Command Section
Hammer of Cha’kota
Agua’tah Surface
To’ka’s grip tightened on her command chair as she stared out of the star destroyer’s main view port. A huge crack crossed it from one corner to it’s opposite; left there by a starfighter’s glancing impact during the battle. Her gunners had kept it from impacting the bridge directly, and likely saved the lives of her and her bridge crew. That might all be for naught, now.
She knew that they watched her. The captain looked around, seeing the fear that she could sense in the air. The humans showed it the most. They were weak creatures - unfit for the Dominion - but they served a purpose, even if their very presence offended her senses.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet, but firm. The sounds of combat in the corridor outside punctuated her words. “Remember your vows. We will stand steadfast. Even now, the noble Arr’ka fights the invaders in the corridor outside. He stands valiantly, to the last breath.”
She would join him soon. Arr was her brother. While she had chosen the navy, he had found a different path in the government. They had embarked on this mission together. It should have been easy. It would have been an opportunity to catch up on their lives, to relax as much as an official and a naval officer could while on duty.
Then the Warhost had come. The descendants of the Sith had turned their vacation into a nightmare. Just as the Sith had brought suffering to the Iktotchi in the distant past, these followers of Naga Sadow did to them today.
She stood up slowly, running her fingers along the extended metallic hilt and rubberized grip of her lightsaber. She knew she must not show any agitation or impatience. The time would be soon.
“Prepare your weapons,” she said flatly. “Defend yourselves.”
A sending from her brother denoted the proper time. He felt he had worn down the invaders. Now it was her turn to attack, and his to rest. He was tired, but she would defend him as she always had.
Now.
She turned toward the blast door and waved her hand. It slid open, revealing her brother Arr and three others. Bodies littered the corridor - the bodies of her personnel, but none of the Warhost. Arr had his hands raised, short bursts of lightning arcing from them. He had always been so good with the lightning. It was said in their Caste that only anger flowed through Arr’s veins - excepting when his sister was around. An Anzati and a human were opposed to him, the Anzati deflecting the bulk of the lightning with his violet blade, the human assisting where he could…
Another being stood there; one of a familiar feeling in the Force. He was a Clawdite, but not one of theirs. He had come from outside. Couldn’t he see that these Shadows were a cruel evil that needed to be dealt with?
“Traitor,” someone growled. She could not say who. The Clawdite fired a blaster pistol into the newly-exposed bridge, killing one of the crew before they had a chance to do anything.
Baring her teeth, To’ka surged forward, igniting her lightsaber, emerald-hued blade springing to life. She deflected the next shot back at the Clawdite, causing him to take cover in a crossing corridor. Arr’ka backed into the bridge and allowed his sister to move up. She deflected the Anzati’s strikes and spun her lightsaber, igniting its opposite end as it arced toward the invader. He retreated several steps, narrowly avoiding the weapon. His companion - seemingly a novice - joined the fight, but seemed hesitant to face her double-bladed weapon.
Good. He would be easy prey. Then the Anzati would fall and the Clawdite would be next. She might yet escape this day.
I will not be an easy kill.
Sneering, she attacked again.
Engine Room
Hammer of Cha’kota
Agua’tah Surface
“How’s it coming, Bentre?” Locke asked. His voice seemed only slightly tensed, as if he was merely impatient. When Bentre glanced up, he caught the sight of lightsaber blades crashing against each other. He could feel repeated uses of the Force as well. Each one made it more difficult to concentrate. The Shadow could imagine one of those strikes impaling him from behind, but Locke would ensure that didn’t happen.
He hoped.
You’re going to fail, a voice told him. Stop this. Save yourself.
“No,” he muttered. “Not doing that.” Then, louder, he answered Locke, heat rising in his voice. “You try rewiring a capital ship hypermatter reactor power management relay while people are fighting around you!”
He all-but growled that last part, far more than he intended. The Shadow focused on his work, sweat beading on his forehead. He hadn’t expected his slicing ability to be tested under such duress.
To Locke’s credit, the Consul did not respond angrily. Instead, his voice was jovial - though tinged with hints of exhaustion.
“Wanna trade?” he asked.
“No,” Bentre said, voice slightly more calm. He did his best to control it.
“The quicker you get that done, the sooner me and old horns-for-brains can be done here.”
Locke referred to the Iktotchi assassin they had found after clearing the engine room of other threats. He was not some unstoppable juggernaut, but so far he had managed to keep the Consul busy. If someone else showed up, they were going to have a problem.
