The Battle of the Reckoning: Dawn of the Rebellion

[Brandon Rhea]

Dawn of the Rebellion
Battle of the Reckoning

Rebellions didn't just happen overnight. That was something Nathanaeu Bastele had to learn the hard way on Corellia. He took a group of fledging resistance fighters and tried to instantly turn them into a larger, planetary-rebellion. And why not? After all, Bastele had been the leader of one of the largest governments the galaxy had ever known. That was his mentality; bigger meant better. It was an ironic point of view, considering that the small sliver of territory known as the New Sith Imperium had taken over nearly half of the galaxy.

Bastele wasn’t about to repeat his mistakes from Corellia. That’s why he took his time with the Galactic Rebellion, as they were now calling themselves - a nod to the Declaration of Galactic Rebellion that the galaxy’s disaffected had banded together to sign. There were many people - too many to count, at this point - dissatisfied with his leadership. Why haven't we attacked the Sith yet? they would ask. Why is everything we do a supply run, or a recon mission? they'd demand to know. They were valid questions. It was all about preparation. Preparation for something bigger, something worthy of being the day that the Empire found out that there was a rebellion out there - one that they couldn't possibly hope to prevent.

That was today. One way or another, this would be the dawn of an age of rebellion.

It was almost a cruel twist of fate that they had chosen that new dawn to be a mission to rescue a Mandalorian, one whose actions had been blamed by some as leading to the Mandalorian genocide. Even though Mandalorians were now in the rebel ranks, even Bastele couldn't help but hold some manner of a grudge for their role in the fall of the Galactic Alliance. He didn't even know if Sisk Renelo was part of that. It didn't matter. There was trepidation, but the payoff, he hoped, would be worthwhile. For better or for worse, Sisk Renelo was a symbol of defiance, one who could rally more Mandalorians to the rebel cause. Whatever role those survivors may have played ten years ago, it didn't change the fact that they, too, wanted to destroy the Sith. So that trepidation took a pretty clear backseat to working together against a common enemy.

Now was time for phase one of the rescue of Sisk Renelo, along with another goal: a far more important goal, one that could change the tide of this growing war forever. Bastele tapped the controls of his ship, the Corellian Blade, and the vessel dropped out of hyperspace right near the Reckoning, the massive space station serving as one of the Empire's hidden prisons. Konstantine Arkyadvich had provided the sector that the prison was located in, and the rebels were able to deduce its location by scanning for Imperial activity within the sector. Only days later, Bastele arrived to begin the attack.

Tapping the communications console, Bastele spoke to whoever might be listening. "This is General Nathanaeu Bastele, leader of the Galactic Alliance and best friend to Darth Vereor. I'm here to tell you to kiss my ass. Please acknowledge receipt of message."

Comm chatter was dead silent. Bastele grinned as he imagined the dumbfounded looks on the faces of whoever was working in the communications center, trying to make sense of what he had just said. He enjoyed mocking the Imperials; they made it all too easy for him. It's what happened in totalitarian regimes that lacked imagination; anything that happened outside a by-the-book mentality simply confused them.

"Umm, this is TK-7627," a cautious voice said from the other end of the line. "Repeat your message?"

Bastele flew the ship closer to the Reckoning, on the edge of weapons range, and replied. "I said, you can kiss my sweet ass. But first you're going to have to catch it!"

In an instant, a quick barrage of laser fire bombarded itself against the station's shields. No damage, of course, but he wasn't aiming to create any. Not yet, at any rate. Bastele grabbed the manual controls of the ship and banked a hard right, turning the ship around and fleeing while a horde of TIE fighters flew from the station's hangars. Within moments, they were on his tail, and one of them fired on his engines. His shields were still up, however, so he took advantage of that and made a sudden stop, letting the TIE fighters jet past him. The few unfortunate ones who happened to be directly in front of him now felt their fighters explode as he fired on them, killing a few pilots in the process. The next shots against him, however, killed his shields and knocked out his engines, leaving him floating in space.

The hailfire of lasers continued for a moment, causing small fires throughout the interior of the ship, but then the firing stopped. For a few gut-wrenching moments, there was nothing but the ringing of alarms aboard the Corellian Blade. Then he felt the ship jolt, and a tractor beam began to pull his ship towards the station. That's exactly what he was aiming for. He knew exactly what had happened - Darth Vereor had been contacted, and Bastele was the bait that the Dark Lord couldn't possibly refuse. It was all going according to the general's plan.

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It had been several hours since Bastele had first been thrown into a cell in the detention area. He hadn't had contact with anyone since the guards first put him there. The solitary confinement allowed him to contemplate the magnitude of what was about to happen. Success would make the rebels a symbol throughout the galaxy, a legend that people could begin to latch onto and feel hope for the first time in so many years. Failure would make them barely a blip on the galactic radar, but the legacy of that failure would be felt in every act of oppression the rebellion failed to prevent - but only if this attack failed. He would not let that happen. Whatever happened to the Mandalorian, so much was riding on Bastele's shoulders now, an enormous weight that he couldn't wait to have lifted off his shoulders.

After a few more minutes, Bastele heard rumblings outside the cell block. There was a certain dark presence that sent a chill through the air; Bastele didn't need to be Force-sensitive to know what evil felt like. Right on time, the general thought to himself. The rebels had timed the hyperspace route from Bestine to the Reckoning almost perfectly, and the presence on the other side did not disappoint.

Finally, the door slid open, and the tall Barabel Dark Lord of the Sith stalked through it, down the steps towards what he would surely assume was his prey. Bastele noticed a sword in the Dark Lord's hands. Perhaps Bastele would die now, that he would be led to an execution, allowing the Dark Lord to rid himself of an annoyance he hadn't been able to catch for ten years. But despite their limited in-person interaction, Bastele thought he knew the Dark Lord fairly well, well enough to know that this would not be an execution. It would be a competition.

"Your Ugliness," Bastele said, bowing his head in a fake show of respect.

The Barabel smirked, a flash of white fangs stretched into a predatory grin. "Alwayz with the insultz, Bastele. Thiz one would think a man so scarred would put less emphasiz on their lookz."

"I wasn't sure if you'd come to see me," Bastele fibbed, knowing the Barabel wouldn't have missed this chance. "You must have missed me since the last time I left you eating my drives over Corellia"

"Missed?" The word was spat with cold fury. "Thiz one's forcez missed you on Coruscant, you slipped thiz one's grasp on Corellia, and led the Imperium on a chase halfway across the galaxy and back. Thiz one will not miss again. Welcome to your Reckoning."

Bastele grinned, knowing his miraculous survival and escapes had been a constant source of frustration for the Dark Lord. "I suppose you're here to kill me yourself then?"

Vereor laughed softly, the cold hiss filling the room as he signaled for the stormtroopers to leave and released Basteles' bonds with a negligent wave of his hand. "Yes, you treacherous ape. You will die." He reached over his shoulder with his free hand, tossing the sword to the general and drawing his own sword from the sheath across his back. "But thiz one will give you the honor of dying with a blade in your hand."

Without hesitation, Vereor's Sith sword came crashing down towards Bastele, forcing the general to immediately raise his lightsaber-resistant blade to deflect. The strength of the Barabel warrior was strong, even stronger with the amplification that the dark side of the Force offered him. As Bastele had assumed would happen, the general would need to reply on Vereor taunting him and 'playing' with his prey. The Dark Lord could kill him instantly, and Bastele needed time - not much, but time nonetheless.

So time is what Bastele allowed Vereor to take. The hits of the sword kept on coming. Bastele was hardly an expert swordsman, so he could tell Vereor was holding back, preferring to taunt the general rather than kill him outright. When the Dark Lord was tired of using a sword, he would change things up by striking Bastele with his fists. At one point, Vereor hit him so hard that it sent the general flying down a corridor.

It was at the end of that corridor, near the detention area, that Bastele found the words he was looking for, hanging on a sign on the door: CARBON FREEZING CHAMBER. Bastele stumbled to his feet, acting as if he did not know the room behind him as he slapped the control panel and slid the door open. He slowly backed in, threw the steam and mist that blew all throughout the chamber, while Vereor stalked him through the door. It was dark, barely illuminated with a few orange glows. The Dark Lord was little more than a silhouette in the smoke, an image that even gave Bastele a chill. The Barabel finally lunged out, their swords clashing once more, before Bastele's was knocked from his hand.

"Thiz one commands you to yield, Bastele," the Dark Lord told him. "Kneel, only thiz time, no more tricks. Your shoez are tied."

"You remembered my joke?" Bastele said, thinking back to what he had said to Vereor on Coruscant. "I'm flattered you-"

His voice was cut off as the station rocked, an explosion tearing through its hangar and knocking out its shields. Bastele had lost all track of time, but he knew exactly what the explosion was: the Corellian Blade, set to detonate after receiving a remote order - a remote order that could only mean one thing.

The rebels were here.

Vereor was furious. He didn't know for sure what it meant, just that it had been some form of trickery. He dropped his own sword, instead going for blunt-force trauma as he whipped his tail around, striking Bastele in the chest and sending him closer towards one of the carbon freezers. The Dark Lord leapt towards him, grabbing the general by the neck and lifting him off his feet. As he rose in the area, Bastele noticed two lightsabers on the Dark Lord's belt; one was Vereor's own, but the other was familiar. The other belonged to Sigur Vainikainen, the Jedi Grand Master who died on Coruscant while defending not only the Alliance, but Bastele himself.

"Trickz, Bastele?" the Dark Lord said. "Thiz one offers you a chance for a warriorz death, and you repay with trickz?"

Vereor was staring so intently at his prey that he failed to notice as Bastele lifted the lightsaber from the Dark Lord's belt, and was getting ready to use it. Vereor would not die, though. No, Bastele had bigger plans for what was about to happen.

"Thiz accomplishez nothing," Vereor continued. "You Bastele, you are nothing."

"Thiz one..."

Bastele allowed himself to trail off, waiting for the opportunity for his one liner. But first, he ignited the lightsaber and stabbed it through the Dark Lord's leg. Vereor howled in pain and collapsed under his own weight, sending himself and Bastele down to the metallic floor below. Bastele quickly sprang up as Vereor remained on the ground, and looked back down to where Vereor now sat.

"...is a big damn hero."

Before Vereor could realize he had fallen down right in front of one of the carbon freezers, Bastele kicked his leg forward, striking the Dark Lord in the face and sending him tumbling into the freezer. The general quickly ran towards the control panel, turning on the freezer before Vereor could escape. Plumes of smoke rose from within the small circular opening, and a strange smell filled the air, all of which signaled that the freezing process had begun.

