A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

[GJWXIII] Odan-Urr Run On


Primary Theater: Moon of Thillon

PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Eliminate the Collective presence and prevent the Collective from acquiring the kyber crystals, securing them for the Brotherhood, or your Clan, instead.

SITUATION: When the Collective discovered kyber crystals on Thillon’s moon, they moved quickly to seize them. They quickly and easily ‘convinced’ Temnos Excavations Co., the sole private mining company operating on the moon to yield their rights to mining, but have not yet transported any of the already mined kyber crystals out of the mining colony. Inquisitorius agents report that the Collective intends to divert kyber crystals mined on Thillon to its secret weapons program which the Inquisitorius believes is focused on developing ship-mounted superlaser arrays. As such, the Collective have established a strong military presence including elements of Battle Group Elysium in orbit around the Moon of Thillon and a ground Battalion that reconnaissance suggests includes at least one Heavy Armor Company. Given the strategic importance of the kyber crystals, there may be key scientists and agents of the Technocratic Guild on-site with valuable knowledge of the Collective’s secret weapons program. The Collective is likely to aggressively engage Brotherhood forces that enter the area. As Thillon is operated by an independent contractor and not the Principate government itself, there is no Principate military presence, but there is a sizable private security force of around fifty officers in the employ of Temnos Excavations along with many civilian employees living in dormitories associated with the mining complex whose safety would be important to the Principate, and who could be at risk of joining the Collective given recent events in Lyra.

Member Participant Snapshots:

Aura Ta’var
Celevon Erinos
Len Iode
Tisto Kingang
Ka Tarvitz
Sa Ool
Zanothi Nightblade
Gülvyr Okami - Alt for Morgan Sorenn
Hedda Okami - Alt for Morgan Sorenn
Kasula Daegella
Ysera Daegella- Alt for Kasula Daegella
Creshkin Vos
Fifot Inoufas
Vez Hirundo

Links and Resources

Lyra System
GJWXIII Fiction 1
Clan Run On Competition
Theater Combatants


The Dawnblade, a Carrack-class light cruiser, orbited around the Moon of Thillon, its ugly facade full of craters and not much else of note despite a singular mining facility. Yet it was the treasures underneath that dragged Odan-Urr all the way to Lyra 3K-A, where rumors of kyber crystals had lured more than one strange vessel to the system. A steady stream of ships orbited the moon waiting for shipments while fully loaded ships made a beeline for open space through any gap in the space traffic that presented itself. Several larger escape vectors had emerged thankfully, thicker veins of traffic that hinted at what had once been orderly imperial shipping lanes. Some blamed the foreigners who zipped to and fro with their faster escort fighters, ignorant of the imperial traffic patterns. Some blamed the more heavily armed ships for spooking local pilots used to refurbished, antique freighters. Some simply blamed the slowly moving gridlock of waiting ships slowly cycling around the moon.

Whatever it was, the seasoned convoy runners ferrying raw materials off of the moon could not help but gossip and bemoan the general disorder as they recounted their close calls and minor scraps. A group of SeNet operatives onboard the Dawnblade were already listening carefully to the conspiracy theories on the comm channels and keeping a watchful eye on a pair of Lancer-class frigates that stuck out for their sheer amount of laser turrets, thankful for the other escort craft of similar size that allowed them to continue their intel operation unharassed.

Regardless, Aura Ta’var, High Councillor of Odan-Urr, slowly paced the bridge of the light cruiser. Their trading envoys had yet to return for what should have been straightforward negotiations for the kyber crystals. She had even sent a member of her crew, Creshkin Vos, who could sympathize with the Severian Principate in the hopes that they would bond over their mutual bad experiences with slavery. In addition, he was being escorted back and forth in the Damsels’ Distress, a VCX-100 Light Freighter piloted by the talented Daegella sisters, Kasula and Ysera. All this was to ensure that the Collective would not acquire the crystals. It was not hard to imagine the horrible things they could do with them. The Empire made a weapon out of them, after all.

The Zeltron walked over to a station occupied by Sa Ool, a Force Disciple skilled in the art of intelligence gathering. The Kel Dor was hunched over his comm equipment, pausing here and there to make a note in his datapad.

Aura tapped him on his shoulder. “Sa, any news on the Damsels’ Distress? They’re late checking in.”

“Nothing from the team yet but we’ve gotten plenty of great intel for SeNet on the Severian Principate while we’ve been waiting. Nothing out of the ordinary from the pair of Lancers. Either it’s an ordinary ship or its masking its presence and its part of the Collective. In any case, it hasn’t found us yet,” he replied.

“Worried about the kyber crystals or what might show up to take them?” asked Len Iode, the Chiss walking up to stand behind them.

“Both. I have a bad feeling about something. I just can’t quite place it yet.”

The Chiss simply nodded reassuringly and gestured for them to walk towards the nearest ready room. Inside was a range of hardened warriors from all walks of life eagerly conversing over the notes from the day’s mission brief. She saw her Proconsul, Celevon Erinos in deep discussion with the other Mandalorians named Gülvyr and Hedda. Their distinctive armor colors marked them as part of the Okami Clan. Ka Tarvitz and Zanothi Nightblade were close by, debating the practicality of space combat as a form of a lighthearted joke to lighten the tension.

“Look. They’re fine. They are ready for the mission.” Len consoled the Zeltron quietly without drawing attention to themselves. “We get the kyber crystals and get out. If we find any Collective forces along the way, we take them out. We have two squadrons of A-wings, including Tython Squadron waiting closeby if we need them. Don’t worry about—”

Comm chatter instantly silenced the room.

“Dawnblade, this is Damsels’ Distress. The Collective have found us. We are being chased by starfighters. Request immediate assistance!” said one of the Daegella twins.

Celevon Erinos, Councillor of War, rushed out of the briefing room and quickly approached a weapons officer. “Report.”

“The Damsel is being pursued by several X-wings and is getting some unwanted attention from the locals. Want me to provide cover fire?”

“Don’t want to blow our cover yet,” replied the half-Echani. “Tython and Banshee squadrons, engage the enemy fighters.”

“Coming in hot,” replied Tisto Kingang.

The High Councillor reached out to the Force, the earlier unease only growing. She could hear the bridge crew barking out the position of enemy fighters. SeNet agents were reporting some troubling comms from the space freighters. To make things worse, the pair of lancer frigates were getting closer to them. The only thing not falling apart was the fact that the Severian Principate had yet to call in their fleet. Celevon could be heard barking orders again.

“Damsels’ Distress, once you’re free of the fighters, make for the mining colony and get those kyber crystals. We’re running out of time!”


Aura broke from the hazy vision. “Everyone to your stations!”

The Zeltron started towards the exit.

“What did you see?” Len asked with a hint of worry in his voice, following close behind.

“Let’s not worry about that yet.” The High Councilor entered the bridge, which was now a flurry of activity. Technicians were relaying orders via voice, text, and sending alerts to the proper decks. Their voices blended together, only snippets were clear.

“Thirty seconds to weapons ready—”

“—range, 10,000 km; bearing zero-one-three mark—”

“—Negative Tython Leader, vector to point zero-nine—”


The last one made the whole bridge silent, save the computers and droids humming along.

Cel and Len both sprinted to the station from where they were as Aura opened herself to the Force.

Len reached the station first. “Repeat Petty Officer?”