Almost there, Bentre thought. Just need to find the right…oh.
He typed a series of characters and selected the execute command. The ship rumbled, a loud, accelerating hum filled the chamber, as if a large starship was rapidly approaching them. It was invigorating how such a small thing as inputting a command could affect so much.
“I hope that was good,” Locke yelled, voice hoarse.
In answer, Bentre smiled and leaped up and rushed to Locke’s aid, making a show of beating the Iktotchi’s back. The alien was tired and an easy target. He had probably not expected Bentre to suddenly join the fight. The Shadow summoned the Force, willing it to his legs and other muscles. He knocked the Iktotchi’s lightsaber out of the way and shouldered into him with a yell, sending the enemy over a nearby railing.
“What’s down there?” Locke asked, panting as he stepped up beside Bentre.
“Coolant tanks,” the Shadow said. “We should have those fireworks you wanted soon.”
“Great,” Locke breathed. “Let’s get out of here before they come.”
Skyhook
Decaying Orbit
Agua’tah Atmosphere
The Sadowan host stared in bemusement at the former Grand Master. The veterans had experienced Muz’ power firsthand before, yet it was the first time for the newer members.
The Fallen Spear hovered nearby, matching the descent of the skyhook. Macron took the initiative, ushering his student Janos and the Cathar, Jade, forward. “Our mission has been completed, thanks for the offer, Ashen.” The Adept grinned and raised a hand in thanks.
Tarryyhn knelt nearby, with his Quaestor watching over him with concern as the stubborn Wookiee suffered from his wounds. Sanguinius nodded in agreement with Macron. “I agree, let’s use this opportunity to get out of here while we can.”
The Sadowans took the opportunity to move through the corridors, as fire licked at the edges of the skyhook. The Fallen Spear manoeuvred itself, following the Jedi and Sith as they made their way to the nearest extraction point.
Explosions began to erupt across the skyhook as critical systems failed under the heat and pressure of an uncontrolled re-entry. Tarryyhn and Tasha trailed at the back of the group, as the Quaestor supported her Aedile.
Sanguinius turned to face the pair, seeing their plight and going to their aid as an explosive spout of fire drove him backwards, separating the group. “Tasha!”, he shouted as the fire grew into a wall that prevented the Twi’lek and Wookiee from proceeding towards the exit.
“Don’t worry about us, we’ll make our way to the escape pods.” Tasha replied as Macron grabbed Sanguinius and dragged him towards the waiting Fallen Spear.
Tasha was surprised as Tarryyhn stopped leaning on her and rose to his full height. The Aedile picked her up and threw her over his shoulder as he drew upon his last vestiges of strength.
Command Section
Hammer of Cha’kota
Agua’tah Surface
Darkblade all but ignored the harrowing sound as the star destroyer began to rumble. It was a distant thing, small compared to the threat of the lightsaber spinning in front of him. This Iktotchi was much more in-your-face than the other, possessing a deadly grace that had nearly ended his life on more than one occasion. It was all he could do to hold her off; her double-bladed lightsaber spinning in unfamiliar forms. She was good - perhaps too good.
In his periphery, Aul and Aexod dealt with the bridge crew, trading fire back and forth. Once, the Iktotchi Captain leaped far wide to avoid a thermal detonator Aexod had rolled into the mix. Darkblade had seen it coming; had nodded at Aexod’s signal, but the Captain was fast. She had only briefly been on the defensive as a result.
He did not think he could beat her as they were. And if that other one got back in the fight, he would be quickly overwhelmed.
The Krath grit his teeth, grinding them together. He would not let that happen. He sensed other beings nearby, but who were they? Were they coming to help, or would they make this situation worse?
It wouldn’t matter. He had decided he would not fail in front of his subordinates. He would defeat these Iktotchi, and at least one of them would be his prisoner. Then he would have the knowledge he sought.
Stubbornly refusing to show weakness, the Krath Quaestor steeled himself. He summoned the Force, the dark side coming to his aid. He enveloped the Iktotchi woman in it, as if sweeping the light out of the air. It spread to a large part of the bridge, beyond the limits of the bridge catwalk they dueled on.
A Force user could sense, true, but would she think of the catwalk at her feet? There were so many variables to consider. He had to make sure her focus was on him and not on her footing.
