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Thread: All That Remains: Ashes and Temples

  1. #41
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    His body threw itself back, only halting at the back of his chair.

    Eyes blinking, Dage stared ahead as if in a daze. The ring of security officers seemed to close in, but a raised hand weakly waved them back.

    And then he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as his head bowed. Lidded eyes slowly slid from the decking below to the unconscious form of the Jedi Knight. Dage pulled in a long breath, no longer fettered by the angry pressure that had pushes against him. Now, it was gone. Banished to wherever it had originated. Long, deep breaths were taken, and a few minutes later he finally looked up while rising gingerly to his feet.

    "You," he gestured to a pair of officers, "Take Knight Hicchoru to the infirmary."

    They hesitated, looking at one another.

    "Now, Soldiers."

    And in the next moment they obeyed, pulling Anbira up and supporting him carefully between them.

    Samus Dage turned his attentions to the two ensigns occupying the weapons station. His tongue ran over his bottom teeth, behind his lower lip. Another inhaled breath, and he let it out.

    "Jennaro, Hawks. Start calculations for a firing solution on Dauntless."

    Dan and his ship were still a fair distance away, but it wouldn't be long before they were closing in on Ossus."

    "Sir?"

    "The General has taken leave of his sensibilities."

    The two shifted their shocked expressions from each other to their captain. They were wasting time.

    "Firing solutions. Now."

  2. #42
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    He'd resisted.

    No doubt due to the Jedi's meddling, certainly. Only those of the most certain convictions could do otherwise.

    The Dark Lord's scowl wore severe on his face, no longer requiring the subterfuge to appear any differently. An alert sounded at the comm's station, but Decepis had little use of the meaningless words of the officer manning his post.

    His fleet had arrived.

    His fleet, who would require his fullest attention, but in a way Dage did not. Battle Meditation was an ancient art from the long-ago times of the Sith wars. Only through him would their resolve be strengthened, and their will become one. Only through him would victory be complete.

    "Prepare Task Force 42 to attack. Every single Jedi, and every crewman aboard the Levantine are now an enemy of the Alliance. Show them no mercy."

  3. #43
    That caught him by a healthy measure of surprise, and from his perched position behind Dan's command chair, Kori sent a worried, and very concerned look to his commanding officer.

    "The Levantine, Sir? Surely you're mistaken... ?"

    Engaging the Jedi he could understand, but Dage???

  4. #44
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    Darth Decepis would no longer be questioned by those lesser than he. Yellow eyes tracked back to meet Commander Kori's surprised expression. The Sith Lord's grasp upon the Urn of Korriban tightened.

    "I am certain, Commander. Our friend has betrayed us."

  5. #45
    It was like a bolt of lightening, the sureness that filled him to the brim. His expression hardened, his eyes narrowing.

    And with a durasteel-laced tone, his next words spoke volumes to the command the General held over him.

    "Yes Sir."

    At that, his attentions went from the General to the helm.

    "I want points on all of our ships," he barked.

    "And begin preparations for orbital bombardment."

  6. #46
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    Novgorod split the ether with a crack into realspace, slotting into a forward attack position as Task Force 42 began to form a screen formation around the stricken Dauntless.

    Captain Quez had uttered barely a word, nor had anyone else on the bridge. The enormity of what they were about to do hung over every single head like a terrible stormcloud.

    "Get ourr shjields up." Cirrsseeto's command came quietly from dry lips. "Launch fjighterrs and load mjissjile tubes."

    His newly-minted Executive Officer sat perched on the edge of his seat to the right. Cirr's blue eyes tracked just enough to bring him into focus, then turned back at the sight ahead.

    They were still well out of weapons range, but that wouldn't last for long. Soon, they'd be close enough to fire.

    And fire they would.

    There was no pride or honor or anything good in Cirrsseeto. He felt cold, empty, and alone. How many of the people he considered friends were involved in this plot? And even if they all were, it didn't make this easier.

    Just barely discernible in the distance, the Alliance frigate Levantine hung against the backdrop of Ossus, clearly the largest ship in a motley array of what were mostly unarmed transport craft. The Jedi were finally finding a home...


    ...and he had brought the sword to raze and pillage it.


    It had to be done. Cirrsseeto hunched over in his seat, eyes fixed to a spot on the floor as he brought his clasped hands up to his mouth.