"Been waiting ten years to say that again."

When the freezing process finished, a giant mechanical arm descended from the ceiling and lifted the carbon-frozen slab out of the pit. It landed with a thud on the ground, and Bastele leaned over it, looking at the frozen face of the captured Dark Lord of the Sith, his face frozen mid-snarl.

"Still an ugly son of a bitch."

Suddenly, the door to the carbon freezing chamber opened again, revealing a squadron of stormtroopers on the other side. One of them yelled, "Freeze! Step away from the freezing chamber."

Bastele slowly began to rise up from the ground, when out of nowhere a number of laser bolts starting blasting from behind the troopers. Within seconds, all of the stormtroopers had been killed, revealing a squad of rebel forces behind them.

"Perfect time," Bastele said. "Thanks for the save."

"Anytime, General," one of the rebels said. "Now let's get out of here."

After a few minutes of running through the corridors, and passing over the bodies of Imperial forces, Bastele and the rebels made it back to the ship. One of the rebels explained that phase two of the plan had begun, accounting for the fact that they hadn't met any resistance on the way back; the Empire was too preoccupied chasing after the rebels who were making their way to rescue Renelo, on another detention level.

Bastele passed the wreckage of the Corellian Blade as they entered into the hangar, a makeshift force-field having been set up by the Empire to avoid depressurizing the entire area. The frozen Dark Lord was loaded onto one of the rebel ships, which blasted off just as soon as everyone was aboard. They passed through the force field and entered back into space.

"Plot a jump into hyperspace," Bastele ordered. "Anywhere in the south that doesn't give away our positions."

The ship jerked as it was hit with laser fire from a TIE fighter. Bastele could only hope that its shield would hold long enough for the Empire to either realize that Vereor was aboard, or for the ship to jump into hyperspace. Alarm klaxons wailed as the ship continued taking fire, before the ship was finally read.

"Course ready, General."

"Punch it!"

The ship jumped into hyperspace, with the Dark Lord of the Sith - one of the galaxy's most feared war criminals, the destroyer of Coruscant, the butcher of Mandalore - finally in custody. Now it was up to those left behind to finish the job of rescuing Sisk Renelo.

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​

The next posts will be made by Loco and Lutmoi (in whichever order they prefer) and then Sisk. This will constitute breaking Sisk out of prison. Pax will then post with his first defense. It will then alternate in the following order: Rebel, Rebel, Pax, Rebel Rebel, Pax, Rebel Rebel, Pax, and so forth.

The rebels have 300 NPCs, though not all in one place (some are presumably in the hangar, some in the detention area with the PCs, etc). Pax will specify the number of Imperial defenses he has. The rebel PCs can determine the best use of their NPCs.

 

[Mistress]

Not long after Xotomi's children were taken into Lutomi's care, had the twins stopped insisting that there father lives. The reason being, that Xotomi had sought Sisk on her own, and following a sorely misguided route while suffering a touch of insanity, met her demise at the hands of one Sith Crusader Rookwrr the Black. The children did not want to lose their second mother as well. Lutomi was not aware of the reasoning behind their silence on the matter. She saw to it that they were happy and loved them, taking their surname herself to vow her devotion to them for life.

It had been too long with nothing proven on account of Sisk's survival. But once the very possibility reached Lutomi's ear, she immediately requested to be involved. Having spoken not a word of it to the twins who had become quite settled in their new environment on the planet Lamaredd, Lutomi placed a datapad filled with key information for Master Novan in the safekeeping of her Padawan Apprentice Rane Vastra, which was rendered under strict instruction not to be accessed unless Rane felt permitted through the Force. Parja the eldest, on the other hand, felt something was amiss and confronted Lutomi. The devoted daughter packed a special duffle for the event that her father should be rescued. Lutomi swung it over her shoulder, unable to escape the thought that it is truly heavy, as it took two hands to do so and nearly rocked her off her balance. She knew that the girl filled it with Mandalorian weapons! At that, Lutomi kissed Parja's forehead and slipped away without further incident, with blessings coming her way from Parja.



Lutomi approached the Rebel ship while in route to the Reckoning, on her Class-C Frigate, Zephira. She transferred ships, giving orders for her Captain to linger a hyper jump and a skip away away as a safety net.

Suited up and armored in unity with her Rebel counterparts, Lutomi kept her Force presence suppressed through Stealth technique, -a gift of knowing Master Novan lifelong,- as their Rebel ship lurched toward the docking bay of the Reckoningfor their multi-ship assault. Together they brought 300 men who have waited ages to have their diligent training put to the test. The Rebels were hungry for a win, a take back of any measure, knowing that even the life of a single Stormtrooper could start a chain reaction to forever alter the balance of power throughout the Galaxy. Every morsel they could strive to acquire, fed their increasingly insatiable appetite. Most enthralling is that Darth Vereor was found to be on the menu.

Intriguing it was, that General Bastele's plan for the Station was wildly outrageous and entirely self-sacrificing. And, he had personal investment to wish to institute his opening maneuvers alone. On top of that, Lutomi just felt the Force to be on their side for it. There were a few planned distractions. The explosion of the Corellian Blade is meant to draw the biggest influx of Imps to a specific hangar, so that the Rebels can land and take up their positions to secure their path along the corridors to the detention center, taking down as many as possible in their path, pushing back on opposing forces establishing the line of battle. Once the Dark Lord of the Sith was in carbonstasis, Lutomi felt the weight of his terrible Darkness lift from the Station. She would have figured, that even the Stormtroopers felt it too. She fathomed how it had been stated in the archives, that the Dark Lord of the age old era had basically puppeteered his troops. Once he met his demise, their competency foundered and as a result their Empire fell into disorder.

'Wouldn't that be nice!' Lutomi’s attention was brought back to their next move, as the Commander barked his order within the hull of their vessel. Lutomi swung Parja’s thoughtfully packed goodie bag over her shoulder as the Rebels lined up to surge from their vessel, blasting their way across the hangar into the corridors to where men acting directly under Bastele's orders had recently pressed through. The resistance in the hangar was brought under control for the General to make his escape.



A quick hack into the database, affirmed Sisk's location and a holographic Blueprint of the Station. Lutomi took a double take upon sight of his name. She had to see him to believe it. She wanted to reach out through the Force to assure him of their presence right then, but did not dare for fear of alerting any remaining Sith present that he is their intended target.

If Vereor is an example that an Imperial can take care of himself, this rescue would sure be easy. However, considering the Imp's faith that Vereor can handle his own, might just cause all the rest of the troops avoid him, and end up looking for something else to do with their time! Naturally along the way, there was a lot of blasting going on. Lutomi fancied that it appeared they weren't expected; she had to hand it to these Rebels for knowing how to plot a sneak attack! Hopefully the rest of the plan, such as "stay alive" will be met with equal luck. But the Force and practiced skill is not, nor does it require luck; we'll just take it, if it presents itself.

Lutomi immediately took to the task of toying with the minds of the nearest squadron of Stormtroopers. She intended to confuse them about the presence and location of the Rebels through Illusions. She meant to alter their concept of the visual structure of the corridors as the Rebels made their way to Sisk's detention block. The enemy would be made easier to round up and disarm, once made to trip over one another after smacking face first into the walls they just cannot honestly see; that is her plan for them!



Coming upon Sisk’s cell, there was no hesitation achieving their entry. Instinct through the Force as to the panel code, or a cleverly placed explosive and some manpower, it was just destined to open one way or another. Lutomi stepped inside, dropping the duffle upon the floor before her, into the middle of the cell with a thud. She paused momentarily. ”Alor…Ori’vod,” she addressed with an air thick with sentiment. Lutomi couldn’t believe she was here at this very moment, staring firmly at the ghost. ”There is no time to waste!”

 

[Loco]

"Taung sa rang broka Mando'ade ka'rta.
Dha Werda Verda a'den tratu,
Manda'yaim kandosii adu.
Duum motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a."

"Kom'rk tsad droten troch nyn ures adenn.
Dha Werda Verda a'den tratu,
Manda'yaim kandosii adu.
Duum motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a."​

The verses pounded in her head, deep and full of bass. She knew she was imaging it, but she didn't care. The euphoria had practically taken over in the last few minutes. Blaster bolts singed by, arterial blood spray spackled her jet black armor. The air was thick with smoke and the familiar smell of burnt ozone.

"The gauntlet of Mandalore strikes without mercy."​

Her family was dead at their hands- burnt, shot up, vaporized in an instant even while she watched. "I promise we won't be lonely." She had said, and she had meant it- every enemy that fell before her here today was just one more step toward fulfilling that promise. The Sith had ripped the only real home she'd ever known from her grasp not once, but twice, and ensured that even should she return nothing of her old life would remain. But that wasn't true, was it? She did have another home. War. The fires of combat were as much a home to her as Manda'yaim ever was, and no one- not a single person in the galaxy- could take this one from her while she still drew breath.

"Our vengeance burns brighter still."​

Arya Atin'al was home.

The Stormtroopers had announced their incoming presence by shouting commands to each other, and she intended it to be the last mistake of their lives. She landed among them as they burst into the detention blocks intersection. The blank reflective stares of their helmets eye sockets betrayed no emotion, but she could feel their surprise as their bodies stiffened. She could practically smell their fear. The first man caught her elbow with his jaw, snapping his head back to a sickening angle even as Arya spun, grasping his gun arm and turning her back to him. His compatriots raised their weapons, intent on rescuing their comrade her clutches, but she wouldn't give them the chance. While her new human shield was stunned she extended her carbine one handed around his body and sprayed, using her 360 HUD to aim behind her. The second trooper dropped, a smoking crater where his face plate used to be, his upper torso peppered with smoldering holes. The third took a scarlet energy bolt in his thigh, knocking his feet from under him and sending him clattering to the floor on his belly. The first man garbled something as he began to regain consciousness, and Arya let her carbine fall to her side as she bodily threw the man over her shoulder and onto the ground, flat on his back. She used the momentum to follow him down, landing on top of him and twisting his arm the wrong direction until she heard a loud pop at the shoulder. She angled the soldiers rifle, still tightly gripped in his hand, at his fallen squadmate and triggered a burst as the man rose from the ground, catching him and the face as he tried to rise- he crumpled back to the ground face first and did not make another attempt to rise. She ripped her pistol from the holster on her thigh and silenced the pained whimpers of the man she was on top of with a flash and the muffled whine of a point blank blaster bolt.