“I will put you in a cell like this, very soon,” he said, voice ice. “You will tell me everything of the Dominion. Everything!” he snapped the last part, lightsaber prepared to parry. He walked around the side of the catwalk, beyond the crew pit that separated him from it.
“You will suffer as you have made others suffer. You will know pain as your ancestors did. This will be all that you see for the rest of your miserable life.”
Absentmindedly, he cut down a human member of the bridge crew, eyes never leaving the cloud of blackness he had made with the dark side. He wondered why the Iktotchi had not left it. Was she being cautious? Was she studying him? Let her study. Let her judge him. As long as her focus was on him.
“Then,” he finished, making his voice loud to be heard over the din of battle. “I will come for your family.”
“No!” came the snarling reply. The Iktotchi Captain barreled out of the cloud as Darkblade was forced to let it dissipate. The Captain’s feet found air and she slammed into the crew pit with an audible grunt.
Good, Darkblade thought, eyes slightly widened. He had not expected such a strong response at the mention of family.
“Reinforcements!” Aul shouted.
A squad of Warhost troops arrived, their insignias denoting them as elite special forces. At their head was an older, frail-seeming man. He had a white band tied around where his eyes should have been, but Darkblade sensed the Force in him.
Miraluka? Darkblade wondered. He could hear his opponent getting to her feet. She would soon attack again.
The Miraluka spoke quickly. “Call me Methyas. These troops were sent by Marcus, I believe - which is good, because every Dominion trooper in the vicinity is converging on this location. They’ll help hold those off, but it looks like I may be able to give you a hand.”
A crippled old…Jedi? Darkblade wondered.
“Fine,” he said. He did not really want to work with the Jedi, but realized that having his help was better than not having it.
Methyas gave him an oddly knowing smile. The older man raised a hand, a discarded blaster rising in the air with it. At first, Darkblade thought the Miraluka intended to use it, but instead he hurled it with the Force, causing the Captain to duck as she approached.
“Didn’t I tell you how things would go?” Darkblade said, turning to her, his voice ice. This time, he went on the offensive. She had clearly been disoriented by her earlier fall. He would have her soon, now.
Behind him, he could hear the thud and crashing sounds of objects hitting walls, the sparking, technologic crackle as consoles were destroyed. The newcomer’s chosen tactic seemed to be throwing objects at his enemies.
Darkblade put that out of his mind. He had the Captain on the defensive now, but would likely need to make the best use of his assets to secure her.
He intended to make good on his words.
To’ka did her best to defend against the oncoming Dark Jedi. Her sides ached where she had landed awkwardly on a console in the crew pit, her head throbbed with a headache that would not go away. She had let herself be tricked by this Anzati, but it would not happen again. She promised herself that. She loved her brother, but this Anzati was a fool and a follower of the Sith. He was evil incarnate and would say anything to throw her off. She knew that.
In the distance, she caught glimpses of her brother fighting another of the invaders. Arr’ka tried lightning, but the man blocked it with an invisible barrier and retorted by hurling discarded debris at the other Iktotchi. He did not even use a lightsaber, though To’ka could see he wore at least one. It seemed Arr had finally met one like himself, finally had the saber-less challenge he had always dreamed of. Others surrounded them. The bridge crew was dead. Warhost troops guarded against additional reinforcements.
Slowly, as she parried the Anzati’s attacks, the reality dawned on her.
They had lost. Arr was too far away. His movements were growing sluggish. She was injured and could not overcome this Anzati.
Arr’ka is going to die.
But that didn’t mean she had to. He would not want her to die for the sake of them dying together. He would want her to escape, if she could. She would find a way. Then she would report back to the Dominion and tell the council everything she had learned. Arr would not die in vain.
To’ka’s movements took her up against the cracked transparisteel she had so recently gazed out of. Long rays of light lay across the floor, disrupted by her and her opponent’s movements. Long shadows danced on the walls beyond them, as if giant fantastical monsters fought here instead of opposing Force adepts. The system’s primary star set in the distance, dusk coming to Agua’tah.
She spun her lightsaber, deflected another strike, and struck the transparisteel with her other blade. She hit it again and again as they fought, until a large portion of it collapsed. To’ka did not truly know what she was doing. It was madness, to be sure. If she stepped out, she would probably fall hundreds of meters. How would she escape?
There was no choice. It was jump and take her chances, or die. Or worse; she could not let herself be captured. To’ka jumped, her mind focused on sending Arr her final regards.
Farewell, brother.
