airlock and step out, unarmed, with your arms held outright, palms open and facing up."
Brightsky quickly threw his equally ancient blaster pistol on the floor, pressed the "Cycle Airlock" button, and held his arms out. As the airlock completed cycling, a platoon of Storm Troopers stood at the airlock, waiting for him to step out.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Brightsky muttered to himself and the droid as they both stepped out onto the deck of the star destroyer.
Thinking quickly, he managed to get out the words, "I'd like a word with your captain please," before being unceremoniously shoved by the nearest trooper towards a set of doors at the far end of the hanger.
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Ander Tagira
Member
Well, I'll be...
Posts: 567
Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Ander Tagira on May 29, 2013 12:08:45 GMT -8
Sergent Mulroney dropped his rifle, leaving it to hang from its clip on his chest plate, then reached forward and unceremoniously yanked David Brightsky from the airlock doorway. He pushed the man forward and tripped him with a foot, putting him face first into the cold deck plating below, the muzzle of a Verpine assault rifle pressed between his shoulder blades. Mulroney slid his free hand beneath the man's collar, then patted down his arms and back, swiped his waistline and between his thighs, and then patted down Brightsky's legs. Mag-shackles were slapped onto Brightsky's wrists and then he was rolled onto his back, his front side patted down as well, securing any and all belongings. Mulroney stepped back, his rifle now angled at the pilot's chest, and nodded to another of the commandos, who pulled David up onto his feet and held him by one arm. Sergent Mulroney stepped in front of the man and let his rifle hang from its clip once more, then spoke to the pilot through his helmet's vocoder.My name is Sergent Dermot Mulroney, of Able Company, First Battalion, First Infantry Brigade Commando Team. You are in the Yavin system, which is currently under embargo by coalition Mandalorian clan forces. No unauthorized entry in or out of the system is permitted. You will meet with this vessel's captain at her convenience. Until then, you will be held in custody. Do you understand?David wasn't even given a chance to answer before being dragged off across the hangar bay and into the nearest lift. His droid was likewise carted off somewhere, to be fitted with a restraining bolt and held under guard. The two soldiers guarding him kept their hands locked tight on each of his arms as they entered the lift and keyed for the Detention Level. Both soldiers were covered from head to toe in Katarn-class commando armor, painted a motley of spotted greys, greens, reds and browns. Their sidearms, dangerous looking Verpine shatterguns, were holstered at the hip; their rifles hung from their chest plate much as Sergent Mulroney's had, and they're hands rarely left the grips.
As the lift slowed to a halt, the doors sliding open, the two commandos jerked Brightsky forward and escorted him into the Detention Processing chamber down a brightly light, white-washed corridor. Ending in a circular room, the Processing chamber was home to a central console manned by four crewmen, two humans, an Iridonian Zabrak, and a Wookiee. Three corridors branched out from the chamber in three different directions.
The Wookiee looked up at the incoming trio and gruffed something out loud. The soldier to David's right hand a silent hand gesture at the...thing, and nodded his head. The Wookiee, which was grey furred with patches of black, gruffed and rawled shortly in response. David's escort nodded and carried him away down the left corridor, stopping at a series of barred cells, each with a set of bunk cots and waste facilities. The commandos keyed open the cell and pushed David inside, then locked the cell behind him.Face away from me and hold your wrists against the bars. One of the commandos ordered, his helmet vocoder adding a slight tinny sound to his voice. Once near enough, the commando unlocked the mag-shackles from David's wrists and clipped them onto his utility belt. One of the two soldiers turned and stalked off, while the commando who had removed David's shackles reached into one of his belt pouches, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. The commando tossed them between the bars, where they landed on the floor at David's feet.Because we're nice...and the captain might be a while. You can get a light from the Wookiee, he smokes. With that, the commando turned back and disappeared down the corridor, leaving David Brightsky alone in silence, with nothing to pass the time but a cigarette.
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Post by Brightsky (DasGeneral) on May 29, 2013 13:10:58 GMT -8
David Brightsky leaned against the wall and took a drag from the lit cigarette, feeling the smoke fill his lungs. He exhaled, white smoke streaming out of his nose and mouth. He was not usually a smoker, but he figured since the pack was there and the Wookie obliged him a lighter, it was better than sitting in silence waiting for a few hours until the captain showed up. While taking a long drag from what his mother had once described as a "Death-Stick," Brightsky began to consider his options. The GALSAF had both of his ships, his faithful little utility droid, and had thrown him in a detention cell to wait for the captain who would likely spend two minutes telling him about how the system was under quarantine and no one was permitted entry or exit.
"How in the hell was I supposed to know about the Mandos and their little 'war' against the Jedi Praxium on Yavin IV? I've been in Wild Space away from major shipping lanes for months salvaging that bucket, and now I'm going to lose both of my ships and my droid because of this?" Brightsky muttered to himself. To describe his current mood as embittered would be an understatement. He went over the facts in his head one more time to get it straight before the ship's captain showed up:
"I'd been working a shipping job from Adumar to Belkadan in the Tingle Arm, spare parts for droids and medical equipment for a hospital. This was nothing special, I'd gone out to the far reaches of the Tingle Arm many times before. I knew that there were Jedi on Belkadan at the local academy, but I didn't care. It wasn't my war, never has been. Unlike most freighter pilots, I don't take the normal route, Hydian Way to some minor shipping lanes. I cut across, jumping a few lightyears at a time, dropping out, scanning and mapping to make sure that I haven't flown to close to a sun, a supernova, or a black hole. It is a more time consuming way of travel, but it has definitely got its perks. Nobody bothers you, no warring factions to lump you in with another faction and decide to destroy you or take your ship out on general principle. It's how I found my first ship, the Star's End, was jumping like that and finding her floating in interstellar space, abandoned for three thousand years to the elements with a deactivated utility droid and a dead crew."
