[RoSM: Clan Odan-Urr – Proteam]

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Team Roster:

Ka Tarvitz - Snapshot
Creon Saldean - Snapshot
Len Iode - Snapshot
Dral Falgorth - Snapshot

Other Characters/NPCs:

Jetsam Walsh - Snapshot
Dalali Pouelle - Snapshot

Phase I: Objective Selected - Sabotage

Phase I objectives

‘‘Phase I begins on October 14th and ends on October 28th (two (2) weeks)’’

After intercepting a transmission from the now destroyed Brotherhood Listener ship, the Psi Termina I, your team has been hand-picked and sent on a mission. You are already boarded on the Dreadnaught-class heavy cruiser Akan, arriving in an Imperial boarding craft through the auxiliary starboard hangar, only several decks below your target. The Akan’s hyperdrives and major systems have been disabled by ion cannons from escorting ships and a battle still rages outside.

The ship’s power fluctuates with every blow from turbo lasers and ion cannons and you have limited time to complete your mission. The Collective regiment typically onboard is currently deployed, but ship security is fully staffed and some elements of the regiment may still be onboard. Intel expects Soldiers and Partisans onboard.

Your team has been tasked to complete one of the following objectives in limited time (you may complete only one (1) objective):

• Revenge path: Reach the main bridge, face and eliminate Captain Brith Kayle and extract valuable information from the computer core before the fleet destroys the ship.

• Sabotage path: Reach the primary computer core behind the main bridge, extract the information and set the ship to self-destruct before extracting.

• Pacifist path: Reach the primary environmental controls on the main bridge, pacify the whole ship with Stun gas before extracting data from the computer core and calling in the cavalry.

Caution: the Captain is accompanied by an unknown number of enemy combatants.

The Phase must end with the bridge secured and the ship either pacified or destroyed. In all but the Revenge path, the Captain’s fate is up to you.

Auxiliary Starboard Hanger
Dreadnought class a70 Heavy Cruiser Akan
Wild Space
Time remaining: 20:00

In the battle raging about the graveyard of the Psi Termina I, the Akan was burning. Six hundred meters of the cannonade, heavy armor and turbolaser emplacements had been reduced to a drifting hulk of scrap metal. What had not already been disabled was quickly going up in flames, as micro-explosions and hull breaches rocked the Dreadnought-class heavy cruiser. With its blunted head already a ruin of twisted bulkheads, the only thing which temporarily spared it from systematic destruction by the awaiting House Hoth fleet was the information held in its heart. Such things required a far more personal touch.

Within the stricken Akan’s auxiliary starboard hanger, the twin-bodied hexagonal-winged shape of a TIE boarding shuttle hovered over a mass of burning wreckage and blackened detonation markings. With a gush of venting steam and the clank of its landing gear, the ship settled into place and began disgorging armed figures.

There were seven of them in total, each clad in black but lacked the uniformity of a true military unit. They were a motley bunch, assembled out of anyone who could be spared at that moment. An O.E.F. officer, two soldiers of the same division, an explosives expert, a Mandalorian, a Jedi, and a Jensaarai; it was the sort of odd gathering only the Brotherhood could assemble into a unit and still hope to win the day.

“So, how do you think the Collective will spin this loss?” Ka Tarvitz asked, raising his remaining eyebrow as he peered about at the wreckage, “Weapons malfunction? Sabotage from within? Sacrifice in the name of a greater victory? Let’s face it, they would never allow us to claim we beat them in a straight up fight.”

There was a loud whistle behind him and Tarvitz turned to see the red and chrome barreled shape of R3-M1 - or “Ratchet” as he had come to be known - rolling down the boarding ramp toward him.

“Well, that’s one for ‘Anything which will excuse killing more Jedi’. Anyone else?”

“How about we save this until the mission is done?” Len Iode replied, aiming down the scope of his rifle and scanning the area for possible targets. Ever the consummate professional, the Chiss wasn’t about to confirm an area was safe until he had spotted a body.

“Or until we have something else to celebrate besides a massed slaughter,” Creon Saldean agreed, hardly hiding his disdain for the Jensaarai’s apparent lack of care for the lives lost in the battle so far.

Tarvitz shrugged, deciding to accept the point without argument. They weren’t wholly wrong, as there were far more important things to deal with at the moment, namely the contents of the Akan’s computer core. Gleaning anything beyond the most basic information from the Collective had become an almost impossible task. For a crippled capital ship to practically deliver itself into their hands was an unprecedented opportunity for the Clan Odan-Urr to gain an advantage over their new foe. The mission itself was simple - Find the bridge, download the contents of the data core, and depart while scuttling the cruiser.

The remaining four members of their group were already on the move, having rapidly covered what little remained of the hanger with their weapons. With the bulky armored form of Dral Falgorth at their lead, they made for the nearest of several blast doors. It had been bent inward by the heat of a nearby detonation, and among the blackened metal were slight shades; shapes which might have once been men, caught in the moment before they were vaporized.

“The fleet did a real number on this place,” Dral commented with a note of admiration, seemingly more to himself than anyone in particular, “I’m surprised they left anything standing.”

“If you want to outdo them, you’re welcome to try,” Len joked, backing up until he had joined them, with the others following close behind, “Perhaps by starting with this door. The clock is ticking, after all.”

The Mandalorian nodded, hefting a plasma cutter free from the small arsenal of grenades and the large blaster cannon slung across his chest. Even with his features were hidden behind the distinctive T-shaped visor of his clan, it was not difficult to tell that the man was grinning as he set to work on the door.

The moment was interrupted as Ratchet whistled and bleeped in quick succession from just behind them. The droid had plugged himself into the partially intact remains of a computer access point, his head swiveling rapidly as he dug deeper into the vessel’s communications systems.

“He’s registering multiple silent alarms,” Tarvitz translated, his expression turning ever more grave with each passing moment, “The crew is abandoning ship and multiple internal systems are offline. And the captain has already triggered the self-destruct sequence.”

“How long do we have?” Creon asked, indicating for Dral to continue cutting as he paused to look at them.

“Twenty minutes,” Tarvitz replied before Ratchet bleeped and he promptly added, “From three minutes and sixteen seconds ago.”

Time remaining: 17:44

“Mia, how’s the visual?” Creon called into the comlink in his helmet.

“Upload almost complete, boss, but we have a problem,” an artificial woman’s voice replied. The droid had remained onboard the Black Harbinger, using the marauder’s central command console to relay information to the squad’s respective HUDs. In this case, she was uploading the layout of Akan from the results of a scan on the vessel.

“This cruiser uses dual-converged hardware. There are two separate mainframes that shuffle functions for the vessel, as well as host their own databank exchange,” the droid continued.

“Translation?” Creon asked. He honestly had no idea what she was trying to explain.

“If you try to slice into the bridge’s main core, it will likely transfer its data to its twin core mainframe in a separate server room onboard. You would need to destroy one and extract from the other, or gain access to both simultaneously,” Mia explained.

“Oi, you lot didn’t know that?”

Everyone, save Dral, turned their heads to the squad member who last spoke. It was Jetsam Walsh, the O.T.F.’s demolition specialist. He also managed the astromechs in maintenance for the Black Harbinger and Nightingales.

“StarDrive makes these sort of things, and they always use dual-convergent cores. It’s why I brought the bomb bag… Am I the only IT guy here?” he asked with a raised hand. He looked around and saw that no one else had raised their hand.

The droid whirled it’s head to the squad with a reply in a series of agitated tones: “Ratchet + Jetsam = Underpaid + Undervalued // O.T.F. = failure without Ratchet + Jetsam.”

“Underpaid?” Tarvitz asked in bewilderment, “And what would you use credits for?”

“Ratchet = want things.”

“Then we will need to split up,” Creon ordered, “Walsh, take two others with you and head to the port-side data core. Blow it up if we’ve secured the bridge, but only after the order has been given. I expect heavy resistance at the bridge. Standby in case we have to take down the bridge computer and you extract from its counterpart instead.”

“It would be quicker to slice through them both, mate,” Jetsam retorted, “With that droid at the bridge and I in the server room we can use both cores to send a direct transfer to the Black Harbinger.”

“In a perfect world, maybe, but be prepared for contingencies.”

“Finished,” Dral declared as he withdrew the plasma cutter from the top of the hangar door. There was a heated line straight through the middle. The Mandalorian then took a step back as Tarvitz and Creon each took hold on the two halves of the door with the Force. With a piercing groan, it was pried apart, leaving enough room for the squad to advance through single file.

Both Saldean and Tarvitz waited to be the last ones through the clearing. Something alerted their senses in the Force like a strong odor. It eluded an incoming FU presence onboard, and both of them could somewhat feel the pressure of their power in the Dark Side.

“I’m going to need you to go with Jetsam, in case whoever that is heads for the server room,” Creon requested to the only other Jedi in the team.

“Understood,” Tarvitz saluted.

Time remaining: 15:37

The abandoned corridor that lay before the strike team was dimly lit, as various lights flickered randomly. Littering the passage were half-dozen burned corpses representing various species. Along with the bodies were various ship components blasted out of place by an explosion of the power conduit. The literal icing on this hellish cake was a layer of fire suppression foam coating the deck, debris, and bodies in a snow like blanket. The odor of charred flesh, singed circuits, and an odd sweetness from the foam washed over each member as they entered.

As the team filed through the single hole, each member took to the opposite side of the corridor from the person in front of them. First through was a rookie O.T.F trooper, second Iode, third Falgorth, fourth the O.T.F sergeant, fifth Walsh, with Creon and Tarvitz bringing up the rear.

“What a mess,” the point trooper said as he over a Quarren bearing the distinctive marks of a Collective Zealot.

Iode raised his weapon to the high ready to watch his half of the bubble blanketed corridor. “They were heading for their fighters would be my guess.”

“Proton-torp took care of that,” Dral said.

Passing two more unfortunate zealots and debris the group came to a halt as they approached a hatch on Len’s side. The rookie trooper opposite of Len cleared the open hatch and then covered down the perpendicular corridor as the Chiss officer watched the trooper’s exposed flank.

“Clear.”

The team’s Jedi moved up to Len’s position with the slicing team shortly behind.

Placing a hand on the officer’s shoulder, Creon spoke quietly. “Tarvitz, the sergeant, and Jetsam are splitting off. The rest of us will be heading up to the bridge.”

The Chiss raised an eyebrow. “Is something up?”

“Ka and I are not the only Force Users aboard,” the Jedi’s words hit like bricks.

“There’s a potential wrench in the plan,” Len collected his thoughts. “Is the Force giving a location or area?”

Creon shook his head. “No dice, just the presence.”

“Typical, one day the Force and I are going to have words,” The officer joked before becoming serious again, “Good luck guys.”

Tarvitz nodded, “I believe I will be asking it the same question and good luck to you all as well.”

As the three team members set off down the adjacent corridor, Creon signaled for the remaining four to move out. The thought of having to face a Force User on top of the Collective’s fanatical forces gave Len pause.

The new guy is right, what a mess.

Time remaining : 12:52

The small team of four with the droid continued down the corridor towards the bridge, the signage on the walls made it easy for them to navigate the plain halls that laid throughout the ship. In addition to the beeps and boops that followed every turn as Rachet helped guide them.

In a staggered formation the team pressed forward, scanning nearby rooms they encountered while still making haste as time was of the essence.

“With the silent alarms I doubt we’ll encounter anyone,” Creon remarked as they quickly trekked through the almost unending passageways.

“Keep alive, the moment you let your guard down is when they have you cornered,” Falgorth replied in succession.

“I have to agree with Falgorth,” the O.T.F. soldier commented opening a door to a dark and empty room. “Clear.”

Rachet followed the O.T.F’s remark with some whistles. Creon chuckled at their cybernetic companions remark.

“Let’s focus on the task at hand, don’t get sloppy like the lunch the Clan tries to feed us,” Len instructed with a grin.

Just as they rounded the next corner they were met with a squad of Collective Frontier Soldiers, ten in total who all did a double take upon the sight of the small O.T.F team.

A small moment of an awkward pause fell upon both sides as the units were in almost disbelief in their current situation.

“Well this is unexpected,” Len remarked as if it was a cue to engage. Dral slung his MWC-35c Repeating Cannon off his shoulder and began to set up the tripod and support rig for it. Rachet who had been close behind the group double backed behind the corner. Simultaneously as Creon grounded his feet while throwing his hands up to provide the members cover temporarily as they scrambled for hard cover including the Jedi. Several blaster bolts pelted the invisible protective barrier Creon had established in the nick of time.