“The craft was barely visible on scopes, trying to clean up the signal…” The technician’s fingers were a blur over the keyboard as she applied various filters and layered scans from other departments.
“There!” The War Councilor pointed to the screen, “Quadjumper?”


The ship’s master tones sounded, Aura’s voice was steady. “Attention all hands, brace for impact!”

The half-Echani joked, “Would have been nice to know before—”

The ship bucked, violently throwing those not in seats from their feet. The Chiss landed hard on his right shoulder, searing pain coursing through the muscle. Cel faired better, catching himself with his hands at the last second.

“Report?” the Zeltron in charge requested as though it was another ale at the cantina.

The Damage Control officer was resetting his earpiece, data pouring across his screen. “Central cargo hold reads as vacuum. Damage to the emergency batteries, in the same section. Power surge detected in the backup power grid. Uncontained fires in the fore and rear cargo hold. Suppression system not responding and fire is now entering the engine compartment. ”

“Send teams down to contain the aft fire and rescue the wounded.” Aura looked to the injured and shocked personnel around her. “Send medical teams up here too.”

“Can’t ma’am. Turbolifts are down as well.”

“Terrific. Send them through the maintenance corridors, if you have to.”

The officer nodded and set out to his tasks. Cel helped Len to his feet. “Good news I assume?”

“No turbolifts. Uncontrolled fires, you know the usual. Are you and Len alright?”

“No worse for wear,” the Second in Command replied.

“Just a pull.” The Councilor of the Roll winced and rubbed his injured shoulder. “I just need to stretch. Check some of the other techs, they’re worse off than me.”

A loud banging sound emanated from the bridge turbolift doors and a small gap appeared as the hatch partially opened. The metal top of the turbocar was about a meter and a half from the bridge deck. A tattooed green hand reached its way into the command center. The War Councilor grabbed the hand which belonged to Vez Hirundo, one of the new contractors hired to help search for more artifacts like the Technocratic Artifact.

“There’s one more down below. One of yours, Aurora,” the mercenary reported, “Lucky the emergency brakes held.”

Once again the half-Echani reached into the dark pit of the passenger compartment of the turbolift and this time produced one of the newest Odanites, Novice Fifot. The human dusted himself off once up. “Thank you sir. We were worried that no one would hear us.”

“High Councilor,” the helm called, “My controls aren’t responding.”

Damage control cut-in, despair entering his voice. “Ma’am, we have lost all contact with the engine room.”

“Back up control is not responding,” The helm officer looked back, “We have nothing.”

The Chiss officer walked over to the helm, still nursing his right arm. “Switch to emergency thrusters.”

The helm officer activated the last control system of the ship. “Online, but we only have one minute of burn time.”


“Options?” Len asked.

“Our orbit is decaying rapidly, sir,” the helm officer replied, focusing upon his task and the craggy grey surface of Thillon filling the viewport, “It’s not a case of if we’ll hit it so much as when right now.”

Already those on the bridge could feel the subtle pull of the moon below them fighting against the Dawnblade’s artificial gravity, dragging the ship toward its surface. Small items scattered by the kamikaze strike shuddered and shifted slightly, pulled about by the conflicting forces. From somewhere far behind them, the hull groaned like the call of some vast aquatic animal, it’s already abused surface straining as the moon pulled them into its thin atmosphere.

“If we’re going to land, we might as well aim for somewhere useful,” Aura said, pointing toward a trio of silver-grey artificial halos which surrounded the main mining shaft of the facility, “Do you think you can land us just outside of there?”

“I can certainly try, sir,” the helm officer answered, as his hands danced over the controls of the console before him, “It won’t be an easy landing but, if we’re lucky, we might be able to ditch the ship somewhere near the bigger craters.”

Part of the viewport was abruptly obscured by a new image, as a projection of the cruiser’s flight path was layered over the transparasteel, accompanied by the locations of the approaching Lancer frigates. The steep dive of their path made it clear, even to those without any detailed experience in flying larger vessels, that this was going to be a close matter.

“Do whatever you can,” Celevon said, “Don’t wait for our approval on every action, just try to keep us alive while we still have a ship to stand in.”

As if to emphasise his point, the deck plating of the bridge suddenly shuddered, accompanied by the distant thump of something small exploding far below them.

Leaving the crew to their work, Len approached one of the wall-mounted comlinks, keying in a broadcast to the rest of the ship. “All hands, this is the Rollmaster. Brace for collision.”

The Dawnblade’s descent was neither graceful nor controlled. Leaving a trail of metal debris and crystallizing atmosphere from where the Quadjumper’s suicide attack had punched through its side, the cruiser dropped like a stone. Diving prow-first toward the planet, the Carrack tumbled away from the pair of Lancer frigates closing in, each scattering the ship’s escorting A-Wings with pinpoint blasts from their turrets. Most fled into the lower atmosphere, while others pulled back into high orbit, distracting the frigates as the Carrack attempted its crash-landing.

Fire sparked in split-second bursts across the Dawnblade’s hull, its thrusters allowing for small course corrections as the ship picked up speed. Other flames could be seen on the edges of its broken skin, where the fires raging across its lower decks leapt out into the airless void; each momentarily carried out by wisps of oxygen before they were snuffed out of existence. Plunging through the defensive shield even as it was raised, the mine’s sole defense against attacks from larger craft, the Dawnblade came in low over the crater strewn face of the moon.

Spluttering bursts from its thrusters became seconds long flames accompanied by several airlock doors opening and using the pressure to momentarily shunt the ship away from the surface. Kicking up a storm of dust in its wake, the Dawnblade struck like a gouging spear, carving a deep trench in its wake before finally coming to rest on the fringes of the mining facility.

Silent alarms sounded across the mine, calling its defenders to arms against the new intruder. All eyes were on the newly wrecked Carrack, leaving broad-nosed Damsel’s Distress free to land with little attention or disruption near the kyber mine.


Carrack-class Cruiser Dawnblade
Amidships, Corridor 1-A

The impact sent Gülvyr and Hedda tumbling toward the main corridor connecting the forward and aft sections. Despite the warning and their efforts to hold on, the impact rattled their bones and slammed them against the ceiling and walls. Moments flew by as they felt the ship crawl to a halt as they stood and braced against the walls, finding purchase in the protruding illumination banks that lined the vertical surface.

Lights flickered and artificial gravity gave out momentarily. As he felt his full weight return, Gülvyr swiftly opened the comm channel. “Bridge! Anyone alive up there?”

“Affirmative.” Len spoke up first, audibly grunting into his comm unit. “We had a little tumble.”

“What is our situation?” the no-nonsense Mandalorian didn’t mince words, instead looking for solutions to their predicament.

“Sending data to everyone now. Check your wrist comm.” Gülvyr’s wrist-mounted holo displayed an image of the Carrack cruiser laying dead on the surface of the Moon of Thillon. It had broken through the shield with enough force to shatter it. That was likely the initial impact that sent them tumbling. They were several hundred yards from the facility and sitting on a giant target for the Collective Frigates above.

“We have to get away from this ship,” Hedda said through their shared channel.

Gülvyr agreed and so too, it seemed, did the High Councilor and the bridge crew. “We have a path plotted towards the facility which will take us around the larger craters to provide cover,” Aura said over the comm, overruling Len. As she did so a red holographic line arched from the ship, through the landscape, and into the facility. “The internal comms in the stern are down and we can’t reach the crew there. There are space suits throughout the ship, so find the people in the back, get out, and meet us on the surface.” She ordered before the comms died with another flicker of the lights.

