[Taldryan] Breaking Point Conclusion

OOC: This is a Run-On taking place in the immediate aftermath of the Breaking Point Conclusion fiction as part of the Consul Report Fiction Run-On #1 competition. Please ensure you are subscribed to that competition before competing.

DDAY +32hrs
Aboard Dark Prophet II
Ready Room

The atmosphere among the gathered men was tense. At the head of the table sat a new face, a relative unknown. His name was Rhylance and he claimed to be the Consul of Taldryan but there really wasn’t anyone in a position to say otherwise. Right now there was a bigger concern and it was the fact that no matter where they jumped to, the Vengeance soon appeared behind them in pursuit. At the table also sat Vodo Biask Taldrya, recently named the Rollmaster, and handful of fleet officers.

Rhylance’s brow was furrowed and his face wore the haggard expression that was now becoming common to all present. There had been little sleep, much bickering, and a fleet-wide (for what remained of the fleet) search of the ships for a tracking device or a means by which the Justicar seemed to know where they would emerge from Hyperspace every time. His uniform was disheveled, having had no time to change since the attack, and that was setting the standard for his subordinates as well.

“We need to change the game somehow”, Vodo proffered for the second time, “We can’t keep jumping to some randomized point in space and hope that this time the Vengeance doesn’t find us”.

The Dark Prophet’s captain brought his fist down on the table, “This running and fleeing is not our way. If Odan-Urr wants to help us, give them the next set of coordinates and have them rendezvous with us there. We’ll set an ambush for Cotelin and be rid of his stain for good!”

Rhylance raised an eyebrow at the Taldrya, “Even with a handful of cruisers and frigates we’re still no match for the Suffering. What you propose is certain death.”

                                      --------------------

DDAY + 36hrs
Somewhere in the Outer Rim

The few remaining ships of the Taldryan Navy decanted from Hyperspace among a slew of asteroids and planetoids. The Star System’s dim star was far distant and this oort cloud was perhaps at the edge of its influence. The Ships maneuvered into positions behind objects substantial enough to mask their mass as fighter squadrons disgorged and spread out taking up ambush positions among the detritus and orbiting rocks awaiting the imminent arrival of the Iron Throne’s task force.

Truth be told, no one wanted to pick a fight right now. The paltry number of fighters and warships remaining were under equipped to take on the Vengeance alone, let alone its destroyer and cruiser escorts and their fighter compliments. This stand had to be taken however. The interiors of all fleet assets had been thoroughly searched and re-searched. Com systems, databases, and all technology had been scrubbed and filed through meticulously to ensure nothing was infected or working to betray their position. Private vessels of members had been confiscated and mostly disassembled to ensure there were no traitors, willing or otherwise, there as well. The only place left to search were the exterior hulls of the fleet and that couldn’t be done in hyperspace. The Justicar’s means of tracking them had to be found and in thirty minutes or less—otherwise there would be a fight and it would be one they could not afford.

OOC Knoweldge:
-Jac Cotelin, Son of Taldryan and Justicar of the Brotherhood, has attacked and destroyed most of the Taldryan Fleet and presumably the Kr’Tal system as well
-Major Rhylance is the new Consul of the Clan and few people seem to know who he is
-the only remaining Warship confirmed to exist is the Dark Prophet II
-Howie and Halc are taking a nature walk somewhere
-Yacks is being held aboard the Suffering by Jac and is beyond rescue presently

Escort Shuttle tseb’si’tsaerb III
Hyperspace

“I can’t believe that Odan frakking Urr are the ones to rescue us,” Andrelious stated ruefully.

“We can’t be choosy right now, Andrel. Besides, if one of our oldest and most powerful friends is now against us, a new direction is perhaps what we need,” Omega replied.

“He’s right. The important thing right now is that we’re safe. Once we’re clear of the Iron Navy, I’m sure whatever is left of the Clan’s leadership will decide what to do,” Andan added.