    "Saanjarra forrgjive me..." he whispered.

    Abarai, forgive me.

    In a louder voice, the order came.

    "Lock weapons on the Levantjine."

  7. #47
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    "We've got multiple weapons locks, Sir!"

    Dismaying, angering, yet above all not surprising in the least. Samus Dage glared daggers at the forward viewscreen and the advancing line of pinprick ships.

    "What do we have at our disposal, other than ourselves?"

    The answer was not exactly heartening.

    "Some barely working ground support, a few transports with a single turbolaser, and us."

    It wasn't unexpected, but in the grand scheme of things, he'd been armed with worse. Dage scowled, his eyes closing tightly as he felt his world flipped about and set on its' ear. He wanted it to be a dream. Nothing but a bad dream.

    "Send to Command Dauntless."

    The comms officer was quick, and a moment later looked back in a silent show of readiness.

    "Text only."

    "Yes Sir."

    "Dauntless ordered to stand down. If hostilities persist, then lethal force will be used."

    And as an afterthought, he went on.

    "I've been in tougher situations than this, General. You know that."

    His eyes tracked to the comm officer, and his gaze was met with a nod as the message was sent.

  8. #48
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    * * * * * *
    in hyperspace...




    She sat in the chair. Her chair. The chair of the captain.

    Gaze set forward, the Lupine leaned back as she pulled in a long breath, letting it back out slowly. Behind her, KHER stood, flanked by Morgan on the right. Kes had taken up residence in the pilot's nest. An old habit that he couldn't help but indulge in. Their first short stint together had been when he was piloting Novgorod. And it was more than likely that this endeavor now would be their last. It seemed only fitting. Her eyes closed as her head dipped low. She felt the wholeness that now flooded her senses, and the disgust and horror that her untouched half now projected. The part of her that had committed so many atrocities in the name of a man too selfish to see the devotion of one... the desperation that she'd had to cling to him, to come so many times to the point of begging him for his acceptance, pleading for his affections...

    The pureness of her renewed self recoiled, yet reached out all the same. It knitted itself back together, taking hold as a single entity once more. She was a whole being again, though it had come at such a terrible cost. She had much to answer for, but in the here and now there far more pressing matters than the crippled psyche of one woman.

    She let her good eye crack open, tracing up to look at the back of the pilot's nest.

    "What's our time to arrival."

  9. #49
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    His time in the piloting simulations for the Lupine ship had been few and far between, but Kes was a quick enough learner. The controls were intuitive enough, and almost geared to an actual fighter pilot's setup. Except that, rather than flying a snubfighter, he was flying a capital ship. A strange type of control, but in a way it made sense all the same. With one hand propped up on the left control stick, his other reached forward to deftly run across the illuminated console that was practically in his lap.

    "Looks like about seven minutes."

    In any other situation seven minutes would've been a short amount of time, but now? Now was a whole different matter entirely, and the redhead frowned as a warning light came to life on the panel at his side.

    "We're getting a general distress call passed through the Ossus relay... "

    His frown turned into a scowl as he read the message and who it'd come from.

    "... from the Levantine."

  10. #50
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    Levantine was Dage's new ship, and the news of a distress call being sent was sign enough that they were cutting it too close. Or, worse yet, too late. There were still Alliance ships in orbit over Ossus, but the amount had significantly been rreduced over the course of the last few months.

    And if Dage had seen fit to send out a general distress call, then that meant her husband had barreled onward like a crazed rancor.

    "I want every battery primes and ready to fire the moment we drop," she barked at KHER.

    "Kes," the Lupine leaned forward then, one shoulder angling forward as her eye remained on the swirling starlines ahead of them.

    "I want you to overshoot our entry point. We need to fall out practically in Ossus' atmosphere."

  11. #51
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    * * * *

    over ossus...





    "I need a medic in here NOW!!

    The bridge of the Levantine was in shambles. Panels had been blasted apart, conduit and wiring littering the deck all about. Sparks showered from destroyed terminals as crewmen scrambled to diffuse the wreck all around them. And in the midst of it all, Dage was crouched in a tangle of wires, kneeling beside Lt. Gantar who'd had the unfortunate luck to be pinned beneath an inner bulkhead beam.

    "Where's my medic?!!"

    For the moment, the onslaught that Dan had unleashed upon them was ignored.

