Kaernetron
Feuergeist
- Location
- Weit, Weit dort Oben
Run, Brystel, RUN!
Aye. Good thing he can only send messages, not receive, then.
Dog of War: Clone Wars
- Thread starter Jackson Fox
- Start date
- Novel Sci-Fi
30: Arc 10 - Cut Off, Part 5
New
Arc 10 - Cut Off, Part 5
"Did you hear?"
"What?"
"Apparently, the head cat's got troubles. Some Republic ship or something, raiding stations. Freeing slaves. I heard some of the guys talking about it."
"Yeah, right. Like the Republic cares at all about what goes on out here."
"I'm serious! They're leading a fleet!"
"You just said it was some 'Republic ship'. Now it's a fleet?"
"Do you think they'll come here? Free us?"
"Stow that talk before the Zygerrians hear you. No one is coming for us. Not now, not ever."
"Some of the guys were talking about other stuff too. About what we might do if they-."
"Who?"
"What?"
"Who's talking about this? Stay away from them. They're trouble."
"Just because you've given up hope-."
"My only 'hope' is that I'm still alive tomorrow, with enough rations to get me through another day and no burns on my back from electro-whips. That needs to be enough for you too if you don't want to get tossed out an airlock. Now, shut it and help me with this."
"Everyone aboard?" Den asked, glancing at the nearby sensors officer.
"Confirmed, only a few Zygerrians left aboard," the trooper replied.
"Cargo bay reports the tibanna gas canisters have all been loaded," his comms officer called. "Venture reports that the vulture droids are compliant with orders."
"Excellent," Den said, nodding towards Jatilla. "Well done on that, by the way."
"Just doing my job, boss," Jatilla replied with a lazy salute.
"Alright then," Den started, turning towards the viewport. The Hound hung in the atmosphere above a floating tibanna gas mine, the almost city-sized structure remaining aloft thanks to its repulsorlifts. Repulsorlifts that were presently in the sights of the gunners of seven ships. "Fire at will."
The Hound led the attack as the other ships, controlled by slaves, took a second longer to follow his orders. Turbolaser fire slammed into the unshielded hull of the mine, sending ripples of explosions along its surface that rocked the city and made it tilt. The other ships, consisting of the Freedom's Venture, the two Hammerhead-class corvettes, a Fantail-class destroyer they'd picked up from another repair yard, and finally a pair of Diamond-class Commerce Guild ships they'd found conducting a slaver raid on a local world. That the Separatists seemed unbothered by the Zygerrians making slaves of their own people as well as their enemies was hardly a surprise at this point.
A massive explosion knocked the tibanna mine onto its side and it began to list and fall, picking up speed as it went. It plummeted down, through the clouds, trailing smoke and fire as it went. Unfortunately, they had no time for watching it be swallowed by the eternal storm of the gas giant's lower layers.
"Time to leave," Den said and the Hound and its captured fleet peeled away and burned into the sky.
It had been nine days since they'd sent the message to Coruscant about Ruggle. The sullustan should have been on the Charybdis by now and communications they'd intercepted indicated he was. However, if there was any sign of an imminent Republic attack, the Zygerrians were unaware. Which was good for the attack, assuming it was coming, but less so for the Hound's crew, who were left in the dark.
Den had taken to prowling in systems near to Boonta, where the Charybdis had reportedly remained since their first encounter, as though it were offering itself up for slaughter. If the battle they'd fought previously with it was any indication, however, the ship was merely bait for another trap as much as it was a deterrent for any offensives in the region.
It was dangerous, of course. The closer to the front lines he got, the more likely there was to be a response from local patrols, especially since Admiral Batoya seemed deadset on taking them out. It was a balancing act.
"Commander, three ships emerging from hyperspace on the edge of the system," his sensors officer warned.
"What class?" Den asked. No point asking if they were Separatist vessels.
"One Recusant-class light destroyer, two Gozanti-class transports."
Den frowned. It wasn't a match for the fleet he commanded and were he under other circumstances he'd have felt quite confident even against a Recusant-class. However, he wasn't fighting just this battle. He couldn't afford anything less than an overwhelming victory.
"Bring us around to jump point cresh," Den ordered and the fleet swiftly began to burn through the void towards an area far from the fleet, which raced to catch up to them.
The Rescusant's forward turbolasers opened fire just as the small raiding fleet made the jump to hyperspace.
Batoya snarled down at the report, the headache that had been growing in his skull resurfacing again. For most of his military career he had foregone the vices that normally came with the command, the wine, the feasts, even personal slaves to attend to him. It was his way of grounding himself, assuaging the idea that he had gotten this far simply because of his family's power and setting an example for his men.
Now, however, he leaned gratefully back into the skilled hands of the togrutan masseuse, letting out a soft sigh as he felt small, but strong fingers work out the knots and release the tension. He took another sip from his wine, a strong blend mixed with just enough spice to take the edge off.
"Oh, master, are you well?" The togrutan slave asked with what sounded like genuine worry in her voice to Batoya's slightly addled mind.
"Fine, Salfe, fine," Batoya said, taking one of her hands in his own and resting his face against it. "Just… I'm under so much pressure."
"I'm sorry, master," Salfe said, leaning down to drape her arms loosely around him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Batoya let out a small, but mirthless laugh and felt Salfe tense slightly against him.
"Not unless you can destroy my enemies for me," Batoya said, rising from his seat, downing the rest of his wine. "Now, I have duties to attend to… What was it again?"
Salfe seemed startled and swiftly moved over to check a nearby datapad, knowing he was in no mood for delays.
"Ah, a meeting with Engineer Schmong, master," she said. She wasn't as fast as T4-12, but she wasn't a droid, so he didn't have to worry about her reporting to Dooku, and she wasn't a Zygerrian, so he didn't have to worry about her reporting to his sister. "In two minutes. Shall I fetch more wine and another glass?"
"More wine, yes, another glass, no," Batoya said, moving to take his seat at a nearby table. He'd taken to having more and more of his meetings in his personal quarters, which he regularly swept for bugs.
It wasn't long before Ruggle arrived, the diminutive sullustan stepping into his quarters as though he ran the entire ship. Merely the expectation of being in his presence was grating enough that Batoya had already drained half of his second glass before he'd even stepped through the door.
"Admiral," Ruggle said with a nod. "Ah, spice wine?"
"Yes," Batoya said flatly and Ruggle stared at him expectantly. He let out a sigh. "Fetch a glass for our guest, Salfe."
While Salfe went to do so, Ruggle took his seat across from Batoya and set out a schematics holo in front of him.
"As you can see, the interdiction device is quite incompatible with Separatist technology," Ruggle said. "I imagine it's Zygerrian in origin?"
"It is my updated version of an old design used by my people, yes," Batoya said as he sipped from his glass.
"Ah, well, that explains it. While I designed the Subjugator-class, much of the tech is Quarrian in origin."
Batoya stared at the sullustant. "Explains what?"
"The incompatibility," Ruggle said, a small smile on his fat face. "You know… cats and fish, and all that."
A joke. Normally, Batoya would have had the ingrate whipped for his insolence, then whipped again in front of his crew to show what happened when one dared to mock the royal family of Zygerria. However, he could not afford that and the wine was able to quell some of his anger.
Salfe returned with a new glass, pouring Ruggle a healthy amount. The sullustan smiled with far more sincerity as she offered it to him.
"Thank you, my dear Salfe," he said with a smile. "Always a pleasure to see you."
Salfe merely bowed without emotion, which caused Ruggle to frown slightly, while Batoya chuckled. The sullustan threw him a dark look.
"You seem amused," Ruggle said, leaning back and sipping from his own wine. "Surprising, given your situation. I've yet to tell you whether it can be fixed or not."
"You seem quite smug rather than worried I'll throw you out an airlock, so I believe I know the answer," Batoya replied.
"True," Ruggle nodded. "Three days is all I'll need, fortunately for you. Quite an easy fix, as it happens."
Batoya's lip twitched towards a snarl, but he schooled his face into a look of casual disinterest. "Oh? Leaving us so soon?"
"Yes, well, I'd love to stay longer, but I fear it might not be safe," Ruggle said, still with that same self-important smugness that Batoya detested in him. "Raiders and all that. I hear they're making quite the mess of things around here. Freeing slaves, killing Zygerrians."
Batoya's grasp tightened invisibly around his glass. "Yes," he hissed through his teeth. "I imagine it must be quite unnerving to be so near to danger for a civilian."
Ruggle glared at him. "I'm more than happy to play my part for the Separatists, even if it means a bit of danger every now and again. My contributions speak for themselves."
"I'm sure," Batoya growled. "Well, I would hate to keep you while you have work to be done."
"Of course," Ruggle said, glancing at the bottle of spice wine. "And I'm sure you have much to do as well."
The sullustan rose, leaving his glass behind. Salfe took the glass to be cleaned, while Batoya remained seated, glaring at the door. Once he was certain the sullustan would be far enough away that even his excellent hearing would not allow him to hear, Batoya roared in anger. His hands came under the table and flipped it over with a thunderous crash, sending the bottle of wine bouncing onto the ground and sloshing its contents everywhere. Enraged by the fact it hadn't broken, Batoya ripped it off the ground and threw it across the room with all the power he had in his arm, just as a worried-looking Salfe stepped back from the separate kitchen area.
The bottle shattered against the wall and Salfe shrieked as shards of glass cut into side, collapsing to the ground. Batoya stared for an instant, too shocked at what he had done to move.
"Salfe-!" He started towards her. "I-!"
He was reaching down towards her, about to kneel to see if she was alright, when he stopped. He straightened, looking down at her and schooling his face into that of a proper Zygerrian.
"Get up," he ordered. "Have the medical droid attend to you. Ensure no scars or marks appear."
"Y-yes, master," Salfe said, whimpering in pain as she stood up straight. She bowed and the wince was almost enough to make him feel regret. Almost. "Excuse me, m-master."
She departed slowly, limping as she did so. Batoya returned to his seat, ignoring the mess he'd left behind. The slaves could clean it. He slumped into the soft leather, holding his head in his hands, when his commlink began to sound an urgent alert. Groaning, he activated it.
"This had better be important," he growled into it.
"Admiral, Republic ships emerging from hyperspace!"
Batoya leapt out of his chair. "The raiders?!?" He asked, but it was a foolish question. They wouldn't dare.
"No, sir, it's three squadrons of bombers! And… they're being led by Jedi craft!"
"Jedi?" Batoya breathed, his headache gone in an instant as rage, ambition, and glee filled him. "Then we shall avenge our empire at long last! Launch all fighters! We'll rip those bombers to shreds!"
"Alright, master," Anakin said. "I bet I take out more droid fighters."
"Anakin, this is hardly the time or place," Obi-Wan replied.
"My thoughts exactly," Ahsoka said. "We already know I'm going to take out the most. Why bet on a sure thing?"
"Just stick to the plan," Obi-Wan said to them both.
"Well, of course I will. It's my plan."
"How I wish I could trust that."
Behind the three bickering Jedi, the rest of Gold, Red, and Blue squadrons were undergoing their final checks as they drew closer to the enemy fleet. Ahead of them, swarms of vulture droids were amassing, while the escort vessels of the Charybdis moved in to box them in.
"Is it just me, or is that ship even bigger than the Malevolence?" Ahsoka asked with just a hint of nervousness.
"If you think that now, just wait until we're close enough to scrape its paint off," Anakin teased. He glanced at the small display screen containing Artoo's words. "Not yet, buddy," he said softly. "Wait until they've committed."
Batoya had needed this. No political maneuvering, no worries about raids or logistics. Just a good-old-fashioned one-sided slaughter.
Perhaps, against the Charybdis alone, three squadrons of bombers led by Jedi would be a threat. A single squadron had certainly been to the Malevolence. But Batoya was not as limited as Grievous in any regard. Though many of his ships had been redeployed and spread out across the sector to respond to any attacks by the mad dog nipping at his heel, Batoya had still kept a considerable force of ships to protect his flag. The vulture droids of the Lucrehulk-class carrier that accompanied his ship alone would be sufficient to dealing with the intruders and Batoya had a Providence-class and six Munificents on top of that.
This would be over quickly.
"Bring us about ninety degrees," Batoya ordered. "Charge the ion cannon."
The Charybdis began to turn and he wondered if the Republic fighters would flee after realizing their mistake. He hoped not and he was pleased to see his hopes realized as they continued towards his ships, seemingly intent on suicide.
But no. This was too easy, he realized. He should not have drunk the wine, he knew, as it was clearly slowing him down.
"Sir, additional ships jumping in from hyperspace!" His sensors officer called.
"More fighters?" Batoya wondered aloud. Was their plan to swarm him from multiple angles and overwhelm with numbers? It was not the usual Republic tactic, nor likely to succeed.
"No, sir, capital ships!"
"What?" Batoya asked, now just confused. They were sending capital ships to deal with the Charybdis? It was designed to destroy fleets, so why would they-?
Five Venator-class star destroyers, along with escorting Arquitens-class and retrofitted Consular-class light cruisers jumped into the system and Batoya realized why they'd delayed. Their jumps were near perfect, though not to the same degree as an interdiction-assisted jump was capable of. Regardless, each ship had landed close enough to a Separatist vessel that there was no chance the Charybdis could get a clear shot at them with the ion cannon without also hitting an allied vessel.
It would have been an insane maneuver to pull with a shuttlecraft or starfighter even with interdiction. To do it with star destroyers was practically suicidal, the sheer level of coordination necessary was mind boggling.
"The Jedi do not disappoint," Batoya chuckled. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the prospect of a challenge he could actually deal with in the here and now. Regardless, he was happy to oblige. "All ships, deal with your counterparts. Ion cannon status?"
"Prepared to fire on the bombers, admiral," his weapons officer called.
"Fire, then bring us about to target…" He considered the available venators. "There. The Decisive."
"Admiral, we'll hit the Manifest Destiny if we fire on that ship," the same officer warned. Batoya nodded.
"A cruiser for a star destroyer is a welcome trade," Batoya said simply as the ion cannon fired, a purple web of crackling energy flying off towards the bombers, which were already taking evasive maneuvers.
Oppo Rancisis watched as the ion cannon fired and the bomber squadrons scattered, their engines burning with power as they sought to evade the blast. Around him, clones and human officers alike moved with uncanny precision and he closed his eyes once again to refocus his battle mediation.
He did not need his eyes after all. When the last of the bombers cleared the ion cannon shot without suffering so much as a fried circuit, he knew. When the Charybdis began to turn its ion cannon upon the Decisive, he knew that as well and the ship responded accordingly. Its cannons continued to fire while the last of its fighter complement emerged and burned away from it, all the while it began to turn.
The instant the ion cannon fired, the star destroyer leapt into hyperspace, vanishing from the system while the droid cruiser was left to bare the full burden of the attack, the lights along its hull winking out as its power systems were disrupted and it was left to float aimlessly in the void. But not for long, as the weapons of nearby star destroyers opened fire, the unshielded vessel an easy target now.
"Impossible," Batoya breathed as the Manifest Destiny exploded under sustained fire. The sheer speed at which the Decisive had responded, how quickly they'd made the necessary preparations for jumping into hyperspace, none of it should have been possible.
He shook his head. His plan to simply disable all the ships and take his time picking apart the Republic ones was no longer an option. The closing bombers were an added concern, but one that would momentarily encounter a hundreds-strong swarm of vulture droids.
"Get me Ruggle," he ordered.
"Here we go," Anakin breathed out as the vultures entered range and opened fire. His starfighter danced through the void, weaving through the swarm and leaving a trail of explosions. His finger never stopped pressing the trigger for its laser cannons and every shot landed as he allowed himself to be guided as much by the Force as by Master Rancisis' battle meditation. It was not something he enjoyed, it felt somewhat like giving up control to someone else, but he had no time for doubts or second guesses.
Around him, clone pilots moved their Y-Wings with greater precision than even Shadow squadron had managed on the run towards the Malevolence. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan's fighters were like graceful dancers, nimbly making turns and evasive maneuvers that even the most gifted of pilots could only dream of making. All the while, the steady presence of Rancisis connected them all. It was like there wasn't a battle at all, like they were merely drifting in a river of water, letting the slow current guide them where they needed to go.
Three vulture droids locked onto his ship, only to be annihilated an instant before they could fire their missiles by the laser cannons of Y-Wings. Another of the separatist fighters made its way towards Ahsoka, but Anakin's blasts tore through it.
There were still casualties, of course. He could feel every pair of lives as they winked out, clone pilots and their gunners vanishing together in fireballs. But for every clone who died, a dozen droids went to the scrapyard.
He could sense the enemy as well, though not as keenly as his allies. He could sense their trepidation, their confusion, and their growing fear as they drew closer and closer.
And then they were through the swarm and open space was all that laid between themselves and the Charybdis. The swarm turned to follow and pursue. Moments later, the Charybdis joined in the attack, its point defenses opening fire.
Batoya stared in utter bafflement as the bombers continued to close in. They were taking casualties, but it wasn't going to be enough. Meanwhile, additional fighters from the Venators were drawing more and more of the vulture droids away and into prolonged dogfights, distracting them from dealing with the true threat. The Republic star destroyers were trading broadsides with his own escort fleet, rendering them similarly unable to aid him.
"Sir, engineer Ruggle is contacting you," one of his officers called.