Kooki opened her mouth, ready to reply, but before she could, Poppy and Etty came wandering through, clinging tightly onto their comfort blankets. Moving to one of the cockpit’s rear seats, the Alderaanian female scooped her daughters, who quickly nestled into Kooki’s chest.

“I’m surprised you managed to get such a decent ship from the Iron Legion,” Omega said.

Andrelious smirked. He and Kooki had wrested control of their new ship from its original owners, who had left it virtually unguarded in their haste to join in the attack on Taldryan’s home planet. The former Imperial was quick to strip it of its Iron Legion designation, IL-ES-GLX 4, in favour of naming it after the two ships that had belonged to his own father many years previously.

“It’ll do for what we need it for,” Kooki interjected as she nursed the twins.

“Omega, once we get a spare moment, I’d like your blessing for me to assume command of the remnants of Dinaari,” Andrelious declared.

The former Dinaari Quaestor simply nodded.

“That will of course depend on Consul Howlader, or Proconsul Zoron,” Andan reminded.

Nothing’s stopping me this time. I must protect this family! Andrelious thought.

Justinios recalled the words Major Rhylance had spoken to him moments ago on the bridge, Use your mind and help our people survive. While the former professor knew that his sharp mind was the solution to, and cause of, most of his problems to date, the gravity of the current situation was weighing heavily on his reptilian body. Justinios had hoped that speaking to the Major would help steady his wavering constitution, but the conversation with the leader of Taldryan had done nothing of the sort.

Before the Aleena’s brain had even registered the activity, Justinios’ tiny blue legs were carrying him at a full sprint to the quarters that had been assigned to him. As soon as the durasteel door shut behind him panic began to fully take control over the scientist’s mind. Thoughts of regret, despair and fear raced around his head like neutrinos bouncing around the core of a star.

You left your professorship behind for a war zone.

There is nothing these people can teach you, they can’t even defend themselves.

When the enemy catches this ship you should hope to die, if only to avoid the torture they will inflict upon you.

Justinios felt the blood rush from his head as the room began to spin out of control along with his thoughts. As his consciousness began to leave him, the academic in him marveled at the bodies ability to hit the reset button when it was most needed. Dropping to his knees, Justinios used his last bit of self-control to ensure he head didn’t crack open on the ground as he lost complete control of of his muscles.

When Justinios finally awoke from his slumber the first thought in his mind was again Major Rhylance’s words. Use your mind and help our people survive. The difference this time was that the words were not accompanied by any of the panic, fear or regret he experienced in the corridor outside of the bridge. Picking himself up on the floor, the Acolyte rushed over to his datapad and started scanning local star maps for any strange phenomena, gravitational anomalies or mysterious astrological features. If being of small stature taught the Aleena one thing, it was that the best way to shake an attacker is to flee into a place they in which they don’t think they can follow.

Dday
Coruscant
Uscru Entertainment District

A neon glow flooded the narrow hallway as the two women stepped inside the busy club. The Zeltron’s long coat swayed. Zasati took a long drag and exhaled a spiral of smoke. Rhel pulled her companion down to the back of the crowded venue, where they would be hidden in the shadows. A scantily clad waitress took their orders, returning shortly with two shots of acid green liquor. The two sat for a moment in total silence. Zasati’s hair swung over her face, obscuring blue orbs behind a dark silhouette.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Rhel whispered looking at the table. Her pink hands trembled as she clasped them together tightly.

The half-Hapan leaned closer, gently sliding fingers over the Zeltron’s, “That’s life now. You’ll learn to enjoy it.”

“Yeah? Learn to love running?” Rhel sighed deeply, “You live for that kind of crap, Zas. I don’t want to run forever.”

“Never think of it that way. Pretend you’re on vacation. That’s what I always do,” Zasati smiled, leaning back in the booth. She took another deep drag, exhaling white tendrils, “And when things start to get crazy, vacation’s over and it’s time to go on another one, somewhere else.”