Darkblade growled as the Iktotchi leaped off the star destroyer’s bridge. He watched her fall; watched until she disappeared out of sight below.
Coward. She had killed herself, rather than risk capture. He was angry, but could not truly decide if he would not take a similar risk in her shoes.
He turned back to the bridge. Methyas had finished with the other Iktotchi, who lay on the ground, bleeding from his head. It seemed that the Miraluka did not want to kill him. That would serve them well.
“We should leave,” Methyas said. “That hum is the ship’s main reactor overloading.”
Darkblade could feel it now. The rumble was intensifying. Blasters and everything else that was not bolted down clattered around them. “We came in through the hangar. It’s too far away.”
“We’ll have to call for help,” Methyas answered.
“You do that.” Darkblade turned to the others. “Aul, Aexod, we need to bring this Iktotchi with us, but do not mention him to anyone. We do not want to worry about spies in our midst.”
He did not know if they would listen, but it would have to do. If he could keep this Iktotchi a secret, he could have all the time he wanted to learn the Dominion leader’s secrets.
“As far as the Warhost is concerned, he died before we could reach him.”
Methyas made a sound, as if about to say something. After a long moment, he shrugged and fished out his comlink.
That’s right, old man. This is none of your business.
Skyhook
Decaying Orbit
Agua’tah Atmosphere
Muz, Macron, Jade, Janos and Sanguinius sprinted down the corridor towards the waiting Fallen Spear. The Sadowans had been forced to abandon two of their own. It sat poorly with Sanguinius that he had been forced to leave Tasha and Tarryyhn behind, but he trusted in his old Black Guard to escape with the giant bear.
They followed the former Grand Master through the skyhook, his wrist mounted tracker guiding him towards the waiting shuttle. Muz focused on his prize, the Iktotchi he had captured. The scholar floated alongside the Kyataran, as Macron followed close behind. The Alchemist had enjoyed the competition he had had with his former apprentice, Jade. She had won, allowing her access to one of his labs for a week. He wasn’t sure if she had won it legitimately, but Macron was amused at her guile and confidence. Janos, his new apprentice, had also proven himself well during the assault on the skyhook.
The Fallen Spear finally connected to a decompression chamber, allowing the Sadowans access. Muz marched up into his personal ship and unceremoniously deposited his prisoner on the floor. “We’re aboard, let’s get out of here.”
Sanguinius frowned as he crossed over the threshold of the ship. He was the last one aboard, the door shutting behind him. He had always seen Darth Ashen as an enigma, a being of unimaginable power. To be around him like this took away a lot of the mystery. Yet, he still respected the Krath and his strength.
The Sentinel watched the skyhook recede as the shuttle accelerated away from it. He hoped that he would see Tasha and Tarryyhn once again on the Damnation.
Skyhook
Decaying Orbit
Agua’tah Atmosphere
Several hell-raising minutes had passed as the pair had made their way through the skyhook back towards a bank of escape pods. Only one remained, as the others had either been used by Dominion troops or malfunctioned and misfired.
“Five minutes until this place burns up for good. I can get what we need in less time—” Tasha tried to explain to her wounded Aedile. He sat calmly against the wall, blood trickling from a half dozen puncture wounds and with each breath blood speckled his fur. He growled softly and stared at her. “—no I won’t go.” She finished before turning away from him to go back to the console that operated the escape pods.
Before her fingers struck the keys a heavy hand lifted her from her position and carried her across the room towards one of the escape pods.
She looked tilted her head, seeing what her Aedile had just noticed. A group of Trandoshans entered the chamber. They attacked the pair, blaster fire filling the tight corridor. Tasha would have been cut down immediately if Tarryyhn had not shielded her with his large body. He howled with rage.
“Put me down, Tarry," she said indignantly, before softening her voice. "As your Quaestor, I’m asking you to put me down. I’ll help…” She attempted to wriggle free but the Wookiee’s strength was at this moment far in excess of her own, even as the Trandoshans attacked him. She watched as his heavy hand smacked into the pod’s control panel and the door slid open. The next thing she knew she was thrown inside and as she came to a halt she turned to watch her Aedile close the door behind her. He ignored the Trandoshans, who slowly approached their prey.
“Tarryyhn, what are you doing? Tarry, stop kidding now, get aboard.” She hammered a fist against the pod’s sealed door but the door refused to open.