A few deep breaths, and the pounding began to resolve itself into a more familiar tone- Alarm klaxons. They had made it to the detention block with little resistance and few casualties. Not surprising- the inhabitants of this station were secure in their knowledge that few knew their location and even fewer were foolish enough to attack them here. How wrong they were. But that complacency was sure to be gone. If they explosion of the Correlian Blade hadn't woke them from their lazy way, the subsequent unrelenting storm of blaster fire from the Rebel Strike team sure had. With Arya, the Jetii, and several experienced Commandos and former Stormtrooper's from Konstantine's defected force at the forefront of the attack they had made short work of several security checkpoints on the way from the hangar to the cells. The had left a group in the hangar to secure it and their escape ride, and another group at each of the checkpoints to fortify it and cover their escape route. So far, everything had gone brilliantly according to plan, but Arya knew they had mere moments before the enemy would rally and try to prevent their escape. The station had already begun its emergency lock down procedures, with reinforced blast doors closing all around them in different sections.

"We've got him!" shouted Rendon, the former Stormtrooper with the heavy Bastion accent that had now lead several charges with her. He, along with several of his men, had dedicated himself to "The True Throne", making him much like herself- a Rebel for sake of convenience. He and his men stood out on the task force in their black Stormtrooper chest plates.

She rose from the chest of the dead trooper and turned back to face the Rebels behind her. The Jetii, Lutomi, had burst into the cell ahead of the others, eager it seemed. With a last name like Renelo though, who could blame her? Sisk was more family to her than even Arya or any of the other former Mando'ade on the task force could consider him. Arya supressed a frown that nobody would have seen under her helmet anyway. She never liked the jetiise, and she had no real love for Renelo, but like it or not these people represented a significant part of the only family she had left in the galaxy- the scattered remains of the aliit that still lived. Clansmen or not, friends or not, she knew that the broken remains of what was left of them had to band together, and however she felt about Sisk Renelo and his failures were irrelevant. The Rebel's needed him. More importantly her people needed him and what he represented. Sisk was one of the few that could be a symbol- a rallying cry to bind them together in these darkest of times.

Arya stepped into the cell behind Lutomi, the dead troopers blaster rifle in hand.

"Su cuy'gar Sol’yc Cabur. Now if you don't mind, I thought thet you might help us shoot ou' way out... O', you know, we could always carry you out on a stretche'- no big deal, yeh." She finished with a mocking shrug.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Sisk had spent the last year in isolation, seeing no one except for the guards who slid trays of bland, lukewarm food through the slot on his door and the interoogators and Sith who drug him out regularly for their own pleasure. Combined with the regular torture that had been inflicted upon his body and the attempts to break into his mind by inquisitive Sith, the isolation would have broken a lesser man, but Sisk was Mandalorian, and although he had been hurt, he had not broken. The closest he had come was when Xotomi's death knell had rung across the universe, waking him from a sound sleep and dragging him to his knees in anguish. The bond between them had always been close, closer than any two people deserved to be, and to feel her ripped away from him had destroyed a portion of Sisk's soul. He was no longer the man he had been. The part of him that had held mercy was gone, replaced with a heart that would never again offer those who stood against him the benefit of the doubt.

Sisk had lost track of the time he had been here, the days blurring together into nothing but pain. He was sure that it had been a long time, but there was no night or day here, only the harsh cycle of light chosen by the jailors. But despite all the pain, Sisk had remained strong. Despite the stints of interrogation, it was nothing but routine punctuated by long periods of isolation. Sisk could deal with routine. Over the time he had been here he had been burned, stabbed, deprived of food and water, and had Sith try to break into his mind more times than he could count. Throughout it all, only six words had escaped his lips despite the most tender of their ministrations. ”Sisk Renelo, Alor of Aliit Renelo.”

The questions had been numerous at the beginning. Where had the Clans gone? What were their plans? Were there movements against the Empress? What did he know? After several months of unfruitful sessions the interrogators had stopped asking, just bringing him in to hurt him again and again. Sisk was used to pain, and eventually began to embrace it like an old friend. It helped him get through the sessions and fueled his hate.

He sat cross-legged in the middle of his cell, breathing shallowly as he focused his attention inward. The torturers had been thorough yesterday, breaking several ribs and separating several nerve clusters, but it was nothing that he couldn't fix himself through a simple force meditation. He had been sitting here for the last 36 hours while he knitted the fractures and connected new neutral pathways. Sometimes the Order's training did come in handy, as much as it pained him to admit it. Between the Force and the hours of exercises he did every day to try and help the hours go by he had kept most of his mass, although the excess weight had fallen off his frame, leaving him leaner. He felt that he looked like an old wolf now, lean and scruffy, the brown hair that covered his cheeks and chin flecked with grey.

He did have one thing to be thankful for. When the Imperials had inspected his cybernetic replacements, they found that to remove them would have meant death, and because of their sadism they had wanted him to linger. So instead of removing them completely, they had removed several components of his arm to reduce the strength to that of only a normal hand. It was a bit disconcerting after having grown used to it, but Sisk had adapted, just like he always did.

When the explosions had sounded through the tight corridors of the station, shifting the position of the floor slightly, Sisk had taken notice. And then when he had felt the presence of non-Imperials, with a single bright speck among them, he had taken even more. And when the two stormtroopers had entered his cell, he knew what was going on. Even though the helmets covered their faces, the slight shifting of their feet and the small tic as one of them beat a slow tempo with his finger against his rifle betrayed their feelings. Anyone who paid attention could have seen it. But not anyone could have done what Sisk did. After all his time here, all of the 'interrogation' sessions, nothing but a thinly veiled word for the overseers to inflict pain, he had learned exactly how to make them dance to his tune. His lips curled upwards in a tight smile as he had brought his legs underneath him and stood slowly.

"What's going on? Are we under attack?" He kept his voice low, nonthreatening, and compliant. The troopers didn't answer. He repeated the question, and one of the troopers drew a stun baton from his belt.

"You need to be quiet."

"I'm just asking a question. That's all." The trooper depressed the power button and moved towards him threateningly.

"I said be quiet!" He flicked the baton out towards Sisk's face quickly, but the Mandalorian was ready, shifting slightly to the side and letting the baton pass by. He stepped in, his left hand finding a grip on the stormtroopers elbow, and his right catching the hand holding the baton. With applied pressure he forced the hand back, twisting as he stepped forward to jab the active end into the soft spot between helmet and chestplate. There was a sharp crack as the energy discharged and the trooper crumpled into Sisk's waiting arms. His fellow was turning to face the noise, but slowly, oh so slowly. Sisk pushed off the balls of his feet and drove towards the other trooper holding the unconscious one as a shield.

With a crash of plate on plate he drove the two soldiers into the wall of the cell, cracking the soldier's helmet against the wall. His hand dropped to the unconscious stormtrooper's holster and he drew the pistol from it before shoving it into the chin of the one he had pinned against the wall. As he pulled the trigger he watched the flash from behind the transparisteel visor accompanied by a strangled grunt as the soldier died. Stepping back to let them both crash to the floor, Sisk turned the pistol on the unconscious soldier and shot him in the throat. Everything went quiet, the only sound in the room Sisk's heavy breathing.

And then he waited. The door could only be opened from the other side, so he was stuck here until someone decided to check on the two troopers or the attackers of the station decided to let him out. Might as well make the most of his time. He sized up the two troopers laying dead and cursed. They were both much smaller than him. Their armor wouldn't fit him. But it made no difference. Whether he was rescued or died fighting against these bastards, he would fight like a warrior. Taking one of the belts and strapping it around his own waist, he familiarized himself with the position of the stun grenades and various other sundries, such as the line launcher. The last thing he took was the other blaster, and positioned himself behind the meager cover his bed could provide and lined the two blasters on the door. Whatever came in, he would be ready.

When the door hissed open, he was greeted with a ghost. Xotomi stood there, looking at him. It took Sisk a moment to come to the realization that it was not in fact his dead love, but her twin sister. There was no love, no desire in her eyes, only urgency. She was not his riduur, only a pale imitation. She didn't even smell the same. Her sister had always smelled slightly of spice, while Lutomi gave off the unmistakeable air of... something. It was a scent he hadn't smelled before. He rose slowly as she spoke, and the blasters dropped to his sides. Behind her came a woman in Mandalorian Armor, the old Aliit'gam of the clans before the Clan Wars and the blockade had destroyed so much of their manufacturing capability. It was good to see, even though Sisk didn't recognize the color scheme or sigils daubed on it, but it was always good to see the familiar t-visor. She had called him a name he hadn't gone by in a long time. Sol'yc Cabur. First Protector of the Clans. But that was not who he was. Not anymore.

"Lutomi, it's good to see you. I never thought I'd see you or another vod again." The bag that she had thrown on the ground lay there halfway open, tempting him with the hidden contents. He moved towards it while his eyes darted furtively into the hallway behind them. When he reached it he crouched and tore it open. Inside lay something that he had been sorely missing during his imprisonment.

His family armor lay inside, the old durasteel plates gleaming with a fresh coat of gold paint with grey trim. Gold for Vengeance, grey for mourning. It fit his state of mind perfectly. He knew that Xotomi would not have approved, but right now he didn't care. There would be death, and blood, and rage. He would not settle for anything less. His people deserved that much. It was quick to slip into the armored jumpsuit and arrange the plates over the top of it, old habits guiding his hands swiftly. Underneath the old plates lay a pair of beskad, their heft telling him that they were made of beskar. They slid perfectly into the sword holders arranged on the backplate, while the holsters attached to the thigh plates each held a ripper pistol. What came next caused Sisk to pause. The pair of Crushgaunts decorated with the seal of Renlo had a distinct mark on them. A peculiar chip along the plate that covered the back of his hand caused by a Smith's hammer. And he was the only Smith he knew of that held the hammer in such as way to make that mark. These had been made by his own hand for the convocation so long ago, forged from the cultural legacy of Mandalore. When he slipped them on his hands he was sure of it. Finally Sisk withdrew an Ori'shuk from the bottom of the bag and held it tightly with his right hand on the grip. His left held his first buy'ce, which he slipped over his head with slow reverence. It was almost like going home. The familiar HUD lit up and engulfed him with its light. He was ready. The chrono showed that less than two minutes had passed.

Buy’ce olar, karta ogir. Now was not the time for sentimentality. Now was the time for death. Sisk would carve a bloody swathe through the Imperials, and even all the blood he spilled from now on would never make up for his dead vode.