“The ship is losing power.” Hedda commented as they shared a look through their visors.

“We must hurry.”

Carrack-class Cruiser Dawnblade
One deck above the hangars

Lights flickered furiously overhead as Tarvitz grabbed his head for the umpteenth time, the pain subsiding with some effort on his part. He had banged his head when the ship struck the surface, much like everyone else in his group. The tail end of the ship slammed into the moon first, he was sure, because nothing of the hangars below or the cargo holds and engine compartments in the ventral stern sections survived. Much of the crew in those compartments were, Tarvitz presumed, crushed and didn’t survive. Whoever he found on his way back towards the bridge he had picked up. Sa Ool, his mask still covering his mouth despite minor damage, dragged himself next to the human.

“Communications are down,” the Kel Dor stated with assurity.

“I suspected.” Tarvitz had not managed to contact anyone over his short-range personal communicator but a few crew members. The signal would not penetrate.

“Do we go to the bridge?” Fifot piped in as he rounded the corner before joining the pair. He grunted as he saw the wrecked turbolift door and the damaged corridor now venting air into space through the door right in front of him. So far they had found several damaged in such a way that they had to avoid them through maintenance tubes.

“I say we find an airlock with suits and try our luck on the surface.” Zanothi added, following Fifot closely behind. Several members of the crew followed him and leaned against bulkheads and viewports to catch their breath.

The suggestion seemed insane, but what else could they do at that point. Tarvitz assumed that whatever had grounded them in the first place, Principate or Collective, was surely still above them, and the Dawnblade was a fine target.

“Right, we should be one deck below an airl—” Loud echoes of jetpacks broke him off. They were coming from the turbolift shaft.

“—should step away.” The stern female voice of Hedda carried through Tarvitz’s open comm. “Step away, now.” Just as several of the crew members stepped away from the door, the plasma torch started cutting.

Carrack-class Cruiser Dawnblade
Airlock 02, Prow section

Aura felt uncomfortable in her space suit, it was stuffy and pinched around the joints. For what it was, however, it felt fairly sturdy. She observed what remained of her bridge crew as they checked their gear one last time. With a nod, each person gave the go-ahead as Len pulled decompression lever. Soon the door was open and they looked out into the darkness of space only contrasted by the dull gray of the Moon of Thillon stretching to the horizon.

Celevon jumped first, nearly twenty feet from the dust and rocks. He landed hard, but found his balance and straightened. The moon’s gravity certainly gave him a feathery fall. He nodded to the others and, one by one, they followed. Aura turned towards the aft of the cruiser, observing the damage. Much of the superstructure was buried or crushed. How many people had she lost by now? She had to have stopped counting.

“—’re outside. Bridg—we’re out—” A transmission came through on their comms channel, staticy and distorted.

“Repeat last,” Aura chimed back.

“I said we’re outside,” Tarvitz replied, clearer now. “Coming to you.”


Moon of Thillon
Outside Dawnblade Wreckage

Chaos and destruction is what would be described later on in history with the wrecking of the Dawnblade. Looking around besides the wreckage of the Dawnblade and the dead bodies of their young comrades and crew members from the ship, one could see the mining facility in the distance showcasing how far they have to move to reach their objective. On one side of the ship, the damage looked like an orange that was peeled by a small stick at high speed striking it. With that damage there was almost no way to repair their ship.

“Okay guys, let’s move out and meet up with Aura’s group,” commanded the tall human Jedi known as Ka Tavitz.

“Keep an eye or two up above as there is still some nasties up there waiting to pick us apart, also stick as best as you can to cover.” Hedda advised the group as they started to head out.

Shutting off her com link after getting word from Tarvitz, Aura took a quick calming breath before turning around, looking at who was with her. She took a moment to memorize all the faces of those who were still alive while sending a quick prayer through the Force for those who had lost their lives in the collision.

“Len get on the comms and try to get a hold of Tisto and Tython Squadron, have them perform interception runs. We are not moving from this spot till Tarvitz and his group reaches us. Celevon try and contact the Damsel’s Distress and get a sitrep on them. Fifot and Vez take the troops we have and form a perimeter,” ordered the Zeltron female.

Orbit of the Moon of Thillon

“Ty…. ron…. Com…… In… perf…… Runs. Repe… perfo…… Inter…. Runs.” Came the static sounding voice of Len over the comms channel.

Tython Squadron was already in pursuit of enemy bombers and X-wings when the orders came in. Up in orbit, their comrades looked like ants frantically running around, disappearing behind cover intermittently to hide from aerial threats above them. Tisto’s A-wings followed Tython Squadron’s A-wings as the two squadrons dove down to engage them and clipped a few Collective fighters on the way but none were dealt lasting damage. With a display of fireworks and a loud boom, Tisto and a couple of other fighters took down a couple of enemy bombers with a simultaneous attack.

Ka Tarvitz and Sa Ool both felt it before seeing the debris fall down towards them. With a quick glance between the two they knew they were in sync with each other. Both yelled at everyone to get down as the two men quickly raised theirs arms. Coming from inside of them, they both asked the Force for help as they eyed some nearby plates of durasteel. While making sure their focus was on themselves and the Force they both moved some durasteel to cover them all to help protect them from the impact.


VCX-100 Light Freighter “The Damsels’ Distress
Temnos Excavations Co. Mining Facility

“Damsels, we’re under fire. Need access to the facil-” the static-mixed voice of Len Iode once again demanded over the comms. Resisting the urge to deafen the Damsels’ inbound communications, Kasula adjusted the boom of her headset in-between a set of maneuvers. Without looking at the freighter’s starboard viewport, she could feel the pressurized waves of an exploding quadrijet bomber caught in the Damsels’ staccato laserfire.

“Listen, ‘mister commander, sir,’ we’re here running around some diplomat without the slightest idea on how a laser cannon works, let alone a sense of humor. Once we—”

“Veering left!” Ysera seized the Damsels’ controls from her console with practiced ease, gliding it around a durasteel structure rising from the moon’s surface. Although the VCX-100 managed to avoid a direct collision with the unfinished armature, she grimaced as its antennae scratched the paint off the hull.

“—once we’re at the hangar, we’ll blow the doors. Until then, bye-bye. Send kisses to Cel, I’m sure he would like—”

“Not to be the one to point it out, but I don’t think he’s listening,” Creshkin indicated as he wobbled into the cockpit, his stomach still cursing the lack of inertial compensation on the Daegella’s vessel.

Checking the comms against his observation, Kasula noted that Len had closed off his end of the connection and held her mouth agape in frustration. “That blue karking womp-rat!”

“Now, Kasula. We’ll have a lot of time to deal with ‘mister commander’ once we do what he wants.” Ysera consoled, lowering the frigate markedly close to Thillion’s surface, but on a direct course for the hangar—or more accurately, the hangar’s wall once she realized the main entrance had been sealed behind sheets of durasteel.

“Aim-for-brains, now might be a good time to suit up!” Ysera yelled back at Creshkin Vos, who was still holding onto whatever he could find to remain stable amid the Damsels’ twists and turns along Thillion’s surface.