An angry and worried looking sullustan appeared via holo a moment later. "Batoya! What are you doing?!? Did you launch an attack while I was aboard!?!"
"No, the Republic did," Batoya snarled back.
"You-!"
"Can I activate the interdiction field?" Batoya demanded. There was no time for Ruggle's nonsense.
"What?!?" Ruggle asked, flabbergasted by the very question. "No! Of course not! That would set repairs back a week, not to mention have side effects that I can't even begin to-!"
"But would it work?"
"It couldn't for more than a few minutes!" Ruggle said, a look of growing horror on his face. "Batoya, you can't seriously think that will do any-!"
"It's Admiral Batoya," he replied before disconnecting from the call. "All ships, listen to my words very carefully."
Rancisis' brow furrowed in consternation as the Separatist fleet began to react oddly. Rather than attempting to deal with their attackers, every ship except for the Charybdis was turning away, towards the edge of the system.
They were not fleeing, they would not have dared abandon the Charybdis. Instead, they were clearing the way for it, removing the ships in the way of the ion cannon.
It had always been a possibility, but one he'd hoped the Separatists wouldn't try. Rancisis turned and left the bridge. There was no need for him to speak his orders. A shuttle was already prepared. Meanwhile, the venators and other Republic capital ships began to turn, preparing to flee alongside the enemy fleet.
If he departed now, the battle meditation would be disrupted across the entire battlegroup. That would be dangerous for all of them, but most of all for the bombers that had been left with the task of disabling the primary weapon of the Charybdis, its interdiction device, and its bridge if possible. The three Jedi might have been able to weather the sudden confusion, but the clones would suffer far heavier casualties than was acceptable for Skywalker's plan to reach fruition.
Anakin pulled his fighter into a spin, evading a vulture droid seemingly intent on ramming into his craft by less than half a meter. He could feel the cruisers and star destroyers around him shifting, their crews making final preparations before they leapt into hyperspace.
The cruisers and capital ships vanished, departing for nearby systems where they'd regroup, recover from the backlash of losing their connection to Rancisis' battle meditation, and then prepare for the signal to return. In a matter of moments, there was only the Charybdis and the swarms of fighters on both sides, as well as a single shuttle protected by a fighter wing carrying the presence of Rancisis. It would take the Republic fleet longer to return than the Separatists, he knew, so this needed to go quickly.
"All squadrons, prepare your attack runs," Anakin ordered. There was no need for speech since Rancisis was still present, but he preferred it. Obi-Wan had been left with the interdiction device, Ahsoka with the ion cannon, and Anakin had given himself the bridge run. His pilots formed up around him as they skimmed along the hull of the behemoth craft, dancing through the laser cannon fire with only the smallest of adjustments. Droid fighters chased them, missiles slicing through the void and ripping apart the hulls of two Y-Wings, but they couldn't stop the squadron's approach.
And then, something unexpected happened. Artoo beeped a warning, the interdiction field of the Charybdis was activating. For an instant, Anakin felt fear cloud his mind, thinking they had indeed been tricked or arrived too late to take advantage of the weakness, but he soon quelled those fears as he noticed that the power surges within the Charybdis were hardly in line with an untroubled activation. Ruggle had clearly done some repairs, but the Charybdis was doing more damage to itself just to deal with them.
Of course, that was only a small reassurance that hardly mattered in the moment as the interdiction field appeared and the Separatist fleet jumped back into the system with pinpoint precision, surrounding the Charybdis once again and quickly adding their firepower to the fray. The field expanded the moment the fleet had returned, ensuring the Republic ships could arrive nowhere near as close as they had before.
But none of that would matter if they could take out the Charybdis.
And then he felt it. A note of concern from Ahsoka as the ion cannon was activating, but not in the usual manner. Artoo beeped another warning, an ion overload, one with no guidance or direction. It would disable the Charybdis… and every other ship nearby. So close to the massive vessel, all three squadrons would risk certain destruction.
"All squadrons, get out of here!" Anakin ordered, feeling them pulling away before he'd even finished speaking. He could feel Rancisis guiding him to do the same.
He ignored that.
His ship turned nearly a hundred and eighty degrees and he could feel the tensor fields of his ship whine as they struggled to keep the small craft from ripping itself apart and him along with it. A few vulture droids had peeled away to continue chasing the retreating squadrons, but many had also decided he was a greater threat. He dodged and weaved through them as his engines burned with all the power he could give them.
"Anakin, what are you doing?!?" Obi-Wan demanded in his ear, but he turned off his commlink. He could make it. They weren't going to have another chance after this.
Vulture droids crowded after him and Artoo chirped nervously. Anakin was silent, focused on his task as he dipped beneath the dish of the Charybdis's ion cannon. Proton torpedoes fired and he watched as the connections to the rest of the ship exploded, shrapnel firing outwards. For an instant, he thought he'd done it.
Then, the ion cannon went off.
A massive sphere of crackling ion energy grew from the two ion cannons of the Charybdis, enveloping the front half of the ship and every droid and clone fighter nearby. Only because they'd reacted so quickly, a quarter of the three bomber squadrons and two of their Jedi leaders were able to evade the blast. The third Jedi was not so lucky, his ship disabled and sent flying through space. Only luck kept him from crashing into the Charybdis or any of the hundred disabled vulture droids floating around him.
Batoya stared in rage on the absolute mess while the power systems of the Charybdis' bridge flickered as they struggled to respond to the ion disruption. The sheer power of its reactor was enough to keep it from going totally offline, but countless systems had fallen silent, including weapons and shields. The bridge was a panic of movement as Zygerrian and droid crew struggled to keep the ship intact.
"Fires have broken out on numerous decks!"
"Weapons offline! Shields offline! Interdictor offline!"
"Admiral, engineer Ruggle is comming you," one of his officers called.
"Tell him to fix my ship," Batoya snarled. "Do we have communications with the escort fleet?"
"Yes, sir, they weren't hit by the blast."
"Tell them to close ranks until we've got our systems in order. Hyperdrive status?"
"Offline, sir."
"Admiral, ships emerging from hyperspace!"
Batoya felt his dread growing with every word. So, this was how it ended then.
But it wasn't the Republic fleet returning. Six Munificent-class cruisers emerged from hyperspace, led by a single Providence-class and Batoya stared in utter bafflement at the reinforcements he hadn't asked for.
"We're being hailed by the lead ship, the Recalcitrance," his comms officer called.
"Put them on," Batoya ordered. It wasn't one of his ships, that was for certain. He was surprised to see a tactical droid appear, one with grey markings.
"Admiral Batoya, I see you have suffered losses," the droid intoned. "Permission to reinforce your fleet?"
Batoya was not pleased to have another tactical droid around, but at the moment he could hardly afford to say no. "Permission granted. However, droid, I was not aware you would be coming at all?" They could not have been so close by without his knowledge unless it had been kept from him. The only reason for that would be if they knew the attack had been coming, but if so, then who-?
"Our orders were provided only very recently," the droid replied. "General Grievous sends his regards."
Batoya gripped the railing before him tightly the bones in his hands popped. "Grievous, you say," he breathed through clenched teeth. "I will have to send my thanks."
"You are welcome."
"Master Kenobi, I'm going back for Anakin!" Ahsoka said.
"Ahsoka, no! We have to get out of here," Obi-Wan ordered. "Anakin can take care of himself."
"But master-!"
"Trust in the Force, padawan. But, if you can't do that, then trust in your master."
Ahsoka looked back at the drifting wreck of vulture droids behind them, even as the elements of the swarm that were still online began to regroup.
"We don't have time for this, Ahsoka!" Obi-Wan said. "If those cruisers are able to cut us off, we'll lose even more lives. Think! How would you even help him?"
Ahsoka didn't know, but she also didn't care. He needed help, wasn't it her job as his padawan to be there alongside him?
She felt Rancisis' mind reach out and touch hers. It was like touching a calm lake, feeling the cool water rush over her. It didn't remove her ability to think or act, but she felt calmer herself. And because of that calm, she was able to sense something else as well. She sensed Anakin, sensed his own calm presence. More than that, however, she sensed his mind at work.
He was not afraid. He had a plan. And he wanted her to go.
"Understood, master," she said, releasing her fears and doubts. She trusted in her master and in the Force.
As the fear faded, she actually felt a bit of amusement. Anakin Skywalker and R2-D2, alone on a Separatist warship.
She almost felt sorry for the tinnies.
Anakin's eyes were closed, feeling the Force around him. He felt the presence of Ahsoka grow distant as she made the jump to hyperspace, just as he'd felt Obi-Wan's. The rest of the Republic forces would be gone by now and he felt Rancisis' absence strongest of all thanks to the disconnect from his battle meditation.
Now, he had his own task to attend to. Namely, survival.
"Artoo, you there?" He asked, but the droid was silent, but that was hardly unexpected. He let out his worries for his small mechanical friend and focused on the Force. Outside, the void was a blur of starlines as his ship spun endlessly. He could probably get the power back online if he tried, but if he did that then the fleet outside would know he was there.
With a gentle push by an invisible hand, it began to slow, then straighten out. After a few minutes, the ship was still drifting, but no longer spinning. He angled it towards the Charybdis and pushed.
If he'd known this would happen, he'd have brought a space suit and infiltrated the Charybdis via one of its airlocks. Instead, he'd have to take the far more dangerous approach of getting in through the hangar.
Overseer Durel was panicking, but he did his best to hide it. That was important in an overseer, as when one's slaves saw their master panicking they started to get ideas.
The hangar of the Charybdis was covered in flames after a fuel rod being carried by a mechanical crane had suddenly dropped and exploded. Slaves and Zygerrians rushed about amid offline droids, trying to repair damaged systems and keep the flames from spreading.
"GET THAT FIRE OUT, YOU SKUGS!" Durel shouted, electro-whip striking the nearest slave, a twi'lek who cried out with pain as he collapsed to the ground, dropping the fire-retardant. He marched over to the slave, who was shaking on the ground. "GET UP!"
"Master, please!" The twi'lek begged. "I am so tired-!" He was cut off by his own screams as Durel struck him again with the whip. Durel prepared to strike the disobedient slave again, when pain lanced through him and his breath left him.
Durel stared down at his chest in confusion as a blue beam of humming light poked out of it. The whip slid from his hand, dropping to the ground and the slaves who'd been tasked with stopping the dying flames all stared at him in shock. Or, perhaps, they stared at the one who had killed him.
Anakin Skywalker pulled his lightsaber free of the Zygerrian slaver, who crumpled to the ground with a face frozen confusion and pain. Anakin's face was dark with murder and the slaves drew back in fear. The look passed in an instant, however, and he held out his hand towards the slave.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"Jedi," the twi'lek breathed out, as if unable to believe what was in front of him.
"It'll be alright," Anakin promised. "We just need to-!"
"Jedi!" One of the Zygerrians suddenly noticed him and Anakin turned, lightsaber rising to block a blaster shot, deflecting back towards the one who'd shot at him. However, the sound had gotten the entire hangar's attention. Still, it was only a few dozen Zygerrians, nothing he couldn't handle.
Vulture droids suddenly flew into the hangar, mechanical limbs articulating as they landed, surrounding him. Their laser cannons pointed towards him.
Anakin was still pretty sure he could take them… but if they fired, the slaves would get caught in it.
He looked back towards his ship, still offline. However, he noted a blue-white astromech rolling away from it, heading towards a maintenance hatch. Hiding his smile, Anakin lowered his lightsaber and let it drop to the ground, deactivated, then raised his hands.
"I am General Anakin Skywalker of the Grand Army of the Republic," he said. "And I surrender."
Fortunately, the Republic seemed disinclined towards making another attack on the Charybdis. Batoya had no doubt their reinforced fleet could handle such an assault, but only because of Grievous' forces. He had no wish to owe the cyborg general anymore than he already did.
Batoya was working his way through another bottle of spice wine, reading reports on the status of his ship in his quarters. Salfe was absent as she was still injured, so he was alone.
The Charybdis had done more damage to itself than the Republic had. They'd have to get to a shipyard for full repairs, but until they'd gotten the hyperdrive online that wasn't happening. Batoya refused to have his flagship towed back to port by tractor beam.
His stunt with the interdiction field had won him the day, true, but it was a nearer thing than he would have preferred and he had no idea how the Count would react to the setback. The battle might have been a victory, but he had only destroyed a few fighters and bombers, while losing a cruiser and damaging his battlecruiser. He needed some sort of good news to give.
There was an alert from his door and it opened a moment later to reveal one of his bridge officers, carrying a datapad of his own.
"Admiral, repair crews have managed to contain the worst of the damage," the officer said, looking as stressed as Batoya felt. "Droids in the affected areas are coming back online. Slave collars have been reactivated as well."
"Any trouble with the slaves?" Batoya asked, recalling the Count's words.
"Some, but they've been dealt with," the officer replied simply and Batoya was grateful for the succinct answer.
"Where is Ruggle?" Batoya asked. "He should be here too, should he not?"
A hint of nervousness crossed the officer's face and Batoya felt his anxiety deepen. "Engineer Ruggle… departed the Charybdis aboard his transport an hour ago."
"What?" Batoya stared at the Zygerrian. If Ruggle was gone, that meant-. But the Charybdis wasn't-. But the modifications he'd had done to Ruggle's hyperdrive, to the distress beacon, that would mean-.
"We were unable to stop him from leaving and-!" The officer began quickly, but Batoya's fist slamming into his face silenced him.
"SEND SHIPS AFTER HIM!" Batoya shrieked. "HAVE THEM SCOUR EVERY CORNER OF SPACE BETWEEN HERE AND RAXUS!"
The officer coughed up blood and one of his teeth into a hand and nodded swiftly. "Y-yes, admiral," he said through a mouthful of sanguine fluid.
As he left, Batoya crashed down into his seat, head in his hands. How? How had it all gone wrong? His eyes swept over to the source of his misery, the datapad containing older reports. The reports of station raids and lost ships and foiled plans.
The Hound. Den Brystel. He was to blame for everything.
Batoya was about to rise from his seat and take command of another ship, damn whatever would be said about him abandoning his flagship, and hunt down that wretch when his commlink alerted himself. He grabbed it and all but screamed into it.
"WHAT?!?" He demanded.
The response came in a hurry, from an excited sounding Zygerrian. Batoya stared at his commlink.
"You captured who?!?"
Ruggle reclined in his seat, holding a glass of spice wine from a bottle he'd 'borrowed' from the Admiral's quarters during a previous visit, trying not to shake too much and to relax into the strong fingers of Salfe, though that was difficult for different reasons.
"I imagine…" Ruggle said, his mouth suddenly dry and he swallowed another mouthful of wine. "Gah, I imagine I must seem like such a coward to you. Shaking like this, after a single battle."
"Not at all," Salfe said reassuringly. Bacta patches covered her side. "You stole me away from the admiral while he wasn't looking, after all. That is no small amount of bravery."
"He'll be enraged," Ruggle chuckled nervously. "I almost look forward to it."
"You are very strong to have spoken to him so fearlessly," Salfe said, then let out a small grunt of pain as she moved her arm a bit higher than she should have. Ruggle quickly leapt out from the chair, turning and sloshing himself with wine in his effort to get away.
"Are your wounds opening up again?!?" Ruggle asked quickly, worry plain in his voice.
"I'm fine," Salfe said after checking her bacta patches. Her eyes went down to the wine-stained clothes. "I'll get a towel to keep that from staining."
"Please, don't!" Ruggle said quickly. "I shouldn't have accepted this massage, I'm sorry. You're wounded and should be resting."
"But-," Salfe began, wanting to protest.
"Please, I would hate for you to get hurt on my account," Ruggle said, going over to grab the towel himself and wiping at the stain, only to end up smearing it across his robes. He was whispering to himself. "That Zygerrian brute, I'll… I'll… Grah!"
"Are you sure you don't want me to do anything for you?" Salfe said, stepping closer. "I don't want to seem ungrateful for being freed."
"Slavery is a repugnant practice, you need not feel any gratitude towards me for doing what's right," Ruggle stated. "If I could, I'd have that damn Batoya thrown out an airlock along with every Zygerrian slaver in the galaxy."
Salfe couldn't help but giggle at the casual declaration. Ruggle smiled at her softly, his anxiety and post-battle jitters slowly fading in the face of that musical laugh. Then, the droid pilot's voice came over the intercom.
"Sir, the hyperdrive is experiencing fluctuations," the droid said.
"What sort of fluctuations?" Ruggle asked. Then, he felt the telltale feeling of the ship dropping back into subspace as the hyperdrive failed, nearly tossing the both of them from their feet, and his commlink lost its connection. "Oh, sithspit."
"Is it the Charybdis?" Salfe asked, the tremor of fear in her voice enough to make his blood go cold just from hearing it.
"No, no," he said reassuringly. "Just hyperdrive issues. Go see the medical droid while I deal with this." He laughed as convincingly as he could manage. "We'll have it fixed in no time. I'm quite good at this sort of thing, you know." Salfe gave him a small smile that did not seem entirely certain, but left for the medbay. Ruggle quickly left for the bridge, where he found that several droids, including the commander, had been thrown about during the reversion and rendered offline. Those that had survived were struggling to deal with the increasing number of issues, most notable of which, Ruggle saw, was the planet that they were rapidly approaching.