He turned to face the two who had entered his cell, fully armored and prepared to take the fight to the Imperials. His blood ran hot, screaming at him to rip and tear and kill, but he held it in check. The time would come when he could allow his hate and rage to spill over, but it was not today. He stood tall, feeling the tight muscles around his middle stretch as the damaged parts of him fought to maintain themselves. It would not stop him. It was time to leave.

”Lets go.”

 

[Apollyon]

The Reckoning was calm moments before the explosion, a possible insurrectionist leader and former Head of the Galactic Alliance Senate known as Nathanaeu Bastele had been captured by Imperial forces and was awaiting his sentencing from Darth Vereor personally. It was a victory in Audroti’s mind, his station had quelled a possible Rebellion and secured the Imperium's longevity, he relished at the thought. The ever vigilant guard of the Dark Warrior dropped for the first time in decades and underneath his power armor a small smirk appeared on his scarred visage. After over a decade of war, the Imperium might have stability and a time for growth soon. That very thought both eased the Sith Master and caused a knot of nausea to rise within his gut.

However, Audroti wouldn’t get to dwell on those thoughts much longer; a violent explosion rocked the Reckoning. The sheer force and magnitude of the blast sent men tumbling from their stations in the control room; even Audroti was thrown from his feet by the aftershock. Confusion momentarily blinded the normally well collected and informed Juggernaut’s mind; he couldn’t seem to fathom what had just happened. The sound of alarms rang throughout the station, alerting the men and women of the Reckoning of an attack they clearly understood and were by this point keenly aware of.

From the corner of his eye he watched as the staff of the control room quickly scrambled to their feet, returning to their stations and attempting to find the source of the explosion, attempting to find what had caused a moment of victory to turn into such a tragedy. Audroti’s confusion turned to rage as precisely what had occurred dawned on him, Bastele had managed to deceive the Imperium, but worse he had managed to deceive him.

“Sir, reports state that explosion occurred from the captive’s vessel, the explosion could have been both ionic and fragmentary in nature as our shields have been taken out by the blast.” An officer stated as Audroti rose back to his feet, his voice slightly panicked.

“And what of Darth Vereor?” Audroti asked the general assembly in the Control room.

“Sir, our last visual on Darth Vereor was in the Carbonite Freezing Center, he had stated that he wished to oversee the captive’s fate personally.” Another officer reported with the answer to Audroti’s question.

“We have no visual on him now?” The Warden asked.

“No sir, the Carbonite Freezing Center is located close to the Hangar Bay; it is possible that surveillance equipment in the area was affected by the blast.” The man reported back.

Audroti gritted his teeth at the response, with no visual or information on the Dark Lord he had to assume the Sith was either dead or captured by Bastele. But Audroti couldn’t make Vereor’s safety his first concern, with the station’s shields down they were susceptible to any form of terrorist attack, he needed those shields back online and he needed the remnants of their hangar bay secured. As the Warden of the Reckoning Audroti couldn’t afford to let the situation get more out of hand then it already was.

“Send engineers below decks to get those shields back up; if we are under attack we cannot be vulnerable. Inform them that they have ten Imperium Standard minutes to have the shields up or they face execution.” Audroti ordered. “As for the hangar bay, that is the only way anyone will get onboard the Reckoning, we have to ensure that it is still secured. Send four squads of Riot troopers to ensure that it is secure and to detonate any vessels that inside it. Have Captain Var’tuur lead that operation.” Audroti commanded.

The command center acknowledged his order by silently coming alive with activity, men and women scrambled to accomplish his will without hesitation. Audroti knew this was not only a defining moment for the Imperium but himself as well, if he couldn’t secure the Reckoning and salvage what remained after the attack he could very well be facing execution. While Audroti knew that he had failed the Dark Council he wouldn’t allow the demoralization he felt effect his charges, he wouldn’t allow them to know the thoughts that ran through his mind, slowly attempting to drag his attention from the here and now.

“Sir…” An officer stated, hesitation was clear in her voice.

Audroti’s attention was ripped from his thoughts as his head snapped towards the feminine voice. He could sense her fear, he knew whatever news she was about to break could potentially anger him and could possibly cost her either her career or her life. Audroti’s armored and helmeted figure was impossible to read as the glowing red eyes of his armor’s helmet bore down on her further jolting her panic.

“Report.” Audroti stated coldly.

“Um, it seems that someone is accessing prison cells sir…” The woman paused and attempted to clear her throat before continuing. “…they are unlocking prison cells in cell blocks A, C, and D.”

The news hit Audroti like a grievous wound, a mortal blow. Internally he reeled from what he had just heard, he had hoped that this wouldn’t be a concern and that the focus of the attack was Darth Vereor himself. But this report brought something new to light, they weren’t at risk of being boarded, the Reckoning was already boarded by an unknown force and they were focusing on unleashing some of the vilest criminals in the galaxy against their imprisoners. The situation was quickly boiling out of control; Audroti knew he had to get a handle on everything that was occurring immediately.

“I want one hundred security droids moved to ensure the safety of the control room, station twenty five of them at each exit. I need the rest of the droids ensuring that the remaining cell blocks are secured.” Audroti paused for a moment to allow the officers in the control room to transmit his orders to the droids. “Once this is accomplished I want the atmosphere in every cell on the station vented, we cannot allow these criminals to escape.” He continued. “And as of this moment I want the station on complete lock down, I want all manual and auxiliary controls on every door in the station to be disabled, only the command center will be able to access those doors, am I clear?” Audroti questioned after his commands were given.

Another silent acknowledgement was given by the command center as they began to work on the complete lock down of the station. After a few minutes and alarm was sounded throughout the station and every blast door in the station slammed shut, unable to be opened from the control panels or through manual overrides. Once he heard the alarms sounding Audroti tapped the holo-pad located on the forearm of his armor once and a code was randomly generated.

“To be granted access to a new section of the station squad leaders will need to be vocally identified and give this access code, write it down.” Audroti stated before giving the access code to the command center’s officers. “V as in vixen, seven, nine, D as in dog, zero, five, two. Did you all catch that?” Audroti asked after relaying the security code.

“Yes sir.” Came the mixed and garbled reply from the command center.

“Good, relay the security code to all squad leaders and security droids. Then prep a force of one hundred and fifty Riot soldier to follow me in search of our intruders.” Audroti ordered. “I want all information on our ‘guests’ transmitted to me directly with no delay. Have our surveillance equipment in those cell blocks focus on soldiers or armed forces that are not identified as either Imperial personnel or registered inmates.” Audroti continued before turning to leave the Command Center.

Whoever had managed to slip by Audroti’s guard while it was down would pay dearly. They would find no major victory here today; they would get no symbols for whatever cause they stood for, instead he would personally ensure that they would stand as examples to the Galaxy. He would show the Galaxy the price of defying the Imperium through their slow, torturous deaths and then none would dare to defy either the Imperium or him ever again.

 

[Mistress]

There were two specific prisoners, blood brothers, who long awaited their chance to be released from their captive cells. Many men held against their will within the Station prayed for freedom to have a second chance at life. Some sought to heal deeper wounds, and hoped for revenge upon the Sith who imprisoned them. Their many years of stay, would be cause enough for them to have lost all hope to once again fully attain freedom, and they could not comprehend how to properly react to such a proposal. They would view the sudden opening of their cell door to be the best they will ever see. But these two particular inmates, separated by a steel wall, long brooded over which one of them was responsible for getting them both into this predicament in the first place. They were not unaccustomed to finding themselves in such a state throughout their lives. This imprisonment was not their first, but it is their most miserable and hopeless of all.

When it came to pass that each their cell doors had been opened by a Rebel soldier making his way along the corridor, for they had been passed by his first time around, these two brothers immediately charged from their cells and took to fighting the one whose hand gave them that freedom. They made a desperate move for the Rebel’s slug thrower, but their effort was not a unified one. They used this opportunity for their perception of what is only a momentary freedom, to try and get their revenge upon one another. The Rebel soldier pleaded to convince them that they were free to venture off the station by way of his ship. The two were crazed and they would not desist. Much to his dismay, the Rebel soldier instinctively shot them both and headed for the Hangar where he would meet up with the rest of his detachment of about 220 men protecting their ships in the Hangar.

When they found themselves alone in the corridor, the two brothers took their festering rage and finally turned it entirely upon one another. Their cognitive function quickly deteriorated due to loss of blood from their gunshot wounds. The fighting progressed along the cellblock and ended inside the Carbon Freeze Chamber, where one brother fell into the pit and the other fell upon its initiator. The Chamber instantly boomed to life, entrapping one brother in Carbon Freeze.

Alert enough to comprehend his actions, the surviving brother did none other than dash back down along the corridor and return to his cell. He curled himself into the corner and sobbed. Soon, his cell door will close upon him once again, and he will find himself suffocating.



Lutomi was grateful Sisk had it together mentally, even if his calmness was simply a ruse he is certainly hiding it well. She isn't about to let herself lose sight of him among the large group of Rebels positioned throughout the corridors and clearing the cellblocks. She knew she just couldn't take it if he had started asking about Xotomi right off the bat. She felt his excitement at seeing her arrival, as it transformed into one of utter disappointment and regret. But regardless of her not being the sister he desired to see, he greeted her warmly. She knew such conversation with the potential for soul destruction to be in their near future, and that neither one of them could ever truly be emotionally prepared to have it.

“Wait,” she said as she stepped out of the cell with Sisk and Rendon, her Force Stealth capability still strong, for she was an Apprentice under Watchmaster Larik Novan during the time he was assigned to Shadow Master of the Order. Running her gaze over the boundary of the corridor, she drew her blaster and shot out the Surveillance Equipment she noticed.

Each squad carried duffels of rifles and knives with them to arm the prisoners they freed. They would be coming back to the hangar in force. After all, adding the weight of an extra hundred blasters would make it much easier to make their escape rather than having to baby the convicts they rescue.

Those capable of the freed prisoners scurried to arm themselves, collecting Blaster Rifles and a few Supercharged Taser Staves from the fallen Troopers. Lutomi addresses Sisk next as they pick up the pace and head along the corridor back the way they had entered.

“Sisk, you need to know something critical that happened today. The Rebellion set out to entomb Vereor in Carbon Freeze. They're going to be desperate to stop us.” She thought about what he is feeling, how his hatred can fuel the Sith. “Parja and the twins…they’re safe, beautiful and very resilient…”

The lockdown occurred all at once. The booming sound of the doors closing simultaneously caused her to start. Up ahead of them, the Rebels and the freed prisoners came to a sudden halt. Cries of horror broke out at the sight of one ahead who had been cut down by the sudden drop of the blast door.