“Damsels!” That’s a wall, you’ll depressurize the hangar!” a flickering image of the Chiss forewarned, with the silent promise of a military reprimand.

“We know that! It’s a moonbase, there’s more than one airlock.” Kasula argued back, getting quizzical looks from the Jedi behind her as he began fitting his pressurized suit.

“Well, that moonbase on Kessel didn’t.” Ysera teased after the image of Len faded.

Kasula looked over her shoulder, “All right, almost all moonbases have more than one airlock.”

Creshkin had just finished with checking the seal of his helmet before the Daegellas had sent him with Ysera to the Damsels’ cargo ramp, which was now lowering despite the vessel hovering airborne near the hangar’s wall. Ysera appeared beside him, her own flightsuit much less bulky than his own and coupled with a matching blue helmet with a yellow tinted visor.

In the Twi’lek’s hand, he noticed a small device, capped at one end with a red button that began to flash as she armed the seismic charge and handed it to him. “Know what this is?” she asked mockingly as she tossed it in his direction. Grabbing hold of it on reflex, Creshkin took a moment to feel the object’s weight before the panic of realization set in.

“Well don’t stare at it! Throw the karking thing!” Ysera hollered at him. Using the Force to hurl the object as fast, and as far as he could manage in near-zero gravity, Kreshkin braced himself to guard the Twi’lek from debris, if need be. He swore he could feel his ears pop when the seismic charge detonated against the hangar wall, sending duracrete scattering in most directions as the hangar depressurized. Kasula, at the Damsels’ helm shot the forward laser cannon into the explosion, vaporizing any debris that might damage the freighter into mere particles of dust and superheated gas.

“Bringing us in!” Kasula notified over comms while Creshkin ignited the blade of his lightsaber and charged off the Damsels’ loading ramp, using some of the hangar’s now-floating contents as a bridge into the mining facility. Scraps of metal, tools and assorted cargo transportation containers scraped alongside the Damsels’ Distress’ hull as it found a floor to land on. Outside the viewport, Kasula noted the insignia of a Brotherhood pilot’s uniform cartwheeling out of the hangar with the rest of its contents.

“‘Mister commander, sir,’” Kasula mumbled the chosen name through the comms channel, “Who did this moonbase belong to again? Don’t say Brotherhood, because otherwise Morgan is going to have us grounded for a week.”

Len Iode rubbed his temples. For the last time, it’s not a ‘moonbase.’ “Report?”

“Brotherhood uniforms, insignia—you get the gist, red-eyes.”

“Hmm,” Len mused. He had seen the reports of the supposed Brotherhood terrorist attacks, was it possible this was also a staging site? “We’ll evaluate the situation later. Do we have a door into the facility?”

“Define, ‘door.” Ysera snickered over the comms, “Still, we’re in, and it looks like the entire moonbase hasn’t depressurized, so we’ll be waiting inside. Hope you packed a spacesuit.”

“See?” Kasula remarked as she lowered the Damsels’ landing gear, “airlocks.”


Temnos Excavations Co. Mining Facility
Improvised entryway

Creshkin thudded to a stop in his bulky suit still somewhat dizzy from the frantic flight of “The Damsels’ Distress” toward their entry point. He took a moment to try and steady himself as the combined feeling of the low gravity environment did not help matters at all.

“Be careful not to puke in that suit of yours. You have no idea how long it will take to clean.” Creshkin sighed as he turned towards the voice of his Twi’lek companion.

“I promise you I’ll try, but you have to admit the ride in didn’t exactly help matters.”

Creshkin sensed Ysera had something to say about that but the conversation was halted as the half destroyed body of a droid nearly collided into both of them. Both went instantly on guard as they observed the blown out hangar, once again to ensure there were no immediate threats. Creshkin imagined the lightsaber, still active, growing heavier in his hands.

Another voice crackled over their comms. “We have a lot to do and no time to do it, get a move on and I’ll be joining you shortly!” Kasula’s advice snapped the two others out of their fugue state and they began to approach the pressurized entryway that lead further into the base and their ultimate prize.

Ysera moved to the access panel as Creshkin stood ready to defend her if need be, but switched off for the time being. The hanger rumbled and shook as if shaken by an invisible giant, alarming the Odanites enough to make them pause. They looked around for the cause.

“That space battle is only going to get worse, we need to get inside!” Kasula spoke as she had finally procured her own sealed suit and descended from the Damsel. This was punctuated as a flash of light illuminated the hanger through the blown open entryway for half a second before the ground shook once again.

Ysera worked double time as Kasula joined them. The door was quickly opened and Creshkin lumbered inside before throwing up a hand to halt the two pilots that moved to join him.

“Please, allow me to go first. I’ll make sure nothing nasty is waiting on the other side.”

His well-meaning offer did not have any effect as Ysera and Kasula ignored him and stepped inside the airlock.

“That’s not how this works ‘mister ambassador,” Ysera spoke to him, “You-.”

She was cut off as the airlock doorway leading to the Damsel and the hanger was cycled shut, causing all three to flinch at the sudden movement and the sound of air rapidly filling the air lock.

The realization hit all three at the same time: none of them had initiated the air lock sequence. Thus someone was on their way out to the hanger, straight into them.

Creshkin whirled about as he felt Ysera and Kasula do the same, all focusing on the doorway leading into the base properly.

“Say mister ambassador, you’ve been in a proper fight before right?”

Creshkin wasn’t sure who had asked them that question as he felt his vision began to narrow and his mind started to work overtime. He allowed himself a small smile; he honestly wasn’t one for words so he would just have to show his two comrades just how combat-ready he was. He stowed away his lightsaber and focused as he felt the first drops of adrenaline start flowing through his limbs.


Moon of Thillon
Outside Dawnblade Wreckage

The High Councillor watched in the distance as she reached out with the Force for a moment, feeling the familiar presence of her fellow clanmates near the gray facility partially blocking her view of the horizon. Starfighters flew overhead, a mix of A-wings and X-wings weaving in and out of each other anywhere from six meters to high into the atmosphere. The turbolasers from the craft above danced above in a chaotic symphony, indiscriminate of direction or the people below. Several thudded inside their group perimeter, spraying dirt high into the air as the Odanites inside it instinctively ran for their lives. Most kept running until they hid behind the nearest set of boulders in front of them, lead by Celevon at the front. Only Aura was left behind.

“Tell the rest to get over here and quickly or we’ll have to leave them. This isn’t a time for Jedi sensibilities!” chastised her War Councillor.

Meanwhile, a stray X-wing was already breaking away from the pack of fighters above them, making a beeline for the lone figure out in the open. “Shit,” she whispered as she dashed off to join the rest behind cover. She pulled the Force into her legs and activated her lightsaber with a snap-hiss, trusting the mystical energy that held the universe together to get her there in one piece. She felt the cresting waves of dirt as they rained over her while she zigged and zagged to and fro, their moon particulates sizzling against her blue blade. The enemy fighter flew past her and turned around in a tight curve, red bolts of energy already firing towards her with deadly accuracy. She felt herself run forward and leap into the air, the low gravity making her soar higher than usual. Energy zipped below her harmlessly but she cursed her lack of mobility of the air.