It was just long enough for Dral and the O.T.F soldier to lock and load the Mando’s blaster to light the hallway ablaze with suppressive fire. The hail of bolts screeched past the O.T.F force as it decimated the squad of Collective, killing three. Forcing the surviving members to retreat into the closest rooms on both sides of the hall.

Not before the Chiss managed to single out the commanding leader of the squad with the aid of the suppressing fire and a single lined up shot. Killing the Collective squad leader just before he took cover.

Seeing their opportunity to finish the conflict just as quickly as it began, Len signaled to Creon to move forward. Creon and Len advanced on both sides of the hall only momentarily stopping as Len whistled to the Mandalorian for a grenade. To which Dral tossed him the unactivated thermal detonator that hung on his belt.

Keeping the suppressive fire down the center of the corridor now to avoid friendly fire on both team members. Creon and Len both looked to each other and with a nod at the same time activated their thermal detonators and held them as Creon counted down.

“One … Two … Three … Now!” On the command Dral ceased fire as the two tossed their grenades into the opposite rooms of their respective sides. Followed with a “Switch” by both the Jedi and Chiss. A second of hesitation and then furious scrambling from both rooms was heard. Just before a loud blast erupted from the rooms, one right after the other, then finally silence once more.

Time remaining : 10:11

Mere minutes from its annihilation, the Akan already felt like a ghost ship. Once the team had split up, the group consisting of Tarvitz, Walsh, and the unnamed O.E.F. Sergeant had moved swiftly down toward the midsection of the vessel and its main server room. Thus far resistance had been light, with only the bodies of the dead left to greet them. Each had been abandoned where they had fallen, with only their open pockets and lack of equipment indicating that their comrades had even noticed them. Save for the distant creaking of the Dreadnought’s abused outer hull, the ship might as well have been utterly lifeless.

“Perhaps we were lucky,” Walsh said, glancing at a corpse they passed by, “Looks like anyone who could run has already legged it.”

“And miss the chance to die for the glory of the Collective?” Tarvitz said with a quiet chuckle, “I don’t think so. Anyone left is likely trying to make a stand somewhere.”

“Then let’s just hope they’ve not picked either of the computer cores as a place to do that,” Walsh agreed, and then looked back at the nameless Sergeant, “Speaking of which, Mister …”

“Khal,” the Sergeant answered, starting to salute before Walsh indicated for him not to bother, “Drakmor Khal, Sergeant First Class.”

“Good to know, Drakmor,” Walsh said conversationally, pointing up to the far end of the corridor, “Could you scout ahead? Just check the turbolifts are still operational. Tarvitz, watch my back.”

As Drakmor moved off, Walsh walked up to one section of the wall, seemingly indistinguishable from the rest. Raising a thin metallic card, he held it against a small opening. There was the sound of electronics coming online, before the entire wall began to unfold, opening up to show another computer interface.

“Ah, needlessly flashy as ever,” Walsh sighed, pulling free an Inquisitorius datapad from his pocket, “The Collective might have some talented mechanics, but give them half an excuse to over-engineer anything and they’ll find a way. I’m surprised they’ve yet to try and reinvent the blaster from scratch.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me,” Tarvitz shrugged, “But would you mind explaining just what you’re doing?”

“Checking schematics,”Walsh said distractedly, skimming through pages of information at a time, “Given how heavily they’ve redesigned these ships, I wanted to check that the server room was in roughly the same place." He typed in several new commands, frowning at the results. "Ah, sithspawn.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that it’s in the wrong place.”

“Yep, two decks below where it should be on these ships,” Walsh agreed, “And a good few meters back from there as well.”

The sound of running footsteps caused them both to pause, looking up in time to see Drakmor returning from further along the corridor.

“They’re completely offline,” he said between breaths, “The doors have been punched in on the first lot, and it looks like damage to the main shafts of the next lot placed them in shutdown mode.”

That wasn’t good. Tarvitz peered over at Walsh’s shoulder at the datapad, which had stopped on a basic blueprint for the ship’s layout. His own experience with ships lay largely with smaller snubfighters and raiding long destroyed relics for anything of value, he understood enough to know that there was no quick path down to the next levels. No conventional one at any rate.

“Not a problem,” Tarvitz said with a grin, holding up the lightsaber to make his point, “We’ll just have to make our own way down.”

“Shouldn’t take more than ten seconds,” Walsh agreed, and pointed to an area of the deck plating for Tarvitz to start cutting, “Eleven tops.”

With a snap-hiss of activation, the amber energy blade burst into life. Spinning it in one hand, Tarvitz rammed it point-first into the deck plating and dragged it back, slowly carving out a rough square in the center of the corridor. The superheated edges of the metal groaned loudly, before gravity took hold and the entire section fell away, slamming into the floor below with a deafening crash that echoed up the ship’s interior.

“There,” Tarvitz said with a grin, as he looked down, “One express route to…”

He trailed off as his mismatched eyes were met by a score of others, belonging to a group of very surprised Collective soldiers. Most were poorly armed, the Partisans which served as their cannon fodder, with a few Technocrat cyborgs and droids among them. As one they raised their weapons and opened fire, forcing Tarvitz to dive backward from the hail of blaster fire.

“Well,” Tarvitz yelled as the other two moved up to join him, ducking beneath several ricochetting shots, “We’ve found where they were planning to make a stand.”

As the other two joined him, a metallic cylinder hurtled up out of the hole, bouncing up and onto the floor next to them. Tarvitz reacted first, instinctively knocking it back down into the awaiting mass of troops. There was a roar of a fragmentation grenade, accompanied by several short-lived screams.

“Amateurs,” Walsh muttered, pulling a large sphere from his pack and tossed it lightly down onto the floor beneath them. With his other hand Walsh hit the remote detonation mechanism for the device and a second, far larger, blast thundered through the corridor below as flames met the multitude of grenades carried by the Collective troops. The plating shook violently and a burst of flame erupted up through the hole, and then there was silence.

Tarvitz was the first peer over the edge. Mercifully little had been left of the assembled enemy troops beneath them. Or the corridor itself for that matter. Save for a sparking droid and the odd misshapen remnant what might have once been body armor on the edge of the blast radius, all else had been quickly vaporized. As the acrid stench of torched durasteel wafted up toward them, Tarvitz realized that the weapon had left little more than a rough blackened crater in the middle of the corridor, burning all the way through to the level below them.

“Emperor’s black bones,” Drakmor muttered in admiration, looking between the devastation and Walsh.

“Just don’t ask me to do that again,” Walsh replied as Tarvitz removed a grappling hook from his belt and began judging the distance to the bottom floor, “Well, not until I am certain it won’t breach the hull next time.”

Time Remaining:8:56

Everyone in the bridge was completely still and silent by the time Creon’s team arrived. Multiple armed Collective Soldiers with aimed blasters were surrounding two individuals within. One of the two figures held their lightsaber at the others’ throat with one hand, and a datadisc in the other hand. This had been the presence Creon had felt earlier. The second figure appeared to be a uniformed officer of the Collective.

“Mia, who am I looking at?” Creon asked.

The HUD display in his helmet brought up two portraits, one male, and one female. “The hostage is Captain Brith Kayle, commanding officer of the Akan. His assailant’s intel profile is limited, I can’t see anything past the back her hood. If you can get in close to see part of the facial structure, I can try again. However, I do recognize the apparel to be affiliated with the Inquisitorius. I am 89.32% sure of it, boss.”

“Got it,” Creon replied before removing the display. “Alright team, I don’t see a feasible way of going about this without being seen.”

“Perfect!” Dral said with a gleam in his eye.

“Len, can you get into a sniping position to cover us in case things go south?”

The Chiss nods and adjusted the scope on his rifle.

“Dral, I need you to escort Ratchet here to the bridge console. Use your shield generator and keep him close. You will be seen. Do not engage unless they fire first, use your repeater as a show of force for them not to. If all else fails, protect the droid.” Creon then reaches on his utility belt, takes off his own personal shield generator and gives it to Dral, “Use mine as a backup, or to put on Ratchet if you need to engage.”

“Riiight, and the Sith lady?” Dral asked in reply.

“I’ll try to talk down the situation. It will buy us some time to focus on getting the intel we need instead of defending ourselves. Everyone good on the plan?”

Dral nodded to Creon. Creon looked to the others and they all saluted in understanding. He then looked to see Len’s confirmation, only he wasn’t there.

“In position,” Len called from their comlinks.

Creon entered from the front, heading to the left as Dral and the others maneuvered to the right. The Inquisitorius woman and her captive had their backs turned, but the Collective Soldiers that formed a ring around them switched their weapons between them, Creon, and Dral with his team.

“You all look like you’re trying to get out of this situation alive,” Creon announced as he drew his lightsaber. “Attacking my team won’t help with that.”

The enemy troop still kept their attention going back and forth between Creon and Dral’s team as they moved, but made no aggressive movement without the command of their captain.

“You know it’s odd,” the Inquisitor noted, “I thought I felt two of you here earlier.”

“You did,” Creon verified, “Which only makes the situation twice as difficult for you if you make things hard for us.”

She turned to see who she was addressing. The helmet didn’t help. He was also in all black, with no defining insignias or features save the emerald blade with a crossguard. “I get the feeling you’re not on my team.”

“Sir,” Mia chimed in his helmet again, “The tattoos across the parts of her face come up as a Kiffar clan crest. Searching database…”

“Give me a name, Mia.” Creon said softly as he slowly reached for his helmet with one hand. “You’re right, I’m not.”

“Not one more step!” One of the Collective soldiers barked. Everyone paused for a moment. Dral, Ratchet, and the team were about halfway to the main console before they were called out.

“Wait” Brith began until the lightsaber at his throat came closer to silence him.

Dral took a single and dramatic step towards the soldier that called him out, “You think you want to try this? Cause he” he points to Creon “is the only reason you and your friends aren’t dead and we are on our way out of here.”

Dral then took off his helmet, looked the soldier dead in the eye and took another step. There was no reaction. He then signaled his team to continue.

“Dalali Pouelle,” Mia told Creon, “She was assigned the Psi Termina I. Creon took off his helmet as well to show his face to her. “Dalali, listen,” he said to her. She didn’t like that he knew her name, the scowl that grew on her face told him as much.

“I’m sorry for all you lost because of the Collective. But killing him and going down with this ship will make your survival in vain. If you come with us and answer a few questions, I can promise your safety and guarantee what you can share will help against our fight against the Collective, from one Force User to another.”

Dral’s team had made it to the console when Creon looked. Dalali’s eyes followed his to see Ratchet working on the terminal. “Don’t bother,” She called out to Dral and his team. “I already uploaded all the data and backed it up into this,” she held up a datadisc with her free hand, “Why do you think the captain here started the self-destruct sequence?”

“Wait, really?” Creon asked.

“She’s lying Creon; or she’s wrongly convinced herself she has. She would have needed to have access to the server console, like Jetsam said,” Len called from his post into the comlink. He then realized Creon took off his helmet, and wouldn’t be able to hear his message. He saw Creon stiffen too; he believed her. This is bad, Len thought. The only way he could warn him is by exposing his position. Lest Creon makes a bad call to halt Ratchet’s work and pull everyone out without the real intel. He needed to make a decision.

“And we are in!” Walsh said with enthusiasm as the doors to the server room opened up. The entire area was a large cylindrical chamber. The walls were embedded with technological hardware connected through wires underneath the opaque flooring to the center of the room. At the center was a double-ended funnel-shaped console that opened up at the roof and the floor. The room itself was devoid of anyone else, but that did not convince Tarvtiz. He drew his saber and took a quick patrol as Jetsam got to work.

“Do me a favor, mate,” he asked after setting down the containment pack to his denton explosives, “Set this exactly where I tell you.” The Specialist inserted his probe and started on the administration terminal. The probe opened a slicing program he used to bypass the security software and password demands. He focused on this, all the while giving directions to Sergeant Khal on bomb placement. The Jedi’s droid, Ratchet, made contact with Walsh and the two coordinated to try and send a direct download to the Black Harbinger’s database.

“We have a droid!” Tarvitz called out.

Time Remaining: 5:21
The scope of Len’s rifle was lined up with the Sith’s hand. The datadisc it held waving back and forth. He took a breath and held it.

Stop moving, The Chiss thought and as if on cue the opportunity presented itself. He squeezed the trigger. The crimson bolt streamed from the culminating tip and streaked across the room. It found its mark at the center of the reflective datadisc, which shattered in fire, smoke, and fragments. The covert shot startled the Collective troops, and the Inquisition agent.

“SNIPER!” one of the troops shouted as the Liberation Front members dove for cover. The Odanite changed his position, moving further into the hallway and using some debris as concealment.