"Oh, sithspit," he swore again as he ran towards the engines console and saw, of course, that they were offline. Several other systems were offline as well, including shields and the limited weapons systems of the craft, while the distress beacon appeared to have been activated despite not having been commanded to. But that was impossible, even if their hyperdrive had suffered a malfunction, there shouldn't have been way for it to affect the engines and the-. "Batoya, you bastard."
"Sir, we're going to crash!" One of the droid shouted in his ear and he shoved it aside as he began to work. If they could just get the engines back online, they might be able to avoid crashing or-. No, not avoid crashing, he determined, but rather than slamming full force into a mountain, he might be able to guide them into a slightly more comfortable landing.
"Well, that's not a Republic ship," Den noted. They had been in deep space, preparing their next raid, when they'd detected a distress beacon, on a Republic frequency no less. Communications from Boonta indicated an attack was underway, so his hope was that the Republic fleet had sent someone to either pick them up or otherwise guide them out. At the very least, reinforcements or resupplies would have been handy. That hope was quickly dashed, however, as their sensors indicated it was a Hardcell-class transport that had apparently crash landed on a remote planet.
"What do we do?" Raptor asked, glancing at him. "It could be a trap."
"Pretty costly ship to waste like this as bait," Jatilla noted. "And the Zygerrians are almost as stingy as nemoidians."
"We've been costing them a lot more than one ship with our raids," Raptor countered.
"Why not just let it drift? Why crash it?"
"To make us think it's more genuine," Raptor shrugged. "Or maybe they crashed it by accident and decided to use it as bait."
"It may be wiser to retreat rather than stay," Xalas said, crossing his arms.
"But there could be slaves down there," Jatilla pointed out. "We can't just abandon them."
"I understand your desire to help," Xalas said, placing a hand on the nautolan's shoulder. "However, we must look to our own safety before that of others." Raptor nodded.
Den considered the sensor readings of the transport. "Lifesigns?"
"Two confirmed lifesigns," his sensors officer called.
"Not a very populated ship," he murmured to himself. "Or not very many survivors."
"Orders, sir?" Raptor asked.
"Venture, do you read me?" Den said, activating the comm.
"Venture here."
"Launch the vulture droids and have them scout the area," Den ordered before turning to Raptor. "Prepare one of the shuttles with a ground team. There are two people down there, I want them both taken alive, Zygerrians or not."
"Yes, sir," Raptor said, nodding.
"Keep us near a jump point and keep the hyperdrives ready," Den said. "Tell the other ships to do the same and to stay alert. If this is a trap, we can't afford to be caught unawares."
Ruggle watched through the debris of his short-lived personal starship as the swarm of vulture droids flew down, their articulated legs snapping out as they landed, their heads popping up to scan the area. Soonfter, a shuttle touched down, the Maxillipede-class ship landing near the crash site of the burning Hardcell. Behind him, Salfe shivered at the sight and Ruggle wanted to reach out and tell her everything would be fine, but she'd know he was lying to her. He held a small, hold-out blaster in one trembling hand and he waited to see Zygerrians burst out of the shuttle with heavy blasters and orders to kill him.
He was a bit startled when it was not Zygerrians that emerged, but Kaleesh, wearing bone masks made of some alien animal and wielding metal blades that looked welded together. Following them were white-armored clone troopers who surveyed the area.
Ruggle crept back down from his lookout spot, considering this new information. Had the vulture droids been reprogrammed? If so… On the one hand, the Republic was his enemy. On the other hand, they were his best bet at getting both himself and Salfe as far away from Batoya as was physically possible. But if he surrendered, Dooku would probably have him assassinated to prevent him from spilling any secrets. But if he complied with the Republic and showed he was a valuable resource, perhaps they'd protect him? But the vessels he had created had caused countless deaths, how could he know they wouldn't just-
"Hello there," an alien voice said and Ruggle felt a blade press against his neck. A glance towards Salfe showed one of the kaleesh had appeared behind her as well, blade at her throat.
"Who are you?" The second kaleesh demanded.
"You are not Zygerrian, but you are not dressed as slaves," the first noted. Salfe had previously been wearing a revealing set of garments and so Ruggle had gifted her a set of his own clothes, which were still well-made, albeit not exactly a perfect fit for the taller togrutan woman. "Separatists?"
"We-, I-!" Ruggle began, when a pair of clone troopers emerged, blaster carbines in hand.
"The commander said he wanted them alive," one of the troopers stated. "We'll take them from here."
The kaleesh holding Ruggle growled and Ruggle began panting quickly as he felt the blade press against his throat. "They're slavers."
"We're not!" Salfe shouted. "I was a slave of Admiral Batoya, but this sullustan freed me!"
The kaleesh seemed unconvinced, but more clone troopers had arrived.
"I said, we'll take them from here," the clone repeated, his tone lowering. "Release them."
The kaleesh looked to one another and Ruggle felt the blade press deeper for a moment, drawing a droplet of blood. Then, the blade was gone and Ruggle fell to his knees, breathing hard. Moments later, he was forced back to his feet by the clone troopers and binders were slapped around his wrists. A cry of pain from Salfe sobered him up and he saw that her wounds had reopened as she too was restrained.
"Don't hurt her!" Ruggle cried out. "She's wounded, please!"
"Shut it, seppie," the clone said, shoving him forward. "Onto the shuttle."
Batoya hung in the air, grasping at his throat as an invisible grip squeezed around it.
"You have failed me for the last time, Batoya," Count Dooku said, his fingers drawing tighter.
"M-my lord-!" Batoya forced through his closing windpipe. "G-good! News!"
For a moment, Batoya's vision darkened and he felt himself about to slip loose of his mortal coil. Then, he was on his hands and knees, collapsed on the ground, and he could breathe again.
"Speak," the holographic image of Dooku said, glaring down at him as though he were an uninteresting bug.
"I have… I have captured a Jedi!" Batoya said between breaths. "Jedi Knight… Anakin… Anakin Skywalker!"
"Have you now?" Dooku asked, only a modicum of interest entering his voice. "A single Jedi is hardly a victory worth celebrating in the face of such a failure."
"A momentary… setback, count," Batoya said, struggling to his feet.
"Just as the continued survival of those raiders is a 'momentary setback'?" Dooku asked and Batoya felt his throat starting to close again.
"I already have a fleet out looking for that ship!" Batoya said quickly. In truth, that fleet was looking for Ruggle Schmong's ship, but Dooku didn't need to know that. "And I assure you, the Charybdis' damage is nowhere near as significant as whatever reports you may have heard!"
"It had better be, Scintel," Dooku said. "Your sister's status is not enough to save you from my wrath. There will be no more chances."
"Thank you, count," Batoya said, bowing. "What should I do with Skywalker?"
Dooku considered the Zygerrian before him. "I sense that there is yet a role for Skywalker to play in this war. Find out what he knows, but do not kill him. Depending on what you learn, you may be able to make up this failure to me."
"Of course, my lord," Batoya said and the communication cut out.
Count Dooku watched as the fool vanished from sight. The Charybdis was a lost cause, that much was clear. More than likely, the entire sector would fall soon enough, as Batoya's flagship had been made the lynchpin of its defense by the admiral's own incompetence. Had the vessel remained intact, he'd likely have just killed Batoya and given command of the ship to another more worthy of it. As it was…
The Republic might be delayed by his master's machinations, if only to allow Dooku some time to recover a few assets, but ultimately they would return and in greater numbers to deal with Batoya. This was not how the plan should have gone, but there was little truly being lost after all. There were other fleets and more competent commanders to lead them.
"General," Dooku said as he turned to the other holographically displayed individual in the room who had been listening to the conversation. "Recall your vessels and take your pick of Batoya's ships and officers that you would like for your next offensive."
"As you wish," General Grievous said, bowing before he too vanished.
At the very least, Batoya would be permitted to play his final role by contributing to the turning of Anakin Skywalker.
"Did you hear?"
"What?"
"Apparently, the head cat's got troubles. Some Republic ship or something, raiding stations. Freeing slaves. I heard some of the guys talking about it."
"Yeah, right. Like the Republic cares at all about what goes on out here."
"I'm serious! They're leading a fleet!"
"You just said it was some 'Republic ship'. Now it's a fleet?"
"Do you think they'll come here? Free us?"
"Stow that talk before the Zygerrians hear you. No one is coming for us. Not now, not ever."
"Some of the guys were talking about other stuff too. About what we might do if they-."
"Who?"
"What?"
"Who's talking about this? Stay away from them. They're trouble."
"Just because you've given up hope-."
"My only 'hope' is that I'm still alive tomorrow, with enough rations to get me through another day and no burns on my back from electro-whips. That needs to be enough for you too if you don't want to get tossed out an airlock. Now, shut it and help me with this."
"Everyone aboard?" Den asked, glancing at the nearby sensors officer.
"Confirmed, only a few Zygerrians left aboard," the trooper replied.
"Cargo bay reports the tibanna gas canisters have all been loaded," his comms officer called. "Venture reports that the vulture droids are compliant with orders."
"Excellent," Den said, nodding towards Jatilla. "Well done on that, by the way."
"Just doing my job, boss," Jatilla replied with a lazy salute.
"Alright then," Den started, turning towards the viewport. The Hound hung in the atmosphere above a floating tibanna gas mine, the almost city-sized structure remaining aloft thanks to its repulsorlifts. Repulsorlifts that were presently in the sights of the gunners of seven ships. "Fire at will."
The Hound led the attack as the other ships, controlled by slaves, took a second longer to follow his orders. Turbolaser fire slammed into the unshielded hull of the mine, sending ripples of explosions along its surface that rocked the city and made it tilt. The other ships, consisting of the Freedom's Venture, the two Hammerhead-class corvettes, a Fantail-class destroyer they'd picked up from another repair yard, and finally a pair of Diamond-class Commerce Guild ships they'd found conducting a slaver raid on a local world. That the Separatists seemed unbothered by the Zygerrians making slaves of their own people as well as their enemies was hardly a surprise at this point.
A massive explosion knocked the tibanna mine onto its side and it began to list and fall, picking up speed as it went. It plummeted down, through the clouds, trailing smoke and fire as it went. Unfortunately, they had no time for watching it be swallowed by the eternal storm of the gas giant's lower layers.
"Time to leave," Den said and the Hound and its captured fleet peeled away and burned into the sky.
It had been nine days since they'd sent the message to Coruscant about Ruggle. The sullustan should have been on the Charybdis by now and communications they'd intercepted indicated he was. However, if there was any sign of an imminent Republic attack, the Zygerrians were unaware. Which was good for the attack, assuming it was coming, but less so for the Hound's crew, who were left in the dark.
Den had taken to prowling in systems near to Boonta, where the Charybdis had reportedly remained since their first encounter, as though it were offering itself up for slaughter. If the battle they'd fought previously with it was any indication, however, the ship was merely bait for another trap as much as it was a deterrent for any offensives in the region.
It was dangerous, of course. The closer to the front lines he got, the more likely there was to be a response from local patrols, especially since Admiral Batoya seemed deadset on taking them out. It was a balancing act.
"Commander, three ships emerging from hyperspace on the edge of the system," his sensors officer warned.
"What class?" Den asked. No point asking if they were Separatist vessels.
"One Recusant-class light destroyer, two Gozanti-class transports."
Den frowned. It wasn't a match for the fleet he commanded and were he under other circumstances he'd have felt quite confident even against a Recusant-class. However, he wasn't fighting just this battle. He couldn't afford anything less than an overwhelming victory.
"Bring us around to jump point cresh," Den ordered and the fleet swiftly began to burn through the void towards an area far from the fleet, which raced to catch up to them.
The Rescusant's forward turbolasers opened fire just as the small raiding fleet made the jump to hyperspace.
Batoya snarled down at the report, the headache that had been growing in his skull resurfacing again. For most of his military career he had foregone the vices that normally came with the command, the wine, the feasts, even personal slaves to attend to him. It was his way of grounding himself, assuaging the idea that he had gotten this far simply because of his family's power and setting an example for his men.
Now, however, he leaned gratefully back into the skilled hands of the togrutan masseuse, letting out a soft sigh as he felt small, but strong fingers work out the knots and release the tension. He took another sip from his wine, a strong blend mixed with just enough spice to take the edge off.
"Oh, master, are you well?" The togrutan slave asked with what sounded like genuine worry in her voice to Batoya's slightly addled mind.
"Fine, Salfe, fine," Batoya said, taking one of her hands in his own and resting his face against it. "Just… I'm under so much pressure."
"I'm sorry, master," Salfe said, leaning down to drape her arms loosely around him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Batoya let out a small, but mirthless laugh and felt Salfe tense slightly against him.
"Not unless you can destroy my enemies for me," Batoya said, rising from his seat, downing the rest of his wine. "Now, I have duties to attend to… What was it again?"
Salfe seemed startled and swiftly moved over to check a nearby datapad, knowing he was in no mood for delays.
"Ah, a meeting with Engineer Schmong, master," she said. She wasn't as fast as T4-12, but she wasn't a droid, so he didn't have to worry about her reporting to Dooku, and she wasn't a Zygerrian, so he didn't have to worry about her reporting to his sister. "In two minutes. Shall I fetch more wine and another glass?"
"More wine, yes, another glass, no," Batoya said, moving to take his seat at a nearby table. He'd taken to having more and more of his meetings in his personal quarters, which he regularly swept for bugs.
It wasn't long before Ruggle arrived, the diminutive sullustan stepping into his quarters as though he ran the entire ship. Merely the expectation of being in his presence was grating enough that Batoya had already drained half of his second glass before he'd even stepped through the door.
"Admiral," Ruggle said with a nod. "Ah, spice wine?"
"Yes," Batoya said flatly and Ruggle stared at him expectantly. He let out a sigh. "Fetch a glass for our guest, Salfe."
While Salfe went to do so, Ruggle took his seat across from Batoya and set out a schematics holo in front of him.
"As you can see, the interdiction device is quite incompatible with Separatist technology," Ruggle said. "I imagine it's Zygerrian in origin?"
"It is my updated version of an old design used by my people, yes," Batoya said as he sipped from his glass.
"Ah, well, that explains it. While I designed the Subjugator-class, much of the tech is Quarrian in origin."
Batoya stared at the sullustant. "Explains what?"
"The incompatibility," Ruggle said, a small smile on his fat face. "You know… cats and fish, and all that."
A joke. Normally, Batoya would have had the ingrate whipped for his insolence, then whipped again in front of his crew to show what happened when one dared to mock the royal family of Zygerria. However, he could not afford that and the wine was able to quell some of his anger.
Salfe returned with a new glass, pouring Ruggle a healthy amount. The sullustan smiled with far more sincerity as she offered it to him.
"Thank you, my dear Salfe," he said with a smile. "Always a pleasure to see you."
Salfe merely bowed without emotion, which caused Ruggle to frown slightly, while Batoya chuckled. The sullustan threw him a dark look.
"You seem amused," Ruggle said, leaning back and sipping from his own wine. "Surprising, given your situation. I've yet to tell you whether it can be fixed or not."
"You seem quite smug rather than worried I'll throw you out an airlock, so I believe I know the answer," Batoya replied.
"True," Ruggle nodded. "Three days is all I'll need, fortunately for you. Quite an easy fix, as it happens."
Batoya's lip twitched towards a snarl, but he schooled his face into a look of casual disinterest. "Oh? Leaving us so soon?"
"Yes, well, I'd love to stay longer, but I fear it might not be safe," Ruggle said, still with that same self-important smugness that Batoya detested in him. "Raiders and all that. I hear they're making quite the mess of things around here. Freeing slaves, killing Zygerrians."
Batoya's grasp tightened invisibly around his glass. "Yes," he hissed through his teeth. "I imagine it must be quite unnerving to be so near to danger for a civilian."
Ruggle glared at him. "I'm more than happy to play my part for the Separatists, even if it means a bit of danger every now and again. My contributions speak for themselves."
"I'm sure," Batoya growled. "Well, I would hate to keep you while you have work to be done."
"Of course," Ruggle said, glancing at the bottle of spice wine. "And I'm sure you have much to do as well."
The sullustan rose, leaving his glass behind. Salfe took the glass to be cleaned, while Batoya remained seated, glaring at the door. Once he was certain the sullustan would be far enough away that even his excellent hearing would not allow him to hear, Batoya roared in anger. His hands came under the table and flipped it over with a thunderous crash, sending the bottle of wine bouncing onto the ground and sloshing its contents everywhere. Enraged by the fact it hadn't broken, Batoya ripped it off the ground and threw it across the room with all the power he had in his arm, just as a worried-looking Salfe stepped back from the separate kitchen area.
The bottle shattered against the wall and Salfe shrieked as shards of glass cut into side, collapsing to the ground. Batoya stared for an instant, too shocked at what he had done to move.
"Salfe-!" He started towards her. "I-!"
He was reaching down towards her, about to kneel to see if she was alright, when he stopped. He straightened, looking down at her and schooling his face into that of a proper Zygerrian.
"Get up," he ordered. "Have the medical droid attend to you. Ensure no scars or marks appear."
"Y-yes, master," Salfe said, whimpering in pain as she stood up straight. She bowed and the wince was almost enough to make him feel regret. Almost. "Excuse me, m-master."
She departed slowly, limping as she did so. Batoya returned to his seat, ignoring the mess he'd left behind. The slaves could clean it. He slumped into the soft leather, holding his head in his hands, when his commlink began to sound an urgent alert. Groaning, he activated it.
"This had better be important," he growled into it.
"Admiral, Republic ships emerging from hyperspace!"