She watched as her Aedile, her big brother and friend, placed a bloody hand against the window before hitting the eject button. The pod rocked momentarily before being launched into the atmosphere. Shaking hard as it attempted to compensate for the skyhook’s new position, it heated up quickly, but the dampening shields kicked in and Tasha watched as she soared away from the platform.
Tarryyhn slumped against the wall. His breathing ragged and with each new intake of air he felt things becoming more difficult. He turned to look up at the Trandoshans, whose triumph was short-lived. The Wookiee growled at them, the growl turning into a chuckle that hurt with every breath. The heat had risen to ridiculous levels and as he came to rest he reached over and activated his communicator, opening a channel to Tasha and at the same time an open channel to the Clan’s forces.
“Remember, Tasha. Always take a challenge and never give up.” He began in Shyriiwook. A couple of confused voices asked what was being said, Sanguinius amongst them. The Trandoshans began to panic, distracted by their own fate.
“Life is what you make it. Live happy and free.” Tasha began to translate out loud as small tear drops appeared in the corner of her eyes.
“Tasha, what is he saying?” Sanguinius’ voice cut through to her and she choked back a sob as she began repeating his words.
“There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.” By the time she had finished the voices of Sanguinius and Malik had joined in with the code of the Jedi. They watched as the skyhook hit the maximum temperature it could handle and began to disintegrate as it fell further.
“Goodbye Tarryyhn.” She managed to mutter.
“Goodbye my friends.” Came the simple response before the skyhook’s core finally gave in and an explosion rippled through the platform and lights filled the sky.
Skies Over Agua’tah
Near Crash Site
Qyreia Arronen listened to the distress call, then listened to it again just to be sure. It was hard to understand with all the static in the air. She pointed the nose of the VT-49 Decimator toward the star destroyer crashed below and received a flurry of turbolaser fire in her direction for it.
The ship was definitely still operational.
She cursed loudly, making a colorful statement about banthas and falling meteors that was lost on the otherwise empty light transport.
This transport basically was a falling meteor. It was maneuverable, yes, but nowhere near as good as a fighter. Still, a fighter wouldn’t be able to carry anyone else, and she had the fun task of rescuing people.
For a moment she considered whether it was really worth it to rescue her Quaestor. When it came down to things, he made sure she got a paycheck, and that might cease if he died.
Plus, she decided, it just wouldn’t be right. Even if he was partially responsible for landing her the job of “escape vector,” which was currently running her the risk of being reduced to slag.
She plunged the transport toward the star destroyer, letting gravity and it’s engines combine to push it into a steep dive. It wasn’t safe; alarms screamed at her. The ship might not have been able to pull out of it safely, but it was the only way she was going to get close to the star destroyer without being blown apart.
As she neared it, she pulled up on the throttle, nearly scraping against the massive ship’s surface. She flipped the comlink on speaker as she searched for any sign of life.
An old man’s voice crackled through the comlink, the same one who had made the distress call. She had no idea who he was, but he had this odd calmness for someone on a crashed enemy warship. “We’re on the command pylon. Look for the flare. I came in through an opening earlier, we’ll be there.”
“One opening on this giant kriffin’ spaceship?” she muttered.
“What?” the voice asked.
“Nothing!” she yelled, punctuating her words by rolling the transport to port and banking away from the star destroyer so she could look up over more if it’s superstructure. Half a dozen defense turrets noticed her and began firing in her direction, but she rolled and arced to avoid them. At this range, their gunners would have had to be among the best of their class to have a chance to hit her.
“How am I going to find - oh, there.”
She saw the flare then, smoke billowing from a blackened section of the hull, and several figures standing just inside it. She piloted the transport toward it, perhaps a little too quickly to avoid the laser fire filling the sky around the destroyer. The transport scraped the twisted, exposed structure of the destroyer as it descended.
Qyreia deftly lowered the transport onto the blackened hull section, wincing as it buckled beneath the ship, as if it was going to collapse under the weight. Fortunately, it held for the moment. She stood as soon as it was in place, running to the boarding ramp.
As soon as it opened, she shouted down it.
“Hurry up or you’re staying here! This thing isn’t going to hold!”
The Sadowans wasted no time in rushing onto the ship.
Auxiliary Hangar
Hammer of Cha’kota
Agua’Tah Surface
Firith settled himself into the ventral gun turret on the transport he had commandeered. Bentre was inside this ship somewhere and he would be coming soon. Furthermore, judging by the yelling over the comlink, he was being chased by several enemy troops.