“Well, that got their attention.” The officer stated flatly as the hail of bolts slammed around his former location. The sound of blaster fire, sabers cutting, yelling, and running soldiers filled the entrance to the corridor. The Chiss readied his rifle, Come get some.

Dalali shook the disc in her hand again. “It was simple, I just had the Captain here access the database and then…” Her monologue was cut off by a blaster bolt whizzing into the bridge from the dark corridor and hitting her. A moment passed and she realized she had not been hit. Her prize had been. Cursing the Jedi for having distracted her, now the Collective had well and truly won.

“SNIPER!” One of the soldiers called out as they all scattered and a moment later began engaging where the shot came from.

Odanite, not Collective, She thought. Taking the opportunity, the Kiffar shoved the side of her blade through the Captain’s neck, separating the head and body cleanly and rushed the console.

Kark Creon cursed as he could hear his Chiss friend’s garbled voice. While the human was not sure what was said, he could tell it was not good news. The Jedi opened himself to the Force and nodded subtly to Dral who placed his thumb on the shield activator.

“It was simple, I just had the Captain here access the database and then…” The woman’s speech was cut short by a precise blaster shot shattering the datadisc. The personal shield hummed to life encasing the Mando and droid in a pale blue bubble.

The enemy soldiers reacted to Iode’s shot, taking to cover and engaging both the sniper and shield. At the same time, Saldean could feel the hate swelling in the Inquisitor before him. Suddenly the Captain’s head hit the floor, and Dalali redirected towards the console Falgorth and Ratchet were defending from a portion of the Collective troops who were not attacking their Chiss comrade. Dalali, Creon ignited his lightsaber parrying the incoming attack.

“Please listen to me,” The human begged his opponent, “We don’t have time for this. My friends are extracting the data now.”

The Kiffar withdrew her strike. “Your friends destroyed what I had!” She swung again. Driven by anger more than form, Creon blocked the over the head attack, deflecting her saber away. “Time?” The Jedi asked Dral.

“On my way, sir.”

Sergeant Khal placed the charge and brought his weapon to the low ready. The human sprinted to catch up to his Jensaarai leader who was now dueling an older model Magnaguard. He took up a position out of reach and lined up his shot. The Jensaarai and droid’s dance of death was offering little opportunity for a chance to hit the right target. The amber lightsaber and purple electrostaff glows cast themselves on the walls the dark core control room.

“Oi!” Jetsam shouted, “Be careful you lot. Things in here don’t react to well to bolts, or sabers.”

Time Remaining: 3:56

Dral dove for a command console while momentarily glancing back at the droid before returning his gaze back towards the commotion, slipping his helmet back on in preparation for combat.
“If I said not enough, I’m sure you’d believe me here.”
The Mando pulled out his BlasTech DC-17 Blaster Pistol from his leg holster, while the droid continued to make its way through the database.

The Collective Front soldiers began to take several blind firing shots at the shield and the hallway the Chiss was using for distance. The bolts never really hitting their mark, as they were more concerned with the sniper than the Mandalorian and the O.T.F. Soldier.

In this momentary instance, the Kiffar retreated her pose to deliver a swift kick at the Jedi’s diaphragm, forcing him to stumble back slightly. While countering the saber blow from his side, and pushing her back in a recovering repose.

The exchange of cover was not an easy stroll, as the Collective forces were now firing wildly into the hall with no concern of the location they hit. Even so, as Len made his way into some of the debris he was able to steady his aim, focusing in on the group that was engaging Dral.

The moment one of the soldiers got too curious and peaked his head over the terminal cover

Bang The Collective member fell straight to the ground. Now there was only a handful left to dispose of.

The Chiss could see Dral beginning to make his way closer towards the collective. Only stopping slightly to make sure Rachet was secure, taking a hit with the shield from a stray shot or two before seeking cover once more.

One more then I’ll move again Len monologed as he steadied his aim once more. Just as he was about to take another shot. The human Jedi had taken one of the Collective forces and tossed him. Simultaneously Len feels a graze by a Blaster bolt to his left arm, “FRAK! Not again!” Len cursed in the air as he rolled back to prevent another injury.

Dral was waiting for another delay in the firing just as he heard the whiz of a bolt strike its mark followed by the apparent sound of a thud from a lifeless corpse. Something all too familiar to Dral in the given opportunity. The Mandalorian made his way towards the Collective forces, as he temporarily switches his shield off to take returning fire towards the soldiers and diving back into cover to reactivate the blue haze once more.

The momentary engagement startled the soldiers before they too began to advance closer towards the bot. All the while the other members of the unit were trying to eliminate the sniper down the hall with failed attempts.

Falgorth peeked over towards Rachet with his visor hud once more, “89%” hovered over the machine as a bolt came extremely close towards the droid. Dral leaped to cover him from fire. “Just a bit longer,” Dral said returning to cover on the opposite side of his previous location.

It was at this time Dral was about to give the command for the O.T.F Soldier to finish the mission to defend the bot only to see him be cut down with blaster fire trying to take pot shots at the Collective.

Creon had managed to deflect several blows of the Sith Inquisitor. Each swing hissing as they clash with each other’s blades. The Kiffar’s technique was overcome with her rage, as each swing was more of an instinct rather than precision.

The Jedi, although capable of defending from the blows knew that he couldn’t simply keep doing this forever. He began to slowly retreat with each strike, each step luring her into his trap. Each swing her confidence grew and each step her strikes more sporadic. Just as she was ready to end the combat quickly. Her final forward thrust thrust was mute as Creon sidestepped with a single stroke upwards to sever her hand.

The Kiffar screamed in agony as her rage was boiling over with ambition to end this wretched Jedi scum.

“Will you just listen to me for a mom–” The Kiffar assaulted Creon with a headbutt to interrupt his sentence. It was clear she only wanted to end the Jedi and his friends for what they have done.

The Jedi stumbled into the guardrail, giving the Sith enough time to retrieve her saber and slash towards the human. Cutting through the rail as the Jedi moves out of the crimson sabers way.

“Just a bit longer,” exclaimed for Creon

Creon extended his reach at the group of soldiers, lifting an unexpecting Collective Front soldier, hurling him at the Kiffar.

To her surprise, she attempted to escape the attack with a swipe of her lightsaber, but with it being her non-dominant hand she miscalculated the right amount of time to swing and only cut the poor fellows leg off.

“Seems our time here is just about over,” Creon stated to the unconscious Kiffar before turning to face the remaining Collective units. He counted them out to himself One … Nope those are dead, okay, One.

Dral infuriated by the sight he had just seen kept his shield up but forgoing the defense of Rachet charged at the remaining Collective. Hurdling over the console, Dral engaged one of the soldiers with a spearing tackle. The blow surprised the Frontier and knocked him breathless momentarily. Dral then dropped his shield once more to fire at the other one. He dropped to the floor, and before Dral could finish him the Mando could hear a mutter of a surrender.

Without hesitation Dral slowly lowered his sidearm. Looking back at the droid, the Jedi, and finally towards Len.

The surrender with a breath of ease felt safe, before Dral spoke just loud enough for him hear understand his words. “He had a wife, two kids, and his name was Joshua Stigman,” with a monotone grit and a last double take towards Creon. Stricken with fear the Collective Soldier was helpless as Dral fired a single shot into his throat.

A crash of a monitor from Creon was the remaining hostile soldier in the area. Just in time as whistles and beeps could be heard from Rachet and the Jedi, Len, and Dral regrouped near the entrance of the command bridge.

“Oh good! We got what we need,” Creon exclaimed. “Let’s recover the Kiffar and leave.” Just as Creon turned to do such the Kiffar was just about to slice the Jedi in two. Dral spring forward, throwing her arm towards the sky as a redirect, grabbing the Sith’s throat and slamming her with all his force towards the ground.

The Kiffar coughed up blood at the impact. Dral stood back up. Unhooked an Ion grenade from his belt. Pulled the pin leaving the live grenade in her clutches as he walked away.

“Sorry, we are pressed for time after all,” Dral said ushering the group down the hall with the aid of Len.

Time Remaining: 2:55

Whatever else could be said about the Collective, their members did not die easily.

Breathing hard, the whirlwind of slashes and ripostes between Tarvitz and the MagnaGuard continued, each hacking away at the other in a relentless frenzy. It had seemingly emerged from nowhere, perhaps installed into the shadows behind one wall or kept deactivated until intruders arrived. Whatever the truth was, it was proving to be frustratingly hard to kill even with his precognition. Worse still it hadn’t been alone.

The headless form of a second MagnaGuard lay near the doorway. Tarvitz had brought it low through a lucky shot, first taking its head and then impaling it through the chest. Beyond it through the open blast doors, the pile of bodies had been steadily rising, each ignoring any sense of caution in favour of storming the room. Typically headlong into a hail of blaster fire or, in one particular case, having the misfortune to step between the two duellists.

“There,” he made out Walsh’s yell over the buzzing of the MagnaGuard’s electrostaff, “We’re done!”

Finally.

“Get moving, I’ll keep it distracted!” Tarvitz yelled, briefly locking blade against staff before shunting the droid back, “Don’t stop until you reach the hole!”

He heard Khal and Walsh rushing out of the room, clinking as they rapidly bundled up the man’s equipment. He heard the sound of blaster fire being exchanged from somewhere outside and hoped that his allies had been the ones to finish it.

“Alright, let’s get this over and done with,” Tarvitz sighed, readying himself and holding the lightsaber before him in a two-handed hammer grip. The droid tilted its head in comprehension, before it spun the buzzing weapon in both hands and dropped into a fighting stance of its own.

The MagnaGuard struck first, swinging its weapon wide before reversing the attack into a short stab. With no reason left to limit the collateral damage to the room, Tarvitz stepped to one side and dragged the droid forward with a slight telekinetic pull. It tumbled forward, punching its weapon clean through the nearest server in a shower of sparks and stuck fast. Lightning arced up its body, shorting out main circuits and causing it to momentarily pause as its systems rebooted. That split-second was all Tarvitz needed. It was trying to pull it free as he came at the droid in a series of whirling strikes. The technique was unsubtle, crude and brutish, but it was fast. The hallmarks of Shii-Cho. In the space of three seconds, the MagnaGuard was struck multiple times, its body rapidly carved into a shower of metallic fragments which scattered about the floor.

“And stay down,” Tarvitz said between breaths, feeling lightheaded now combat had paused. The duel had dragged on for several minutes, and he could feel his limbs aching from blocking so many powerful strikes. Briefly switching off the lightsaber, Tarvitz closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, reaching into the binding energies of the Living Force and channeling them into himself. For a brief second the ship disappeared, and was replaced by the glowing light of the hundreds of entities on the ship, and the thousands on the vessels surrounding it. Then that second passed, and the world took shape once more. Renewed and with his fatigue disappearing in an instant, Tarvitz turned and ran after the others.

Tarvitz met up with the other two at the still cooling holes where they had burned through two decks; both the explosives expert and sergeant had been in the process of clambering up the grappling rope fixed into the uppermost ceiling. Before he had even skittered to a halt, Tarvitz reached out with the Force, plucking the two of them free from the rope and pushing them up the final few meters to their intended level. Then, amplifying his own body with its energies, he half jumped, half climbed up after them and reached the top within the space of a few heartbeats.

“Any word from the others?” he asked, joining them as he leaped free from the rope.

“Hello to you as well,” Walsh answered, rising from where he had been sprawled some distance from him, “Next time, a warning would be appreciated before you use space magic on us.”

“He means that we have not, sir,” Khal groaned from somewhere further up the corridor.

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, we’re cutting this fine enough as it is,” Tarvitz answered, helping each of them to their feet, one after the other, “We’re going to be leaving this ship one way or another. It’s just a case of whether we do it by shuttle or riding a fireball.”

“Then perhaps we’ll be lucky enough to bump into them on our way to the hanger,” Walsh answered, his pain forgotten as he broke out into a run ahead of the other two, “We’ll probably just need to follow the explosions.”

Walsh wasn’t wholly wrong. As they rushed toward the route they had taken to the hanger, the sound of multiple handheld explosives detonating echoed up toward them, accompanied by a constant scream of blasters firing. Someone yelling insults in Mandalorian confirmed it. As they rounded a corner, they were greeted by the rapidly retreating other half of the strike team, rushing away as they exchanged fire with several cybernetically enhanced figures. Creon, as was to be expected, was holding his ground at the back of the group and deflecting as many shots as he could back at the Collective forces.

“When did they show up?” Khal asked as they joined them, laying down suppressing fire against the nearest cyborg. Tarvitz fell into line with Creon, blocking shot after shot as they retreated.

“Just as we were leaving the bridge,” Dral answered, yelling over the sound of the heavy repeating cannon he was wielding, “I’m guessing someone called for help as they died.”