She took a heartbeat to spare a quick glance aft and saw her remaining crew close by, led by Tarvitz and Sa Ool, racing towards their position in a rough diagonal between whatever debris they had at hand. Tython flew frantically above them to provide a fighter screen while her A-wings did their best to pull the enemy fighters away from them. Meanwhile, the Dawnblade was being pummeled from ships high above in orbit. She looked back towards Celevon in the next heartbeat, finally plateauing and starting to slowly fall back to the surface. It was too late. The X-wing had already adjusted its line of fire and a red bolt with her name on it rushed towards her. The High Councillor intercepted it with her blade, but underestimated the momentum behind it. The last thing Aura saw before her body pummeled to the ground in a spin was a stray A-wing crashing into the Collective fighter above her.

“I’ve got you covered boss,” replied Tisto serenely regardless of the warning sounds she could pick up from his cockpit.

Kingang’s A-wing and the enemy X-wing both crashed to the ground, the former getting out of his cockpit first and making his way towards the War Councillor, a trickle of blood already running down the inside of his helmet from some superficial cuts. Meanwhile, the Zeltron thanked the Force as she landed on her feet but quickly fell into a tumble that pushed her back a few more meters, covering her in a thin layer of dirt. The High Councillor started to slowly get up but she was already being pulled to her feet and dragged towards the boulders by Tarvitz.

“About time you got here. We need to get inside soon,” said the High Councillor as she refound her footing.

“Apologies but things weren’t so easy on our end as well,” replied the towering Human as he let her run for herself.

The pair bounded forward in a quick run, the lack of gravity making them float for a bit longer than usual but also allowing them to quickly make up ground and meet up with the rest, who were already pressing forward. Aura did a quick visual check through the various boulders around them and saw that they were all together and sighed in relief.

“Tisto, you bonehead, you know you could have just shot them down right?” asked the Zeltron in annoyance. “Ships are expensive.”

“Not sorry, boss. It was the simplest solution and it saved your life. Next time don’t try to take on a X-wing,” replied the Kiffar.

“Hedda and Gulvyr, grab some men and protect our flanks. I’m covered up front. Ta’var, Tarvitz, cover our six. Tarvitz, don’t let her do anything that stupid again” interrupted the War Councillor.

Aura ignored them, her trust in the Force absolute. It got me here in one piece, didn’t it? she thought. Regardless she was content to bring up the rear. She couldn’t hear the battle overhead through her suit but they appeared to be mostly unaccosted until they had made it about halfway to the ‘door’ that Creskhin and company had made for them. It was more a gaping hole as a matter of fact. In between them and that door, she could feel a bunch of hostile presences in the Force. Gulvyr came in over the comms at almost the same time, their helmets providing them superior data readouts.

“We have Collective hostiles in route on the ground trying to flank us. Prepare for incoming fire.”


Bolts from percussive cannons fell about the Odanites, sending up slow moving plumes of dust as they struck the ground nearby. From over a ridge line several dozen meters away, mercenaries clad in atmospheric suits were advancing in formation, half-jumping with jet pack propelled leaps towards the survivors of the Dawnblade’s crash.

“Looks like we have half a drop company’s worth of them on the way,” Hedda said, her voice momentarily distorted as she fired her weapons in return, “With no telling who else is behind them.”

A few explosions rocked the ground close by as an A-Wing banked about, its cannons stitching a path across the moon’s surface in a strafing run. Mercenaries scattered, diving aside from glowing red bolts before the A-Wing veered away with two enemy X-Wings in pursuit. The action had bought them a few moments but little else, and the mercenaries would regroup quickly. They were just over the halfway point to the Principate facility, and they could already make out the main airlock doors from the gunmetal grey of its outer hull. What they needed was time more than anything else.

“How long do you think you can hold them back for?” Tarvitz asked, as more Collective troops continued to emerge, reinforcing the vanguard with further suppressing fire.

“As long as you need,” Gulvyr answered, “But unless you can convince them to stay here they’ll be harassing us all the way to the airlock, and we’ll be lucky to stop them surrounding us.”

The Mandalorian had barely finished speaking before larger objects moved up behind the Collective troops. Lumbering with an ungainly jolt of pistons and whirring mechanisms, a trio of AT-MP walkers were advancing up from behind a dune. Missile racks rotated about either side of the cockpit, coming to bear against the Dawnblade’s survivors, while a chin mounted-cannon spat bolts of red across the greying dunes.

“That could be a problem,” Tisto said, his voice muffled by a haze of interference, “Run or fight?”

“Both,” Blade replied, parrying a stray bolt from where the Collective troopers were firing at Gulvyr’s group of soldiers “We just need to hold their attention and keep moving.”

“Easily done,” Tarvitz said, “I’ll support our lot here. Keep moving, I’ll join you as soon as the flanks are clear.”

“And what makes you special enough to do this on your lonesome?” Tisto asked, ready as he ever was to fight anything in front of him.

“One, you’re better at punching people than me. I’m not planning to let them get that close.” Tarvitz said, concentrating on the wreckage of the two fighters nearby “Two, I have a jet pack. I can fall back faster than you can.”

Tarvitz couldn’t see Tisto’s expression, but his helmet bobbed slightly as if he was cocking his head to one side in acceptance before he turned and ran. Aura hung back for a time, and Tarvitz was almost ready to argue with her to leave until he saw the dust shifting as scorched metal was dragged up from the wreckage of the two fighters.

“Aim for their second wave,” she instructed, “That should get their attention.”

Tarvitz said nothing, and instead reached out with the Force and concentrating on a large mass of enemy mercenaries just emerging past the AT-MPs. With a single sweeping motion, he dragged free a single s-foil from the ruined X-Wing and sent it hurtling across the dunes. Without gravity to constrain it or the air to disrupt Tarvitz’s aim, the wing scythed through the soldiers, crushing and killing several of them in seconds. Aura repeated the action, first throwing the remnants of the A-Wing’s engine assembly into one walker, sending it stumbling onto its back, and then skewering its shattered canopy through the body of an officer trying to direct the assault. Then she was gone, joining the others as they bounded, stumbled and fought their way across the dusty craters of the moon toward the Temnos mines.

The remaining two walkers adjusted their position, their cannons swiveling about to face where the makeshift projectiles had originated from. Apparently spotting Tarvitz, both cannons fired in unison, just as Tarvitz activated the amber blade of his lightsaber. Calling upon the Force to anchor himself in place, he deflected one bolt and then the next, sending them ricocheting back toward the vehicles. Another walker fell as the bolt struck its exposed missile rack, and the vehicle disappeared in a bright flash of igniting warheads and raining debris. Yet as the flash faded, Tarvitz could make out another nine hulking shapes of more vehicles moving up behind it.

“Looks like they’ve got most of an armoured company backing them up,” Hedda said, “If anyone brought a rocket launcher with them, now’s the time to speak up!”


Creskhin balled his hands into fists, the synthetic material of his gloves crackling as he adjusted himself into his favourite stance for unarmed combat, that of the Echani martial art. After hours of enduring the teasing of both Daegella sisters and the moniker they had selected for him, he was eager to show that he wasn’t just a diplomat⁠—for he was also a Jedi Knight. After all, it wouldn’t be wise to ignite a lightsaber in what might be the one airlock remaining this side of the complex. The real challenge would be in making sure his companions knew the perils, as well.