Cell doors had all closed and locked as well, some of the prisoners who were assisting others weaker among them to escape into the hall, who were also just moments before freed, found themselves once again trapped behind cell doors. Their cries of lamentation drew others to immediately focus on reopening the door. The Rebels scrambled front and center with the necessary supplies to blow it. Prisoners lifted the window panel to peer within the darkened cell.

In a hasty determination, realizing nothing but destitution regarding their fate, another small group who found themselves trapped within a cell together, took to accept the illusion of freedom granted from the presence of a single blaster which had been brought into the room by one, prior to the sudden unanticipated locking of the cell door. It was a feeling of senseless loss of life…which only got worse…

The prisoners within the corridor began to raise a ruckus. Lutomi then realized what caused them further unrest. Those remaining imprisoned within their cells, had begun to beat upon the walls, desperately wanting out. The freed prisoners within the hall watched helplessly on in horror, through the small windows.

Lutomi can feel what is happening to the remaining men still locked inside the cells. The freed prisoners started beating their fists against the cell doors, where men were still imprisoned. Before she could decide which move to even make to help, and choose which option would not have likely put everyone in the corridor at risk, their ordeal was already over for them. The already helpless were now drawing their last breath. Their distanced and heartless jailer had suffocated them inside their cells.

Her blood ran cold, thinking it could have been Sisk still stuck inside of his cell! She wonders why anyone would do that to all these men, when there are any number of gasses they could have pumped into the cells or restricted from them, which would successfully subdue the prisoners without going to far as killing them. The feelings which stirred, she buried quick and deep, soothing over them with thoughts of returning to Parja, Heron and Nakshi with their father. Freedom, just as the state of enslavement, can be defined in quite a few different ways.

Within seconds absolute silence hung over their group. For Lutomi it soon became drowned out by the sound of the beating of her own heart. There was one among them whom she revered, to first speak out to lead them. His mere existence after so long in this place stood for hope. He was encouraging, inspiring, and motivating. Lutomi snapped back to her senses and focussed on the next obstacle in their path, the blast door separating them from the next cellblock leading back towards the hangar. At the front of the group, she was handed a Thermal Detonator and Thermal Tape to achieve the goal. She set to the task swiftly.



The rebels inside the hangar had been equally as busy. After their infiltration, 16 squads had broken for the cellblocks, 80 men split between the 4 cell blocks, leaving 220 heavily armed and angry rebels to hold their landing site. With efficiency and quickness they set up their defenses, starting at the ship and working outwards in almost frenzied movements. The holds of the ships had been stuffed with prefabricated barricades and plinth mounted weapons, which were emptied quickly to provide a layered defense extending to the cell block doors.

Each layer was a concentric ring, giving the rebels a clear field of fire at the ingress points. E-web repeating blasters sat behind notched firing positions in staggered positions towards the open ramps, providing them with open fields of fire. Combat engineers worked quickly to weld the doors into the station closed, leaving only the entrances to the cell blocks easily accessible, dark visors held over their eyes to mute the harsh glare from the torches. The three turbolifts that fed the hangar from the other floors were quickly dismantled, the doors forced open and shaped charges placed on the cables that held the cars. The men fell back and sheltered behind the barricades, yelling to their fellows. “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” Muted explosions sounded from the open shafts as the charges detonated, followed by the sound of screeching metal as the cars plummeted past the doors, the brakes fighting in a futile attempt to stop their descent.

Faces grim and determined, the Rebels took positions, blasters held to their shoulders as they prepared themselves for what is sure to come. Each armorplast barricade stood chest heigh, leaving only the head and shoulders of the fighters visible. At the base of each barricade is a small charge, linked to a central detonator. If the Rebels become forced back, the rings could be dropped in sequence, keeping the troops protected while leaving the Imperials with more and more open ground to cover. It could become a killing field. Nestled on their gear, the ships thrummed with a steady rumble, engines prepped and ready to go as soon as their cargo is onboard. Quick snatch-and-grab.

The hangar is quiet, the only sounds the scuff of boots and the whine of blasters which are ready to fire. Grenades hung ready on belts within easy reach. The men within the hangar stand ready.

 

[Sisk_Renelo]

Sisk heard Lutomi's words, but had to push them back to his mind. He had to focus on getting out of here. If he didn't escape the children would be raised by others of the Clan. It was the Mandalorian way. But he had to acknowledge he in some way. "Thank you, Lutomi. Thank you for caring for them." He hurried through the new gap in the blast door with a pistol gripped in his right hand aimed down the hallway. His eyes flicked through the HUD as it scanned for targets. For now they were clear.

A quick wave of his hand beckoned one of the commandos wearing Mandalorian armor forward, and a few quick movements of his fingers in Mandalorian battle sign directed the warrior to place another charge on the far blast door. Prisoners who had gotten out of their cells and avoided the gruesome fate laid for them by he overseer of this horrible place milled about, staring at their liberators in awe as the commando pushed through them to reach his objective. Sisk took them in, and watched as Rebels moved forwards to hand out pistols and knives to those who looked angry enough at the Imperials to fight alongside them. Sisk reached a hand out and placed his gauntleted fist on the shoulder of a Rebel before he handed over a pistol to a shifty looking Nautolan. "Don't. He's not going to help." It had been nothing, a quick sideways glance from the prisoner, but it had been enough. The rebel looked startled for a moment, but withdrew the proffered pistol.

The prisoner looked staartled, then made a lunge for the rebel. Sisk reached out his hand and caught the Alien around the throat, arresting his flight. He tightened his fingers and the alien's bright green skin began to darken. "You can die here at my hand or you can die hurting the people who hurt you. It's your choice." The Nautolan scrabbled at his gauntlet for a moment before a resigned look pulled the edges of his lips down and he nodded slightly. Sisk's fingers loosened and he released the prisoner to fall onto the hard metal deck. A jerk of his head gave the universal sign for keep an eye on him. Radio chatter filled his helmet, and Sisk blink clicked through channels until most of it died out. A year ago it would have been no problem to separate it, but a year of quiet meant that he would have to train his mind again to take it all in. For now the chatter of the men with him would suffice. He could glean enough from the talk between them to ascertain what else was going on throughout the station. He wasn't in charge of this op, just the objective of it. It was odd to be on this end of it.

He almost stalked through the prisoners, his wounded muscles tightening with every step. Pain was temporary and could be pushed away. Sisk did so, and found himself drawn to a door near the far blast door. It bore no markings, but something inside called to the warrior within him. He pressed his palm to the pad, and the door hissed open silently as if it had been waiting for him. Stepping inside Sisk looked around an impound room, personal effects stacked on shelves. Blades and blasters, armor and jumpsuits, each carefully labeled with prisoner number and name. But whatever was calling him lay deeper inside. From behind him he could feel Lutomi's eyes boring into the back of his buy'ce, so he waved his hand lazily to tell her he was fine. But just like her sister she was stubborn, and while he was sure she would keep her distance, he knew that she would follow. Delving deeper into the chamber, he moved around a shelving unit to the back of the room. He stopped suddenly, greeted by a remnant of his past.

The armor that he had worn for over a decade sat upon a mannequin, the trappings of war laid out like a trophy. His old life lay before him in an exhibit, his old weapons categorized next to it in boxes. Anger overcame him, and his fist lashed out, shattering the glass that covered the display. Unslinging the bag that had carried his old armor, he began to pull the beskar plates from the old jumpsuit. Buy'ce, pauldrons, gauntlets, boots, and the shuk'orok that he had forged with his old friend A'dan Fett went into the bag unceremoniously. He rifled through the boxes and pulled out the single beskad and his mace, adding them to the bag. He sealed it and slung it over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the shelves. A single padded drawer lay unopen, marked with a single word. 'Lightsabers'. Sisk slid it open and found his trophies, almost a dozen lightsabers carefully arranged. But only one was important. In the middle of the case lay the lightsaber built by his hand when he still served the Jedi. The long handled grip slid easily into his fingers as he lifted it from the case and depressed the ignition stud. To his disappointment but certainly not his surprise the blade did not extend. Disabled by the Imperials. Oh well, he didn't need it. It easily hooked onto the d-ring on his belt as he spun around and left the remainder of his old life behind.

When he stepped into the hallway he was greeted with a sharp crack of displaced air as the charges placed on the blast door detonated. A hole appeared, the edges glowing cherry red with heat, and through the opening he could see more prisoners and another hallway. Scattered among the prisoners were rebels, armed and armored similarly to the ones who had helped pull him out of his cell, again handing out weapons to the prisoners they had freed. He let the rebels move through first to their fellows, and joined the press of bodies as they moved closer to the hope of freedom.

 

[Apollyon]

THEME​

---

Command Center​

Commander Aelius, the Executive Officer to Warden Audroti stood in the bridge of the Command Center inside the Reckoning, he was tasked with ensuring Audroti’s orders within the station went through with haste or were punished with execution. Presently, his eyes were glued to the monitor at the front of the command center, he was replaying footage of a light armored human female standing in front of a cell, and she seemed to halt the prisoner from within from exiting before systematically blasting the Holo-recorders from around the corridor. It was an unusual behavior and it piqued Aelius’ curiosity, he couldn’t help but investigate her rather odd and secretive behaviors further.

“Rewind the footage and zoom in on the Cell number with Camera A.” Aelius ordered one of the security officers within the Command Center.

The man obeyed silently, ensuring that the image projected on the screen was as clear as he could make it and the identification number to the cell could be clearly read by Aelius and all in the room. Aelius squinted his eyes as he read aloud the cell number under his breath before ripping his eyes away from the monitor and typing in the cell block information and individual cell number onto a holo-pad before him. The system took a moment to connect to the registry but within seconds a prisoner’s information and image was brought up on the pad before him, his eyes grew wide with shock.

“Sisk Renelo” He thought to himself before patching himself through to Captain Var’tuur’s communication system directly.

“Captain Var’tuur, this is Executive Officer Aelius.” Aelius paused for a moment to wait for a response from the former Mandalorian turned mercenary.

“Aye, I hear you.” Came Var’tuur’s gruff response.

“I believe the prisoner these insurrectionists boarded the Reckoning for was an individual known as Sisk Renelo, a former Mandalorian War Leader of sorts. Do you think this operation is solely a Mandalorian one? Perhaps as a way to exact some sort of vengeance against the Imperium?” He asked after informing the man of Renelo’s release.