Their numbers were relatively few but the remaining partisans and cyborgs were fuelled by desperation. Each knew that they were dead men, but they had been granted the opportunity to die while murdering the enemies of the Collective. Such fanaticism was hard-wired into them, quite literally in some cases, and it had become their only reason for living.

“Ah, we don’t have time for this!” Walsh yelled, more out of frustration than fear, and a moment later a sphere of black metal bounced into the middle of the enemy group. Someone briefly offered a warning cry - though from which side Tarvitz never found out - before the entire front line of opposing soldiers disappeared in a bright light. The sound of munitions and explosives cooking off against the detonation followed a moment later, felling others, but the screams did not stop there. Tarvitz squinted through the thin veil of smoke, frowning before he felt the presence of someone hacking their way through the Collective forces. Someone powerful in the Force and fuelled by sheer rage.

Creon seemingly sensed her as well, and was barely give a moment to voice his warning before a shape hurled itself through the smoke. A blazing lightsaber was clutched in one hand, and her thin tattooed face was a mask of snarling contempt.

“You ruined all of it!” the Sith yelled, ignoring Tarvitz in favor of Creon as she hacked toward him in a series of rapid strikes, beating back the Jedi in a whirling mass of strikes.

She continued screaming, yelling about their actions on the bridge and the loss of something irreplaceable to an Ion grenade as she smashed against Creon’s defenses. Tarvitz rounded on her, swinging his own lightsaber down toward her head, only for it to be intercepted by a red glowing blade. She began slicing from one of them to the next, her own actions fuelled by a hatred Tarvitz only knew too well. While she might not have been skilled, no more so than either of them, there was a power to her actions which was allowing her to keep pace with the two Jedi.

“Run for the hanger,” Creon warned, “If we’re not there by the last thirty seconds, just take off!”

Most of the group, unable to intervene, fled for their lives. Tarvitz, however, stayed where he was, trying to force an opening in the Sith’s defenses.

“That includes you!” Creon continued.

“I know, I’m just ignoring you until she’s dead,” Tarvitz answered. Even were it not for his unwillingness to leave someone to die, experience had taught him that showing his back to a madwoman with a sword was always a bad idea.

Both of them began working as one, forcing her back as one struck as the other blocked. While their styles could not have been more different, the Sith was struggling to utilize her acrobatic style against a sheer defensive wall of lightsaber blades. Step by step, moment by moment they were forcing her back, but could not press their advantage to finish the fight.

The battle itself ended as abruptly as it began. The Sith stabbed out at Tarvitz, trying to catch him under his guard as he sliced down before turning, catching the edge of her blade in a lock. As they moved, Creon raised his hand and held it inches from her chest, shunting out with the Force. The telekinetic blow smashed into the Sith and sent her flying, through the smoke and back down the corridor. There was a crash as she landed somewhere out of sight, and then there was nothing. Creon stepped forward, as if ready to go after her, but Tarvitz caught his shoulder.

“No time, just run!” he warned, already turning to flee, “We have a minute left at best!”

He wasn’t exaggerating. They turned and ran, sprinting toward the awaiting hanger, amplifying their pace with the Force in bursts. Neither slowed until the ruined mess of the blast doors came into sight with their ship beyond it. The engines of the TIE boarding craft were already firing as it made ready to take off, swinging about as it turned to exit the Dreadnought’s hanger. The hatch at its side was slowly closing, already withdrawing its boarding ramp. Each of the Force users crossed the distance in a series of leaps, hurling themselves onto the TIE just as the hatch swung closed with a hiss of pressurization.

“Sorry for the delay,” Tarvitz managed between breaths as he looked at the faces of Len and Dral, each equally stunned at relieved at their last moment arrival, “She was remarkably determined not to die.”

The TIE pulled out of the hanger, just as a series of explosions rocked the ship. Behind them, chain reactions ran up the Dreadnought’s spine, ripping it open from bow to stern as its reactors went critical. There was a flash of light as the entire vessel was torn in two, before it faded down into nothingness. There were no escape pods, no ships, and no distress signals which escaped from the ship. It had gone down with all hands.

The group exchanged few words as the TIE raced back to the safety of the fleet, each lost in their thoughts and hoping that the knowledge they had taken would finally turn the tide against the Collective.

This Phase lasts from October 29th until November the 11th (two (2) weeks)

Request from the organizers: Please add a note to the top of the next post which path your team will choose in this Phase. Thank you.

Phase II objectives

Your team left the dreadnought Akan with information that, together with the data analysed by Clans and the Inquisitorius, has lead your to the Meridian Prime space station, a fortress, correctional facility and space dock floating in interstellar space just off the Wild Space boundary. Already under attack by Clan and Dark Council forces, dogfights light up the blackness around the behemoth, and intel suggests the shields and defenses have not yet been weakened enough for a full-scale naval assault. The station is on full alert and firefights have already started as skirmishes between Collective troops and Brotherhood assault teams pepper its three massive hangar bays.

The station houses civilian and enemy personnel, including a correctional facility that holds hundreds of Brotherhood prisoners of war, both Non-Force users and Force users alike. The prison has an isolated security system, its own power generator and life-support. Intel suggests that the prison is managed by a powerful AI (artificial intelligence) controlling the Dioxis security system, many defense blaster turrets, ray shields and a large complement of Imperial Sentry Droids acting as guards, controlled by the prison warden. The interior of the prison itself is pumped with a thin mist of Dioxis gas, preventing escape and anarchy.

You have been dropped off on the lower decks via boarding pod.

Breath masks are provided for this mission, should your team require them. Any Possessions item that prevents inhaling of poisonous gas will be effective as well.

Your team has been tasked to complete one of the following objectives in limited time (you may complete only one (1) objective):

• Revenge path: Reach the correctional facility and eliminate prison warden Rutgar-4. Caution is advised as there are Imperial Sentry Droids defending him.

• Sabotage path: Reach the prison’s AI core to recycle the life support and free the prisoners. Prepare for a riot as many prisoners are powerful Force Users and Non-Force Users.

• Pacifist path: Reach the prison’s AI core and disable the security systems to allow incoming Brotherhood troops to secure the facility.

The phase must end with the prison facility secured, one way or another. In all but the Revenge path, the prison warden’s fate is up to you.

Relevant character sheets:

• CS: Rutgar-4
• Since there are no character sheets for droids, participants will use the Possessions i9tem page as reference: Imperial Sentry Droids
• See the station wiki for other possible adversaries

Additional Characters/NPCs:
Terry “Sting” Fletcher - Snapshot

Phase II: Objective Selected - Sabotage

The Black Harbinger
Nearby The Meridian Space Station
Wild Space

The hologram radar display in the command central terminal of the Black Harbinger was filled with multiple ships on both sides engaged. Familiar faces, such as the O.E.F. and the Arconan Armed Forces were present. Even Hoth’s very own Response Fleet and the Okami’s Jörmungandr were deployed. It was noted that other Clan vessels, such as the Ascendancy from Plagueis, Taldryan’s Penumbra, and many others. All sides, it seemed, came to bring this place down. The Collective responded in kind with an even more massive fleet to defend their station. Judging by the fleet’s caliber, and their coordination with each other unlike the Brotherhood forces, it will be a long battle that favored the Collective. As such, the goal was to do as much damage to the Meridian as possible before retreating. The O.T.F.’s mission was to do this from the inside out.

Once the team had all assembled into the room, Creon began his brief of the situation: “Target is an AI core located in a correctional facility bridging the upper and lower level trade hubs of the Meridian. Now, troops on both sides are engaged at the upper levels and docking facilities. Releasing the prisoners will provide a sweep on Collective forces from behind. We don’t have schematics of the facility, but judging by the outline, analysts suggest that the correctional facility is located here.” Creon then points to a certain section on the hologram display of the Meridian. The section he pointed to then became a small shade brighter to show it had been highlighted.

“We will be inserting ourselves below it, here,” he then pointed to another section of the station just below his previously highlighted area. “The lower levels are less reinforced than that of the prison, and our torpedo pods are less likely to create casualties in their own cells.

Once we arrive in the lower hub, Iode’s ID10 will provide recon to an optimal location for us to infiltrate. Once a place is marked, Falgorth will cut through the designated area, allowing an opening from the hub to the correctional facility. While he’s cutting, we still need that Id10 to find and upload a map to the Black Harbinger. Mia will then extract the data to the Harbinger’s software and give us a display route in our HUDs. From there we sweep our way to the AI core. Keep your helmets on, and make sure their breathing mask inserts are installed. Dioxic Gas is to be expected.”

Everyone onboard watched and listened in silence. Their eyes moved back and forth between the hologram display and Creon. Creon took a brief pause and then continued, “Here’s the fun part. Extraction will be at the upper levels. It will be loud. If it’s too loud for the Harbinger to pick us up, we’ll have to find our own means of escape,” he says with an intentional glance to Tarvitz. Kah was their best pilot and a specialist in various types of vessels. The team would have to rely on him for their means of escape. The hangars were ground zero. Finding an undamaged vessel was a gamble in of itself, let alone escaping one war zone just to go right into another in space.

“Questions?” Creon demanded.

Dral raised his hand and Creon nodded to him, “How high up is the roof of the lower hub?”

“We don’t know,” Creon responded, “Best guess is approximately 100-200 meters. Make sure you have a grappling hook and retrieve a harness from supplies.”

“Apologies,” Tarvitz began, “My astromech is a capable co-pilot, even more so when accessing unfamiliar ships. Would it be wise to direct it to the upper levels to recon available vessels?”

“Negative,” Creon replied, “I don’t want to risk the droid being discovered by Collective forces or becoming a casualty in the fight. Ratchet stays with us.”

“Understood,” Tarvtiz said with a nod.

“What else?” Creon called.

Major Fletcher took a step forward, “This isn’t so much a question, but… If any of ya’ll don’t have helmet inserts or even helmets, Terry has extra breathing masks. Terry doesn’t want to have to deal with you fools because ya’ll didn’t want to put a piece of plastic over your faces.”

There was a brief pause as Creon scanned the room one last time for further questions or statements. Once everyone seemed confident on what they had to do; Creon dismissed them.

Meridian Space Station
Wild Space

Five Hours Later

In the silent vacuum, the boarding torpedo tumbled through space toward the bastion of Meridian. It was a simple design for a ship, little more than a cluster of ion engines and thruster arrays fitted to an armored prow. Yet what waited within the atmospherically sealed forward section was infinitely more dangerous than any explosive warhead.

Within the vessel’s prow, the members of the assault team were silent, listening to the gentle thrumming sound of the engines as they pushed up to full power. It was a moment of peace before the chaos of the next few hours, and the life-or-death struggle of any boarding action. Those who had done this before were notably relaxed, experience having robbed them of the inherent terror of being fired at an enemy fortification. Each occupied themselves with some small distraction, from rechecking weapons to humming an old theme under their breath. Dral’s snores indicated that he was waiting for the bone-jarring collision which would herald their assault.

In his own case, Tarvitz was watching the battle beyond them play out. Reaching out with the Force, he picked out emotions, moments of activity and deaths from the area about them. Then he used them to forge a larger image. It was a fleeting glimpse of the wider conflict, offering some small indication of how the assault was going. The battle had been raging for some time now, and while impossible to truly visualize, he could sense the sheer pandemonium of the battle.

Each ship of the Brotherhood’s allied fleet was closing from a different vector, fording Meridian’s defenses to split their fire as they initiated their attack. Between them they were exchanging volley upon volley of fire from gun emplacements, impacting either against their shields in oil-slicked rainbow colors or tearing gouges from their hulls. They were close enough that Tarvitz could sense the panic of Meridian’s gunners, their feelings of loss as comrades died about them. Others were so driven by their adrenaline fuelled rage that they continued fighting, heedless of the dangers as their emplacements were ripped apart by concentrated barrages.

A flight of X-Wings, the Black Harbinger’s own Ash Angels, were banking around from an attack run. Fire bloomed as multiple torpedo strikes impacted against the station’s hull, weakening the defenses. The defensive turrets covering that sector fell silent, just as the torpedo’s ramjets kicked into activity, shunting each occupant back against their seats. There was a thunderous impact, a bone-jarring crunch which hurled them against their restraints, and then nothing.

“‘Bout time,” Dral said after a few moments, the first of them to recover as the torpedo’s overhead lights flickered slightly.

Several groans and curses answered the Mandalorian, each tearing free from their seats and taking up their weapons. The closest to the exit ramp, Len Iode, paused at a display bolted into the reinforced wall.

“Pressure’s reading fine, oxygen levels are stable, nothing unexpected in the air,” He read out, looking back at the others, “Looks like the exterior force fields are holding the air in. Is there anyone waiting for us out there?”