Feeling a small wave of pressure and hearing the faint squealing of his helmet acclimatizing to the atmosphere, Creshkin bounded for the door the moment he saw an opening. The first man unfortunate enough to approach felt his leading hand slam into the durasteel frame of the entrance, sending a blaster shot wide a moment before the Human’s other fist collided with the soldier’s windpipe.

“Intruders in the hangar! Get the⁠—” another one of the guards shouted, his command cut short along the length of a vibrosword the Jedi had brought along with him. Kasula and Ysera followed the Jedi’s trail of destruction out from the hangar with their Blurrg-1120 holdout blasters readied, the door sealing behind them to recycle the atmosphere back into the mining facility’s life support.

“Missed one⁠—” Ysera chided, nodding towards a frightened Collective soldier running for the alarm. An electrical blue blast erupted from beside her as she herself launched a bolt set for stun at the fleeing guard, both shots slamming into his back with enough force to launch him off his feet. “⁠—Got him.” Both Twi’leks echoed at the same time.

Creshkin rolled his eyes at their doubled comment, “Jinx.” He said flatly, unsealing the base of his helmet. The fresh air tasted good in comparison to the stale taste of his suit’s oxygen. Allowing himself a second to breathe outside of a moving vessel or claustrophobic spacesuit, the Jedi regained his focus for phase two of their “infiltration”⁠—if it could still be called that.

“Well ladies, let’s find us those turbolasers.” He could swear one or both winked at him, but Creshkin shrugged his shoulders and moved onto the next promising corridor—the one with a dozen or so engineers and scientists milling about some Imperial-looking consoles.

“Gentlemen!” He announced, stationing himself on a low table tall enough to serve as a makeshift podium, “If you value your lives, I advise ceasing all operations. We’re taking this ‘moonbase.’”

Ysera and Kasula exchanged confused glances, before realizing that was their cue. Choosing opposite sides, the sisters began stunning their closest target while Creshkin bounded across the terminals with Force-imbued strength, slamming his fist into one of the scientists sharing the earlier guard’s idea to flee.

“I assume one or both of you know how to operate these?” Creshkin shouted back, the second after klaxons blared throughout the facility.

“No,—” Kasula answered back “—but I’m sure we’ll figure something out!” Ysera finished the sentence.


Creshkin watched as the two Daegella sisters worked over the various consoles of the room, the blaring alarms around them only heightening the tension. Their fellow Odanites were still fighting for their lives outside and they were stuck inside without any way to help. A dull thud shook the room followed by the brilliant flash of light from a flashbang, a monitor their only view of their comrades.

“We’ve figured it out! Kasula, get over here and help me out.” The dull rumblings continued again in earnest as the two Twi’leks became absorbed in their work.

Creshkin hoped that they had everything well in hand. They needed to find their prize and get out before any more people had to die. Without a word to Kasula or Ysera, Creshkin moved outside of the turbolaser defense room, shutting the bulkhead door behind him. Now the young Jedi was alone; he had nobody but himself to complete this mission. He had people depending on him, his fellow Jedi, his-

“Identify yourself!”

Creshkin quickly snapped out of his mental meandering to face a lone security officer just outside the room. The guard’s blaster was shaking in his hands.

The Jedi slowly raised his hands, offering a small smile toward the overwhelmed officer.

“Hello there, I’m Creshkin, a pleasure to meet you. Might I know your name?”

“You’re an intruder is what you are!” Creshkin flinched at the shouted response from the officer. “Yes, sir, I technically am, but I’m, in fact, not here to hurt anyone, just please lower the blaster and we can find a better way.” Creshkin tried to keep his tone easy as he fully concentrated on the Force within him, extending one arm out as if trying to reach the security officer.

“Don’t come any closer! I’m warning you!” Creshkin was thankful the officer wasn’t one to shoot first. The next heartbeats passed with no speaking as the two stood off against one another. That is until a blinding flash emanated from Creshkin’s outstretched hand as he closed his eyes at the last second. The sudden scream of the security officer told Creshkin that his ability worked to its fullest. Within a moment he rushed toward the screaming officer and knocked him out with one solid blow to the head.

Creshkin shook himself lightly as he recomposed himself. He regretted using under-handed tactics and sucker-punching people just trying to perform their duty. He had to put that past him though. Where there was one opponent there was usually more and he still needed to find his objective. He had a rough idea of where the Kyber crystals were, thanks to the SeNet intel, but searching the entirety of the mining base would take too long. There had to be some other way.

Then an idea hit him like a bolt of lightning. An old lesson from an old master on Kyber crystals and their nature combined with his newest learning from the Jedi Order. Creshkin closed his eyes and reached out through the Force. He first felt two centers of excited energy nearby that he assumed were the Daegella sisters. He quickly moved on from them as he felt slightly embarrassed reading them that closely. He felt the subdued forms of those they had taken care of earlier but it was hard to keep them all straight… He focused harder and kept looking outward; further and further until, there! Something raised its voice momentarily above the onslaught of information just enough to get an initial direction. Still, he remembered how it felt. Not a standard life form but still something distinctly alive. It was almost sadly beautiful.

Creshkin shook off his internal thoughts and opened his eyes. The exhaustion that overtook him nearly drove him to his knees but by some miracle he remained standing. He had enough information to start the search. Now all he needed to do was tell the others. He quickly moved back to the turbolaser defense room to inform his comrades of their good fortune.

The door slid open quickly which let a loud cheer echoed from inside the room. Whatever Kasula and Ysera were doing seemed to be working well.

“That was TWO walkers with ONE shot! I’d bet you could do better but I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” Creshkin could only guess as to what was going on as he entered the room properly and caught sight of the two at the consoles. Both turned to see Creshkin as he approached.

“Well well well, mister ambassador, I hope you’ve spent your time as wisely as we have in here.” Kasula smirked at Creshkin approaching, but it dropped slightly as she saw the rather determined look on his face.

“I found the crystals.” Creshkin spared no time, “I can help lead us to them. So I suggest we finish whatever we need to here and get moving to secure the objective.”

Now both sisters smiled at him in a way that left Creshkin feeling a tad foolish.

“Well you have expert timing then.” Ysera motioned him over to a video screen that showed their initial entry point where the ‘Damsel’ still stood. The rest of his fellow Odanites were filing into the hanger bay from the outside. It was then Creshkin heard the crackle of a communication line.

“Daegella, we’re inside the entryway; get this airlock open and identify your position!” the crackling voice of the War Councillor Celevon Erinos sounded off. Creshkin realized if he was close by, then the High Counselor Aura Ta’var and her entourage had made it to the base. It was a success by all measures, but they still needed to figure a way for everyone to get out.

“I’ll go greet them and tell them about the crystals!” Creshkin bounded away from the consoles to move back toward the hangers. He shouted over his shoulder, “Keep up the wonderful work you two!” Creshkin felt excited; they could do this, they would do this.


Tisto was the first through the airlock. He didn’t bother checking in with Celevon or Aura. They had the more specific mission. The Kiffar didn’t care much about the objective that the rest of the force had. He was tired of complex objectives, and was ready for his. Now that he was inside the facility it was time to break anyone who interfered with the rest of the team. He waited as Creshkin pointed to where the teams objective was, ignoring the man’s words.

The Kiffar took off ahead of the group, itching for a fight. He picked up a loose pipe as he ran through the halls of the mine, keeping ahead of the team. Celevon had given him a specific job for this mission. The Kiffar smiled darkly as he rounded a corner to see four security officers armed with blaster rifles.