"While jumping a few lightyears outside Dantooine, I dropped into normal space and began my usual scans. I was about two days' from reaching my final destination on Belkadan when I picked up a ship drifting totally lifeless. It was ancient, that much was certain. Database readout from my freighter registered it as a Thranta-Class Republic corvette, unknown serial number. From what I remembered of my history, these corvettes hardly ever traveled outside of large convoys, but here was this one out here all alone. So, being a curious man, I came alongside and sent a standard greeting message which received no response. Scanners indicated hard seal and presence of atmosphere, very few atmospheric leaks to speak of. I docked at the main airlock, entered the ship, and found it a tomb. No crew whatsoever, no survivors in carbonite or chemically-induced hibernation. The ship's AI systems were offline as well."
"D4 and I traveled to the bridge, where we found it in tatters. Conduits were blown out and exposed, whole consoles had been burned beyond recognition, but no bodies. D4 indicated that the damage appeared to be the same general age of the ship, at least three-thousand years old. The ship's automatic distress beacon had been ripped out, likely by some crewman, as I found it with bits of wiring and electrical casing hanging off it in a corner covered in debris. The ship's transponder was in place, but deactivated. I didn't want to turn that on because the last thing I needed was someone to think that an Alliance ship or someone was out here exploring. D4 and I spent a few days tramping around the ship, reactivating the fusion reactor, getting the remaining ship's systems online. Half of the emergency escape pods had been jettisoned and a message was left in the ship's databanks indicating that the crew left following a Sith attack, they had evacuated in orbit of a small moon capable of supporting life and the ship was set on autopilot to jump to hyperspace four lightyears from their location, which appeared to be somewhere near Dantooine, but the data was too garbled."
"I was able to get a message to my employers at Belkadan informing them that I would be a few weeks late getting their spare parts to them. I didn't wait around to get a reply. I was able to get D4 over to the Star's End and had him pilot the ship to just outside the Adumar system. I got lucky and was able to bring the ship right to the location I needed it to be, not even a hiccup. I was making my final jump to Adumar when the autopilot system dropped like a pile of bantha dung on the Tatooine desert. Which is how I ended up out here, lightyears from my intended destination, and sitting in a holding cell without so much as a cursory warning to leave the system."
Brightsky's thoughts drifted off, waiting for the captain to arrive so he could tell her his story and hope that she would be merciful and let him get out of here with his and his droid's head and at the very least his freighter. For the time being, his fate was in the hands of someone else. Just as he continued to mull over these thoughts, after what seemed like days two stormtroopers walked over to the bars.
"The Captain will see you now."
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Post by Eliana Shan on May 29, 2013 20:54:41 GMT -8
On board the Concordian flagship, "Ori'gehaat'ik"...
*She was hardly paying attention to Corr's speech, idly tucking his words away in her brain and unconsciously translating while she continued the scan. She perked up when he mentioned that he wanted the X-Wing destroyed, and the droid with it, and then the astromech let out a fearful howl at the same time as her visor alerted her to Corr's approach. Her eyes narrowed; she knew there was no way he had interpreted, let alone seen, her silent message to the nameless droid. Either something had alerted him to some mischief afoot, or he was coming over here to make good on his statement and tear the fighter apart bare-handed. And she wasn't ready to allow that.*
"Naastare?"
*Alena whipped around, her eyebrows knitted tight together, openly glaring at the Mandalorian general and not giving a damn about the possible consequences of trying to stare down the infamous Corr Vhett. This had just become her next project, and no hotshot in armour was going to take it away from her.*
"Gar copaani naastar te'bora par'meg gar'verbori ni?"
*She didn't care if her Mando'a was a bit rusty, or if her syntax was a bit off. The point was still delivered.. and she was just getting started.*
"Ner dal'buir ba'juri ti'mandokar. Ner'ijaat cuy ner'borar; hibii ibac be'chaaj, bal ner'cuy hut'uun. Gar hibii ner'ijaat?"
*She knew for a fact that she had butchered that sentence. But the fire in her eyes spoke so much more than she ever could. He wanted to take this away from her? He wanted to show her that he had no confidence in her work, in her integrity? She had never skipped out on a job before. She had never turned her back on a problem.
Alena balled her hands into fists, standing up on the fighter's S-foils, the added height off the ground putting her above the Mandalorian general for a few moments, before she hopped down and walked right up to him, staring up into her helmeted gaze.*
"Ad'eta-olan, gar'gana gar can'gal. Gar'lise naastar mayen gar'copaani at ad'eta-olan bal'solus. Nayc'vaar."
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Corr Vhett - puts the "Laughter" in "Manslaughter"..... 
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