Both Creon and Tarvitz shook their heads as they peered into the area surrounding the torpedo through the force. If there had been anyone in this section, they had the good sense to flee for their lives. With a nod, Len yanked down on the release lever, and the torpedo’s forward section split apart like the petals of a flower. The musty scent of smoke and acrid tang of burned wiring greeted them as they fanned out, advancing into the station’s innards.

The area surrounding their ship had been partially crumpled by the torpedo’s impact. With metal walls and the floor bent inward, twisting this way and that, it almost resembled a surrealist recreation of what a space station should be. The gaps within the outer hull had been hastily plugged by shining purple force fields broadcast from the torpedo itself, keeping the artificial atmosphere locked within the station’s hull. The last out among them was Ratchet, who paused at this, rolling back and forth at the entrance before whistling that all systems were functional and holding.

“Off to a good start,” Tarvitz said, as the looked about at the machinery wrecked by their arrival, “Let’s hope the fleet keeps the rest of them busy.”

The station rocked as another hit impacted the station. The lights dimmed, but returned to full intensity after a moment. The team approached the first ”T” intersection and located the first dataport they intended to access. As the Odanites set up a perimeter, Iode’s small ID10 droid, nicknamed “Tenny” by the team, popped onto the Chiss’ shoulder. “Give me a quick scan,” he whispered.

A quiet chirp was all the droid replied with as the top of his head extended and a blue glow appeared. The officer looked down at his datapad and waited for information to flow in; none came. The ID shrugged with its punchers as it spoke through the datapad.

It appears the walls are reinforced with some sort of shielding my sensor cannot penetrate. I advise letting me connect and talk to the central computer.

The Chiss sighed, “Walls are shielded. Tenny is going to try with the central computer.”

“There went the nice start,” Dral remarked.

“Everything can’t go as smoothly as our last op,” Creon replied.

Tarvitz nodded, “Indeed. Any luck yet Len?”

As if on cue, the small-saucer shaped droid flew out of the socket, an arc of electricity jumping to its legs. With a thud, the spy droid hit the deck.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Checking his datapad, Len saw the last string Tenny sent out. “Looks like he found the anti-virus protocol and shut himself down before the surge. He should be back online in a few minutes.”

“Until then we should get moving,” Fletcher replied, “Can’t afford to be caught in the open.”

“Normally I’d agree, Major,” The Chiss’ face remanded neutral as he assessed the team’s situation, “But under the circumstances, I don’t think wandering through the halls blind is wise.”

“There is another option,” Dral piped up from his position on the perimeter and nodded towards their Jedi and Jenasaari friends.

“Creon and I can open ourselves to the Force which can give us a picture of the station,” Tarvitz paused. “However more than it will render us defenseless while we are focused on the layout and the people.”

“I’ll also help focus all of you and help direct you through the Force,” Creon added.

The officers nodded and took up their position in the formation. Creon signaled the team to move out. As the team progressed down the left hallway of the ”T”, the two Force users relaxed. They could feel the OTF members around them and in the distance the organic elements of the Technocratic Guild soldiers manning their stations. Working out the complex pattern of movements was time-consuming, but with two people evaluating it was easier.

“To the left. Check the first… no second panel,” Tarvitz commanded in a haze.

Fletcher and Len moved over to the panel with the Chiss covering his human partner. When Terry popped the hatch, inside was a maze of circuits bristling with high current.

“Thanks for the warning,” the medic murmured.

Creon spoke this time, “Behind the cables, you should see a second hatch. That will lead to an access tunnel.”

Cautiously, the Major unplugged the high power cables; a couple arced slightly when disconnected. A composite handle was visible now that the bright voltage was not distracting the eye. Readying his weapon, Fletcher flung the hatch open. A narrow ladder way was visible, clearing up and down the OTF officer entered with Len and the rest of the team right behind them.

The squad continued up the ladder shaft, with the two Jedi still utilizing the Force to scout ahead and see their surroundings. The Collective’s Security officers and patrols must have used these secret shafts for the transportation of captives or even the high society members from the Upper-Level Hub. So as to not have to enter the Lover Level Hub directly and be seen with the “low lifes” as they may call them.

As they made their way towards the end of the shaft, Creon and Tarvitz could sense several lifeforms just on the other side. The hatch to the surface of the level was locked. Len attempted to pry the wheel of the latch to no avail.

“Seems they have locked down all manual routes due to the battle,” Len commented

“Get out my way,” The Mandalorian said forcing his way towards the top past a few other members of the squad.

Hooking the harness to the bars of the ladder. The remaining members of the O.T.F. Unit moved down and out of the way into side pockets of the Shaft that were more than likely for maintenance purposes. Allowing Dral to get to work as he unslings his plasma cutter and begins skimming along the seams of the hatch.

“You don’t think I could have done that?” Tarvitz questioned

“You’ll have to excuse me, this is a job for a Professional, not some fancy light blade” Dral rebutted as he continued his work.

Both Jedi taken aback by Dral’s reply took a small chuckle before accepting his stubbornness, The Force Users once more concentrated on the surroundings just beyond the hatch to discover a small ambush awaiting their arrival.

“Seems we’ll have guests once we finish knocking the door down,” Creon stated.

“Ion or Thermal?” Terry piped up.

“Thermal of course” Dral replied in succession.

“You always did know what Terry likes, Dral,” the medical officer chuckled as he took the Thermal Detonator from Dral’s pouch. “Just let old Sting know when to throw.”

The remaining members of the squad, aside from Tarvitz, looked at each other with unease yet said nothing as the two members continue on with their plan.

Only a few moments later Dral cut the final edge of the seam, just as he threw himself out of the way, the hatch tumbled down the deep shaft. With the unit being greeted by a hail of blaster bolts that were meant to be a surprise. Once the firing stopped, Dral nod to Terry as he clicked the button of the Detonator and tossed it up through and away from the hatch hole. Within a mere second, the grenade exploded sending correction officers flying back. As they emerged from the hole, the team fanned out to secure the room. Several Technocratic members and a few Frontier men lay dead on the ground. Dral followed up with a few double taps to ensure their fatal mortality.

Len only stopped temporarily to ask the Mando “Tell me something Dral?”

“I’m all ears, Iode” Dral continued his insured security of the room.

“Why do you fight the Collective with such enjoyment?”

“They are nothing more than the terrorists of the galaxy, I doubt they would give mercy should I be on the other end. So enjoy the thought we’re making the universe a better place.” Dral stated as he began to search the closest correction officer. “But shouldn’t we focus on the mission at hand?” Len hesitantly nodded in agreement as he too began to look about the room.

Looking around the team could assess they had made it into the maintenance entrance of the correction facility with some small looting of the bodies and perimeter securing. “Rally up, we’ll be moving out soon,” Creon barked.

“The command center for the cells shouldn’t be too far off from here” Jetsam stated towards the team.

Walsh was far from wrong. A scant few minutes of passing through one blank corridor after the next followed, each formed with the same sterile uniformity which might have made the station a maze. A few among them wondered if it was simply a part of the Collective’s design ethos, or a more practical means of deterring planned escape attempts by prisoners. Whatever the case, the group was heavily reliant on the more unique skills of their members, especially those with an aptitude for slicing or seeing the world through the Force.

“I would have thought we’d have run into another patrol by now,” Walsh said after some time, voicing the fact that they had run into few to no guards for the past several minutes, “I’d never have thought the Collective would ever be lax of security.”

“They probably had plenty of guards, they’re hopefully just busy with our other boarding teams,” Len replied, slowing as he waved Tenny forward to peek around a corner, “I’d be more worried if they weren’t being rushed away from here. It would mean they were comfortably repelling our lot without reinforcements.”

Tenny hovered back, offering several loud chirps and gesturing behind it with a single arm.

“Camera,” Tarvitz sighed, irritated if not surprised at this turn of events, “Alright, just give me a-”

Ignoring him, Dral walked forward and out into the corridor, pulled out a pistol and put several shots into the holocamera mounted to the far wall.

“There, done. Let’s move,” he said before looking back at the group, “What?”

“You could have chosen a quieter method,” Creon answered, “Would using an ion weapon really have hurt that much?”

“No, but I want to save them for the next cyborg we run into. Besides, who’s going to notice one more camera going offline while they’re being boarded and a battle is raging outside.”

It was a hard point to argue. If the torpedo strike and use of explosives had yet to bring down a full battalion of Technocrat cyborgs on their heads, calling someone out for a few blaster bolts seemed practically petty. After a few moments thought, each of them quietly decided to let the point slide.

“Whatever the case, you were right about the location of the command center,” Tarvitz answered, holding out a hand and frowning, “There’s a group of eighteen individuals to the North of us. I’m sensing heightened levels of stress and concern for their safety. It’s too tense and too recent a change within them for it to be the prisoners.”

“So, take them out, slice the system and decide where to go from there?” Creon said, grinning as he unhooked his lightsaber from his belt.

“Simple, direct and quick,” Len agreed, “Just be sure not to hit the equipment. So, no grenades.”

“Shame,” Dral replied, before checking the ammo readout on his cannon, “Subtlety it is then.”

As one they moved out, the two Force users at their head and with Walsh, Ratchet, and Fletcher taking up the rear of the group. It took them a scant few minutes to find the command center itself, guided by the Force toward the location as they passed deeper into the facility. The fight itself was an even shorter affair. Seemingly certain that no member of the Brotherhood would make it so far into the station, the staff maintaining the center had yet to even properly lock the door. After a brief slicing effort by Tenny, the door swung open and the assault team moved in.

With each console built around the room’s edge, there was nothing in the way of cover as the surprised members of the Collective looked up in time to see the mob of Jedi, Jensaarai, droids, and Mandalorians push their way into the room. Most of them were not even armed, and these fell to a rapid succession of stun blasts from the group. The few unfortunate enough to draw blasters managed to get off a handful of shots before Creon and Tarvitz carved them to pieces. The fight itself was over almost as soon as it had started.

“Now this someone is going to notice,” Len said, pointing to the door, “Tenny, lock it shut before anyone decides to investigate why the center is no longer broadcasting status reports to the rest of Meridian. Ratchet, get to work on the computers.”

Both droids issued affirmative responses in their binary tones, and got to work on their respective tasks. As the others moved out to secure the room and their new prisoners, Fletcher procured a number of emergency stun-cuffs from a nearby locker bolted to the wall and began fitting them to the survivors. There was a click of locks being closed from the main door as it was sealed shut, and blast plating closed about the hatch. Tenny began moving about the room, repeating the same action on the three other entrances leading in and out of the room.

Having situated himself in front of the largest and most important looking screens among the row of control consoles, Ratchet had plugged himself in was scrolling through pages of data at a time. Image after image cycled past the screen as the astromech sifted through one system after the other, before settling on something of interest. The screen divided itself up, splitting into eight separate boxes as it relayed information from holo-cameras across the prison facility. What they depicted was seemingly a typical prison layout at first glance. Long open hallways and armored supports divided countless cells, each holding one to three orange-clad figures isolated behind force fields. The odd hulking droid lumbered through each one on patrol, striding through the layer of Dioxic gas which hung like a coating of mist over the ground. Ratchet whirred slightly and adjusted each camera, cycling it up to several ceiling mounted cannons and stun-pikes.

“Surely none of this is going to be a problem of you,” Creon spoke up, raising an eyebrow, “You did just tear your way through a Dreadnought’s data core a few hours ago.”

Ratchet offered an irked whistle and bleep, his domed head spinning at the Jedi’s remark. Creon and Tarvitz both frowned, and then grinned at the suggestion.

“Translation, please?” Len asked, turning to nod to Tenny as the droid flew back to join the others.

“Indignant sarcasm aside,” Tarvitz said, “He says that there is a massed purging protocol wired into the prison’s interface options. It’s supposed to redirect gas into the prison cells at once, switch them off and then drop the force fields to allow prisoners to be moved en mass.”

“And that helps us, how?” Fletcher asked, looking unimpressed, “Can’t have a riot if everyone’s too weak to stand.”

“Because someone cut corners in putting this together. He can change the order it actives in. He can switch off the processors, lower the force fields and then have them pump nothing into the cells. Best of all, it’s a long term process with no cancellation option, not for three hours at any rate. Oh, and he can switch the IFF programming of some of those guns to target anyone wearing Collective ID cylinders, but that might take a while to do all of them.”

Ratchet whistled something else, looking between each of them. No one objected to this plan, and as the R3 unit set to work, the images in the camera displays rapidly transformed into absolute chaos. One moment there was relative peace and control, and in the next, mobs of spluttering prisoners were charging the isolated droids, bringing them down through sheer weight of numbers. Alarms began to echo across the station as multiple screens flashed red, registering a mass break-out.