“Identify your–” the guard captain, the Kiffar assumed by the badge on his uniform, began to shout before being ripped away from the others as Tisto called on the Force to bring him in close.

The Kiffar slammed his right fist into the stomach of the oncoming guard, electricity lancing out from the blow. As the unprepared guard began to bend forward from the blow, Tisto grabbed the man’s head, and held him as a shield as he rushed at the rest of the group. The other guards hesitated, not wishing to hurt their comrade. The Kiffar didn’t pay much attention to their reactions though. They were in his way, and he was a good minute or so ahead of anyone whoc ould stop him.

Tisto tossed the guard captain into the group of hesitating troops, bringing his stolen pipe down against the knee of the closest officer, almost laughing at the crack it made. He dropped the pipe almost immediately after, having brought this into a close quarters brawl.

Tisto’s eyes widened as adrenaline began to course through him. Fifty seven seconds. He slammed his helmeted head into the nose of the already injured guard, dropping them to the ground. Unwilling to look over his shoulder, he then brought his heel down with all his weight against theprone figure’s head with a sickening crack, blood splattering around the ground. Fifty four seconds.

Two bodies crashed into the Kiffar, trying to tackle him into the ground. Tisto’s body didn’t budge as he steeled himself with the Force against the blow. He swung his fists back, each colliding with a body, electricity surging around the hits. The Kiffar looked over his right shoulder to the pipe laying on the ground behind the confused guards. He was pretty sure they might have said something, but he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of rushing blood. He called on the Force, pulling the pipe towards his left hand as fast as he could. The body on his left slammed into him a second time, and this time he could hear the scream. That guard dropped down, pipe stuck in her back ribs. Tisto was pretty sure she was still alive, he would fix that later. Forty seven seconds.

The guard captain got back up, and slammed into Tisto from the right. The Kiffar rolled with the tackle, a grin spreading on to his face. Memories of days gone by flew into his head. Days before he tried to be a Jedi. When he was king of his own small corner of Nar Shaddaa. Two on one wasn’t that challenging. These guards weren’t looking for this kind of fight. They were trying to follow protocol on what to do. Tisto almost felt sorry for what he was going to do to them. Then again, they could have decided to take the day off.

The red headed Kiffar took off his helmet, tossing it to the side. His blood from the crash had clotted and dried, but because of the helmet, his forehead was caked in dried blood. It was not the most comfortable, but he would be fine. The last remaining non patched guard pulled out a side arm, looked like a simple blaster, and opened fire on Tisto, who simply put out a hand. The first two blaster bolts hit the air in front of Tisto and faded away, the third bounced back, hitting the guard in the shoulder, dropping him.

The guard captain said something, probably along the lines of ‘you monster’, Tisto wasn’t paying attention. It was easier to kill them if you didn’t recognize them as anything but an enemy. The guard captain then decided to turn his back, and began to run. Tisto sent the Force into his legs and took off after him, tackling the man down in a few seconds. Thirty seconds.

Without waiting, Tisto pulled his helmet into his hands with the Force, bringing it down repeatedly on the captains head until the captain stopped moving.

The Kiffar stood up, now covered in blood that was not his own. He paced slowly over to the guard with a pipe in her ribs, pulling out, only to bring it down on her head. He could feel fatigue setting in. His adrenaline was dying down, and he had just done a lot with the Force. More than
he had in awhile. He stalked over to the last guard, the one who had been hit by his own blaster bolt, and raised the pipe up, only to have a hand grab his arm.
Tisto looked back to see the rest of the team had caught up to him early. Celevon held the Kiffars hand back, and silently shook his head. Tisto didn’t bother to look at the other’s expressions.

“They would have slowed you down,” he smirked. “Now they can’t.”


With the bodies of the dead guards laying around all anyone could do at the moment was to try and not let the carnage of the mauled bodies bother them too much. Some didn’t seem to care but others looked displeased. They all knew there would have been deaths on both sides but they wanted to try and prevent as much as they could. Seeing that Tisto was still keyed up from the adrenaline coursing through his body, Celevon put his arm around the Kiffar to help calm him while Aura told Creshkin to start leading the way towards where he believed the Kyber Crystals were at.

Slowly making their way, they eventually ran into some other guards who tried to put up a small fight against the members of Odan-Urr. Those that could with lightsabers of blue, purple, and yellow hues deflected the bolts back at the guards while those with blasters made well-aimed shots. Making their way farther down into the mining facility smooth duracrete turned to the rough rock of the moon. When the team came to forks in the corridors the Dorin Jedi would gently put a reassuring hand on the young Knight’s shoulder. They reached out to the Force together to search for the crystals, the elder Jedi helping to guide them in the right direction.

Following what the Force told them, Sa and Creshkin started to lead the group down several more mine shafts that ended in a large cavern. Around the cavern embedded in the walls, floor and ceiling were the colorless un-bonded kyber crystals in all different shapes and sizes. The miners tools and machines along with some crates that looked to be filled with currently mined kyber crystals was off to the left side of the entrance. Those that were force sensitive could start to hear the music coming from the crystals.


The corridors they had been passing through were labyrinthian in scope and scale. Mostly dug out of sheer rock by diggers and machinery, the serpentine corridors took the party further into the moon. Gravity was still a problem. They seemed to hop and skip more than walk down the path as they followed their senses to the crystals. Gülvyr and Hedda held the sternguard for the group, since their abilities involved more terrestrial matters like shooting and fighting in low gravity. The two Mandalorians would often cover the group and each other by double checking all the tunnels they passed, in case of late ambushes.

It took them nearly twenty minutes to reach a wide loading area where diggers deposited raw materials which were then sent into processing. The area was dimly lit but the crystals in the walls reflected enough of it for everyone to see clearly. Machinery was still operating despite their operators fleeing the scene, likely after the initial battle. Tools were strewn across the floor, pistons and hydraulic hissed and whined, and Gülvyr’s helmet sensor picked up no other sound.

“Seems to be clear, but i don’t like it.” He nodded to Ta’var and the others. “Where are the crystals?”

“Likely in one of those storage units,” Len replied pointing at several smaller cargo containers close to the middle of the loading area.

“This is likely a trap,” he said before anyone could do something stupid, like run out. “We’ve had no opposition all the way. This is the likeliest place to get ambushed.”

“Agreed,” Hedda and Celevon added and several of the others likewise nodded in agreement.

“I sense at least a dozen creatures around the site, all of them emotionally stressed,” Tarvitz said.

“Creshkin and I can reach the crystals and identify them,” Sa Ool added.

“The rest of us can provide cover,” Kasula chimed in as well. “But we need to hurry if we want to hitch a ride on the Distress.”

Gülvyr turned to Tarvitz, “Where are they exactly?”

The first ones roaring out of the tunnel on jetpacks were Hedda and Gülvyr. The Mandalorians blasted across the loading bay with speed and fury and almost immediately drew the attention of the troops waiting to ambush them. Blaster bolts screamed past them, scorching the walls of the loading bay as they did. The Mandalorians returned suppressive fire at the revealed enemy, allowing the rest of the group to move. As one they hopped out of the tunnel, sabers drawn and deflecting incoming shots as they did.