The ship also rumbled loudly. It had made landing the transport very difficult. He could hear metal grinding on metal as its landing struts slid slightly. That seemed pretty bad, but he wasn’t about to leave without his allies.
He didn’t have much experience with this type of weapon, but it couldn’t be that hard. Just point and shoot, I assume.
Bentre and Locke appeared in the hangar a few moments later. As they neared the transport, Firith depressed the turret’s trigger and fired a constant stream of blaster bolts into the corridor they had exited. Many went wide, but just as many struck enemy troops and brought them down, Kaleesh and Trandoshan corpses piling at the entrance to the hangar.
Then a new group of enemies rushed out of a side passage and cut off the group, and not even the best gunner in the galaxy could have helped the two alone.
Marcus rushed down corridor after corridor, heading for the hangar he suspected Locke and Bentre would use to escape. He hoped it was the right one. Three squads of special forces troops followed him. They encountered little resistance here, deep in the ship, but what they did find quickly fell to their weapons. The Krath’s violet blade led them onward, ignited and ready for battle.
I will find you, Locke. I will gain your trust again.
He scowled with determination. He would rescue the Consul and regain his trust. He hoped Firith’rar had taken the transport where Marcus had said, or they would all be dead.
Then they turned a corner and the sounds of battle filled his ears, a chaotic scene unfolding in front of the group. The transport was in the middle of it, right where it was supposed to be.
A large group of enemy troops were divided, some targeting the transport, while others shot toward a stack of crates. The transport returned fire, as did someone from behind the crates, but the Trandoshan and Kaleesh forces kept them pinned. Marcus reached out with his senses, feeling in the Force.
They’re here. They’re all here.
“Quickly!” He shouted “for the Warhost!” The special forces spread out. They caught the enemy troops in their flanks, quickly cutting them down. Marcus charged into their number headlong, lightsaber cutting into their backs. The battle lasted only a few moments before the transport was lowering its boarding ramp.
“About time,” Locke said sarcastically.
“Just wanted to let you sweat a bit,” Marcus replied.
The Consul chuckled as they hurried toward the transport.
Firith heard the large group rush up the boarding ramp, but he kept watching to see if any more enemies arrived. Someone was powering up the transport’s engines and it began to lift off.
“Good work!” Bentre shouted. Firith looked up to see the other man taking a position at the dorsal turret. Then Locke’s voice came over the ship’s com channels and into the headset Firith wore.
“This is going to get bumpy. I hope you all don’t get space sick easily.”
A new wave of Dominion troops entered the hangar and Firith immediately began trading fire with them. The transport began to spark and fizzle as the enemy troops set up an e-web turret.
Then the ship rocketed out of the hangar, the inertial compensator failing to keep up with the movement. Even strapped in as Firith was, it was a wild, bumpy ride. The e-web fired after them, it’s shots mostly missing.
He really hoped Locke knew what he was doing.
Skies Over Agua’tah
Near Crash Site
Quo’s starfighter groaned as he dodged another burst of incoming fire. He pulled back in a loop, cut his speed, and found his pursuer in his crosshairs. Instinctively, the Sith pulled the trigger, blasting the enemy fighter out of the sky. He breathed deeply. That one had nearly had him. His shields were out; his warheads expended. He was amazed the craft even still flew.
Regardless, he searched for new targets immediately. The Warhost did not have many fighters left in the area, having dedicated most of their force to engaging what was left of the Dominion’s fleet. He saw three enemy interceptors, but they weren’t coming toward him.
The Knight frowned. He hadn’t had allies for the enemy to target in quite some time. Then he saw it: a transport, leaving the lower part of the star destroyer.
Then there was the crackle on his comlink.
“Locke to any nearby fighters, we need immediate air support!”
Locke. The Consul. Was he on that ship? Quo quickly launched himself in pursuit of the enemy fighters. A series of laser fire came from the turrets on the transport, but they mostly shot wide, only managing to destroy one of the fighters.
The other two dodged, but were completely open to Quo’s targeting. He fired on one, quickly destroying it. As it erupted in a fireball, the other scored a direct hit on the transport, which lurched, but continued to fire back.
It took Quo only another moment to eliminate the final one.
Then brightness filled his cockpit. He looked up at the star destroyer’s surface, seeing explosions rip it apart in numerous locations.’
Seeing that the transport was clear, he made all haste to get away from it himself.