Batoya leapt out of his chair. "The raiders?!?" He asked, but it was a foolish question. They wouldn't dare.
"No, sir, it's three squadrons of bombers! And… they're being led by Jedi craft!"
"Jedi?" Batoya breathed, his headache gone in an instant as rage, ambition, and glee filled him. "Then we shall avenge our empire at long last! Launch all fighters! We'll rip those bombers to shreds!"
"Alright, master," Anakin said. "I bet I take out more droid fighters."
"Anakin, this is hardly the time or place," Obi-Wan replied.
"My thoughts exactly," Ahsoka said. "We already know I'm going to take out the most. Why bet on a sure thing?"
"Just stick to the plan," Obi-Wan said to them both.
"Well, of course I will. It's my plan."
"How I wish I could trust that."
Behind the three bickering Jedi, the rest of Gold, Red, and Blue squadrons were undergoing their final checks as they drew closer to the enemy fleet. Ahead of them, swarms of vulture droids were amassing, while the escort vessels of the Charybdis moved in to box them in.
"Is it just me, or is that ship even bigger than the Malevolence?" Ahsoka asked with just a hint of nervousness.
"If you think that now, just wait until we're close enough to scrape its paint off," Anakin teased. He glanced at the small display screen containing Artoo's words. "Not yet, buddy," he said softly. "Wait until they've committed."
Batoya had needed this. No political maneuvering, no worries about raids or logistics. Just a good-old-fashioned one-sided slaughter.
Perhaps, against the Charybdis alone, three squadrons of bombers led by Jedi would be a threat. A single squadron had certainly been to the Malevolence. But Batoya was not as limited as Grievous in any regard. Though many of his ships had been redeployed and spread out across the sector to respond to any attacks by the mad dog nipping at his heel, Batoya had still kept a considerable force of ships to protect his flag. The vulture droids of the Lucrehulk-class carrier that accompanied his ship alone would be sufficient to dealing with the intruders and Batoya had a Providence-class and six Munificents on top of that.
This would be over quickly.
"Bring us about ninety degrees," Batoya ordered. "Charge the ion cannon."
The Charybdis began to turn and he wondered if the Republic fighters would flee after realizing their mistake. He hoped not and he was pleased to see his hopes realized as they continued towards his ships, seemingly intent on suicide.
But no. This was too easy, he realized. He should not have drunk the wine, he knew, as it was clearly slowing him down.
"Sir, additional ships jumping in from hyperspace!" His sensors officer called.
"More fighters?" Batoya wondered aloud. Was their plan to swarm him from multiple angles and overwhelm with numbers? It was not the usual Republic tactic, nor likely to succeed.
"No, sir, capital ships!"
"What?" Batoya asked, now just confused. They were sending capital ships to deal with the Charybdis? It was designed to destroy fleets, so why would they-?
Five Venator-class star destroyers, along with escorting Arquitens-class and retrofitted Consular-class light cruisers jumped into the system and Batoya realized why they'd delayed. Their jumps were near perfect, though not to the same degree as an interdiction-assisted jump was capable of. Regardless, each ship had landed close enough to a Separatist vessel that there was no chance the Charybdis could get a clear shot at them with the ion cannon without also hitting an allied vessel.
It would have been an insane maneuver to pull with a shuttlecraft or starfighter even with interdiction. To do it with star destroyers was practically suicidal, the sheer level of coordination necessary was mind boggling.
"The Jedi do not disappoint," Batoya chuckled. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the prospect of a challenge he could actually deal with in the here and now. Regardless, he was happy to oblige. "All ships, deal with your counterparts. Ion cannon status?"
"Prepared to fire on the bombers, admiral," his weapons officer called.
"Fire, then bring us about to target…" He considered the available venators. "There. The Decisive."
"Admiral, we'll hit the Manifest Destiny if we fire on that ship," the same officer warned. Batoya nodded.
"A cruiser for a star destroyer is a welcome trade," Batoya said simply as the ion cannon fired, a purple web of crackling energy flying off towards the bombers, which were already taking evasive maneuvers.
Oppo Rancisis watched as the ion cannon fired and the bomber squadrons scattered, their engines burning with power as they sought to evade the blast. Around him, clones and human officers alike moved with uncanny precision and he closed his eyes once again to refocus his battle mediation.
He did not need his eyes after all. When the last of the bombers cleared the ion cannon shot without suffering so much as a fried circuit, he knew. When the Charybdis began to turn its ion cannon upon the Decisive, he knew that as well and the ship responded accordingly. Its cannons continued to fire while the last of its fighter complement emerged and burned away from it, all the while it began to turn.
The instant the ion cannon fired, the star destroyer leapt into hyperspace, vanishing from the system while the droid cruiser was left to bare the full burden of the attack, the lights along its hull winking out as its power systems were disrupted and it was left to float aimlessly in the void. But not for long, as the weapons of nearby star destroyers opened fire, the unshielded vessel an easy target now.
"Impossible," Batoya breathed as the Manifest Destiny exploded under sustained fire. The sheer speed at which the Decisive had responded, how quickly they'd made the necessary preparations for jumping into hyperspace, none of it should have been possible.
He shook his head. His plan to simply disable all the ships and take his time picking apart the Republic ones was no longer an option. The closing bombers were an added concern, but one that would momentarily encounter a hundreds-strong swarm of vulture droids.
"Get me Ruggle," he ordered.
"Here we go," Anakin breathed out as the vultures entered range and opened fire. His starfighter danced through the void, weaving through the swarm and leaving a trail of explosions. His finger never stopped pressing the trigger for its laser cannons and every shot landed as he allowed himself to be guided as much by the Force as by Master Rancisis' battle meditation. It was not something he enjoyed, it felt somewhat like giving up control to someone else, but he had no time for doubts or second guesses.
Around him, clone pilots moved their Y-Wings with greater precision than even Shadow squadron had managed on the run towards the Malevolence. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan's fighters were like graceful dancers, nimbly making turns and evasive maneuvers that even the most gifted of pilots could only dream of making. All the while, the steady presence of Rancisis connected them all. It was like there wasn't a battle at all, like they were merely drifting in a river of water, letting the slow current guide them where they needed to go.
Three vulture droids locked onto his ship, only to be annihilated an instant before they could fire their missiles by the laser cannons of Y-Wings. Another of the separatist fighters made its way towards Ahsoka, but Anakin's blasts tore through it.
There were still casualties, of course. He could feel every pair of lives as they winked out, clone pilots and their gunners vanishing together in fireballs. But for every clone who died, a dozen droids went to the scrapyard.
He could sense the enemy as well, though not as keenly as his allies. He could sense their trepidation, their confusion, and their growing fear as they drew closer and closer.
And then they were through the swarm and open space was all that laid between themselves and the Charybdis. The swarm turned to follow and pursue. Moments later, the Charybdis joined in the attack, its point defenses opening fire.
Batoya stared in utter bafflement as the bombers continued to close in. They were taking casualties, but it wasn't going to be enough. Meanwhile, additional fighters from the Venators were drawing more and more of the vulture droids away and into prolonged dogfights, distracting them from dealing with the true threat. The Republic star destroyers were trading broadsides with his own escort fleet, rendering them similarly unable to aid him.
"Sir, engineer Ruggle is contacting you," one of his officers called.
An angry and worried looking sullustan appeared via holo a moment later. "Batoya! What are you doing?!? Did you launch an attack while I was aboard!?!"
"No, the Republic did," Batoya snarled back.
"You-!"
"Can I activate the interdiction field?" Batoya demanded. There was no time for Ruggle's nonsense.
"What?!?" Ruggle asked, flabbergasted by the very question. "No! Of course not! That would set repairs back a week, not to mention have side effects that I can't even begin to-!"
"But would it work?"
"It couldn't for more than a few minutes!" Ruggle said, a look of growing horror on his face. "Batoya, you can't seriously think that will do any-!"
"It's Admiral Batoya," he replied before disconnecting from the call. "All ships, listen to my words very carefully."
Rancisis' brow furrowed in consternation as the Separatist fleet began to react oddly. Rather than attempting to deal with their attackers, every ship except for the Charybdis was turning away, towards the edge of the system.
They were not fleeing, they would not have dared abandon the Charybdis. Instead, they were clearing the way for it, removing the ships in the way of the ion cannon.
It had always been a possibility, but one he'd hoped the Separatists wouldn't try. Rancisis turned and left the bridge. There was no need for him to speak his orders. A shuttle was already prepared. Meanwhile, the venators and other Republic capital ships began to turn, preparing to flee alongside the enemy fleet.
If he departed now, the battle meditation would be disrupted across the entire battlegroup. That would be dangerous for all of them, but most of all for the bombers that had been left with the task of disabling the primary weapon of the Charybdis, its interdiction device, and its bridge if possible. The three Jedi might have been able to weather the sudden confusion, but the clones would suffer far heavier casualties than was acceptable for Skywalker's plan to reach fruition.
Anakin pulled his fighter into a spin, evading a vulture droid seemingly intent on ramming into his craft by less than half a meter. He could feel the cruisers and star destroyers around him shifting, their crews making final preparations before they leapt into hyperspace.
The cruisers and capital ships vanished, departing for nearby systems where they'd regroup, recover from the backlash of losing their connection to Rancisis' battle meditation, and then prepare for the signal to return. In a matter of moments, there was only the Charybdis and the swarms of fighters on both sides, as well as a single shuttle protected by a fighter wing carrying the presence of Rancisis. It would take the Republic fleet longer to return than the Separatists, he knew, so this needed to go quickly.
"All squadrons, prepare your attack runs," Anakin ordered. There was no need for speech since Rancisis was still present, but he preferred it. Obi-Wan had been left with the interdiction device, Ahsoka with the ion cannon, and Anakin had given himself the bridge run. His pilots formed up around him as they skimmed along the hull of the behemoth craft, dancing through the laser cannon fire with only the smallest of adjustments. Droid fighters chased them, missiles slicing through the void and ripping apart the hulls of two Y-Wings, but they couldn't stop the squadron's approach.
And then, something unexpected happened. Artoo beeped a warning, the interdiction field of the Charybdis was activating. For an instant, Anakin felt fear cloud his mind, thinking they had indeed been tricked or arrived too late to take advantage of the weakness, but he soon quelled those fears as he noticed that the power surges within the Charybdis were hardly in line with an untroubled activation. Ruggle had clearly done some repairs, but the Charybdis was doing more damage to itself just to deal with them.
Of course, that was only a small reassurance that hardly mattered in the moment as the interdiction field appeared and the Separatist fleet jumped back into the system with pinpoint precision, surrounding the Charybdis once again and quickly adding their firepower to the fray. The field expanded the moment the fleet had returned, ensuring the Republic ships could arrive nowhere near as close as they had before.
But none of that would matter if they could take out the Charybdis.
And then he felt it. A note of concern from Ahsoka as the ion cannon was activating, but not in the usual manner. Artoo beeped another warning, an ion overload, one with no guidance or direction. It would disable the Charybdis… and every other ship nearby. So close to the massive vessel, all three squadrons would risk certain destruction.
"All squadrons, get out of here!" Anakin ordered, feeling them pulling away before he'd even finished speaking. He could feel Rancisis guiding him to do the same.
He ignored that.
His ship turned nearly a hundred and eighty degrees and he could feel the tensor fields of his ship whine as they struggled to keep the small craft from ripping itself apart and him along with it. A few vulture droids had peeled away to continue chasing the retreating squadrons, but many had also decided he was a greater threat. He dodged and weaved through them as his engines burned with all the power he could give them.
"Anakin, what are you doing?!?" Obi-Wan demanded in his ear, but he turned off his commlink. He could make it. They weren't going to have another chance after this.
Vulture droids crowded after him and Artoo chirped nervously. Anakin was silent, focused on his task as he dipped beneath the dish of the Charybdis's ion cannon. Proton torpedoes fired and he watched as the connections to the rest of the ship exploded, shrapnel firing outwards. For an instant, he thought he'd done it.
Then, the ion cannon went off.
A massive sphere of crackling ion energy grew from the two ion cannons of the Charybdis, enveloping the front half of the ship and every droid and clone fighter nearby. Only because they'd reacted so quickly, a quarter of the three bomber squadrons and two of their Jedi leaders were able to evade the blast. The third Jedi was not so lucky, his ship disabled and sent flying through space. Only luck kept him from crashing into the Charybdis or any of the hundred disabled vulture droids floating around him.
Batoya stared in rage on the absolute mess while the power systems of the Charybdis' bridge flickered as they struggled to respond to the ion disruption. The sheer power of its reactor was enough to keep it from going totally offline, but countless systems had fallen silent, including weapons and shields. The bridge was a panic of movement as Zygerrian and droid crew struggled to keep the ship intact.
"Fires have broken out on numerous decks!"
"Weapons offline! Shields offline! Interdictor offline!"
"Admiral, engineer Ruggle is comming you," one of his officers called.
"Tell him to fix my ship," Batoya snarled. "Do we have communications with the escort fleet?"
"Yes, sir, they weren't hit by the blast."
"Tell them to close ranks until we've got our systems in order. Hyperdrive status?"
"Offline, sir."
"Admiral, ships emerging from hyperspace!"
Batoya felt his dread growing with every word. So, this was how it ended then.
But it wasn't the Republic fleet returning. Six Munificent-class cruisers emerged from hyperspace, led by a single Providence-class and Batoya stared in utter bafflement at the reinforcements he hadn't asked for.
"We're being hailed by the lead ship, the Recalcitrance," his comms officer called.
"Put them on," Batoya ordered. It wasn't one of his ships, that was for certain. He was surprised to see a tactical droid appear, one with grey markings.
"Admiral Batoya, I see you have suffered losses," the droid intoned. "Permission to reinforce your fleet?"
Batoya was not pleased to have another tactical droid around, but at the moment he could hardly afford to say no. "Permission granted. However, droid, I was not aware you would be coming at all?" They could not have been so close by without his knowledge unless it had been kept from him. The only reason for that would be if they knew the attack had been coming, but if so, then who-?
"Our orders were provided only very recently," the droid replied. "General Grievous sends his regards."
Batoya gripped the railing before him tightly the bones in his hands popped. "Grievous, you say," he breathed through clenched teeth. "I will have to send my thanks."
"You are welcome."
"Master Kenobi, I'm going back for Anakin!" Ahsoka said.
"Ahsoka, no! We have to get out of here," Obi-Wan ordered. "Anakin can take care of himself."
"But master-!"
"Trust in the Force, padawan. But, if you can't do that, then trust in your master."
Ahsoka looked back at the drifting wreck of vulture droids behind them, even as the elements of the swarm that were still online began to regroup.
"We don't have time for this, Ahsoka!" Obi-Wan said. "If those cruisers are able to cut us off, we'll lose even more lives. Think! How would you even help him?"
Ahsoka didn't know, but she also didn't care. He needed help, wasn't it her job as his padawan to be there alongside him?
She felt Rancisis' mind reach out and touch hers. It was like touching a calm lake, feeling the cool water rush over her. It didn't remove her ability to think or act, but she felt calmer herself. And because of that calm, she was able to sense something else as well. She sensed Anakin, sensed his own calm presence. More than that, however, she sensed his mind at work.
He was not afraid. He had a plan. And he wanted her to go.
"Understood, master," she said, releasing her fears and doubts. She trusted in her master and in the Force.
As the fear faded, she actually felt a bit of amusement. Anakin Skywalker and R2-D2, alone on a Separatist warship.
She almost felt sorry for the tinnies.
Anakin's eyes were closed, feeling the Force around him. He felt the presence of Ahsoka grow distant as she made the jump to hyperspace, just as he'd felt Obi-Wan's. The rest of the Republic forces would be gone by now and he felt Rancisis' absence strongest of all thanks to the disconnect from his battle meditation.
Now, he had his own task to attend to. Namely, survival.
"Artoo, you there?" He asked, but the droid was silent, but that was hardly unexpected. He let out his worries for his small mechanical friend and focused on the Force. Outside, the void was a blur of starlines as his ship spun endlessly. He could probably get the power back online if he tried, but if he did that then the fleet outside would know he was there.
With a gentle push by an invisible hand, it began to slow, then straighten out. After a few minutes, the ship was still drifting, but no longer spinning. He angled it towards the Charybdis and pushed.
If he'd known this would happen, he'd have brought a space suit and infiltrated the Charybdis via one of its airlocks. Instead, he'd have to take the far more dangerous approach of getting in through the hangar.
Overseer Durel was panicking, but he did his best to hide it. That was important in an overseer, as when one's slaves saw their master panicking they started to get ideas.
The hangar of the Charybdis was covered in flames after a fuel rod being carried by a mechanical crane had suddenly dropped and exploded. Slaves and Zygerrians rushed about amid offline droids, trying to repair damaged systems and keep the flames from spreading.
"GET THAT FIRE OUT, YOU SKUGS!" Durel shouted, electro-whip striking the nearest slave, a twi'lek who cried out with pain as he collapsed to the ground, dropping the fire-retardant. He marched over to the slave, who was shaking on the ground. "GET UP!"
"Master, please!" The twi'lek begged. "I am so tired-!" He was cut off by his own screams as Durel struck him again with the whip. Durel prepared to strike the disobedient slave again, when pain lanced through him and his breath left him.