“Well…” Var’tuur replied over their closed communication channel, pausing for a moment as he thought about the information given to him. “…I doubt it, if it were a strict Mando’ade operation they would have only released Renelo from his cell. The other prisoners would have been dead weight they had to protect or arm, they would simply slow them down.” Var’tuur explained. “But this, this is something else, it’s a large scale attack that clearly took time to organize and it has a clear objective…this is an organization much larger than some rag tag band of angry ner’vod…whoever this is, they are trying to send a message.” He replied before ending his communications with Aelius.

Aelius felt himself slide downwards in his chair, it was an involuntary reaction to the news Var’tuur had given him. He felt his stomach turn as he gazed down at Sisk’s image on the holo-screen, Warden Audroti would not like this news at all. Aelius tugged lightly at the collar of his uniform before securing a direct communications line with the Warden himself.

“Lord Audroti, this is Commander Aelius speaking I have information on the insurrectionist objectives within this attack.” He reported.

“Then give me the details, Aelius.” Audroti replied, his voice thick with hostility.

“We believe their objective is to rescue one, Sisk Renelo, a former Mandalorian War Leader of some renown within his people. The prisoners that they are freeing could also be a secondary objective and used to swell their ranks…Captain Var’tuur believes this to be far more than a simple rescue mission and I agree with him.” Aelius paused at that point in his report. “I believe whoever these people are; they are here to send the Imperium a clear and defiant message sir.”

The report caused Audroti to grit his teeth in both anger and frustration as he moved through the hallways of the Reckoning, closing in on his quarry. The mere thought of someone actually bold enough to not only board an Imperial Prison Station but attempt to break out the prisoners infuriated him and before this point in time was something that he would have ridiculed as an impossibility. He didn’t reply to Aelius for a moment as he pushed aside his growing temper and thought of a proper response to give the man.

“How heavily are they defending the Hangar bay Aelius? Do we know how many of these insurrectionists are within the facility at this moment?” Audroti asked in an urgent tone.

Aelius looked over the footage of the security holo-recorders on the main screen for a moment, he counted the Rebels as they moved through the cell blocks. He had to be sure that his response was accurate and precise to make up for the lack of a report of insurrectionist defenses within the Hangar Bay. It was at that moment the three lights representing the status of the only three operational turbolifts in the hangar bay began blinking red meaning they had been compromised.

Just the information on the turbolifts within the Hangar Bay alone was all that the Commander needed to have a smirk appear on his face. If the insurrectionists were destroying the turbolifts that fed in and out of the hangar bay they were clearly keeping the area heavily defended and using it as a strong point and possibly their escape route. With that information in mind he repatched himself through to Warden Audroti through their secured communications line.

“Lord Audroti, the insurrectionists have destroyed the turbo lifts within the hangar bay, I believe that is where the bulk of their forces lay in defense of an escape route. As fo-“ Aelius report was suddenly halted by a shout from a security officer who announced fresh intelligence on their insurrectionists. “Hold please my Lord, new intelligence coming in.”

Aelius stared up at the played back footage of several insurrectionist soldiers setting up durasteel barricades and mounting an e-web blaster behind a barricade facing the only entrance to the hallway. That wasn’t the information that caught Aelius off-guard though, the insurrectionist forces that were setting up the equipment wore Stormtrooper armor that had been painted black. These men had once been Imperial Stormtroopers, they had been trained under the Sith rule, but most importantly they had betrayed the Imperium. Aelius felt fury birthed within his old bones, sweat born from rage formed in droplets on his forehead, he hated traitors.

“My Lord, the insurrectionist forces have set up lightly manned fortifications in the immediate hallways near the Hangar Bay. These are comprised of Durasteel barricades and armed with a single mounted E-web blaster turret. It would also seem that whoever these people are that they have either taken Imperial Stormtrooper armor or have attracted turncoats to their cause.” Aelius reported.

“Give Captain Var’tuur the information on the barricade that lies directly in the insurrectionist forces path via a secured communications line and ensure his forces a route to come alongside said barricade. I am changing his orders from securing the Hangar Bay to securing that barricade; we will cut them off from their escape route before they even reach it.” Audroti replied after a long pause.

“Aye sir.” Aelius replied.

---

Var’tuur Forces​

“Captain Var’tuur, come in this is Commander Aelius speaking.” A posh Imperial accent chimed through the communications system in Var’tuur’s buy'ce.

“Aye, I read you.” Var’tuur replied with an annoyed grunt.

“Lord Audroti has changed your orders.” Aelius replied, pausing before explaining the new objective. “We believe the Hangar bay is heavily fortified as the insurrectionist forces have detonated the three turbolifts within it and have likely locked down all other routes inside of it. However, shortly before our Security Holo-recorders were destroyed we witnessed several members inside the insurrectionist forces setting up temporary barricades in a hallway directly in front of a cell block on their rescue party’s route. Your new objective is to overtake that barricade and cut off the insurrectionist forces before they reach said barricade, I am to ensure you a clear route.” Aelius said relaying Audroti’s orders.

“Then why are we gabbing on about it?” Var’tuur replied sarcastically. “Get us in and we will do the rest.”

“Right, tracking your position and plotting a route now, once prepared I will send the data packet through this line to be synched with your HUD.” Aelius replied before going silent.

Var’tuur didn’t reply to Aelius, he didn’t have to all he had to do at this point was wait for the information packet and inform his men of the change of plans. Var’tuur rose up a single fist, a silent order for his men to halt while the data packet was being transmitted. In the meantime he turned to face the men in his charge and inform them of the new strategy and intelligence he had been given.

“Alright boys listen up.” Var’tuur stated over their closed communication lines. “It seems that the Command Center believes the Hangar Bay is too fortified for us to assault, so instead they have asked us to take out a barricade that secures a safe route for the enemy forces to their base of operations.” He stated in a neutral tone. “As such we will be hitting these bastards hard and fast, make sure to give them hell and don’t hesitate to pull the trigger…they sure as hell won’t.” He concluded just before the data packet came in on his HUD.

In the top left corner of his Heads Up Display a small mini-map appeared, it outlined the entirety of the Reckoning as a facility. On the map it displayed his current location as a brilliant yellow dot, in front of it was a green line that traced certain hallways for him and his men to follow, and at the end of this green path was a red square which signified the hostile forces. The route they were to take would bring them to a door directly alongside the hostiles, he knew it was likely either pried open or sealed shut, either of those options didn’t matter to him.

Var’tuur didn’t say anything to the men under his charge instead he simply unballed his fist and motioned with his open hand forward, a sign to move out. Var’tuur and his force moved through the facility to the checkpoint relatively unhindered as the route Aelius had plotted out was through an area that had largely already been secured. Upon arriving at their destination on the other side of the sealed door he picked back up communications with Aelius through their secured line.

“Aelius, inform Lord Audroti that you are switching off the Gravity generators on my mark.” He whispered.

“Ri-, wait what?!” Aelius replied his voice seeming extremely concerned.

“Just do it.” Var’tuur whispered in a hostile tone.

Once the request had been given Var’tuur reached over and snatched three breaching charges from a nearby trooper, placed them along the edges of the blast door’s frame and primed them. Once this was done he turned to his troopers with the intent of explaining his strategy.

“When I blow these charges shrapnel from the door will be thrown into these hostile’s faces, you need to prepare two fragmentation grenades and arch the throw here…” He paused pointing at the upper portion of the blast door as a reference for the troopers to aim at. “…once these grenades hit the ground, gravity within the Reckoning is gonna disappear. That means you lot need to be ready for it, we are hitting them hard and fast, since they took the time to weld these doors shut I HIGHLY doubt that they had time to bolt their E-webs down to the floor.” Var’tuur explained in a whisper. “Ready?” He asked quietly.

The reply was delayed as the troopers prepped their jetpacks that were located on the backs of their armor and two of them primed the fragmentation grenades. Once the men were prepared they gave a grim nod and green lights appeared next to their identification tags. Var’tuur synched the explosion of the breaching charges to the signal to drop the gravity, knowing there would be a small delay before the gravity was completely gone in the Reckoning, enough for the fragmentation grenades to hit the ground within the barricades but not detonate.

With a blink of his eyes the breaching charges exploded, sending shrapnel flying inwards towards the barricade and with a little luck catching the insurrectionist forces holding it down off guard. Immediately after the breaching charges detonated two fragmentation grenades were hurled through the opening and bounced off of a durasteel barricade and into the center of the men guarding the hallway. It was at that moment, all gravity within the Reckoning vanished, it caused the barricades, e-web blaster, insurrectionist men, and fragmentation grenades to float upwards simultaneously. This eliminated the option of the men climbing over the barricades to safety and ensured their demise as the grenades exploded.

“Hallway secured…although I severely doubt we will be using these barricades or the E-web anytime soon.” Var’tuur reported.

“Good work Captain, I will report your success to Lord Audroti, good luck holding down that hallway.” Aelius replied.

“Yeah, we’ll need it.” Var’tuur joked as he and his twenty men jet packed into the brutalized hall way.

Var’tuur and his men set up defensive positions facing both ways on the roof and walls by utilizing magnetic locks in their armor, ten to each side; they took cover behind the natural architecture of the facility’s ceiling and walls. With a kneeling position they would only have their upper torsos and heads exposed to the enemy and with two sets of rotating firing orders between the four squads they could hold down the hallway neigh indefinitely unless they were overwhelmed. The main route to the Hangar Bay and the insurrectionist’s checkpoint was compromised, that information would likely be a blow to them if it hadn’t been reported in shortly before the corpses that had been guarding the area were blown to pieces.

---

Audroti’s Forces​

“Lord Audroti, Captain Var’tuur is positioned and ready to strike the insurrectionist checkpoint and has informed me to prepare your men for a lack of gravity.” Aelius’ voice chimed in through the direct and secured line to him.

“I copy that.” Audroti replied simply before turning to his men and relaying the orders through their own secured lines.

Once the men had prepared their jetpacks for aerial maneuverability and the magnetic locks on the soles of Audroti’s boots within his war armor had been activated, allowing him to move unimpeded, after this he sent a green light that he and his forces were prepared. Within seconds Audroti could feel the effects of weightlessness around him, he knew that many of the insurrectionists would be caught off guard by this tiny surprise and many of the prisoners they had just rescued would perhaps have to be left behind. Once Var’tuur overtook their checkpoint and secured the hallway, the insurrectionists would have been cut off completely from the hangar bay, leaving only one viable option to rescue their precious leader…EVA. But Audroti had a plan to stop that as well.