Rhel took a small pull of her drink and set it down on the sticky tabletop. The bitter liquid rocked over the sides of her glass. She looked up, searching for the other woman’s gaze in the dimness, “When will I see you again?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Zasati grinned wolfishly, her tattoo beginning to glow an excited hot-white; the shadows dancing away, “But that’s half the fun.”

Laughing, the Zeltron rose from the table, taking both of their drinks, “I’m going to grab us something else. These are horrible. Want anything else?” She smiled boldly, blue hair tumbling over her shoulders. Zasati waved her away in jest. Suddenly, the brilliant white of Zasati’s tattoo burned a sorrowful red. She left the booth behind, slipping through the shadowed parts of the club until she was outside. The half-Hapan quieted herself, willing the feelings away. It was time to move on.

Silently in a dark room a monitor provided the only source of light. It quickly flashed through pictures as the occupant rapidly scrolled. There was nothing particularly of note for the room. It had no adornment on the walls, the only furniture was a bed, small desk and an unremarkable chair upon which Alexander Anderson sat scrolling through pictures.

He was on an auction site at the moment looking at pictures of collectible trading card game. The card themselves were small cards which depicted different famous force users through out the galaxy and ranging back in time. The cards displayed images of the force user and provided an amount of biographical information about each. It was unknown where the company that started the card was located. However, they had a short period of popularity with children of different species around the galaxy and then mysteriously were no longer available commonly in stores as they once were. Most believed that the card company simply went bankrupt, others believed that there was certain amount of fowl play involved. Regardless, the cards were now incredibly rare, and very sought after by a small market of extremely enthusiastic collectors.

Xander was one of these collectors, and he wanted to complete is collection. It was almost complete, there was only a few cards left to complete his collection. This was one of the reasons why nobody had heard from him for years. There were other reasons as well, spice, , Lum, the usual Twi’lek fetishes, a brief stint as a chocolate factory owner. Now this, Beyond that there was no real dramatic reasons for his absence from the Taldryan fleet. Xander had simply found himself to have an excessive amount of wealth, the ability the acquire as much further wealth as he needed on demand, and absolutely no interest in anything that was going on with people he once considered to be friends and allies.

A message flashed up on the screen. Absent mindedly Anderson brought up the message, hoping it would be from one of his contacts. He skimmed over the message

“Taldryan fleet… destroyed… Consul … Rhylance…?” Xander raised an eyebrow at this name. He hadn’t been around for a while, but he had never heard of this name before. The must be some sort of scam, even if it wasn’t he didn’t really seem t care. His finger hovered over the delete key as he ponder this email. Was it even worth investigating?

In Transit - Open Space
The Slice
DDay + 39hrs

Zasati loathed interstellar travel more than most. She hated confined spaces and rarely found herself on ships that didn’t smell of musky body odor or rotten foodstuff. Smuggling with these Sullustans on their VCX-100 was neither luxurious nor spacious. The woman leaned against the cold bulkhead of the dim cargo hold, drawing up her cloak to snuff out the stench that hung in the air. Out in the passageway, she could hear two of her crewmates squabbling over their run-time. She couldn’t help but wonder how her life had gotten so boring.

They were heading to Commenor to hit their first drop point when her datapad lit up on the crate beside her. It nearly blinded her before she could turn away, blinking the little stars from her vision. The inventory list had closed out and an encrypted message had appeared in its place. The half-Hapan stared down at the screen.

Meet me on Ambria.

Only one person would send her a message like that. Quizzically, she turned the datapad over in her hands. Surely, there was no way that her former Master was able to contact her through this hunk of junk- not after eight years. She read the short missive over and over. It mocked her. Zasati ran her hand over her forehead and across her hair. The more that she considered Vodo’s personality, the less it seemed likely that he would make such a jest. She quickly deleted the message and tossed the outdated datapad onto the crate, sighing heavily. If there was one thing she hated more than cryptic messages, it was quitting a new job.