Durel stared down at his chest in confusion as a blue beam of humming light poked out of it. The whip slid from his hand, dropping to the ground and the slaves who'd been tasked with stopping the dying flames all stared at him in shock. Or, perhaps, they stared at the one who had killed him.
Anakin Skywalker pulled his lightsaber free of the Zygerrian slaver, who crumpled to the ground with a face frozen confusion and pain. Anakin's face was dark with murder and the slaves drew back in fear. The look passed in an instant, however, and he held out his hand towards the slave.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"Jedi," the twi'lek breathed out, as if unable to believe what was in front of him.
"It'll be alright," Anakin promised. "We just need to-!"
"Jedi!" One of the Zygerrians suddenly noticed him and Anakin turned, lightsaber rising to block a blaster shot, deflecting back towards the one who'd shot at him. However, the sound had gotten the entire hangar's attention. Still, it was only a few dozen Zygerrians, nothing he couldn't handle.
Vulture droids suddenly flew into the hangar, mechanical limbs articulating as they landed, surrounding him. Their laser cannons pointed towards him.
Anakin was still pretty sure he could take them… but if they fired, the slaves would get caught in it.
He looked back towards his ship, still offline. However, he noted a blue-white astromech rolling away from it, heading towards a maintenance hatch. Hiding his smile, Anakin lowered his lightsaber and let it drop to the ground, deactivated, then raised his hands.
"I am General Anakin Skywalker of the Grand Army of the Republic," he said. "And I surrender."
Fortunately, the Republic seemed disinclined towards making another attack on the Charybdis. Batoya had no doubt their reinforced fleet could handle such an assault, but only because of Grievous' forces. He had no wish to owe the cyborg general anymore than he already did.
Batoya was working his way through another bottle of spice wine, reading reports on the status of his ship in his quarters. Salfe was absent as she was still injured, so he was alone.
The Charybdis had done more damage to itself than the Republic had. They'd have to get to a shipyard for full repairs, but until they'd gotten the hyperdrive online that wasn't happening. Batoya refused to have his flagship towed back to port by tractor beam.
His stunt with the interdiction field had won him the day, true, but it was a nearer thing than he would have preferred and he had no idea how the Count would react to the setback. The battle might have been a victory, but he had only destroyed a few fighters and bombers, while losing a cruiser and damaging his battlecruiser. He needed some sort of good news to give.
There was an alert from his door and it opened a moment later to reveal one of his bridge officers, carrying a datapad of his own.
"Admiral, repair crews have managed to contain the worst of the damage," the officer said, looking as stressed as Batoya felt. "Droids in the affected areas are coming back online. Slave collars have been reactivated as well."
"Any trouble with the slaves?" Batoya asked, recalling the Count's words.
"Some, but they've been dealt with," the officer replied simply and Batoya was grateful for the succinct answer.
"Where is Ruggle?" Batoya asked. "He should be here too, should he not?"
A hint of nervousness crossed the officer's face and Batoya felt his anxiety deepen. "Engineer Ruggle… departed the Charybdis aboard his transport an hour ago."
"What?" Batoya stared at the Zygerrian. If Ruggle was gone, that meant-. But the Charybdis wasn't-. But the modifications he'd had done to Ruggle's hyperdrive, to the distress beacon, that would mean-.
"We were unable to stop him from leaving and-!" The officer began quickly, but Batoya's fist slamming into his face silenced him.
"SEND SHIPS AFTER HIM!" Batoya shrieked. "HAVE THEM SCOUR EVERY CORNER OF SPACE BETWEEN HERE AND RAXUS!"
The officer coughed up blood and one of his teeth into a hand and nodded swiftly. "Y-yes, admiral," he said through a mouthful of sanguine fluid.
As he left, Batoya crashed down into his seat, head in his hands. How? How had it all gone wrong? His eyes swept over to the source of his misery, the datapad containing older reports. The reports of station raids and lost ships and foiled plans.
The Hound. Den Brystel. He was to blame for everything.
Batoya was about to rise from his seat and take command of another ship, damn whatever would be said about him abandoning his flagship, and hunt down that wretch when his commlink alerted himself. He grabbed it and all but screamed into it.
"WHAT?!?" He demanded.
The response came in a hurry, from an excited sounding Zygerrian. Batoya stared at his commlink.
"You captured who?!?"
Ruggle reclined in his seat, holding a glass of spice wine from a bottle he'd 'borrowed' from the Admiral's quarters during a previous visit, trying not to shake too much and to relax into the strong fingers of Salfe, though that was difficult for different reasons.
"I imagine…" Ruggle said, his mouth suddenly dry and he swallowed another mouthful of wine. "Gah, I imagine I must seem like such a coward to you. Shaking like this, after a single battle."
"Not at all," Salfe said reassuringly. Bacta patches covered her side. "You stole me away from the admiral while he wasn't looking, after all. That is no small amount of bravery."
"He'll be enraged," Ruggle chuckled nervously. "I almost look forward to it."
"You are very strong to have spoken to him so fearlessly," Salfe said, then let out a small grunt of pain as she moved her arm a bit higher than she should have. Ruggle quickly leapt out from the chair, turning and sloshing himself with wine in his effort to get away.
"Are your wounds opening up again?!?" Ruggle asked quickly, worry plain in his voice.
"I'm fine," Salfe said after checking her bacta patches. Her eyes went down to the wine-stained clothes. "I'll get a towel to keep that from staining."
"Please, don't!" Ruggle said quickly. "I shouldn't have accepted this massage, I'm sorry. You're wounded and should be resting."
"But-," Salfe began, wanting to protest.
"Please, I would hate for you to get hurt on my account," Ruggle said, going over to grab the towel himself and wiping at the stain, only to end up smearing it across his robes. He was whispering to himself. "That Zygerrian brute, I'll… I'll… Grah!"
"Are you sure you don't want me to do anything for you?" Salfe said, stepping closer. "I don't want to seem ungrateful for being freed."
"Slavery is a repugnant practice, you need not feel any gratitude towards me for doing what's right," Ruggle stated. "If I could, I'd have that damn Batoya thrown out an airlock along with every Zygerrian slaver in the galaxy."
Salfe couldn't help but giggle at the casual declaration. Ruggle smiled at her softly, his anxiety and post-battle jitters slowly fading in the face of that musical laugh. Then, the droid pilot's voice came over the intercom.
"Sir, the hyperdrive is experiencing fluctuations," the droid said.
"What sort of fluctuations?" Ruggle asked. Then, he felt the telltale feeling of the ship dropping back into subspace as the hyperdrive failed, nearly tossing the both of them from their feet, and his commlink lost its connection. "Oh, sithspit."
"Is it the Charybdis?" Salfe asked, the tremor of fear in her voice enough to make his blood go cold just from hearing it.
"No, no," he said reassuringly. "Just hyperdrive issues. Go see the medical droid while I deal with this." He laughed as convincingly as he could manage. "We'll have it fixed in no time. I'm quite good at this sort of thing, you know." Salfe gave him a small smile that did not seem entirely certain, but left for the medbay. Ruggle quickly left for the bridge, where he found that several droids, including the commander, had been thrown about during the reversion and rendered offline. Those that had survived were struggling to deal with the increasing number of issues, most notable of which, Ruggle saw, was the planet that they were rapidly approaching.
"Oh, sithspit," he swore again as he ran towards the engines console and saw, of course, that they were offline. Several other systems were offline as well, including shields and the limited weapons systems of the craft, while the distress beacon appeared to have been activated despite not having been commanded to. But that was impossible, even if their hyperdrive had suffered a malfunction, there shouldn't have been way for it to affect the engines and the-. "Batoya, you bastard."
"Sir, we're going to crash!" One of the droid shouted in his ear and he shoved it aside as he began to work. If they could just get the engines back online, they might be able to avoid crashing or-. No, not avoid crashing, he determined, but rather than slamming full force into a mountain, he might be able to guide them into a slightly more comfortable landing.
"Well, that's not a Republic ship," Den noted. They had been in deep space, preparing their next raid, when they'd detected a distress beacon, on a Republic frequency no less. Communications from Boonta indicated an attack was underway, so his hope was that the Republic fleet had sent someone to either pick them up or otherwise guide them out. At the very least, reinforcements or resupplies would have been handy. That hope was quickly dashed, however, as their sensors indicated it was a Hardcell-class transport that had apparently crash landed on a remote planet.
"What do we do?" Raptor asked, glancing at him. "It could be a trap."
"Pretty costly ship to waste like this as bait," Jatilla noted. "And the Zygerrians are almost as stingy as nemoidians."
"We've been costing them a lot more than one ship with our raids," Raptor countered.
"Why not just let it drift? Why crash it?"
"To make us think it's more genuine," Raptor shrugged. "Or maybe they crashed it by accident and decided to use it as bait."
"It may be wiser to retreat rather than stay," Xalas said, crossing his arms.
"But there could be slaves down there," Jatilla pointed out. "We can't just abandon them."
"I understand your desire to help," Xalas said, placing a hand on the nautolan's shoulder. "However, we must look to our own safety before that of others." Raptor nodded.
Den considered the sensor readings of the transport. "Lifesigns?"
"Two confirmed lifesigns," his sensors officer called.
"Not a very populated ship," he murmured to himself. "Or not very many survivors."
"Orders, sir?" Raptor asked.
"Venture, do you read me?" Den said, activating the comm.
"Venture here."
"Launch the vulture droids and have them scout the area," Den ordered before turning to Raptor. "Prepare one of the shuttles with a ground team. There are two people down there, I want them both taken alive, Zygerrians or not."
"Yes, sir," Raptor said, nodding.
"Keep us near a jump point and keep the hyperdrives ready," Den said. "Tell the other ships to do the same and to stay alert. If this is a trap, we can't afford to be caught unawares."
Ruggle watched through the debris of his short-lived personal starship as the swarm of vulture droids flew down, their articulated legs snapping out as they landed, their heads popping up to scan the area. Soonfter, a shuttle touched down, the Maxillipede-class ship landing near the crash site of the burning Hardcell. Behind him, Salfe shivered at the sight and Ruggle wanted to reach out and tell her everything would be fine, but she'd know he was lying to her. He held a small, hold-out blaster in one trembling hand and he waited to see Zygerrians burst out of the shuttle with heavy blasters and orders to kill him.
He was a bit startled when it was not Zygerrians that emerged, but Kaleesh, wearing bone masks made of some alien animal and wielding metal blades that looked welded together. Following them were white-armored clone troopers who surveyed the area.
Ruggle crept back down from his lookout spot, considering this new information. Had the vulture droids been reprogrammed? If so… On the one hand, the Republic was his enemy. On the other hand, they were his best bet at getting both himself and Salfe as far away from Batoya as was physically possible. But if he surrendered, Dooku would probably have him assassinated to prevent him from spilling any secrets. But if he complied with the Republic and showed he was a valuable resource, perhaps they'd protect him? But the vessels he had created had caused countless deaths, how could he know they wouldn't just-
"Hello there," an alien voice said and Ruggle felt a blade press against his neck. A glance towards Salfe showed one of the kaleesh had appeared behind her as well, blade at her throat.
"Who are you?" The second kaleesh demanded.
"You are not Zygerrian, but you are not dressed as slaves," the first noted. Salfe had previously been wearing a revealing set of garments and so Ruggle had gifted her a set of his own clothes, which were still well-made, albeit not exactly a perfect fit for the taller togrutan woman. "Separatists?"
"We-, I-!" Ruggle began, when a pair of clone troopers emerged, blaster carbines in hand.
"The commander said he wanted them alive," one of the troopers stated. "We'll take them from here."
The kaleesh holding Ruggle growled and Ruggle began panting quickly as he felt the blade press against his throat. "They're slavers."
"We're not!" Salfe shouted. "I was a slave of Admiral Batoya, but this sullustan freed me!"
The kaleesh seemed unconvinced, but more clone troopers had arrived.
"I said, we'll take them from here," the clone repeated, his tone lowering. "Release them."
The kaleesh looked to one another and Ruggle felt the blade press deeper for a moment, drawing a droplet of blood. Then, the blade was gone and Ruggle fell to his knees, breathing hard. Moments later, he was forced back to his feet by the clone troopers and binders were slapped around his wrists. A cry of pain from Salfe sobered him up and he saw that her wounds had reopened as she too was restrained.
"Don't hurt her!" Ruggle cried out. "She's wounded, please!"
"Shut it, seppie," the clone said, shoving him forward. "Onto the shuttle."
Batoya hung in the air, grasping at his throat as an invisible grip squeezed around it.
"You have failed me for the last time, Batoya," Count Dooku said, his fingers drawing tighter.
"M-my lord-!" Batoya forced through his closing windpipe. "G-good! News!"
For a moment, Batoya's vision darkened and he felt himself about to slip loose of his mortal coil. Then, he was on his hands and knees, collapsed on the ground, and he could breathe again.
"Speak," the holographic image of Dooku said, glaring down at him as though he were an uninteresting bug.
"I have… I have captured a Jedi!" Batoya said between breaths. "Jedi Knight… Anakin… Anakin Skywalker!"
"Have you now?" Dooku asked, only a modicum of interest entering his voice. "A single Jedi is hardly a victory worth celebrating in the face of such a failure."
"A momentary… setback, count," Batoya said, struggling to his feet.
"Just as the continued survival of those raiders is a 'momentary setback'?" Dooku asked and Batoya felt his throat starting to close again.
"I already have a fleet out looking for that ship!" Batoya said quickly. In truth, that fleet was looking for Ruggle Schmong's ship, but Dooku didn't need to know that. "And I assure you, the Charybdis' damage is nowhere near as significant as whatever reports you may have heard!"
"It had better be, Scintel," Dooku said. "Your sister's status is not enough to save you from my wrath. There will be no more chances."
"Thank you, count," Batoya said, bowing. "What should I do with Skywalker?"
Dooku considered the Zygerrian before him. "I sense that there is yet a role for Skywalker to play in this war. Find out what he knows, but do not kill him. Depending on what you learn, you may be able to make up this failure to me."
"Of course, my lord," Batoya said and the communication cut out.
Count Dooku watched as the fool vanished from sight. The Charybdis was a lost cause, that much was clear. More than likely, the entire sector would fall soon enough, as Batoya's flagship had been made the lynchpin of its defense by the admiral's own incompetence. Had the vessel remained intact, he'd likely have just killed Batoya and given command of the ship to another more worthy of it. As it was…
The Republic might be delayed by his master's machinations, if only to allow Dooku some time to recover a few assets, but ultimately they would return and in greater numbers to deal with Batoya. This was not how the plan should have gone, but there was little truly being lost after all. There were other fleets and more competent commanders to lead them.
"General," Dooku said as he turned to the other holographically displayed individual in the room who had been listening to the conversation. "Recall your vessels and take your pick of Batoya's ships and officers that you would like for your next offensive."
"As you wish," General Grievous said, bowing before he too vanished.
At the very least, Batoya would be permitted to play his final role by contributing to the turning of Anakin Skywalker.
So Batoya's sister is the zygerrian queen.
If after grevious has taken the most intact of batoya's ships, den can then raid them and capture batoya, steal the tech databases and free skywalker, then he should be able to bargain passage through zygerrian space back to the republic by offering to return batoya.
If after grevious has taken the most intact of batoya's ships, den can then raid them and capture batoya, steal the tech databases and free skywalker, then he should be able to bargain passage through zygerrian space back to the republic by offering to return batoya.
Its very clear a crucial part of Anakins plan is summoning the Hound and whatever resources it has in the sector. Lucky for Anakin thats currently a functional skirmish fleet of combat capable vessels and the resources to rescue any and all slaves aboard. By lucky I mean the force absolutely rigged this in Anakins favor.
Anakin completed his plan without the hound in the latest chapter. He's currently in the wish for the best phase
R2-D2 snuck off and currently has Anakins message ready to transmit, the moment that goes out the Hound is in endgame.
I'm gonna swap my post schedule for Flood, Not Food and Dog of War, so Century Zero will get updates on Wednesdays and DoW will get updates on Mondays.
31: Arc 10 - Cut Off, Part 6
New
Arc 10 - Cut Off, Part 6
"I told you, the Republic is coming for us!"
"They lost the battle."
"They'll be back, I just know it!"
"Look, do you want to get electrocuted? Because there are ways to do it that won't get me shocked with you."
"I'm serious. Look, there's… there's going to be a meeting tonight."
"A what?"
"It's just a few of us. We wanted to talk about what might happen if a certain 'mad dog' comes barking."
"Will you shut up about that?!? If the Zygerrians hear you-!"
"The Zygerrians are busy trying to keep this rust bucket from falling apart and they've got us working triple shifts to do it! And with the Jedi-!"
"Jedi? What Jedi?"
"You hadn't heard? The Zygerrians captured a Jedi during the attack."
"A Jedi… You're sure? It's not just a rumor?"
"I saw him in the hangar. Cut down a Zygerrian with that laser sword of his, but surrendered after a swarm of vultures came in."
"A real Jedi…"
"Still think it's hopeless?"
"Maybe…"
"Come to the meeting with me."
"... Alright."
Ruggle tested the binders that had been clamped tight around his wrist. They were Republic issue, not Zygerrian, so there was no electrical shock, nor any tightening that resulted from it, so he supposed he should be grateful for small mercies.