As the prisoners began to fill out each corridor, filling up the entirety of each screen, Ratchet issued an alarmed shriek. Jerking back in a sudden motion, he tore himself free from the interface and backed away from it at high speed. A few moments later, the screens blinked offline one at a time, accompanied by the drone of each one powering down.

“Look like the AI got wind of what we were doing,” Creon said, voicing the obvious, “Did you manage to do anything else before it took notice.”

Ratchet rocked from side to side, as his holoprojector began to glow and the image of a partial blueprint of Meridian flickered into existence in the air between them. A single red point glowed of a room glowed on it, followed by a second, highlighting their position.

“Well that was interesting,” Len piped up from overview of the Command room.

“What is it?” Falgorth asked

“”That’s the AI core location” Creon pointed out, “And I’m sure it’s going to be heavily guarded. Once we have access to the Core we should be able to speed up this conflict to its end.”

Now peering over the map with the rest of the group minus, Dral and Jetsam who kept guard on the door, as an unsurprising group approached the locked door.

A few bangs indicated they were unaware of the situation, though the Professional Odanite was sure they could assume when given enough time. Dral set up his tripod for his canon, following it up with a nod to Jetsam to open the door. The remaining task force took cover behind the consoles in preparation.

Just as the door opened a hail storm of bolts from Dral’s Heavy repeating canon made short work with several of the opposing technocratic members. The remaining squad members followed suit with their own volley of bolts.

The Collective members who took cover retaliated in kind, though their shots were less effective, one did manage to hit Mandalorian’s blaster. Rendering it useless, even looking at it was obvious it was out of commision.

Len took the opportunity to retaliate by shooting the saboteur down. The remaining collective forces were short work after all the comotion. Dral nearly mourning over the loss of his repeater, still took up arms with his comrades as they continue down the halls only wielding his pistol.

“You going to be okay without your toy, Dral?” Len asked

“I’ll live, but she and I had memories.” The Mando reminisced, even under his helmet you could see a hint of sorrow from his tone.

Following the map the R3 droid provided, it wasn’t long before the group encountered a group of prisoners. Creon took the liberty of recruiting them into their bandwagon as they made their way to the red dot, that was designated to be their destination.

The OTF team plus four prisoners who had volunteered to join them on their mission, made their way towards the AI control room. Of the prisoners two were Brotherhood or Clan forces and the other two were a smuggler and bounty hunter who had a bone to pick with the Collective.

While they did move quickly, the Odanites made sure to watch themselves for enemy traps and ambushes. When the team had just passed the halfway point to the control room, the pointman, a captured Iron Legion Stormtrooper, gave the halt hand signal and pressed himself against the wall, the rest of the team following. No sooner had they done this than a dozen Collective soldiers of varying factions poured into the corridor. The strike team readied their weapons, but their enemies, following an MSE droid, turned the opposite direction.

“Should we take them down?” Dral asked through the comms, “No better target than one which isn’t looking.”

“Hold your fire,” Creon ordered. “We don’t want to get held up here longer than we have to.”

The Mandalorian nodded. When the last of the Collective forces disappeared from view, the Odanites continued on their original route to the AI. When they came within 100 meters of the room, Len whispered to Tenny.

“Do a quick scan again. Don’t get caught.”

The seeker droid nodded and kicked on its repulsor, floating into the nearest life support air diffuser.

“Apologies, is it too much to hope we don’t meet with a wall of resistance?”

Dral somberly replied, “If I had my lady, we could have sliced through any crowd that opposed us.”

Iode checked his datapad and Tenny had written him a volume about the situation.

Sir, after reviewing the area before us I have a couple of new pieces of information that may interest you. First, the area ahead is not as shielded as the lower levels. Second, my sensors indicate 13 Technocrat and Partisan forces ahead. They are currently split evenly between the exterior and interior of the AI control room, with the extra trooper located in the interior. Given the layout and overall strategic situation, I recommend a swift assault against exterior personnel while breaching through the wall on the starboard side of the room.

The Chiss typed a thank you and requested updates if anything changes. Keying the comms, he relayed the suggestion with one change. “Tenny counts thirteen targets, six outside, seven inside. They are waiting for us. I agree with his recommendation, but am changing the breach point from starboard to port since we are closer. “

“Sounds straightforward,” Creon replied “Tarvitz, Len, and Jetsam hit the flank. Dral, Sting, the prisoners, and I will knock on the front door.”

Pulling out of the formation, the three Odanites took care making sure they were not observed getting into position on the port side. Tenny pinged the Chiss officer’s datapad with two words. Right there. Quickly, with Tarvitz and Walsh providing cover, Len set the proton charge against the wall. He synchronized it to his datapad and nodded to his teammates, which prompted the three to take cover in an adjacent hallway.

“Saldean, we are go.”

The hiss of a lightsaber drew the attention of the Collective band outside the AI control room. Creon drew their blaster fire to the left as Dral, Terry, and the others fired from the right. Before their attention could be turned away from the Jedi, the impact of a proton discharge erupted in the room behind them. Their attention turned to the blast door they were guarding, and each one slowly retreated into the AI room.

“They’re going to flank our flank. Push up!” Creon said as he charged forward towards the retreating outside team.

Inside the AI core, blaster fire was exchanged after the team found cover amongst the server panels. Len overheard a Collective troop get yelled at to avoid hitting the panels after a bolt hit his cover. The value of the panels, it seemed, made taking cover behind them even easier. The Chiss looked over to Len who was across a few other panels.

“Do your thing,” Len called to him. Jetsam nodded with understanding and began to shift around the various panels of cover.

“Reinforcements coming your way!” Sting’s voice came into the comlink. Len scanned to see that troops from the front door had made their way inside, and had a relatively clear line of sight at Len and the others. He brought up his rifle to fire, but felt himself be yanked away from his post. The Chiss slid across the ground until he was behind a different panel, one where Tarvitz was posted nearby.

“Apologies, I didn’t want to risk them hitting you first,” The Jedi apologized.

“No no, it’s fine. Just a head of warning next time,” Len replied as he looked for a way to regain a good aiming spot.

“Priority is the team retreating into the server room,” Creon’s voice called over the intercom, “They’re going to try and lock us out.”

Tarvitz drew out his lightsaber and ran in a zig-zag pattern with enhanced speed of the force, all the while waving his lighstaber to gain attention. He released a large flash of light at the incoming reinforcements that were bundled together, and worked on deflecting blows from the other enemy team.

Len took advantage of the moment where all fire was focused on Tarvitz and took out troops on from both enemy teams. He stopped firing near the entrance team when he saw Creon’s saber glow tear through the soldiers that were still recovering from Tarvitz’ blinding flash.

Once the remaining troops were dealt with, Creon called for a sit-rep on everyone’s health and status, then the team proceeded to the main console HUD of the AI core. Jetsam broke from his cover, dropping a denton charge or two along the way, and hooked up his probe to the computer terminal. Ratchet and Tenny joined him at the terminals, each in their own individual ports.

“Defensive positions, expect the AI to alert anyone nearby,” Creon called.

“Sithspit,” Walsh cursed as he looked over the various software programs on his datapad.

“How long will it take?” Creon asked.

“Longer than I had hoped. The droids are already trying to break down the AI’s administrative control, but it has previous versions already backed up as well as alternative software. Meaning it can stay in control by just switching the kind of program it uses. Clever girl.”

“Then we aught to expect resistance. The AI is in survival mode. If we can’t get the life cycle restarted and the prison doors open-”

“I’ll get it. Just… give me time,” Walsh growled.

10 Minutes Later

Dral and Sting took another peer down the entrance door they came in from. The hallway was still clean. Len was posted up behind an elevated server panel that gave him a rough oversight of the majority of the core room. He couldn’t see any enemy movement. Tarvitz guarded the wall that had been breached with half of the prisoners that stayed. The remaining half were with Creon on the starboard side blast door of the control room. The door was closed, but they were stacked to ambush in case it were to open.

“Aaaaaaand,” Walsh said with a single key stroke, “Done!”

Sir, droid movement coming from the starboard side.

Len looked up from his comlink and posted his rifle to where Creon and a few of the prisoners were posted up. “Look alive,” he called, “Incoming to starboard.”

The blast door opened up, followed quickly by a flash grenade. Both Creon and the troop with him staggered back from the grenade’s impact. Droids began filing into the room, only to be met with Len’s blaster fire. Security Droids turned to fire at the starboard group, but their bolts came into contact with a barrier produced by Creon when he threw up both hands. The barrier extended to cover each of them, but was beginning to crumble underneath the growth of enemy fire as more droids continued to flood the control room.

The entire O.T.F. team, aside from Walsh, made their way to the assault. Blaster fire turned the attention of the security droids to scatter their aim, and the prisoners who were with Creon fled for cover. Once they had been secured, Creon took up his saber and took to the closest droids. When a droid would turn its attention to Creon, its fire was either deflected by his saber, or it was either taken down by Len’s sniping. The Chiss focused solely on the droids that turned their attention to Creon and nearby vulnerable members. The droids who’s attention was scattered was addressed by Creon, and eventually Tarvitz who joined in the melee, as well as the cover fire placed by the rest of the O.T.F. and their allied prisoners.

A stir in the Force brought Creon’s attention to his backside, but it did him little good. An HK-Series droid winded his arms to redirect Creon’s twirl and snapped his wrist to disarm the lightsaber. Creon winced at the sudden shock, but pressed down his elbow hard at the droid’s arm to disarm it of his wrist. The impact would have worked on normal biological targets, but the HK droid didn’t budge. Instead Creon’s helmet was smashed off his head from a direct blow from a metallic arm.

“Rutgar-4,” Len hissed to himself as he focused to take aim from the nearby security droids to the HK.

Tarvitz dashed into the remaining droid group to support Creon. He weaved and tore through the droids in his way to get to the middle, then met Rutgar-4 with a thrust aimed at the chest cavity without the blade meeting with Creon. The droid twisted it’s torso in a way no biological creature could, and drew a vibro-arbir blade to slice at Tarvitz. He was lucky he listened to the Force as the end of the blade grazed the tip of his neck. He took a few steps back from the droid’s spinning of the blade through it’s rotating hands. It could move and fight in such a way that organics couldn’t, and lacked the pressure points that they were trained to manage in hand-to-hand combat.

Two blaster shots connected to the HK that caused it to stumble backwards. Creon acknowledged the opportunity and drew his lightsaber to his uninjured hand. Tarvitz followed suit with Creon looking to him in a knowing nod. The two rushed to the HK droid and exchanged places, leaving a horizontal slice across Rutgar-4s torso. The droid split apart and fell on the ground. The rest of the security droids that remained were followed up on in the crossfire. After the engagement was over, Tarvitz resealed the blaster door with the Force.

“How much longer?” Creon asked while inspecting his wrist.

“Oh, I’m good mate. Prisons are open,” Jetsam said as he started to toss around denton charges.

“What are you doing, then?” Len asked as he approached from his post.

“Oh it won’t last long unless I blow this place up. Once we get clear, that is.”

“Call in for extraction, team,” Creon said, “Let’s get out of here.”

This Phase lasts from November 12th until November the 19th (one (1) week)

Request from the organizers: Please add a note to the top of the next post which path your team will choose in this Phase. Thank you.

Phase III objectives

The Brotherhood advances. What started as sporadic fighting in the major hangar bays of Meridian has turned into an all-out battle on all decks. Spurred by your team’s success in the prison, your Clan forces have come to support you and issue new orders for your team.

Daggo Mouk, one of the leaders of the Collective and the Guildmaster of the Technocratic Guild, has been confirmed on the station. With him he has a potent Technocratic Artifact that, if whisked away, would threaten the position of the Brotherhood in future engagements.

Daggo’s last known position was in the command center, however we have been having trouble following his movements. Wherever he is on the station, he would not leave the artifact unattended. The return of the artifact to Brotherhood hands is of absolute strategic value.

Your team has been tasked to complete one of the following objectives in limited time (you may complete only one (1) objective):

• Revenge path: Confront and eliminate Daggo Mouk. Have no mercy.

• Sabotage path: Sabotage the Collective’s future plans by stealing the artifact by any means necessary.

• Pacifist path: Capture Daggo Mouk for interrogation and trial.

The phase must end with the artifact retrieved. Daggo’s fate is open-ended and up to you.

Relevant character sheets:

• CS: Daggo Mouk.

Revenge path: Confront and eliminate Daggo Mouk. Have no mercy.