“Aelius, pull two squadrons of TIE Fighters from dog fighting and put them on patrol routes outside the insurrectionist position, if they try to escape through the exterior of the station have the Fighters eliminate them.” Audroti ordered. “And open up every blast door between my position and the insurrectionists as we come upon them. Once we are through reseal the blast doors.” He continued.

“Yessir.” Aelius replied before relaying the orders to two squadrons of TIE Fighters and opening the first of several blast doors.

“I want thirty two men going down each hallway alongside the main forces route, move at double time to ensure that the insurrectionists do not use an alternate route to the Hangar Bay…I want them cut off and surrounded completely.” Audroti ordered his men through their secured line.

Silently the men obeyed, their squad leaders using the security code given to them to open each door along their path. Audroti would feel panic rise within the prisoners and perhaps the insurrectionists, their fear would fuel him, strengthen him as he pushed forward to a confrontation. He knew that insurrectionists across the facility would have to take a moment to respond to the lack of gravity and wouldn’t be able to react immediately to aid their comrades; these particular insurrectionists were caught in a grasp that was strangling the life out of them.

And so the noose grew ever tighter as Audroti’s forces closed the gap on these poor fools, nothing would save them from his Reckoning; nothing would prepare them for what lay ahead for them.

 

[Loco]

"Maybe we cen heve reunions late', yeh?" Arya muttered brusquely as she stalked past Sisk and Lutomi. She pressed past the former allit'alore as the breaching charge went off and was one fo the first through the breach- they had come prepared for such delays with plenty of breaching gear, but the swiftness of the Imperial response alarmed her. She knew better than to rely on the confusion for too long, but every spare second helped. Rendon appeared beside her as she trotted down the hallway toward the next blast door- their primary checkpoint between the cells and the hangars.

"Ma'am, it's hard to get a good clean count with everyone moving about, but the number of prisoners is larger than anticipated. We don't have weapons for the whole lot of them- not that they're all in fighting condition I suppose." He cocked his head to the side, indicating a trio of fairly decrepit looking Ithorians huddling against the bulkhead.

Arya's contemplation of the issue was short lived. No change. Their only hope was to stick to the original plan- get in and get out as fast as possible. Blast a hole through anything standing in the way.

"Get everyone movin' double time. Commando's up front, armed prisone's behind them, unarmed prisone's in the middle, and post an armed rear guard behind them..." She paused, remembering the Jetii's action in the cell block and raged briefly that she hadn't had the foresight to do it sooner, "End shoot out any of the senso' units you find- cemera's, heat senso''s, whateve'. Confuse 'em a bit et least."

The Stormtrooper nodded his acknowledgement and spoke quietly into his comm unit as they continued down the hallway, and the motely collection of raiders moved immediately to comply. Arya heard and witnessed several flashes and whines as blaster bolts tore into the security systems up and down the corridors. It was with pride that she saw the vanguard of the force forming up was led by several of her vod along with Rendon's troopers and the Rebel commandos. The Empire may indeed have won the war with her people in the long run, but she'd be damned if they didn't win a few more bloody battles before they went screaming into extinction.

"Cap'n, Cee Pee Alpha! We're--" The communication exploded in static and cut out. Almost at the same time, the metal deck below her feet appeared to suddenly lurch downward away from her, causing her to mistep and flail her arms out as her foot failed to make contact with the ground as expected. She wasn't the only one having problems she realized, as the raiders began crashing into each other and bouncing into the walls and ceiling at odd angles. When the comm signal returnedshe could hear the echo of explosions and a smattering of blaster fire. "Th--- Storm---- Cee Peee---" The signal died and did not return.

"Osik!" Arya spat as she tucked her arms and legs into a ball as she rose toward the ceiling. As she neared, she extended her arms, catching herself gently then pushed herself back towards the floor. As her boots made contact she activated the maglocks, securing her in place, then resumed her mad dash toward the blast door, trying as she did so to propel some of her compatriots in the right direction. She hit the blast door and turned to track the raiders progress behind her- their retreat had been slowed, but a sudden cut in gravity could hurt operations on the entire station, regardless of how well trained its occupants. She only hoped that the slow down wouldn't be fatal, as she watched the procession of raiders and prisoners slow to a virtual crawl. She spied Lutomi further back, clinging to a bulkhead in apparent concentration.

"Now would be a good time to do somethin' useful, yeh Jetii?!" she called out as several of the better equipped and or better prepared members of the assault force joined her at the bulkhead. Rendon and several of his troopers, one of the Mando'ade, and a pair of Rebel Commandos with pilfered armored boots with the same mag-locks she was relying on. "Checkpoints been breached- it's ou' only way out, so let's take it beck, yeh? Breachin' charge cente' of the door- we'll blow on my mark, follow with thermal's, then clea' it. Remembe' the layout. Watch the corne''s, end cove' eachothe', yeh?"

She got a series of nods or thumbs up, and somersaulted her way up to land on the ceiling- if the Imperials wanted to play these games, she would play these games. As the other commandos took positions in a complete three-dimensional circle around the double blast door, Arya removed a series of items from her armored explosives bandoleer. The first was a flat disk the size of a small dinner plate the she placed squarely in the center of the blast door- she hit the large button in the center of the disk, and a whirring noise and blinking indicator light signaled that it's sensors had begun creating a holographic model of the blast door in order to calculate appropriate breaching power. While these calculations occurred, she removed another pair of toys from their respective pouches- an overpowered Arakyd fragmentation grenade and the small cylinder of an MTIG EMP grenade. The BreachMaster charge on the door dinged to indicate its calculatory triumph, and she quickly manually adjusted the settings for a larger breach (an old habit that had served her well- better too much boom than not enough boom).

"Take cove'!" She shouted down the corridor, and was gratified to witness a scramble as prisoners and Rebels alike scattered for the nearest bulkheads, "Breach on three." She told the commandos around her, "One... Two..." On three, she slapped the prominent center button of the BreachMaster and looked away as it began its work. She heard the familiar hiss and woosh sound, then the immediate burnt chemical smell of vaporized durasteel as a perfectly round hole with smoldering edges nearly two meters across appeared in the center of the blast door. A flurry of blaster bolts whipped through the smoky haze from inside the breach, and the Rebels responded with a rag-tag volley of stun and fragmentation grenades of various types. Arya clicked the timer on on the MTIG once before she sent it spinning into the room, and followed it with the frag. The zero gravity conditions ensured that all of the rebels grenades sailed directly on their original paths, scattering and floating about the room in various directions. She heard shouting, the flurry of blaster bolts slowed, and suddenly the corridor was lit my multicolored strobes of blue and orange and yellow. Heat and static current washed out of the hole, buffeting the troops around it and sending bits of debris tumbling down the corridor behind her. The Rebels followed up by edging their blasters over the edge of the hole and replying with a flurry of blaster fire of their own.

Arya grabbed the edge of the quickly cooling breach and swung herself in before the defenders could re-concentrate their fire, heading immediately for the ceiling corner where she would have waited had she been on the Stormtroopers side of the door. She was pleased to see that her guess had been correct as she and a white clad trooper brought their weapons to bear on each other. She fired first, lancing an blaster bolt into the mans chest and sending him flying backward into the corner as his own shot went wide. Her momentum carried her into him and they crashed together against the ceiling as she turned back to face the center of the room. The "checkpoint" they had chosen (and failed) to hold was a sort of security foyer- a four way intersection with heavy blast doors on all sides and a small security desk that would direct traffic between the cell blocks, the hangar, and deeper into the bowels of the station. The thick haze created by the breach, the explosions, and the blaster fire prevented her from seeing from which direction the attackers had taken the checkpoint from the rebels.

The room was back lit by a furious storm of scarlet and emerald flashes from every direction, and she flipped her HUD to thermal view to search for targets. She never got the chance to choose, however, as a hulking Stormtrooper came jetting out of the haze toward her, blaster leveled. They fired simultaneously. Arya felt the heat of a blaster bolt deflect off her left shoulder plate, leaving a deep blaster score in the beskar alloy. Her own blast deflected off the mans upper chest plate, leaving a deep bloody gouge and spinning him around as he hurtled toward her. They collided, and the giant troopers superior momentum carried them back into the ceiling, where they struck, bounced, and began floating toward the floor. Arya, her carbine pinned against her chest by the mans bulks, wrapped an arm around his helmet. With her other arm she activated her wrist mounted virboblade and jabbed into the mans side as rapidly as she could. The blade bit deeply into the armor several times before finding the joint between chest and kidney plates. The trooper yelped in pain, grabbed the arm around his face and with surprising strength twisted his body around to face her. Arya lanced out another blow toward the mans faceplate, but he brought up his own dagger to deflect just in time.

Having a close quarters knife fight in zero-g in the middle of another ongoing light fight had not been on Arya's to-do list this morning she thought grimly as she twisted her arm around to block the troopers stab at her. Aryas feet touched the floor and she crouched, then pushed off strong, sending them hurtling back toward the ceiling in a haphazard spin. She had become largely oblivious to the fight going on around them- at least until a scarlet bolt of light came burning through the haze to strike the trooper in the center of his back. The blow sent them both spinning toward one of the rooms walls, and she she could feel the man weakening. She caught his wrist as he drew a hold-out blaster from his belt and tried to twist it into her belly. they struck the wall and she planted her feet on the floor, pinning them there, the blaster held out to the side as they wrestled over it. Despite the fact that he was probably dying, the troopers strength in his enhanced armor still outstripped her own, and he began to slowly win the grappling match. Lucky for me, size isn't everything...

"Jate kebb, vod." She said smugly as she freed her opposite hand and patted him gently on the helmet, resting her hand on the mans head. If blank reflective eyes could register confusion they would have, she thought as the blaster on the underside of her gauntlet bored into the side of the mans helmet. His eyes briefly lit up red before his body went limp and she let go, allowing the body to float aimlessly about the room. She spun, recovering her carbine and sweeping the room for more targets. Her thermal vision showed a disciplined line retreating under sustained fire through the haze, and she sent a few bolts zinging their direction to encourage them along. Thought the heat signatures were not as distint as she would like, her own breaching force appeared to have made a good accounting of itself so far. Rendon stumbled out of the haze to her side, blood trickling down his forehead.

"They're pulling back." he shouted, then turned to direct the newer raiders pushing their way through the burnt hole in the blast door. With any luck, the opposition wasn't as well prepared as they thought themselves- a little brute force went a long way Arya knew. She began pushing forward to join her foremost attackers in the corridor. They had a ways to go yet...