After they'd taken him aboard the ship that he could only assume to be the Hound which had been causing so much trouble for Batoya, he and Salfe had been separated. No one had told him where they were taking her, nor had they spoken about anything else for that matter, save for telling him to move whenever he was too slow. They'd taken him to an interrogation room, one that fortunately seemed to be empty of any torture tools, instead simply consisting of a table, two chairs, and a hook the kept his binders fastened to the table, limiting his mobility.
Then, he was left alone. He'd felt the ship jump to hyperspace almost as soon as the shuttle had detached from the airlock, so the only noise was the background hum of the reactor as they travelled to stars-only-knew where. Ruggle tried to listen to that somewhat familiar hum to calm himself, but thoughts of what was to be done to him, to Salfe, were an ever-present distraction.
Finally, after almost an hour, the door into the room slid open. Ruggle turned to see a young human man, perhaps early twenties, step inside. His rank insignia indicated he was a lieutenant commander
"Hello," the man said, nodding as he took his own seat across from Ruggle. Ruggle finally noticed that the man was carrying two cups of what looked like fresh caf, one of which he set down in front of Ruggle, just out of reach of his restrained hands. "My name is Lieutenant Commander Den Brystel, I'm in charge of this little expedition. And you are?"
This was the man who had been causing Batoya such a headache? He looked more like a university student than a hardened veteran who had spent two weeks behind the lines. Perhaps a little haggard and tired around the eyes, but Ruggle had expected someone much older.
"I'm…" Ruggle paused for a fraction of a second too long. "Urwin. Urwin Bosta."
"I see," Brystel said, sipping his caf. "And the lady you were captured with was…?"
"Salfe," Ruggle said, seeing no point in lying about that since Salfe had already told the clones and kaleesh about it. "She was a slave. I freed her."
"Quite a brave thing to do, mister Bosta," Brystel said. "And what was your function, exactly?"
"I'm a technician," Ruggle said. It wasn't a complete lie.
"I see," Brystel said again and he took another sip. Ruggle felt the scratchiness in his throat and coughed. "So, you must be quite skilled."
"Not really," Ruggle said. "I'm just good with engines, I suppose."
"Still, for the Zygerrians to bring you in rather than rely on one of their own or a slave, I imagine you must be talented," Brystel said. Ruggle felt a chill run down his spine.
"I don't know," Ruggle shrugged, trying to play it off. "Maybe the admiral liked me."
"Indeed," Brystel said. "So, what happened to your ship?"
"We crashed," Ruggle said. "Engine trouble."
"Hyperdrive trouble too, or so I hear," Brystel said. He had spoken to Salfe then? What had she told him? Did they know who he was?
"I don't know," Ruggle said. "I was just sent to deal with the engine, when the crash happened."
"Interesting," Brystel said, drawing out a datapad and tapping away at it. A minute passed by and Ruggle could no longer keep himself from speaking.
"What's going to happen to me?" He asked, his fear leaking into his voice. "And to Salfe?"
"The togrutan is currently undergoing medical treatment for her wounds while we ascertain her identity," Brystel stated without looking up. "After she's recovered, she'll be kept in the brig with the Zygerrian prisoners until then."
Another chill ran down Ruggle's spine. "No! You can't do that to her!"
Brystel looked up at him with utter disinterest in his eyes. "And why is that?"
"They're slavers!" Ruggle said with growing horror. "They'll mistreat her! You can't allow that!"
"I can allow very many things under current Republic military law," Brystel said. "Permitting interpersonal squabbles between prisoners of war to be handled by the ranking officer among said prisoners is one of them. As for them being slavers… You are a part of the Separatist Alliance, a traitor to the Republic, and you have acted in aid of the Zygerrians, have you not? That makes you complicit in their crimes, including the act of slavery."
"No, I-... I freed Salfe!" Ruggle argued.
"Yes, which is one of the diminishing number of reasons why I haven't had you shot and your carcass dumped out the airlock," Brystel replied plainly. "Assuming, of course, that she was a slave and is not a Separatist like yourself."
"She isn't!" Ruggle cried out. "You have to believe me, it's true!"
"Perhaps it is," Brystel said. "Perhaps it isn't. For her sake, I hope she has left some kind of record behind her on the holonet. It will make it far easier to determine she is who you both claim."
Ruggle's heart pounded in his chest. "And… if she hasn't?"
"Then I will have to assume she is a Separatist and keep her in the brig for the foreseeable future," Brystel replied simply.
"No!" Ruggle said, trying to rise from his seat, but the binders allowed him only so much. Brystel didn't flinch, didn't move, just watched him with a cold gaze.
"I have little choice in keeping her in a cell filled with Zygerrians," Brystel said. "The Hound's brig is nearly full and I think you can understand my hesitation in having freed slaves watch over their former masters. Much quicker to just kill the Zygerrians in battle, not to mention far less likely to get me charged with war crimes again."
"Then have her be watched over by the slaves, please," Ruggle begged.
"They all seem to think that she's a Separatist," Brystel shrugged. "She would fare no better with them than a Zygerrian overseer would."
"Then- then-," Ruggle tried to think of something. "Just let her go! She isn't a threat to you!"
"You're both threats to me, now that you've been aboard the Hound," Brystel stated. "Neither of you will be leaving this ship until we get back to Republic space. Or, rather, if we get back."
"I… I have information I can share," Ruggle offered.
"I have little interest in how the engines of a Separatist cruiser work," Brystel replied. "The information a lowly technician can provide me is very little and I have no reason to bargain with one."
"I… I…" Ruggle swallowed hard, then hung his head. "I lied… I'm Ruggle Schmong. I… I designed the Subjugator-class of vessel and the reactor that powers it."
"I'm aware," Brystel said simply and Ruggle's head snapped up to see the man looking at him with the same disinterest as before. "But thank you for the confirmation."
There was a small click and the binders around Ruggle's wrists snapped open. Brystel gestured towards the other cup of steaming caf in front of him.
"Have a drink."
"I… I don't understand," Ruggle said, but he did take a long sip from the caf. It had cooled to just below the perfect temperature.
"It's not important that you do," Brystel replied. "But it is important that you answer my questions truthfully in the future. Failure to do so will result in unfortunate consequences to you and to your Separatist friend."
"She's not a separatist," Ruggle said again. "That is the truth."
"As I said, perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't," Brystel said. "Had you been truthful with me from the beginning, I would have been far more inclined towards believing you when you both claim she was a slave. Since you weren't, you'll have to convince me of your honesty."
Ruggle hung his head. "What… do you want to know? About the Charybdis?"
"We'll get to that in time, but for starters, I hear the Republic just attacked Boonta," Brystel said, leaning back in his seat. "Tell me everything about the battle."
Anakin Skywalker had to admit, the Zygerrians weren't giving him a lot of options. He was restrained both by physical deadlocks, as well as mechanically controlled cuffs that were wired to deliver electrical bursts if he struggled too much. He suspected they could also be activated if he refused to answer questions, but thus far he had received no visitors, let alone been interrogated.
Finally, the door to his cell opened and the ray shield dropped. Anakin couldn't help the look of disgust on his face as a Zygerrian in an ornate, tailored uniform, blue and gold, with the Confederacy's symbol prominently displayed on shoulder patches, stepped into the cell.
"Now, that is not an expression I would expect from a Jedi," the Zygerrian said with an amused smile. "But then, you're no ordinary Jedi, are you, Skywalker?"
"You have no idea," Anakin said, just as the Zygerrian began to float in the air. The alien slaver's eyes flew wide, hands instantly going to his throat as he began to choke and cough.
A moment later, electricity coursed through Anakin and he cried out in pain, losing his concentration and letting the wretch drop to the ground, spluttering.
"Enough of that," the Zygerrian said, rising to his feet. He seemed to recover quite quickly, straightening himself and his uniform. "Should you try that again, know that you will not be the only one to suffer for it. Ten slaves will be executed as well. The same is true should you try to escape or refuse to cooperate."
Anakin felt his fury rising in him, begging him to wield it, to simply crush the throat of the Zygerrian before him and be done with it, damn the consequences. He restrained that anger, pushed it down and let out a breath.
"You'll pay for what you've done."
"What I've done?" The Zygerrian asked, as though astonished at the suggestion. "I was content to simply control this sector of space, to defend it against Republic incursion. You and that mad dog of yours have been the ones causing so much chaos and death."
Mad dog? Anakin wondered to himself. The Hound perhaps? If so, it was pleasing to see that Brystel had apparently left his mark.
"Wait, you're the one they put in charge of this sector? This ship?" Anakin asked, letting skepticism into his tone. The Zygerrian's face hardened.
"Yes," he replied, before smiling smugly. He drew himself up to his full height, his chest puffing out proudly. "I am Batoya Scintel, brother of Miraj Scintel, Queen of Zygerria. Admiral of the Confederate Navy and commander of the Charybdis and all the forces in this sector."
"Oh," Anakin said, as though it were merely a small surprise. "I would have thought someone important would be given a ship this powerful. Like Grievous or Ventress."
Batoya's face clouded with darkness and Anakin didn't need the Force to know the man's outrage was genuine.
"Grievous is a close-minded fool and savage!" Batoya snarled. "Once the Charybdis is prepared and my fleet has dealt with your friends scurrying about behind my lines, I will show the whole galaxy what it means when Zygerria goes to war."
"Clearly it's not that impressive," Anakin said lightheartedly. "Since you haven't even managed to take down a single light cruiser."
Batoya took a step closer, raising one hand as if to strike Anakin, then stopped. His hand fell and the Zygerrian smiled cruelly as he instead produced a remote. With the press of a button, Anakin once more felt the electric current of his restraints. This time, however, he was ready for it. The only sound that emerged from his lips was a grunt as he refused to let the Zygerrian hear him scream.
Batoya held down the remote's button for a long time, but Anakin refused to yield. If he died, so be it. He refused to give the Zygerrian the satisfaction.
Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over. Anakin's chest heaved and he was soaked with sweat. Batoya stepped closer, studying him coldly.
"Count Dooku expects me to ask you questions about current Republic strategies," he said. "Where your ships are, what they carry, what their plans are. I don't care about that. Tell me where the Hound and its commander are hiding."
Anakin let out a tired laugh. "Even if I knew… I wouldn't tell you…"
Batoya's smile grew and he stepped back. "Activate the holo," he ordered to some unseen observer. A moment later, Anakin was staring at the miniature holoforms of ten scared looking people. Some were human, some twi'lek, some were other aliens. "Open the airlock."
An instant later, those ten people vanished as they were sucked out into the void.
"NO!" Anakin shouted, struggling in his cuffs, only for another burst of electricity to course through him.
"You killed those slaves," Batoya said after he'd gone limp again. "Not me. Don't kill another ten by refusing to answer."
Anakin took in a deep breath, then exhaled. He looked up at Batoya and the Zygerrian admiral went still at the expression on his face.
"When I kill you," Anakin said slowly. "You will wish it was as fast as that."
Batoya took an involuntary step back, fear flashing across his face. Then, bluster returned and he scoffed, but still looked away.
"You have twenty-four hours, Jedi," Batoya stated. "If you aren't willing to talk by then, I'll start executing ten more slaves every hour."
With that, Batoya turned and quickly stepped out of the cell. Anakin tried to calm the burning rage within him, but there was no point to it.
If he did escape, Batoya would certainly follow through on his word. However, Anakin couldn't exactly tell him where Den was, since he didn't know himself.
Suddenly, there was a shuffling sound and Anakin looked around his cell, trying to determine where it had come from. A moment later, a small item dropped down through the vent in the ceiling. The object hadn't even reached the floor before Anakin swiftly drew it to his hand with the Force, hoping that his silent watchers hadn't seen. Given no shocks came, nor any Zygerrians to investigate, he assumed not and he was able to examine the item more closely. He was surprised to see that it was an earbud commlink, one that he recognized as originating from his own ship's supplies.
"Artoo?" Anakin whispered quietly, trying to keep his lips from moving too much. He wouldn't have thought the bulky droid could have fit in such a tight vent. The language that came out of the vent, while not galactic basic, was also not binaric. Nonetheless, Anakin recognized it.
It was Jawaese. Specifically, it had been something along the lines of 'Shut up, idiot, or they'll hear us.'
Once more with the Force, Anakin pushed the commlink into his ear, where it was mostly hidden so long as no one went looking in there. A moment later, he heard a familiar droid's endearing beep.
"Artoo!" Anakin almost could have shouted for joy and he was barely able to whisper instead. Hanging his head as if in defeat, Anakin hid his mouth from most of the cell, letting him whisper quietly. "Artoo, where have you been?"
The droid told Anakin a surprisingly long and complicated story, one involving the astromech, a Zygerrian intent on throwing a Jawa slave down a garbage chute, a dianoga, and a trash compactor. The rude Jawa who was now assisting them had crawled through the vents to deliver the earpiece after Artoo had found it couldn't just roll up to Anakin's cell to break him out.
"You always did make friends fast," Anakin whispered, as much to himself as to the droid. "Listen, I need you to get a message out to the Republic, tell them they need to attack the Charybdis as soon as they've regrouped. We can't let it escape with all these slaves aboard. After that, we'll see about getting us all out of here."
Artoo whistled in concern, but Anakin just gave the droid a small laugh.
"Nah, we'll be fine. Just make sure to not get into any trouble and keep your sensors up in case any Republic ships come."
Artoo seemed unconvinced, but agreed and Anakin heard shuffling as the Jawa above them departed.
Den stepped into the medical bay, passing by a few droids and clone medics as they went to work upon the various patients. Most were slaves with health issues from their forced servitude, but others were among the warriors who had been engaged in the close-quarters fighting of their recent boarding actions, clones and Kaleesh predominant among them. The one he was concerned with, however, was separate from the rest and kept under the guard of two clone troopers in a secluded corner of the bay.
"Hello," Den greeted as he stepped into the small, curtained off room. It was occupied by a single medical droid and their patient, a togrutan in a sullustan's clothes. "You are Salfe, are you not?"
The togrutan stared at him with wide eyes, but she nodded. She seemed quite young, perhaps in her twenties at the latest. Fresh bacta patches covered her arm and she barely seemed to notice the medical droid as it worked.
"I am Lieutenant Commander Den Brystel," he said, taking a seat at the foot of her bed. "I'm in command of the Hound and our additional forces. I'm sorry to intrude on you during your time of recovery."
Salfe watched him closely, then whispered, quietly, "I know who you are."
Den cocked his head to one side. "Oh?"
"The mas-, the admiral spoke often of you," Salfe said. She was staring down at the folds of her blanket, a soft smile on her face. "He's been very annoyed ever since you started raiding. I think he's afraid."
"Is he now?" Den asked, hiding his surprise. He had no doubt he'd been an annoyance, but striking fear in such a high-ranking foe seemed like too much to hope for. They'd accomplished very little in the grand scheme of things.
Salfe nodded. "The other slaves have heard of you too. They think you're coming to save them."
"If I can, I'll certainly try," Den replied evenly.
Salfe let out a sigh of relief that told him she believed him. She glanced up at him. "And… what about mister Ruggle?"
"He is being held in a secure portion of the ship," Den said carefully. "I can't exactly allow a Separatist to walk freely, after all."
"I see," Salfe said softly. "Will he be safe?"
"We don't torture our prisoners, if that's what you're asking," Den said. "He won't suffer at our hands."
"Thank you," Salfe whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "He was… he was very kind to me. I told the aliens with the bone masks that he freed me, that he was different from the slavers, but they didn't listen."
"The kaleesh," Den nodded. "They suffered at the hands of the Zygerrians, just as you did. I hope you don't hold their anger against them."
Salfe said nothing to that and the pause dragged out for a long moment.
"If I may," Den began, coming to the point. "I'd like to ask you a few questions. About anything you might know about our shared enemies."
Salfe looked up at him, a determined glint in her eyes. Den recognized that glint from the eyes of almost every slave they'd managed to free.
"Anything."
"It seems you're quite popular, commander," Jatilla said as Den stepped back onto the Hound's bridge. The nautolan gestured to a holomap of the local sector, one which now included a significantly higher number of blinking red dots moving about it than it had the day before. "Batoya's got half his fleet out looking for you."
"Glad to have gotten under his fur," Den said with a small smile.
"Did you learn anything from the sullustan?" Raptor asked.
"I did indeed and he's agreed to continue providing more information to us as needed," Den replied. He glanced towards Hook. "I saw the togrutan as well. What's your assessment?"
Hook nodded. "She's pretty tough. It doesn't seem like her wounds were inflicted during the crash."
Den's brow furrowed. "The sullustan?"
"Possibly, but she was insistent it was Batoya," Hook answered. "I put her through a medical scan as well. This isn't the first time she's received cuts and wounds that would normally scar, but she seems to have always had surgery performed to remove them."
"Zygerrians don't like their pretty slaves disfigured," Jatilla said with disgust, looking away as she held her arm.
Den nodded. "Her story checks out. Regardless, I think it'd be better for her to stay in personal quarters for the time being. We have a few spare rooms, I recall."
"I can talk to her, if you want," Jatilla offered.
"Perhaps later," Den said. "For now, we have more pressing matters. The Charybdis appears to be undergoing more than just mechanical issues. Currently, numerous systems it possesses are disabled, including its interdiction device."
"We can get back to Republic space?" Hook asked.
"Even without interdiction, there's still a fleet in our way," Raptor pointed out and Den nodded.
"Precisely, and none of our ships are sufficient for surviving for long against such a force," he said, before gesturing to the map. "However, staying behind the lines are also no longer an option. Batoya has deployed in force to hunt us down."