Meridian Space Station
Wild Space
Station Interior

Meridian Prime was dying. Slowly but surely, it was succumbing to the relentless bombardment of the orbiting fleet and the detachments of assault troops reaping a heavy toll among its forces. Even at its core, the distant roar of turbolaser detonations sent tremors through the ship’s superstructure. In the midst of such carnage, no one was going to notice one more explosion.

“It’s a thing of real beauty,” Jetsam Walsh grinned, listening to the sequence of denton charges exploding throughout the AI core’s chamber, “Does anyone want to place any bets on how long it will take them to notice?”

“Notice or care?” Dral replied, shrugging his massive shoulders at the comment, “They have other things to worry about right now, assuming the fleet’s still doing its job.”

The Mandalorian seemed slightly put-out by how he had been unable to witness the AI’s destruction in person, even given the danger. The group had retreated until they were a safe distance from the chamber - or at least until they had eighteen blast doors and five reinforced bulkheads between them and the explosives - before Walsh triggered the bombs. With the AI to guide it, the Collective defenses had been unable to muster the numbers to effectively fight the strike force; allowing the mixture of prisoners and operatives to swiftly extract themselves from the center of the facility. The few who had not been smart enough to run had been pillaged for their weapons, and then left where they had fallen.

“So, the question now is if we make a run for the escape pods or try to find a spare hanger,” Tarvitz commented, one hand raised as he used the Force to search the area ahead for possible threats, “Any word on that extraction, Len?”

Len shook his head, “Nothing thus far, but knowing our luck something will get in the way of it. With this many boarding actions underway, and only so many of our ships still flying, they’ll need to ask someone to make their own way out of here.”

“Better us than some poor grunts,” Creon answered, with a nod “Better to trust people with a track record of getting out of these situations than a squad lacking it.”

“Lacking it?” one prisoner echoed, a smuggler who had claimed that he had been imprisoned for refusing to accept the Collective’s alterations to a deal, “Just how many times have each of you stolen an enemy ship off of an exploding station?”

The group stopped for a moment, each person looking from one to the next.

“I’ve lost count,” Len replied, “A lot.”

“Eighteen times,” Creon said with total sincerity, “Nineteen if you count this one.”

“That depends if we’re counting ships which have already been blowing up, but someone has still boarded them,” Tarvitz finished, looking at the ceiling and frowning as he tried to remember an exact number.

“Usually I’d be trying to steal their ship after ramming it with a burning one,” Dral answered, his quiet chuckle taking on an odd grating quality as it was vocalized through his helmet, “No captain ever seems to expect whoever they are chasing to do that.”

Most of the prisoners suddenly looked as if they would rather be back in their cells than accompanying the strike team. All save for the one claiming to be a bounty hunter, who now had an expression halfway between incredulity and respect. Before anything more could be said, Len’s comlink began bleeping as it picked up an incoming signal.

“Iode here,” Len said as he activated it, “Go ahead.”

“Black Harbinger to strike force,” Mia’s voice came through the communicator, distorted by the several thousand meters of metal and background energy of the battle, “We have new orders: You’re to head to the lower levels of the Correctional Facility immediately; the presence of a priority target has been confirmed.”

“Can you be more specific?” Creon asked, “You’re asking a lot from us to risk going down there while a riot is underway, and you’re still shooting at the station.”

“Communications from various Collective units state that Daggo Mouk is present on Meridian Prime,” Mia answered, “He’s gathering as many troops as he can and is trying to escape the station with an unidentified item. Its purpose is unknown, but he is risking remaining here to secure its removal.”

“And I’m guessing we’re the closest people who can cause him trouble?” Dral replied, evidently enthused at this latest turn of events.

“Correct,” Mia confirmed, “We suspect that he will make for the escape pods on the lowest area of the station, or possibly a hidden hanger. Stop him at all costs.”

“And find out just what it is he’s carrying as well,” Len acknowledged, “Any help you can offer would be appreciated, but we’ll do all we can to stop him. Strike force out.”

He closed the link and then looked to the group of prisoners. Most looked uncertain of this new development, even a few of those with ties to the Brotherhood. It was difficult to blame them. They had risked death once already in a bid for freedom, now they were being asked to fight their way halfway across the station in what was effectively an assassination mission.

“If you want to leave, I won’t hold it against you,” Tarvitz said, “But we could use some help finding the fastest way down there, and that the moment I can’t think of a faster way off of the station.”

“Normally I’d ask for payment with this sort of thing,” the bounty hunter admitted, a grin adding a splash of white to her dark features, “In this case, I think I’ll settle for revenge and any valuables we run into along the way.”

“I can think of worse moves,” the smuggler agreed, checking the charge on a pistol he had taken from a fallen, “But if we run into any escape pods on the way down there, I’m gone.”

A few others, notably a member of Clan Arcona’s military and someone claiming to be an Iron Legionnaire, offered similar agreements. Others, more than might have been hoped, parted from the group with few words and disappeared to hunt for their own way off of Meridian.

“Thank you,” Creon said with a nod, “Let’s move out.”

“So what’s the plan then here,” Terry asked boldly to the squad and accompanying members.

“Well we could attempt to find one of those secret access routes again,” The Mandalorian brings up.

“The main paths would be blocked or have resistance should we take those paths.” The Smuggler brought to the group’s attention.

“How much fuel do you have left in your cutter then, Falgorth?” Creon provided the option as if it was almost an order. Dral takes a few seconds to check the time use remaining on the Plasma Cutter before providing his response. “It didn’t take much fuel to skim through the passages hatch, we still have about thirty minutes left on the Plasma cutter left but I don’t believe it’ll be enough to go through the floor entirely. Three fourths at best.”

“The remaining Force Users could finish the job then with their Lightsabers,” The Arcona Legionnaire suggested, followed by an immediate scowl of hatred shot from Dral. The Legionnaire winced at the attention he received from his suggestion.

The Task Force with company continued to move down the halls, Tarvitz utilizing the force to gage their surroundings while Len was observing the partial map they received from the AI’s data storage before the unit disposed of the AI Core properly. With a bang.

The group met small resistance as they made their way through the halls and corridors, often encountering the Technocratic security guards that managed to flee from the riots or some unsavory Prisoners who either mistook the group as Collective members or saw them as Brotherhood forces and left them be. Any hostilities was met with quick and decisive elimination, as the team pressed forward to attempt to at least cut Daggo off from the escape pods.

Just as they were about to intersect a T-shaped junction Tarvitz stopped in his tracks. Looking to Creon who in turn nodded at him, “Len what’s the map say is below us?” Creon asked as the Chiss pulled up the map once more, “The map has that section blocked off, basically leaving it as non-existence” Which many of the members knew that was most likely not true.

“The guards did initially bring us in from a separate hanger from the upper levels one.” The Bounty Hunter brought up, her expression a very neutral stance as she spoke. “Though they did ensure to conceal the pathway as so we wouldn’t know the right direction to backtrack should something like this occur.”

“If you we’re moving a high value possession, would you go for the obvious escape pods or the secret hanger they use for prisoner extraction and arrivals?” Len asked inquisitively

“I do believe the hanger is the obvious choice here,” The smuggler piped up

“Start cutting?” Dral asked as he unhooked his plasma cutter.

“So long as you realize I have to finish the cuts,” The Jedi Commander looked sternly at the Mando.

The Professional mumbled under his breath as he started his cutting. “Freakin, krate spit jedi and their frakin laser swords messing up my frakin professional cut lines,” Dral continued the cut just before the plasma fuel was expended.

The bounty hunter was taken back by the words the Mando mumbled as he started his incision. “You from the Outer Rim?” she asked Dral.

Len chuckled at her response, “No but we’ve been out and around that region before.” Dral continued his job with intense concentration. “As you can tell though Dral has taken a liking to their insults.”

As Dral finished his precise cut into the floor Len’s stomach churned. The officer had been on missions that were risky before, but this was different.

Not even a year ago, Len, Tarvitz, and the Chiss’ adoptive father along with then Councilor of the Roll Ta’Var, Councilor of War Archenksova, Tamashi Delat, Yuki Suoh, and a band of TDUCs faced down a horde of Collective Forces on Nancora. Their mission to assault a Collective reliquary had been a success, but some nights the commando had dreams about the sand swallowing up some of the commandos thanks to Gwendolyn Sparks. Their screams would melt into his distraction force nearly being overrun before the battle turned in their favor with the timely arrival of air and ground support.

It was easy to chalk the nervousness up to this being the first time Len had worked with Creon, Dral, and the OTF however so far they worked together like a dream. They played well to each others skill set. As he analyzed his concern more, Iode realized it was their new target who brought him distress. Daggo Mouk had overseen the torture, mutilation, and forced assimilation of hundreds of innocents and soldiers alike. On top of that, bag and tag operations of living subjects usually became messy. This was no mid level officer either, Mouk would more than likely have a dedicated squad of fanatic soldiers guarding him. Lastly if they failed, the Guildmaster would most likely go underground never to be seen for a long time.

Snapped back to reality by the snap-hiss of Saldean’s saber igniting, Iode surveyed his team. Everyone was doing a last minute weapons check. Fletcher tapped Iode on the shoulder and gestured towards Falgorth. Len covered his area as Terry took it over. The Chiss moved quickly popping his ion grenade out of the front left pouch on his vest and posting up opposite of Dral. Creon was just about to complete the final cut when Len looked at his grenade partner and smiled.

We got this, he thought.

No sooner had the thought passed when the floor plate fell away revealing an empty repair bay. Iode signaled for Dral to not throw, placing his own grenade in his right cargo pocket and readying his rifle.

“Clear my way. After you?” The Mando asked.

“Don’t mind if I do.” The Chiss sat on the edge of the opening and let his feet dangle. It was about a 2 to 3 meter drop. There was no cover only the walls forming the repair bay.

Cleaning house, Iode thought.

“They’ve moved the repair equipment out. Probably in case the escape ship needs it,” Iode relayed.

“If I may be of assistance.” Tarvitz raised his hand and lowered the officer through the hatch.

The durasteel walls and floors were relatively untouched by the raging battle, about 50 meters away was a large environment magnetic field in the floor. As Len’s boots gently touched the ground he immediately took to the nearest wall covering Dral’s descent. The repair bay opened to the main flight line and exterior exit. There was no hatch in the repair bay, which pushed the team into a corner. The craft storage and what the officer surmised was the prisoner disembarkation area was across from them. There was not ship in sight.

Iode relayed the bad news to the rest of the team.

“No sign at all?” Saldean asked.

“It looks like they cleared out this area before we got to the core,” Len replied. As he did a hatch opened loudly and modified voices spoke in twisted tongues. They seemed to indicate the hanger was clear, but they were difficult to understand.

“Scratch that, get everyone down now.” Whispered Len, urgency in his tone. Turning over his shoulder he whispered to Tenny. “Recon ahead please.”

The droid whirred in response and flew off, as it did an old Lambda-class shuttle marked with decades of blaster hits rose into the landing area. Luckily for the team, the pilot had angled the shuttle to line up with the landing area already.

A small thud led by a whispering curse made Daggo Mouk turn towards the corner leading to a storage hatch. They weren’t alone. He ordered his men to investigate, which was enough to spring the hidden foes into action. Blaster fire echoed in the hangar, along with the flair of lightsabers. Daggo was impressed that anyone could have carved their way into an area like this on the Meridian. Not very few could have made their way here by accident. They must have been after him. This meant that they would pursue him into a place much more suitable to Mouk’s advantage.

The Ithorian bolted down the hall using the Cybernetic Harness. Although it wasn’t as natural, the extra limbs provided Douk with a movement speed that none could match. Two of the limbs ran like legs, while the other held a datapad to his torso for him to access, the fourth drew out a blaster pistol and fired aimlessly in the air. He wanted the group to deter their attention from his troops and focus on pursuing their target. He ordered his men to not chase the intruders, and to continue to prime the ship for liftoff.

Daggo continued his retreat until he came around a corner into another hangar, yet this one looked to have had a fight recently. To his right, along a platform just outside of an attached control room, was a large turret. The turret was installed as a show of force to unauthorized ships making land. It was perfect! The Technocratic leader made his way into the control room and started up the console. He turned on the magnetic fields that protected his room, and booted up the turret. The controls were easy for him to pick up. So easy, in fact, that he began downloading the control to the turret’s software onto his datapad. It was in case he needed to operate it outside the command console, or if he finds another turret from another retreat. The turret wheeled left, and then right, aimed high and then low. Mouk even fired off a round just to see the damage it could pull. A small crate of boxes were completely eradicated by the blast. The turret could easily blow vessels, let alone a few approaching fleshy bodies.