    But, this travesty was not forgotten, and Samus Dage growled as he braced against the I-beam. Whatever madness had come upon his former superior officer had been made manifest in a terrible way.

    A man in a scuffed uniform, wearing a red armband slid down beside him, and quick hands went to work to try and pull Gantar free.

    "Took you long enough," the blonde grunted as he put all of his muscle into lifting the beam another fraction of an inch.

    "Sorry Sir," the medic grunted, "... seems we've got a bit of a situation going on about us."

    "No shit, Sherlin... "

    Another few moments of straining, and Gantar was dragged out.

    Dage let go just before his body did so involuntarily, and stumbling up in the midst of another violent barrage, looked to the closest officer.

    "You send the distress signal?"

    "Sent, Sir."

    "Good- " The deck beneath his feet bucked, and he reached out to grab the closest stationary object to arrest any fall.

    "Where are Myor and Crenshaw?"

    "Coming around for another pass, Sir, but Crenshaw is reported heavy damage. They're chewed up."

    Gritting his teeth, Dage gave an angry look to the forward viewscreen before half-stumbling back to his chair.

    "Get me Dauntless on the holo," came his snapped command.

    It wasn't long before the crackling image of Dan materialized in a translucent blue image, and Dage fell into his seat. He stared at Dan with dogged determination.

    "Give up, yet?"

  12. #52
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    Aboard Dauntless, General Dan's hand rose from his lap, a silent sign to his crew to stay their attack momentarily. Skirmishing frigates backed off. Fighter squadrons pulled back. Within a minute, what had been a frenzied fight in the space above Ossus turned eerily still, save for the traces of debris between the opposing forces.

    "I spent a long time teaching you, Samus. A long time. You've done...well. As good as expected, considering how badly the odds are against you."

    Dan reclined in his seat, gesturing for effect.

    "Look at the field. You are fully committed and barely holding your position. I haven't even fielded half my fleet. It's over. I know you see that. I don't know if it's pride or dogged loyalty that's blinded you to the Jedi, but you still have one lesson left to learn - how to make the truly difficult decision."

    The General drew a long breath, and paused.

    "One last chance. I wouldn't offer it to anyone else."

  13. #53
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    "I may be barely holding," came the retort, "... but I'm still holding."

    The look on Dage's face was one that was seemingly foreign. Gone was any trace of the carefree demeanor and laugh-lines that'd begun to form at the edges of his eyes. Replacing his almost constant smirk was now a look of fierce stubbornness. It was a trait that he'd displayed many times before, but never outwardly displayed as it was now. His eyes were sharp, glittering with resolve.

    "This is madness, Dan. You've got to know that."

    The General's words from before, about Lok, resonated through his mind. It was a tough pill to swallow, the news of his old friend's death. And even though Dan now accused the Jedi of murdering her, he couldn't find any reason to turn his guns on the planet below.

    He went on.

    "This isn't what Lok would want. Gods, Dan. She was your wife... ! You must know that she'd never want anything like this..."

  14. #54
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    Aboard Novgorod

    Captain Quez knew this part. Any Cizerack would. This was the part where the prey was caught in all but the most immediate sense of the word. You relented. You gave slack. They clung onto a false hope, but the end was always the same. Playing, before the finale.

    But this wasn't playing. This was so very real.

    No one said a word on the bridge. Everyone's face had the same nearly-blank expression. They all wore the look of people barely hanging on to the moment, and sacrificing their comprehension to do so.

    People had died, that much Cirr knew. At the very least they'd died in the initial fighter skirmish. With the amount of body blows landed on Levantine, the chances were high that crew had already died on the frigate.

    "Majintajin posjitjion."

    Hunched over in his chair, Cirr watched the deathly-quiet battlespace ahead with a grave expression.

  15. #55
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    Aboard Dauntless


    Dan gave his friend a moment to pour out his guts. One more moment for a change of heart he knew wouldn't come. Instead, Dage used it as a pulpit to harangue and berate his decision. A weighty frown dominated Dan's expression as his long-time comrade made clear exactly where he stood.

    "Loklorien," he answered softly, "would have wanted the Jedi to stand with the Alliance, not stand above them. There's no way to soften the choices, my friend. The Jedi have made it a matter of Us and Them."

    The General paused, as if expecting another measure might bring Dage over from the divide.