"He's weakened his own frontlines to do it," Raptor noted. "The Republic will have to exploit that. We can probably hold out until then."
"Not likely," Slipknot said, shaking his head. "We've still been operating at a loss in terms of fuel and tibanna gas this whole time. Not to mention spare parts. We might manage another week before the Hound starts experiencing problems."
"It will take longer than that for the Republic to take advantage of this opportunity," Den said. "Even if we did abandon the Hound, we'd be left with whatever ships we've stolen, vessels that will inevitably face the same problems and aren't as powerful."
"So, we can't run and we can't hide," Raptor said, crossing his arms. "Fight to the end then?"
Xalas stepped forward. "We will gladly die if it means bringing death to our enslavers."
"Your willingness to die for the cause is admirable," Den said sincerely. "But I have no intention of this being our last stand. I believe there is a way out, though it will not be easy."
All of them stared at him, confused. Den manipulated the holomap, bringing up a shipyard. It was large, much larger than their usual targets. Despite this, it was occupied by only a single vessel.
"That's… that's insane," Jatilla said, staring in disbelief.
"Yes," Raptor agreed, though he sounded as amused as he was horrified. "But it just might work."
Xalas nodded in approval. "May the gods witness our glorious doom, then."
The hologram displayed a Providence-class ship with a half-destroyed prow.
R2-D2 was a miracle worker. Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn't very fond of droids, but he had to admit that Anakin's little blue astromech was one of the luckiest and most capable he'd ever known, though he wouldn't be telling Anakin that any time soon. His former padawan already had too much attachment to the droid, but it was times like these that he could see why.
"I understand how you all feel, my friends, but it simply isn't possible to launch another attack at this time," Palpatine said, sadly shaking his head. "The plight of these slaves is a terrible one and we should do all we can for them, but we cannot in good conscience leave our own citizens unprotected when madmen like Grievous are on the loose. Sending additional vessels is… simply not an option we have."
Yoda, Mace Windu, Obi-Wan, the Chancellor, as well as Mas Amedda and Director Armand Isard stood in Palpatine's office. The Director in particular seemed displeased to see the Jedi.
"Where exactly does this information come from?" The man asked, crossing his arms. Windu and Yoda shared a look.
"General Skywalker's droid was the one who contacted the Temple," Windu stated, receiving an unimpressed look from Isard and Amedda.
"A droid from a missing in action general," Isard said critically.
"The codes the droid provided were all in order," Obi-Wan said, turning Isard's gaze upon him.
"Jedi codes," the Director noted, glancing at the Chancellor.
"Is there a chance the information is correct?" Palpatine asked, seemingly hopeful. Obi-Wan knew he and Anakin were friends and he was glad to see the Chancellor had not been blinded by individuals like Isard.
"It's possible," Isard admitted. "However, my sources indicate that while Batoya has redistributed his forces, he is still maintaining a large force guarding the Charybdis. We should also keep in mind the possibility that he's setting a trap in case we try to capitalize on what only appears to be an opportunity to take out a powerful enemy vessel."
"Master Yoda?" The Chancellor asked, turning to the Jedi in question.
"Hrm, difficult to see the future is," Yoda admitted and Obi-Wan could tell Isard was suppressing a snort. "But trust in Skywalker's judgement, I do."
"We don't know for certain it is the general's judgement," Isard pointed out icily.
"Indeed," Amedda said, stepping forward. "For all we know, this droid could easily have been reprogrammed to deliver this message as a lure, correct codes or not."
"The Charybdis has thus far been a local threat, one that has been content to confine itself to the Boonta system," Windu stated. "However, once it's repaired, we have no assurances that it will remain that way. The Malevolence disrupted our operations throughout the Outer Rim and all indications show this vessel to be even more dangerous with the addition of interdiction technology. We cannot ignore it."
"Would it be possible to send a team of Jedi then?" The Chancellor suggested. "A direct assault was unable to deal with the ship, even under the capable command of Master Rancisis. Or, perhaps, a commando team, director?"
"That could be done," Isard nodded. "A few days and I can have a saboteur team ready to strike."
"And do what?" Obi-Wan asked, brow furrowing. Isard turned to him, a hard expression on his face.
"And remove a threat to the Republic," Isard stated.
"By destroying it, along with all the slaves?" Windu asked, crossing his arms.
And Anakin, Obi-Wan thought to himself. Sacrifice was the duty of a Jedi, he knew, but there was a difference between knowing that and fully believing it.
"I will do whatever is necessary to safeguard the Republic," Isard replied callously.
"I believe it would be a mistake to undertake such a mission as anything but a last resort," Windu said, turning back to the Chancellor. "A team of Jedi could be sent, but it will take time to recall a sufficient number."
Obi-Wan looked towards Windu, but the Jedi Master said nothing to him.
"I see," the Chancellor said, a look of somber consideration on his face. "Then, Skywalker will remain imprisoned, alongside all those slaves, until we can rescue them all."
Obi-Wan was no more fond of the idea than the Chancellor was. Anakin had struggled to leave his past behind and being near so many Zygerrians would not be easy for him. Obi-Wan could only trust his former padawan would do what was right and remain safe.
"Trust in the Force, we must," Yoda said and the Chancellor nodded.
"Indeed, Master Yoda, indeed."
The Chancellor didn't notice the glint of amusement in Yoda's eyes as the small Jedi Master glanced at Obi-Wan, who was deep in thought.
Captain Hrague would never say it aloud, but for some time now he had begun to suspect that Admiral Batoya was losing it.
Several times now, he and other high-ranking officers of Batoya's fleet had been summoned in holoform to watch as the admiral either had one of them executed or beat them to death himself. All because of one tiny gnat buzzing away in their ears.
That was all the Hound was, after all. An insect. True, this 'Den Brystel' had managed to evade them quite well, even managed to destroy a few stations of low value and capture some transports, but that was it. Yet, Batoya had done the unthinkable and crippled his own forces by spreading them out to catch a small fleet of raiders when the Republic itself was knocking on their door.
Hrague, at the very least, didn't have to worry about that. The Slavemaker was still damaged from that suicide run by the Arquitens-class cruiser that had rammed them during the first Battle of Boonta, the beginning of this madness. Most of its systems had been repaired, but the prow was still mangled, destroyed sections having to be cut away. Still, another week in the spacedock of Feladun and it would be ready to live up to its name once more.
Hrague was enjoying what had turned out to essentially be an unofficial vacation for him. His Zygerrian crew was, of course, still working the slaves to the bone to get the ship fixed faster, but for the captain, he was content to relax in his private quarters and catch up on some reading while the rest of the galaxy burned around him.
Given all the raids, one might assume that it was a poor idea to be so relaxed. However, the efforts of Batoya's bane had been limited to small ports, repair yards, and mining facilities, the sort of sites that no one would really miss. Feladun's spacedock was a shipyard of not insignificant size. True, most of its defensive fleet had been sent away to hunt for Brystel and Ruggle, but it was still protected by a Munificent-class cruiser and a few squadrons of vulture droids. A far stronger defense than anything the cowardly Republic insects were interested in fighting.
An alert from his commlink drew his attention away from the holonovel he'd been indulging in, a heroic story about a slave who had learned to accept his rightful place after being plucked from a savage backwater world by his new master and introduced to the wonders of the galaxy, culminating in the slave sacrificing himself to destroy a ship filled with rebellious slaves who'd tried to tempt him back into their savage ways. He threw the commlink a dirty look before activating it.
"This is Hrague," he said.
"Captain, there's a shuttlecraft requesting permission to board, but there appears to be some confusion as we weren't expecting a shipment," his first officer's voice said.
"Are their codes correct?" Hrague asked impatiently.
"Well, yes, sir," the Zygerrian said. "But our next fuel resupply isn't due for another two rotations."
"Is there anything else unusual about the shuttle?" Hrague asked. "Lifesigns?"
"No lifesigns, sir. Droid pilots."
"There's your explanation then," Hrague stated. "A droid must have messed up. Still, no reason to turn away fuel. Bring it aboard and get it unloaded, then find out what the issue was."
"Yes, captain."
With that, the communication cut out and Hrague returned to his holonovel.
Overseer Latai let out a yawn as the shuttle touched down, the Maxillipede-class craft's legs popping out to let it crawl the last few meters into the landing zone. He'd barely gotten any sleep in the last rotation. Repairing the Slavemaker was no easy task for any of them, the Overseers least of all, as it was their duty to make sure the slaves kept hard at work. It required constant vigilance, but such things could get tiring.
"Alright, move it, skugs," Latai said, gesturing to the shuttle with his unactivated electro-whip. "The Captain wants this unloaded quickly."
His team of slaves moved towards the shuttle as it lowered its boarding ramp and the rear doors opened, revealing a pair of B1 pilot droids with commlink booster packs on their backs. The pair quickly stepped down and into the hangar.
"Hey, where are you two going?" Latai demanded as they began to walk towards the edge of the hangar. The two droids stopped and turned, glancing at one another.
"Uh, we require a recharge," the droid said.
"That's right," the other droid stated. "Just a recharge. That's all."
Latai stared at the two droid, whose small movements would have seemed like nervous twitches on an organic.
"Whatever," he said. "Just stay out of the way of the crew. This is a warship, not an oil bath resort."
"You got it, boss!" The first droid said cheerfully and the two B1's quickly departed. Latai supposed he should probably note their erratic behavior in his report and recommend the two droids go for a memory wipe.
Nah, he already had his hands full with paperwork. He didn't need any more to add to that.
"What are you standing around for?" Latai demanded as he realized the slaves had paused in their work of unloading fuel cannisters. He activated the electro-whip and slapped it against the ground. "Get back to work!"
Two reprogrammed pilot droids stepped into the corridor of the Slavemaker and soon found a console with a dataport. After looking around surreptitiously, one turned around and allowed the other access to the booster pack, which opened to reveal it had been emptied of its internals to allow space for a computer spike. The second droid withdrew it and quickly inserted it into the dataport.
"Mission accomplished," the first droid said and fist bumped the second with a soft clink of metal. The console's screen turned to static for a moment, then reverted to normal. A moment later, a viewscreen appeared, revealing a nautolan woman.
"You got it working?" Jatilla asked, sounding almost surprised. One of the droids saluted, while the other planted its hands on its hips.
"You seem shocked," the second droid said. "We're fine-tuned automata, not lab-grown meat like those clones. We never fail!"
"Right, right," Jatilla said almost wearily. "Is the virus uploaded?"
"Yes, boss lady!" the first droid said in a serious voice. "Awaiting further orders!"
"Just make sure no one interrupts me while I work on the ship's computers, alright?" Jatilla said. "Don't touch the data spike."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Whatever you say."
First Officer Jeric reclined in the captain's chair, enjoying the sense of command, however fleeting and meaningless it might truly be. The Slavemaker was a powerful ship and he was pleased to serve aboard it, but one day he knew he'd command it.
"First Officer," his communications officer said. "I'm registering an unauthorized transmission being sent."
"Oh?" Jeric asked. It was uncommon, but hardly unheard of for a Zygerrian to call home without asking first. However, it was equally as possible that a slave had somehow gotten hold of a commlink or accessed a console and was trying to do the same. "What is the source?"
"I'm trying to find out, sir, but it keeps bouncing around the ship," the officer stated. Jeric leaned forward in his seat. That was not usual.
"What are the contents of this transmission?" He asked, a note of concern in his voice.
"I can't access it, sir, something is blocking me."
"First officer," his sensors officer said. "Ships are emerging from hyperspace."
"What?" Jeric asked, now genuinely confused. One unregistered shipment was an oddity, but multiple was-
"It's the raiders!" His sensors officer cried out, just as Jeric saw a fleet of captured Separatist craft jump into the system.
"Raise shields and order the shipyard to detach from us," Jeric shouted. There was no time to consider why the Republic had suddenly decided to commit suicide like this. "Gunners, prepare to fire."
"Sir, our turbolasers aren't responding!" His gunnery officer shouted. "They're offline!"
"What?!?"
Suddenly, the holographic display on the bridge activated without his input, revealing the glowing blue form of a Republic naval officer. One whose face was well-known to the Zygerrians by now.
"This is Lieutenant Commander Den Brystel of the Hound," Batoya's bane said. "Some of you may have heard of my efforts in this region. Thus far, I have freed over one thousand slaves and destroyed a dozen Zygerrian outposts. I have done this without losing a single ship. Now, I have come for you."
"Intimidation tactics?" Jeric scoffed. "Pathetic. We'll rip him apart."
"Sir, this communication… its going out across the entire ship!" His comms officer cried out. "The hangar, the mess hall, the slave quarters, everywhere!"
"All of you who suffer under the Zygerrians, stand with me now and fight! Kill your overseers and freedom is yours!"
Jeric snarled. "Get me control of our turbolasers and blast that cowardly Republic fool into space dust!"
The gunnery officer was silent, staring at his console in confusion for a moment, before he spoke. "Sir, we… just got control of our weapons systems back?"
"What are you waiting for then?!? Target the nearest ship!"
The powerful weapons of the Slavemaker rotated and began to charge. Nearby, the Munificent-class cruiser charged with defending Feladun had begun to move into position with its heavy guns, placing itself between the shipyard and the attacking fleet, its forward shields powering up to guard against the inevitable attack.
"Ready, sir!" His gunnery officer called.
"Open fire!" Jeric commanded and he watched in satisfaction as the heavy guns of the Slavemaker loosed bolts of red death. That satisfaction swiftly turned to horror, however, as those bolts slammed not into the enemy's shields, but into the exposed aft of their Munificent-cruiser ally.
"Sir, our targeting systems have been taken over!" His gunner officer called to him, even as the Munificent-class cruiser's engines failed from the unexpected salvo. "Our turbolasers won't stop firing!"
"Sir, security reports that there have been multiple outbreaks of violence by slaves throughout the ship!"
Jeric froze with uncertainty.
"G-get the captain," he said. When no one moved, he shouted, "GET THE CAPTAIN UP HERE, NOW!"
Den watched as the Slavemaker turned its allied vessel into a twisted wreck of slag metal. With the ship's targeting systems scrambled thanks to Jatilla's efforts, the ship was soon left alone. The shipyard's workers had already disengaged the locks on the Providence-class cruiser, but the ship was unmoving, though not due to their nautolan slicer.
"They'll be getting their bearings soon," Den said. "Launch vulture droids. Have a squadron fly into the enemy hangar at top speed."
"I don't have control over their point defenses," Jatilla warned him.
"It's fine if we lose a few," Den replied, even as the two squadrons of vulture droids they'd managed to acquire from previous raids burst forward. "Second squadron, screen the fleet. Do we have their comms?"
"One moment," Jatilla said as she was working on her console, before nodding. "We've got it."
"Begin broadcasting false alerts throughout the ship. Hull breaches, slave revolts, containment leaks, and anything else that will cause their response time to slow." Den turned back to the bridge, nodding towards a waiting Xalas and Raptor. The latter was already in spacetrooper gear, while the former had managed to find a spacesuit that fit over his alien biology, while also allowing him to wear his bone mask, freshly marked in what Den doubted was just red paint. "Get your troops ready. This whole plan depends on speed."
"Come," Xalas said, placing a hand on Raptor's shoulder. "A glorious death awaits us!"
"I'll settle for success," Raptor replied, but nodded anyways as the two swiftly departed. In prior raids, Den had preferred to risk only twenty clones armored in spacetrooper gear, as well as a handful of Kaleesh and other aliens out of the countless who wanted to fight. It was callous, but if something went wrong, he didn't want to lose his entire force.
Not this time. There could be no mistakes and capturing a vessel the size of the Slavemaker was going to require a lot more than just a few dozen soldiers. Every single clone he could spare, every slave with a big enough deathwish for them to agree to fight, he sent them all with every last weapon he could arm them with, whether it was a Republic-issued blaster, one of Separatist or Zygerrian make that they'd raided, or even just a long pipe take from their spare parts they wouldn't need.
"Vulture droids are angling for the hangar, sir," his sensors officer announced. There was a long pause, and then, "Contact! Reading a massive explosion in their hangar bay."
"Jatilla?" Den glanced at the nautolan for confirmation. She gave him a silent thumbs-up and he smiled. "Alright then. All assault craft, move in for docking."
"WHAT IN BLAZES IS GOING ON!?!" Captain Hrague demanded as he stormed onto the bridge of the chaos that was his ship. Jeric turned, looking simultaneously relieved to see him as well as terrified. The bridge crew were all in a panic, trying to figure out what was going on.
"Captain, the Repubic has launched an attack!" The fool said quickly, almost jumping out of the captain's chair at Hrague's approach.
"I can see that, you little skug, what I want to know is why WE FIRED ON OUR ALLY?!?" Hrague yelled, grabbing his first officer by the ear to drag him closer.
"Our targeting computers have been-!" Jeric's next words were cut off by the sound of a blaster shot burning its way through his sternum. The Zygerrian dropped to the ground and Hrague snarled at the corpse, holstering his blaster. The sudden execution had gotten the attention of the entire bridge crew.
"C-captain, the enemy seems to be trying to dock with us," one of his officer managed. "And there are reports of slave revolts on almost every deck."
"Recall all security teams to the bridge," Hrague ordered. " Once we've repelled the boarders, we'll clear this ship deck by deck of any slaves who haven't learned their lesson. Prepare countermeasures for their slicing. Deactivate the turbolasers and launch fighters."