 

[Mistress]

In The Corridor​

Stealth still held in full swing, after a moment of assessing the onset of Zero Gravity, Lutomi used a technique of which her experience is only mediocre. However she did in her past, shift the location of a Dark Force Nexus to begin realigning an entire effected planet. Thankfully, what is needed here is not that critical! Swirling the air within the limited space like two gears meeting and pressing down in the middle of the corridor, and flowing upward at the far edge, she created a constant air pressure generated through Alter Environment. Those without proper gear, victims of Zero-G, grasped hands and had the traction necessary to propel themselves forward. Lutomi could correct any error with a little Push to help them maintain momentum.

The checkpoint was secured by the Rebels at an astonishing pace. Lutomi marveled at the skill of the Mandalorians, recognizing that this could have been her way of life had she not been abducted by the Sith at a very tender age.

At the close of the fighting, Lutomi thought of the register of prisoners she had scrolled through when they looked up Sisk’s location. She concentrated on the remaining Imperials as she waved a hand in their direction, charged with enforcing a Jedi specialty, Mind Trick. "You catch sight of the Darklord of the Sith quickly passing by and moving on. He addresses you directly and demands that you and the remaining troops report to Isolation Cell G to assure the security of the infamous Nightsister Prisoner. You must make the others believe you. If you do not do his bidding, you will all suffer his wrath." The Jedi Master always loved the opportunity to exhibit this skill. It isn't everyday that a situation is critical enough to call for using Mind Trick. How she actually got her practice in during her youth, is a fact probably best that it should die with her.
　
　

In The Hangar​

In the hangar, the fire of the burning vessel had completely smothered away under the forcefield. At the same time Zero-G had been implemented, while Lutomi moved the prisoners along the corridor, troops in the hangar experienced in aerial acrobatics immediately took the responsibility of going around the room to quickly Tack Weld the unsecured plinth mount gear and barricades to the floor.

Their comrades and freed prisoners still trapped behind the first blast door which leads to the first detention block where the Carbon Freeze Chamber is located, encouraged other worried Insurgents in the hangar to scramble to set up to blow it from their side.

An Astromech Droid Unit nicknamed Two-Bits raced down the ramp of the Rebel Gunship, beeping wildly to signify it’s understanding and worry regarding the situation. The magnetic charge of his wheels activated, the Droid weaved in and out of the men, trying to assist in securing the weaponry to the floor with his welding apparatus. After a moment of helping out a few of the Troops Two-Bits turned and raced away unexpectedly.

The little droid activated his turbo boosters and approached the outer wall of the hangar, searching for something specific. It didn't take long for Two-Bits to find what it needed, a computer access port. It opened up a small compartment and extended its Universal Computer Interface Arm to link up with the Reckoning’s mainframe, the droid’s A.I. programming adequate in conversing and troubleshooting to restore Gravity to the Station. The droid beeped and jolted excitedly in place. Armed Rebels protected the little hero. The Artoo Unit beeped with perceptible joy to say, 'I got this one, guys!’

Two-Bits plugged away happily in the computer system. Given time, he could have taken the whole station code apart, but time was something they didn’t have. Instead he would focus on what he could do, and plan the chain reactions accordingly. His electronic mind raced through possibilities as he skimmed through code. 'The fire suppression systems. Excellent!!'

He sent a single burst of code to the computers that controlled Reckoning’s fire system, and locked open the circuits that would read as a fire in the Control room. As long as that circuit was locked the fire suppression foam would keep spraying, making the command center a slippery, sticky mess with the heavy, white, fire retardant material. Screens would be obscured, men would be blinded, and just walking would be hard. Two-Bits also locked open the smoke detection nodes in the prison wings, forcing the blast doors open for evacuation. If he had more time he could have been even more precise, but for now he was focused on what they needed, not what they wanted.

Last but not least, he reminded the computer that the gravity was shut off, which was against main operating protocol and would hamper an evacuation. Emergency protocol even overrode lockdowns, and as long as the ‘emergency’ was ongoing, the lockdown was effectively over. His senses picked up gravity returning and his treads came into gravitic contact with the deck. Now all Two-Bits had to do was monitor the fire circuit and make sure the imps couldn’t close it. And his reflexes were much faster than organics. A thought struck him, and he turned a portion of his mind to the hull breach controls, monitoring those inputs as well. It was a fencing match of electrical signals, and Two-Bits was a master.

In The Corridor​

Gravity restored, Lutomi pressed her hand to the comm bead in her ear, activating the delicate circuitry inside and sending out a transmission to the gunships waiting in the hangars. //"Perform a quick scan of the hangar and locate the main fuel and power conduits. Then have your crews unload several warheads and place them above the junctions."// She kept up her frenzied pace towards their rides, and was almost yelling at the pilots. //"Disarm the pressure detonators and put them on a remote link! Move soldier!"// The men were quick in following orders and began to bark out orders to their crews as they flipped switches on their consoles to send remote commands to change the programming on the warheads. They had maybe 2 minutes. The heavy casings on the warheads would protect them from anything except a missile, but even then they required a very specific triple timed burst from the detonator to activate. They could actually provide very effective cover if need be.

A quick sensor scan showed a heavy conflux of energy mid deck and a heavy fuel line closer to the turbolifts. A quick transmission marked the location in the gunnery crew’s HUD for placement.

The Mandalorians were certainly efficient, and had the missiles out of their tubes in less than a minute, slinging them onto wheeled movers and hurrying them down the ramps. Rebel soldiers who were not focused on the doorways moved to assist, gripping the heavy carts and hurrying them to the designated locations. The synchronized chronos showed 90 seconds had passed. By the time the carts were in position and locked down the chronos were at 114 seconds and the sound of running feet and blaster fire could be heard clearly from the main prison hall on both sides.

Lutomi senses a Sith approaching. She felt him quite dominant, entirely unconcerned with concealing his Force Presence.

One Imperial Trooper left for dead, no longer free to float about the corridor, settled now hunched over against the wall across from Lutomi. He was still struggling for his breath, wounded by a slug thrower. Lutomi rose from her place and hovered over him, rendered the Imperial Soldier a sense of peace during his approaching death. She removed his helm and placed it on top of her head and spoke over the Imperial channel, //"This day will live in infamy as the dawn of a new era for all, the dawn of your reckoning, our rebellion."// What else is there to say? Turning to the other rebels with her Lutomi stated, "Get some tripwire mines down near those doors. Hopefully it will slow down our pursuers." The tripwires were made of a fine, but fairly strong titanium alloy which could actually trip a person and were fairly hard to see unless you were near ground-level. Not only that but they could seriously cut up an unarmored shin. They were connected to anti-personnel mines which would detonate once the wire was pulled shredding anyone unfortunate enough to be standing close by.

Suddenly the blast doors all around them began to open. Two-Bits had been able to override the security lock-down. Excellent. Activating her comm to the rest of the rebels in the hanger Lutomi ordered them to start firing down the corridors and flush out the remaining guards. As soon as the blast doors were fully opened Lutomi had her lightsaber out ready to block any laser bolts that would be coming her way. To her rear the rebels with her began laying down a field of heavy cover fire to suppress any of guards coming up from behind them. With all the blast doors opened they would be susceptible to fire from behind, but there were enough rebels with her to slow down any chasing Imperials and give them pause and cover the front of the group as they charged. With her lightsaber out Lutomi began running, nearly sprinting down the remaining corridor blocking blaster bolts within the reach of her lightsaber. Behind her Sisk, Arya, and the rest of the rebels and liberated prisoners began firing their weapons as they followed her charge. Grenades were tossed over head and Lutomi was ready to throw back any enemy grenade with a sufficiently powerful Force Push. The only direction grenades were going was forward towards the Imperials. Reaching out with the Force the Jedi Master used stun on the nearest guard as he poked out from his cover.



On the hanger side of things squads of rebel commandos began moving into the corridors. In the main corridor the most experienced of the rebel marksmen and women began moving forward whilst taking shots at the backs of the Imperial prison guards with such cool accuracy that the risk of friendly fire would be negligent until the strike force was in melee range. This would at worst keep the guards pinned down as they tried to fight back from both angles and at best kill several of them weakening the checkpoint. In the adjacent corridors rebel squads moved in to provide support for the retreating rebel strike team. In this way the rebels began whittling away at the limited number of Imperial prison guards in the surrounding hallways so they could not easily reinforce their beleaguered colleagues in the main corridor, not without taking casualties anyways. These rebels were no slouches either, nor were these green recruits, these were some of the best soldiers the Alliance had to offer for this mission: Mandalorians, ex-Imperial Stormtroopers, and rebel commandos. The rebels moved forward in kill-teams laying down covering fire before advancing and using grenades to disorientate their opponents as they closed with them.

As the snipers began firing and taking their toll on the guards preventing Lutomi and her allies from escaping she began using the Force to pull and push guards out of position so that they could be dispatched by rebels on either side of the checkpoint. At the fast pace they were moving they would be on top of the last remaining guards in mere seconds. With rebels to their front and rebels to their back the surviving Imperials would be quickly overrun by the sheer number of the rebels and freed prisoners charging down the corridor. All that remained was for Lutomi to make it past this Imperial checkpoint and into the hanger where hundreds of additional rebel guns would be waiting cover her.
　

　

In The Hangar​

An untrained force sensitive, gunner with a terribly personal vendetta he is just itching to settle, watched on from inside the same Haranov Gunship Sisk’s Clan had once owned, as the troops reset their weaponry after the Imperial’s initial Gravity trick had skewed them. He thought it a terrible waste of able manpower. //"Everybody stand ready,"// his voice projected over the comm. The gunner of the Darasuum Cabur, the Eternal Guardian and Protector waited for the other Rebel ships to reply.

The Gunner began to think about Lutomi whom he had met during the trip here. Now a very clear picture of her seemed to form within his mind. She spoke to him through Projective Telepathy, "Drayton. Do you feel it, Drayton? A Sith is on the Station. Do not allow him to gain access to the hangar. Protect the Artoo Unit at all cost! We are almost there. Hail the waiting ships. Plot your course for the Hyperjump now!" Just as abruptly as the Jedi’s touch had begun, it fell away. Drayton couldn't have known that Lutomi had a connection with the Captain of the Zephira, so strong that she never needed to hail him before! But her request of him is merely a backup precaution, considering the number of lives at stake!

Drayton complied, cracking his knuckles.