“Sa, Creshkin! Get the crystal!” Aura ordered as another bolt, this time from behind them, flew past her ear. Tarvitz and Celevon took up position there, deflecting and returning fire as best they could. Aura and Len covered the front, both now in cover against the fusillade. Kasula and Ysera ran behind one of the diggers and picked their targets with precise blaster fire. Tisto charged towards a smaller group of Collective fanatics that showed themselves on Celevon’s side.

Hedda and Gülvyr found decent cover and back to back, as they usually did, unloaded on the enemy. Gülvyr’s ion blaster caught a fanatic in the thigh, disintegrating muscle and bone as the man fell into a heap of crying and thrashing rubble. Hedda’s Longblaster was useless, but her blaster pistol gave her enough firepower to fight back. She found a target for her net gun as one of the enemy troopers rushed out, feeling overly confident in himself. The razor sharp net wrapped him in a painful grasp.

“This reminds me of of that Vauzem hideout we raided back in thirty-two,” Hedda said, laughing through her intercom.

“Yes, very amusing,“ Gülvyr replied cynically. His shot disintegrated another fanatic on the spot just as the man was changing cover. “Until someone loses an arm or a leg.”

“You’re too slow old man, let’s get into the fight!” Hedda blasted from her spot with a youthful spring in her step. The jetpack carried her up, over and down into the midst of the fanatics on her side. She used her blaster pistol close to her body, dodged and weaved and killed as she went.

Gülvyr sighed, depressed his jetpack stud and found his way to his own group. He dropped the ion disruptor and pulled his Kanjali blades. The two long blades danced with his evasive movements, cutting flesh and bone alike. Four came at him with blades of their own when he denied them the blaster advantage, but he cut them down like carving a cake.

“We have it,” Gülvyr could hear Creshkin call over the channel.

Aura’s voice came through clear and pure. “Everyone, retreat back to the ship!”


The retreat order was the sweetest thing the Chiss had heard in a long time. While retreating was not normally a favored tactic, this mission had become a bloodbath. Luckily, for the enemy, not the Odanites. Iode angled himself around his cover giving himself a clear shot at the Collective troops who probably intercepted or overheard the order.

“Tisto, Sa. You guys fall back, we’ve got you covered.” Len’s voice smooth as he lined up a shot on an unfortunate Liberation Front soldier. He squeezed the trigger firing a single bolt which hit home on the man’s chest. Another ran out into the open, but was cut down by the Mandalorians.

The Collective was not usually this careless with their forces. The officer thought as he took aim once more, this time at a heavy weapons Technocrat.

Not many of those left now Iode supposed as he took a long look through his weapon’s sight at the heavily deformed soldier, Iode felt something tug in his chest. Iode had killed dozens, if not hundreds of beings in his life, this time however something felt different. Maybe it was the senseless charge that the Collective forces utilized trying to prevent this escape. This monstrosity had once been a person, with real feelings not chemically synthesized ones. Those feelings lead him, similar to the Chiss, to serve for a cause in which he believed. Right or wrong, the officer could sympathize with that fundamental feeling. Just like he could the massacred security officers. It was too late for this Collective pawn, his life was wasted by a desperate old man and his secret Force using brother, Iode mused. There was only one merciful thing to do now.

May you be free from your prison.


Tisto heard the retreat order come through the channel. He slammed his fist into the nearest enemies face, stunning them as the electricity from his gauntlet coursed through their head. The Kiffar pulled back, putting on his helmet. He made sure his suit was sealed properly as he fell back, letting the Mandolorians cover the groups’ retreat. Tisto smirked to himself about the plan he had discussed with a few of the soldiers who had stayed back to guard the airlock. Hopefully Tisto could get out before the explosives went off, but the Kiffar didn’t want to take any risks.

Out of the corner of his eye Tisto saw Sa lift the crates with the Force. The boxer sighed, considering the alien was out of the fight while he was doing that. The Mandolorian’s would need to rest eventually, but Tisto let them continue to cover for a while longer. He kept ahead of the group for a while, moving back towards the airlock they had come in from, trying to keep ahead of the crates.

Tarvitz and Celevon were keeping back to help the Mandolorian’s fight off any attacks from behind. Tisto noted that Creshkin and Aura were sticking close to Sa to help him in the event of an attack. He felt Kasula and Ysera close by, trying to get their escape ready. It would be a push to get out of the mine, and Tisto wanted to make sure the crates got out before anything went wrong. He expected to meet more of the enemy as they came closer to their exit. It would be a smart thing to do, and the enemy could pincer them near the airlock if they were keeping troops in reserve. The Kiffar didn’t want to take the risk of losing what everyone else was here to get.

If I am right, we have twenty seconds until we reach the airlock, and maybe three minutes until the airlock goes boom.


This mission to Thillon’s Moon was definitely one of the ones that should be studied at the Academy for how determination can win the day. Len’s pulse was pounding, Tisto’s tactic was smart, but he could have set the timer slightly longer. Iode dropped to a knee near the airlock to cover the rest of the strike team. A mental clock was ticking in his mind as the three minutes counted down.

Enemy troops continued to pop from behind cover to engage the retreating Odanites. The Chiss lined up his shots to bring them down one by one. The Liberation Front troops were behaving like untrained recruits ignoring their fallen comrades, continuing the charge, and dying right on top of their fallen comrades. The biggest sign of this tactic was the occasional blaster bolt slammed into the dirt around him and the other evacuating Odanites, only a few enemies remained behind cover. Tisto, Sa, and Aura headed out the airlock while Gülvyr and Hedda joined the Chiss on the firing line, engaging any Collective soldier that was not behind cover and suppressing those who were with a shot at the airlock. The Chiss’ mental clock was reading about one and a half minutes left.

“Fall back, I’m last out.” The Chiss commanded

The Mandalorian nodded and stood up, continuing to fire as he backed out to the exit. He reached out and tapped his female counterpart’s shoulder. She rose and continued to fire as Gülvyr turned toward the airlock and departed. Hedda tapped Len’s shoulder and did the same as her partner before her. Len rose and took two steps back and turned into the airlock, sealing the door behind him.

“One minute.” Tisto announced over comms.

The pressure light changed color from green to red.

10 seconds

“Let’s move!” Someone shouted as the crowd in the airlock ran out of the exterior hatch. The last person, Len, closing the outer door behind him. Through the windows of the hatches several Collective troopers could be clearly seen fighting with the interior hatch as the Odanites watched from the vacuum surface of the moon. A dull thud indicated Tisto’s charge had worked.

Iode spoke calmly, having rethought his opinion on the charge timer, “Nice timing Tisto.”

The boxer bowed at the comment.

Celevon’s voice was the next on comms. “Excellent work everyone, now how do we get off this rock?”

There was silence. No one had thought about how to get off this hell of a rock. All they had thought of was completing the mission.

‘Oh! I knew I was forgetting something.” Kasulla’s happy voice came through clear, as the twins and Creshkin had returned to the Damsel and were using a stronger comms unit. “During the firefight, we contacted Miss Morgan. She happened to be in the sector and she’s about five minutes out.”

“Five minutes?” The Chiss questioned. “More like the same solar system.”

Celevon came across the channel, “She was in town for a booty call.”

Iode paused and thought for a moment. “You know what? I believe that.”

“I’ll take it,” Aura swore to herself that there would be a price for this rescue. “Everyone prepare a landing zone for the former Deputy Grand Master at the rally point near the Dawnblade.”