After a pause of silence, Daggo wheeled the turret to the opening blast door he came in through and fired. There was a small explosion and a clearing of smoke. Unfortunately, he didn’t see any bodies. The Blast door remained open, however, with the overhead lights on in the hallway. Someone was there, and Mouk decided he’ll blast anyone who comes this way, friend or foe. He was to hold out until the remaining men, if any, had the ship primed. He knew the station well enough to where he could keep his pursuers on a chase should he need to buy time. What worried him, however, was the fight outside the Meridian. He had no scope of the situation, and at any second the station could be eradicated. It was a moment he had to draw out without knowing how much time he had left.

“Good call,” Creon complimented to Walsh. He asked earlier if one of the Jedi could open the blast door from afar, just in case if Mouk was the trap laying type. Walsh expected a primed explosive or mine of some sorts, instead he got a high caliber blaster fire at the entrance.

“Usually it’s one boom and we’re clear. But there’s always more blaster fire,” Walsh commented before asking, “What do we do?”

It was the only known way into the hangar they followed Daggo to, unless they circled around the entire Meridian station to come into the hangar the opposite way. That wasn’t an option. That was their only entrance, and the turrets blast covered more ground than what they could funnel out of.

“Can the droids hack it from here?” Creon asked.

“Doubt it,” Len said looking to Tenny, “They could if they had access to the control console, easily.”

“Alright,” Creon said biting his lip, “It’s risky, but I think I have a plan.”

As plans went, as Tarvitz would reflect later on, it wasn’t a terrible one. Bad in its own way to be sure, it had that sort of creative simplicity which always seemed to catch the more intelligent of minds off guard; especially when their intellect was being bolstered by superior firepower. At the time though, any appreciation he had was being quelled by the desire to swear profusely at his part in the intended plan.

Tarvitz leapt into the air, hurtling vertically upward and out of cover from behind the corner of the blast door as he was propelled by Creon’s telekinetic shove. An energy bolt burned past him, racing just under Tarvitz’s legs as Mouk fired on instinct, failing to fully account for an airborne foe. Firing the jets mounted to his armor’s ankles, Tarvitz rolled to one side as another shot narrowly missed him, and began flying directly at the cannon.

“I have his attention,” Tarvitz spoke into his comlink, as the cannon slowly attempted to shift about and track his flight, “Time for the next part.”

The cannon fired once more, aiming high as the Ithorian attempted to catch Tarvitz mid-flight. Cutting power to his thrusters, he dropped in the air and another bolt missed him entirely, ending only as it punched a large glowing crater into the far end of the hanger. Ending his abrupt fall with a roll and sprinting behind the nearest group of cargo containers, Tarvitz caught sight of Dral, Walsh and the Smuggler moving forward, darting out from behind their shelter and sticking to the shadows.

Focused upon the most pressing target in the area, the cannon prepared to fire again at Tarvitz as Creon stepped out of cover next, and raised both hands. The weapon’s internal mechanics ground to a halt as the barrel was caught in the Jedi’s telekinetic grip, briefly freezing it in place as it fired, missing again, but slamming Tarvitz back against the crates with the force of the detonation. Grunting with the impact and with his head ringing he dragged himself upright and raised a hand to the cannon, adding his own telekinetic strength to Creon’s efforts. With a lumbering pace the cannon was dragged about, Mouk ineffectually firing the weapon several times into the deck plating as he tried to drag it free.

“Walsh, Dral, now!” Creon managed, grunting with the effort.

The saboteur and Mandalorian both sprung out into view, each holding one of the two remaining denton charges left in their arsenal. As one they hurled them into the air, and as one Tarvitz shunted them along, smashing them against the cannon and holding them in place. With a grin, Walsh’s thumb stabbed down on the detonator in his other hand, and the cannon was engulfed in a ball of fire. Fragments of metal scattered through the air as the thunderous explosion shook the very ground itself, and momentarily lit up the interior with the orange hue of the charges igniting.

For a moment the cannon shuddered and attempted to turn once more. Where the explosives had struck, the metal had been left blackened and cracked but little else. For a weapon intended to contend against enemy starships, the charges had done little besides weaken its protective shell.

“Okay, time to improvise!” Tarvitz yelled, igniting his lightsaber and sprinting toward the gun.

As the Jensaarai did, the remainder of their number broke from cover with Len at their lead. Ignoring the fight playing out for the moment, they raced toward the awaiting shuttle, with some of their number occasionally pausing to take shelter behind a cargo crate as the cannon tried to wrest itself from Creon’s grip. Shots blazed past from the other side of the hanger, as a group dressed in Collective fatigues began surrounding the shuttle and desperately attempted to bring it online.

With their initial attempt having failed, Walsh and Dral resorted to blasters. Lining up shots on Mouk, they advanced forward, snapping off shots one after the next. Scuttling back on his metallic limbs, Mouk seemingly realised just how exposed he truly was. Stabbing several commands into the datapad grasped in one claw-tipped durasteel limb, the cannon began automatically firing at anything which came within range. It struggled against Creon’s efforts, tearing about as it tried to lock onto anything nearby and firing in a succession of rapid blasts, sending shots ricocheting about the room.

Mouk retreated, withdrawing at high speed in a mass of flailing metal legs away from his attackers and heading for the shuttle. Firing ineffectively with the pistol, he discarded it after several shots went completely wide of his intended target, and instead withdrew a bulky grenade launcher from where it was holstered against his back. Steadying it with his cybernetic hand, Mouk opened fire on his pursuers and unleashed a succession of explosions in their path. Inaccurate as they were, the efforts forced the others into cover, slowing their pursuit as he scuttled away.

Catching sight of the exchange out of the corner of his eye, Tarvitz fired his thrusters again and launched himself toward the cannon. Slamming down onto the topmost section of its plating, he hacked away at the sections blackened by its explosives, leaving deep glowing gouges in the metal. Bringing the energy blade down in a series of graceless slashes he parted the armor before tearing through the delicate electronics locked within it. With a slow whine of dwindling power, the weapon finally slumped to one side, dead and inoperable at last.

Leaping from the weapon, Tarvitz raced after Dral, Walsh, Creon and the Smuggler as they hurried after Mouk.

“Quickly, get that rear turret online!” Technocratic Guildmaster’s personal pilot barked to one of the technicians as he slid into the flight controllers seat.

The technician human grabbed the blaster control yoke. “Yes sir, locking on now.”

The turret sprang to life, responding to the technician’s input. His artificial eye displayed the cannon’s view. As the image focused, the augmented human saw the last OTF trooper disappear under the shuttle.

“Intruders!” the Technocrat shouted, but it was too late. Len and Terry had lined up their shots and took out the flight crew.

A chorus of “Clear” echoed throughout the shuttle.

“We have the shuttle,” Iode radioed, “How is the rest of the fight?”

“Stay where you are. We’re coming to you,” Tarvitz replied.

“I’ve got left you take right?” the senior Odanite asked.

“Works for me.” Terry readied his weapon toward the on ramp.

Mechanical clanking in the distance grew closer and closer. Len tightened his grip on the A280, settling the weapon firmly into his shoulder.

“You still have that grenade?” The medic asked.

Using his off hand, the commando produced the cylinder from his cargo pocket and rolled it to Sting. “The interior should be shielded enough.”

As Len watched Terry pick up the grenade from the corner of his eye, his mind was racing. They would be the first to engage Mouk when he arrived but Iode guessed it would not be that simple. The clanking got closer but blaster fire now followed behind. The commando readied his rifle once more and the medic beside him readied the grenade.

“Ion out!” Sting shouted as he lobbed the grenade through the open entrance hatch.
Two counts of Coruscant later the sound of electronics frying and screaming wafted through the hatch. Mouk sprinted up the ramp and both soldiers opened fire. One of the volley hit the Guildmaster’s mechanical arms just before he got behind a piece of repair equipment.

Creon and Tarvitz bolted up the ramp approaching their quarry from either side, sabers at the ready. Dral came up between the men while Terry and Len approached from the outer flanks of the Jensaari and Jedi. The OTF team had cut off the Guildmaster who now noticed he had been hit on more places than just the mechanical arm. Still alive, the less obvious hits covered the Ithorian’s midsection, blood was beginning to soak his tunic and his breathing was labored.

The team held their ground as they began to slowly approach the Collective Guildmaster with caution. Most of the fighting was already concluded, all that remained was the leader.

Mouk slipped his datapad out from his side, luckily it had taken no bolts. The Technocrat typed something on the display as his would-be captors descended upon his cover.

The blaster fire then stopped, followed with one last bolt from Dral as a sign of displeasure for the Collective members as a whole.

“You’ve made your best efforts in seeing that all Force Users are either eradicated or held in contempt for no other reason than being a Force User, Daggo,” Creon’s voice echoed in the hanger bay.

“It’s time you finally face your consequences head on and not hide behind the shield of others,” Creon spoke firmly as he took another step forward.

A cynical laughter slowly emerged from slowly from behind the repair equipment. Soft and slow at first, only growing in pace and depth as the laughter continued with each stroke on his datapad.

Just as he was wrapping his laughter up the hanger went black as the bay doors and entrances were sealed shut by the emergency blaster doors. When he finished he slowly stepped out from behind the equipment with a sneering smirk on his face as he held onto his wounds, resting on the remaining arms of his harness. The only light source was that of the Lightsabers, the blue and green hue that emanated around the Jedi. Alongside the ships interior lights that illuminated the ship’s ramp.

“You underestimate me, Force scum.” the Guildmaster chuckled as he began to slowly approach the ramp.

“You have a few options now, you could kill me and be stuck in here til the station is obliterated. Or you can get off my ship and once I have the ramp closed I will unlock the hanger doors and be on my way. At least you’ll have the opportunity to escape with your lives with the second choice.” Mouk sneered being cocksure of his options with the O.T.F unit.

“After all my droid is the only one who can access the encrypted code at my command,” he continued.

Mouk pulled out a strange object, one that none of the Odanites could identify in nature. Though the way he was holding it, it didn’t look like a friendly parting gift. An impact came from the Force, a void that held some kind of odor. This odor was not by smell, though the stench felt acidic in Creon and Tarvitz’ blood. The two impulsively looked to each other, and then back to the artifact.

A large wave of electrostatic expanded in a sphere of power that washed all over the hangar bay and beyond. The impact caused everyone nearby to take a step back and catch their footing, with Tarvitz and Creon collapsing to the floor. Sting took to the wounded Jedi as Dral and Iode opened fire on Douk Maggo, who was already in the hangar and closed the door. The blaster fire did nothing good to the armor, and soon enough the shield deflectors would make their attempt useless. They needed to stop the flight.

“Explosives near the thrusters!” Len shouted out. When he reached into his pack for a thermal detonator, he was reminded that it was spent. Dral looked to be out too when he spat, “Walsh! Where the frak is Walsh?!”

Len couldn’t find him either. It did no good, however, as the ship booted up.

“Help me pull these guys out of here!” Terry said as he lifted the unconscious Tarvitz over his shoulder. Dral and Len helped Creon to his feet, who was barely able to move on his own, and walked him with Fletcher past one of the blast doors to the hangar bay. It was safer than leaving them there, should Mouk decide to test the reach of his ship’s thrusters.

“Sir, I need you to reach into your intestinal fortitude and get yo’ bantha fodder together. Mouk just took off,” Terry said to Creon who was groaning to regain his awareness. When Creon looked at his hands, and then to the others, he felt almost blind. He couldn’t sense their outer emotions or presence. His eyes and ears were the only indicator of their existence. Creon was no longer connected to the Force.

It was heartbreaking for him to realize it. It was like losing an entire limb, or even his spirit. He loved how connected he was to life, nature, and the balances they held. It was a remarkable and beautiful experience, and now it was gone.

“Orders?” Someone asked. Creon didn’t care. Daggo Mouk got away, they were in a station that could blow at any second, and Creon didn’t much care for life without the Force.

“This mission is a failure, it doesn’t matter,” he replied.

“Oi, don’t say that mate,” Walsh’s voice came in over the comlink.

“The Frak?! Where are you?” Dral asked.

“On Daggo’s ship. He didn’t look like the type with good peripherals. If he dies, the mission is a success, yeah?”

“Jetsam, see if you can subdue him and make an escape through hyperspace,” Creon ordered.

“Can’t do that, boss.”

“Why not?”

“He’s got a tight ship. Take me hours to hack it without my toys. Think I can rig it to blow, though.”

“Walsh, you don’t need to do that.”

“I think I do. Not sure what that artifact of his is capable of doing, but I’m pretty sure he plans to use it as much as possible. The Technocratic Guild would take a hit if he’s gone, and I always wanted to go out with a bang. Let me choose my death, yeah?”

“Walsh!”

The line went dead.

“Orders?” Terry asked again.

“Let’s find a way out of here,” Creon replied, “Nobody else dies.”