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

Last Voyage of the Charon: Marlethia


Last Voyage of the Charon Co-op Fiction:

You and your partner’s characters (and any other NPCs or characters you wish) arrive at a pre-determined set of coordinates for a raid mission only to find an Iron Legion vessel adrift and functioning on minimal power. According the mission briefing your team received the vessel, known as the Charon was supposed to be transporting a weapons development team of some kind, but the weapon in question is unknown. Reconnaissance of the derelict vessel indicate all the escape pods and hanger bays were destroyed from the inside. The decision is made to board the vessel and recover the weapon or any intelligence relating to it. (The vessel type of the Charon and any crew detailed are up to the authors of each entry)

Shortly after setting foot on the vessel your team is attacked by a small pack of Rakghouls and in the chaos you are cut off from your point of entry. Now you have to make your way through the dimly lit ship to either try to accomplish your objective or simply get out alive. How do you escape the vessel? What happened there? What is the weapon and do you find it?


This is a coop fiction meaning that two and only two members must collaborate to create an entry. There is no sign up process, find a partner and get to writing.

Entries must be posted on Discourse under the Fiction section with “Last Voyage of the Charon” in the post title.
Both members of the team must submit to the competition with the names and PINs of both authors and a link to the Discourse thread where their entry is posted.

Each participant must post a minimum of 500 words… Any team that does not meet the minimum word count per participant will be disqualified. There is no upper limit on post counts or word counts, though remember this is a cooperative effort so try to split the posts as evenly as you can.

Entries will be graded as a whole using the Fiction Rubric. Teams will be scored and placed as a unit. Only CIs will be awarded individually.

Mar Sûl - #13009

Alethia Archenksova - #14287


The beastial creatures poured out of every crack and crevice of the Charon’s hallway. As they fell upon their prey in primal fashion, tooth and claw knitting through the flesh of the small squad of Odanite soldiers, a voice carried over the hubbub issuing commands.

“Form up, bring them down as they cluster together!” Commander Archenksova bellowed. It was no use - the attack was too sudden and the soldiers’ morale had dissipated instantly; the creatures weren’t a common enemy. Alethia recognised them to be Rakghouls, vicious beasts with an insatiable bloodlust. The ambush had cut through over half of the squad in seconds, the screams of the wounded and dying pierced through the air, sharply enough to shake the focus of the stalwart commander for just a second; however, her years of experience in the field hardened her resolve.
“To the blast door!” she continued to command, leading the troops that had composed themselves enough to follow orders; they pushed for the threshold of the open blast door at the end of the hall, the horde Rakghouls hot in pursuit.

Where is he? Alethia thought to herself, the crackling of blaster fire and scraping of Rakghoul claw against durasteel filling the air, she knew that they’d need to rendezvous if there was any chance of survival. He may already be dead.

Mar Sûl was in full sprint at the time. He’d sensed something peculiar and had elected to scout ahead. The clamor of battle echoed throughout the ‘empty’ vessel just enough for him to hear the faint sounds of blaster fire. As he ran his breathing slowly became more laborious, a result of him pushing his body to its limit. He reached out with the Force as he moved, refining and extending his senses, directing him to the source of the battle.

The Human tilted his body as he came upon the final corner, his focus was instantly directed to the blood smeared up the walls in the distance. It had pooled so aggressively across the floor that the Commander and her squad were splashing through puddles of it as they moved for the blast door.

Mar’s Force-imbued senses picked up on two subtle clicking noises, followed by rapid beeping. The Councillor was familiar with the sound of live thermal detonators. A squad member had pulled them after a Rakghoul had caught him and began raking out his innards. Mar stood just beyond the threshold of the blast door, but he already knew that Alethia and the remainder of the squad wouldn’t make it. He’d used up a large amount of his energy in a burst to get back to everyone. His one hope was to use the Force to pull one person through in time.

At first it felt as if a large hand was compressing the air behind her, willing her onwards. The unusual sensation grew incrementally, gaining in power; The Councillor had given his absolute focus to Alethia, willing the Force to pull her toward him. Archenksova’s feet were no longer on the ground as the thermal detonators burst into life, the flames roaring up the hallway incinerating Rakghouls and soldier alike. The Charon groaned under the destruction of the twin explosions, responding with its safety countermeasures, primarily shutting the blast doors. Alethia flew forward in what she hoped was a controlled effort on Mar’s part. The blast door tore through the air and slammed shut as she cleared the threshold by mere centimeters.

“Apologies, Commander. I assure you it was necessary,” Mar explained as Alethia composed herself; it was evident that she hadn’t enjoyed the experience. Before Alethia could respond the Charon sighed, the sound of a power surge seemed to come from all around the humans before sputtering to a sudden halt. With a loud cracking noise almost all of the ships luminants cut out, leaving only the faint orange glow of the small emergency lights sparingly occupying the darkness.

“The lighting fits the mood, it seems,” Alethia remarked coolly, unphased by the situation. “If we hope to get out of here, we’ll need to bring back power.”

“The Force grants me vision, of sorts. I’m weakened from the earlier struggle, but I can maintain it until we reinvigorate this vessel and bring it light once more,” Mar spoke in a loose matter-of-fact tone that many people would have found unusually cold.

“We don’t all have this gift of sight, Councillor. You’ll have to lead,” Alethia half-commanded. After a moment she felt the unique sensation of skin touching skin as Mar’s hand ran down her arm before interlocking with her own. His hand was cool to the touch but not unpleasant.

“I’ll lead,” Mar confirmed.