    "I guess it's clear where we both stand. Guess there's nothing left I can say to talk you down."

  16. #56
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    Samus Dage sat in silence, half-listening to Dan's words as his own eyes flitted past the holographic image of the General and to the projected battle map of the space over Ossus. He could see the truth of his old friend's bitter summary of where things stood. It stung, but like a starving Anooba he refused to let go of the fight despite the known outcome. At this point in time, even he was beyond false hopes. The end result for him and his crew was most certainly death.

    It was not exactly how he figured he'd shuck off his mortal existence, that was for sure.

    The only two other ships under his command that might've been able to hold for any short amount of time were damn near dead in space, and Levantine was barely fairing any better. A steady marker, holding back, caught his eye as the computer's IFF marked it as the Novgorod. It was enough to cause a frown.

    "Bringing your old girl into this fight," He couldn't help but mutter half-way to himself. He remembered when s'Il had had it recommissioned. It'd been a hell of a feat to drag the old corvette back into service.

  17. #57
    Marlon knew that look on his old friend's face, and stepped forward to try and return Samus' attentions fully to the comm.

    "Listen to reason," even now he tried to press upon the lanky blonde the need for action. The need to make things right. It was obvious that Dan was unable to sway him, and so Kori offered a last plea.

    "We grew up together, Quentin- "

    That brought Dage back front and center.

    "Don't you dare call me that," came the returned bark.

    Kori ignored it.

    "We grew up, chased the same girls, hell we both went off to war for the same reasons. We were two shit-for-brains Myomarians who didn't know anything until the General came along. We've all been together now for too long to abandon the right thing. Whatever you're hoping for now just won't happen. Lok is dead, and we have to set things right."

    A crewman off to the side leaned back in her seat, casting a look to him, and Kori stared a moment longer at the translucent blue of his comrade.

    "We fought all those years ago against oppression, Quentin. And here... now... we're doing just the same."

    "Commander," the waifish lieutenant sidled up beside him. "We're getting initial readings from the main hyperlane into this system. Something's coming in. Something big, Sir."

  18. #58
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    As Kori was distracted, Dage let out a cough, trying to fill his lungs with something other than the acrid smoke that was now ever present on the bridge. He didn't care at this point; didn't care if he was going to die. Didn't care if he would fail. What mattered now was making sure to put up the most hellacious fight he could.He'd go kicking and screaming into oblivion if he had to.

    "Sir," the hurried whisper from his last remaining helmsman caught his attention then, and the blonde snapped his head to look at the Farghul.

    "Yes, Raghus?"

    "Sir, there's something coming through the hyperlane on a course for Ossus."

    For a brief moment, he dared to hope.

    "Any idea what ship?"

    "Not a clue, sir. It's big though. Not so big as Dauntless, but it's close."

    A puzzled look was sent to the felinoid.

    "No transponder codes?"

    "No Sir."

    Dage blinked, made a face, and turned back to the holo for a moment. By the look on Kori's face, his own people were giving him the same news. A thought, and he turned once more to Ensign Raghus.

    "Any idea when they drop?"

    The Farghul could only shake his head. "Their signature is coming up on the waypoint now, Sir... " Green eyes narrowed, then widened as he shot an almost panicked look to his superior.

    "They're overshooting it!"

  19. #59
    "Sir, they're overshooting the waypoint!"

    "What?!"

    Samus was almost instantly forgotten as he reared back, shoulders hitching up and shooting a look to his comms officer.

    "No dropped transponders or exit pings!"

    Kori glanced at Dan only for a moment before a blinding light filled the Dauntless' viewport...

  20. #60
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    The drop into realspace was sudden, and just a hair past the waypoint marker for Ossus.

    Khera'va'ss'io dove from hyperspace practically into the atmosphere, his angle allowing just enough room to use the uppermost stratosphere as a cushion. His wings tilted, sending his rakish main hull on a sideways trajectory that gathered speed and momentum towards the battleground that Kes was now calling out to her.

    "Looks like Levantine has taken a hell of a beating, Captain. Myor and Crenshaw are in worse shape. Picking up debris signatures... "

    The lay of the 'land' was clear to her, and s'Il sat in her seat in silence. One elbow propped on an armrest, her gaze was fixed to the scene ahead.

    The graceful hulk of her ship dipped low once it had passed the planet, coming up to face the to combating capital ships in eerie silence.

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