Dry palms, even in a crisis, Alethia mused. That was something else the two had in common - yet another addition to the list that had been growing since she had first walked into his quarters in Seher.

She ran her fingertips gingerly over the bulkhead as Mar began to lead her along by the other hand, feeling for side corridors, air vents, displays, blood, any scrap of information about where they were or where they were heading. Her Jedi companion seemed to have some idea of where he was leading them, although the slow pace made Alethia wonder how detailed his ‘vision of sorts’ really was. Fortunately, the bulk of the rakghouls seemed to have been concentrated around the exploding thermal detonator, or at least on the other side of the thick durasteel blast door she had just barely made it through. Their journey to the engineering section was quiet, albeit much longer than it usually took to make it from one end of a GR-75 to the other.

After the first few minutes Alethia gave up on trying to listen for rakghouls, and settled into the rhythm of Mar’s footsteps. It was strangely soothing.

After a time, Alethia couldn’t be sure quite how long, the Jedi stopped. “A door,” he said by way of explanation. “Avert your eyes.” She barely had done so when the Councillor’s lightsaber erupted, casting a green light over the entire corridor.

“I’m surprised I didn’t think of that,” Alethia commented, blinking as her eyes adjusted. Mar looked at her with the silent expression that usually indicated an unverbalized question. “The light,” she clarified, gently slipping her hand out of his to reach for her blaster.

Mar grunted slightly - sheepishly? - before turning back to the door and examined it. “They attempted to claw their way in here. Perhaps there’s someone still living inside.” Taking his weapon in both hands, plunging the plasma blade into the durasteel and slowly working it through the locking mechanisms.
The metal was still glowing when the smell of charred flesh hit them. The section was eerily silent, a dizzying mix of pipes, ducts, wires, and the shadows they cast in the green light. The space was cramped and small, with only a few access panels and a single control console. The room’s lone occupant was in the corner. They stepped closer to examine the corpse, his blackened hands still gripping the uninsulated metal prybar he’d jammed into the main power supply.

“His arm,” Alethia said, gesturing to the bloody gash on his bicep. Evidently one of his former crewmates had gotten close enough to have a taste.

“He chose not to allow himself to become an instrument of evil,” Mar nodded approvingly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think either of us will be able to get that back online. But…” she trailed off and started to rummage through the engineer’s kit.


“How far away can you move something telekinetically?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever tested that,” Mar answered.

“You’re about to,” Alethia said, holding up a small welding torch and wedging it in place against an exposed fuel duct, “Think you can set that off from an escape pod?”

“Doubtful,” the Councillor answered, stroking his beard as he pondered the suggestion. “Although if you can move me, I might be able to hold the torch in place from a distance. If we can keep the trigger down physically…”

“…you could hold it over the duct and drop it once we’re farther away,” Alethia finished the thought. “It’s risky, but I don’t think we’ll manage anything better. Hand me your saber and get on that hovercart.”

Alethia burst out of the engineering compartment, holding the green lightsaber in front of her for light while pulling the hovercart behind her. On it, Mar sat perfectly still in meditation, his breathing calm and measured. Behind them, the welding torch floated half a meter over the fuel line, spewing heat and sparks as a tight rubber band held its trigger down. The woman sprinted down the main corridor, twenty, thirty meters towards the central part of the corvette where the escapes were most likely undamaged. She spared a glance back at her Jedi compatriot. Mar was still, his breathing even, but sweat was beginning to bead up on his brow as they pulled farther away from the torch.

Looking back ahead of her, Alethia could just barely make out the escape pods at the end of the saber’s green glow - and three hunched figures milling about in front of it. Spast! she thought, as the creatures perked up at the light and sound of the approaching Odanites. Pushing off with her feet, Alethia launched herself backward and over the hovercart’s handle, landing just in front of Mar. She held the lightsaber low and straight out like a lance, and it burned its way into one rakghoul’s skull as the cart slammed into the monsters. Alethia swung desperately at the other two, severing limbs successfully, but with none of her typical grace. “We’re here!” she called out, keying open the escape pod.

Mar was a blur; as soon as his eyes were open he was in motion, willing his limbs to move faster than should have been faster. He was up, half pulling, half tackling Alethia to get both of them into the pod as the welding torch in the engineering cart fell, burning itself way through the ductwork and igniting the fuel. Alethia slapped the launch button on the way down, and the pod door closed behind them as the two Odanites landed in a heap on the pod’s floor. Mar instinctively spread himself over Alethia to shield her from debris as arms around his exposed neck and head. The gentle vibration of the launch was quickly overwhelmed by the shockwave of the corvette’s bursting engines as they ripped the larger vessel apart and thrashed the escape pod. The dim lights in the pod flickered and went out. They were alone, drifting in space in darkness and in silence, but they were alive.

Alethia exhaled. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding her breath. We made it. The ship was destroyed, the rakghouls and the target with it, and they were alive. “Next time,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper into Mar’s ear, “I would really prefer not to test the theory that you’re immortal.”

Mar snorted, but even the taciturn Jedi couldn’t keep himself from breaking into full laughter for the first time that Alethia could remember. It was a rich and beautiful sound, infectious, and for a moment the two of them were a bruised, convulsing, cacophony of laughter on the floor. As the mirth faded, Mar seemed to remember that he was on top of her, and pushed himself to his feet before offering Alethia a hand up.

“They’ll send someone out once we miss the check-in,” he said, his normal businesslike manner returning. “Hopefully someone will retrieve us within a few hours.”

“Hopefully,” Alethia smiled back at him. “But in the interim, Councillor, however shall we pass the time?”