"Our… our hangar suffered an explosion. It seems the rhydonium fuel aboard that shuttle…" The officer trailed off at the dark look on Hrague's face.
"Long-range communications?" He asked.
"Jammed, captain," the officer said, staring intently at the floor. Hrague wanted to execute him too, but that was more likely to result in a mutiny than it was to get his people to stop being so incompetent.
"Move us out of the shipyard," he ordered. "And prepare to jump to hyperspace."
"They're going to make a run for it," his sensors officer said.
"Can you shut down their hyperdrive?" Den asked, glancing at Jatilla, but she shook her head.
"They're trying to cut me out," she said. "It's all I can do to keep their targeting systems scrambled and the false alerts up."
"Then we'll need to hurry," Den said and he felt the Hound shake as the docking port connected them to the Slavemaker. "All ships connected?"
"Venture, here. Assault teams ready."
"Fighting Chance connected and ready to board."
"Zygerria's Doom ready."
Den nodded. "Launch the attack."
Lieutenant Casfer fought hard to catch his breath as he pressed his back to the wall. He felt as though he'd sprinted the length of the ship just to outrun those slaves, only nearly avoiding being blasted by his own squad of Zygerrian soldiers in their efforts to kill the ungrateful skugs. And now he was about to have to deal with an entirely new problem in the form of a Republic assault squad.
Battle droids marched down the corridor, taking up positions closer to the airlock the Republic was just outside of. Casfer had no issue with the droids acting as shields for the rest of them, especially with the pair of B2 super battle droids that had accompanied the squad of B1's.
The sparks of laser cutters began to shower around the blast doors as the Republic began to cut through. Casfer readied his blaster, just as all the others did, trying to calm his breathing and pounding heart.
The blast doors burst open, sending debris down the corridor and Casfer flinched at the sudden heat and brightness of the blast, feeling a small piece of shrapnel drag a bloody cut across his ear. The sound of blaster fire filled the corridor as the droids opened fire, but no return shots came from beyond the smoke-obscured airlock. Instead, four metal spheres bounced down the corridor, landing amidst the droids.
The droid poppers went off, turning the shields of the Zygerrians into piles of scrap that collapsed to the ground. One organic soldier who'd been too close was also caught in the blast and let out a pained cry as his nervous system suffered a shock that made him also drop to the ground, stunned.
Shapes emerged from the airlock and the Zygerrians opened fire, taking the first in the chest. The freed human slave collapsed to the ground, dead, but the others behind him kept moving. Blue and red bolts fired and several soldiers went down, even as more and more freeed slaves continued to emerge, along with white-armored clone troopers.
Dashing forward and drawing the most attention, however, were bone-faced Kaleesh wielding crude blades. They rushed the Zygerrian positions, letting out an alien war cry as they descended on their foes with ruthless savagery, hacking apart soldiers. Many died, but unless they were put down for good they just got up again and kept coming, heedless of their own lives.
"F-fall back!" Casfer shouted and he turned to run, only for an intense heat to burn through his shoulder and toss him to the ground. He landed poorly on his chest, knocking the breath from him and he gasped for air that just wouldn't come as he lay there, too stunned to even move.
Then a Kaleesh was in front of him, blade descending towards his throat.
"Security team four, respond!" The comms officer demanded. "Security team four?"
"What's going on out there?" Hrague asked. He could hear blasterfire outside the bridge and distant explosions getting closer. "Where are those security teams!?!"
"Captain, more slave uprisings are being reported," the officer said. "Several teams have been unable to withdraw and are now cut off or…"
The Zygerrian trailed off and Hrague snarled.
"Activate the shock collars!" He ordered. "Ship-wide, maximum power! Fry every last one of those treacherous skugs!"
"Sir, but if we do that, we'll lose half our organic crew!" The head overseer said, her face in dismay.
"And if we don't we'll lose the entire ship!" Hrague bit back. "Do it!"
"What about the boarding party?" The comms officer asked. "They have slaves with them that aren't equipped with shock collars. They'll kill us all if we do that."
"This is not a suggestion," Hrague said, his voice low and dangerous. "Obey my commands!"
The crew of Zygerrians looked around at one another, then at their captain.
"Commander, we're being hailed by the Slavemaker," the comms officer called. Den felt only somewhat surprised. It was hardly the first time Zygerrians had surrendered to him, but this would certainly have been the most humiliating for them.
"Put them on," he allowed. A moment later, a Zygerrian in the uniform of a head overseer appeared in holoform, sitting in a captain's chair. Den couldn't help but notice the blaster markings on the chair, despite the fact that none of his forces had reached the bridge yet.
"This is Overseer Treva, in command of the Slavemaker," the overseer said. "Withdraw your troops and ships, allow us to jump to hyperspace, or we will activate the shock collars of our slaves and kill them all."
"A straightforward request," Den noted to himself, his face displaying only stony disinterest. "Here's my counter-offer: Surrender your ship now and live to face trial in Republic space."
The overseer sneered. "There are over a thousand slaves aboard this ship. Can you live with so many 'innocent' deaths on your hands?"
"Yes," he replied coldly. "I can live with that. The question you should be asking yourself is, will you? If you do execute all those slaves, I have very little reason to keep the Kaleesh from being the first to reach your bridge."
The overseer swallowed. "You're bluffing," she said.
"Am I?" Den asked. "You're free to test that assumption at your own peril."
The two officers stared one another down. In the end, the Zygerrian was the first to blink.
"We… will surrender ourselves into the custody of your clone troopers," the overseer said, hanging her head in defeat.
Den smiled softly.
Ahsoka slipped into the hangar bay, doing her best to act natural as she moved towards the Twilight, while also trying to obscure the small backpack hanging off of her. The small cargo freighter was as much a useful tool as it was an ongoing project for her and her master, outfitted with upgrades and retrofitted parts to enhance it. Of course, the junker wasn't always the best at accepting those upgrades and parts, but it hadn't failed them yet. Or, rather, it hadn't gotten them killed yet.
R7 rolled alongside her, giving a soft whistle as the small droid also tried its best to be as unsuspicious as possible.
There's nothing unusual about me going to work on the ship, Ahsoka told herself as she nodded towards a pair of clone pilots who were walking past.
Ahsoka stepped onto the boarding ramp and trudged up and into the freighter, glancing behind her to make sure she wasn't seen. As she turned back around, however, she nearly ran straight into the waiting form of Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was leaning against the wall, an entirely unsurprised look on his face.
"M-master Kenobi!" Ahsoka said, smiling even as she inwardly cursed. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing, padawan," Obi-Wan said, looking more amused than displeased.
"I was just… going to do some maintenance on the Twilight," Ahsoka said sheepishly.
"Oh, really?" Obi-Wan asked. "Is that why you brought a backpack of what I am to assume are spare parts and not explosives and various other tools?"
"I was going to, uh, add a munitions launcher?" Ahsoka suggested. Obi-Wan smiled and Ahsoka closed her eyes, preparing for a scolding.
"Good, I'm sure that will help when we're trying to avoid being shot down on our way to the Charybdis."
Ahsoka opened her eyes, surprise and hope in them. "You're… you're coming with me?"
Obi-Wan looked back at her, his expression somber. "Anakin may no longer be my padawan, but he is still my responsibility in a way. He has had his own trials to face, more than most other Jedi. He needs us."
Then, he cracked a smile.
"Besides, I imagine he's not being the most gracious of houseguests. I practically expect the Zygerrians to be overjoyed when we come to get him."
"The last of the Zygerrian security teams have surrendered, sir," Raptor reported as he stepped back onto the bridge of the Hound. "All battle droids deactivated and the bridge crew surrendered the command codes to miss Jatilla. The Slavemaker is fully under our command."
Den nodded in approval. "Excellent. Terminate the prisoners, we won't be needing any more than those we already have," he ordered, before turning to look towards his comms officer. "Contact the Slavemaker's bridge."
A moment later, Jatilla, along with a team of slicers and engineers freed from slavery and clones of the same profession, appeared in holoform. She gave him a lazy salute, the grin on her face even wider than usual. "Quite a haul, commander. This ship's worth even more than all the credits I stole from the Banking Clan."
"Glad I could pad your resume," Den said with a smile, his amusement partly brought on by the relief of the battle having ended in victory with only a handful of casualties. "Progress?"
"Slaving a ship this big to the Hound is taking a bit of work." It was Slipknot who spoke now. "But Jatilla's working on getting a few of the droid crew reprogrammed to man the necessary systems. The two pilot droids are actually proving to be helpful with that, though I wish they'd be a bit less mouthy about it."
"Remember, all we need from it is engines, shields, and hyperdrive," Den said and both nautolan and clone nodded their understanding. "If you can't manage weapons in the time you have, that's fine. Keep up the good work, Brystel out."
Finally, Den turned to Xalas, who had approached silently.
"How goes the transfer?" He asked.
"Many of our new additions fell in battle," Xalas said, studying Den from behind his mask. "You inspired them to fight. I am pleased that tales of our efforts have spread so far."
"As am I," Den said. "But we can still do more once we've returned to Republic space and regrouped."
"I am not so sure," Xalas stated. "But you are the warlord."
Den tilted his head. "Surely you understand the Republic's greater resources can do more than anything we could hope to accomplish here."
" 'Can' and 'will' are two very different things in my experience," Xalas replied. "The Republic is the reason I was enslaved as much as the Huk were. You have my respect, Den Brystel, and my loyalty. The Republic has neither."
Den nodded. "I understand. Thank you for your trust."
"Do not abuse it."
Batoya glared through the viewport, incomprehension and rage plain on his face as cruiser after cruiser turned away and jumped into hyperspace, leaving Boonta, and him, behind. Within minutes, the Charybdis sat alone in orbit of the sole inhabited world of the system. Almost every ship in his fleet had been stolen from him by Grievous, ordered away to join in some nothing campaign, leaving him defenseless.
"Recall…" Batoya let out a long breath through gritted teeth. "All ships to this system. Every last one of them."
"Sir, our supply chain won't be able to handle that," one of his officers warned, staring at the floor and remaining perfectly still, as though trying to go unnoticed. "And with the raiders about…"
"It doesn't matter," Batoya stated, his voice quiet and low. "Only the Charybdis matters. Once it's repaired, I'll show them. I'll show them all."
Grievous, the Republic, Dooku, Skywalker.
Brystel.
"I told you, the Republic is coming for us!"
"They lost the battle."
"They'll be back, I just know it!"
"Look, do you want to get electrocuted? Because there are ways to do it that won't get me shocked with you."
"I'm serious. Look, there's… there's going to be a meeting tonight."
"A what?"
"It's just a few of us. We wanted to talk about what might happen if a certain 'mad dog' comes barking."
"Will you shut up about that?!? If the Zygerrians hear you-!"
"The Zygerrians are busy trying to keep this rust bucket from falling apart and they've got us working triple shifts to do it! And with the Jedi-!"
"Jedi? What Jedi?"
"You hadn't heard? The Zygerrians captured a Jedi during the attack."
"A Jedi… You're sure? It's not just a rumor?"
"I saw him in the hangar. Cut down a Zygerrian with that laser sword of his, but surrendered after a swarm of vultures came in."
"A real Jedi…"
"Still think it's hopeless?"
"Maybe…"
"Come to the meeting with me."
"... Alright."
Ruggle tested the binders that had been clamped tight around his wrist. They were Republic issue, not Zygerrian, so there was no electrical shock, nor any tightening that resulted from it, so he supposed he should be grateful for small mercies.
After they'd taken him aboard the ship that he could only assume to be the Hound which had been causing so much trouble for Batoya, he and Salfe had been separated. No one had told him where they were taking her, nor had they spoken about anything else for that matter, save for telling him to move whenever he was too slow. They'd taken him to an interrogation room, one that fortunately seemed to be empty of any torture tools, instead simply consisting of a table, two chairs, and a hook the kept his binders fastened to the table, limiting his mobility.
Then, he was left alone. He'd felt the ship jump to hyperspace almost as soon as the shuttle had detached from the airlock, so the only noise was the background hum of the reactor as they travelled to stars-only-knew where. Ruggle tried to listen to that somewhat familiar hum to calm himself, but thoughts of what was to be done to him, to Salfe, were an ever-present distraction.
Finally, after almost an hour, the door into the room slid open. Ruggle turned to see a young human man, perhaps early twenties, step inside. His rank insignia indicated he was a lieutenant commander
"Hello," the man said, nodding as he took his own seat across from Ruggle. Ruggle finally noticed that the man was carrying two cups of what looked like fresh caf, one of which he set down in front of Ruggle, just out of reach of his restrained hands. "My name is Lieutenant Commander Den Brystel, I'm in charge of this little expedition. And you are?"
This was the man who had been causing Batoya such a headache? He looked more like a university student than a hardened veteran who had spent two weeks behind the lines. Perhaps a little haggard and tired around the eyes, but Ruggle had expected someone much older.
"I'm…" Ruggle paused for a fraction of a second too long. "Urwin. Urwin Bosta."
"I see," Brystel said, sipping his caf. "And the lady you were captured with was…?"
"Salfe," Ruggle said, seeing no point in lying about that since Salfe had already told the clones and kaleesh about it. "She was a slave. I freed her."
"Quite a brave thing to do, mister Bosta," Brystel said. "And what was your function, exactly?"
"I'm a technician," Ruggle said. It wasn't a complete lie.
"I see," Brystel said again and he took another sip. Ruggle felt the scratchiness in his throat and coughed. "So, you must be quite skilled."
"Not really," Ruggle said. "I'm just good with engines, I suppose."
"Still, for the Zygerrians to bring you in rather than rely on one of their own or a slave, I imagine you must be talented," Brystel said. Ruggle felt a chill run down his spine.
"I don't know," Ruggle shrugged, trying to play it off. "Maybe the admiral liked me."
"Indeed," Brystel said. "So, what happened to your ship?"
"We crashed," Ruggle said. "Engine trouble."
"Hyperdrive trouble too, or so I hear," Brystel said. He had spoken to Salfe then? What had she told him? Did they know who he was?
"I don't know," Ruggle said. "I was just sent to deal with the engine, when the crash happened."
"Interesting," Brystel said, drawing out a datapad and tapping away at it. A minute passed by and Ruggle could no longer keep himself from speaking.
"What's going to happen to me?" He asked, his fear leaking into his voice. "And to Salfe?"
"The togrutan is currently undergoing medical treatment for her wounds while we ascertain her identity," Brystel stated without looking up. "After she's recovered, she'll be kept in the brig with the Zygerrian prisoners until then."
Another chill ran down Ruggle's spine. "No! You can't do that to her!"
Brystel looked up at him with utter disinterest in his eyes. "And why is that?"
"They're slavers!" Ruggle said with growing horror. "They'll mistreat her! You can't allow that!"
"I can allow very many things under current Republic military law," Brystel said. "Permitting interpersonal squabbles between prisoners of war to be handled by the ranking officer among said prisoners is one of them. As for them being slavers… You are a part of the Separatist Alliance, a traitor to the Republic, and you have acted in aid of the Zygerrians, have you not? That makes you complicit in their crimes, including the act of slavery."
"No, I-... I freed Salfe!" Ruggle argued.
"Yes, which is one of the diminishing number of reasons why I haven't had you shot and your carcass dumped out the airlock," Brystel replied plainly. "Assuming, of course, that she was a slave and is not a Separatist like yourself."
"She isn't!" Ruggle cried out. "You have to believe me, it's true!"
"Perhaps it is," Brystel said. "Perhaps it isn't. For her sake, I hope she has left some kind of record behind her on the holonet. It will make it far easier to determine she is who you both claim."
Ruggle's heart pounded in his chest. "And… if she hasn't?"
"Then I will have to assume she is a Separatist and keep her in the brig for the foreseeable future," Brystel replied simply.
"No!" Ruggle said, trying to rise from his seat, but the binders allowed him only so much. Brystel didn't flinch, didn't move, just watched him with a cold gaze.
"I have little choice in keeping her in a cell filled with Zygerrians," Brystel said. "The Hound's brig is nearly full and I think you can understand my hesitation in having freed slaves watch over their former masters. Much quicker to just kill the Zygerrians in battle, not to mention far less likely to get me charged with war crimes again."
"Then have her be watched over by the slaves, please," Ruggle begged.
"They all seem to think that she's a Separatist," Brystel shrugged. "She would fare no better with them than a Zygerrian overseer would."
"Then- then-," Ruggle tried to think of something. "Just let her go! She isn't a threat to you!"
"You're both threats to me, now that you've been aboard the Hound," Brystel stated. "Neither of you will be leaving this ship until we get back to Republic space. Or, rather, if we get back."
"I… I have information I can share," Ruggle offered.
"I have little interest in how the engines of a Separatist cruiser work," Brystel replied. "The information a lowly technician can provide me is very little and I have no reason to bargain with one."
"I… I…" Ruggle swallowed hard, then hung his head. "I lied… I'm Ruggle Schmong. I… I designed the Subjugator-class of vessel and the reactor that powers it."
"I'm aware," Brystel said simply and Ruggle's head snapped up to see the man looking at him with the same disinterest as before. "But thank you for the confirmation."
There was a small click and the binders around Ruggle's wrists snapped open. Brystel gestured towards the other cup of steaming caf in front of him.
"Have a drink."
"I… I don't understand," Ruggle said, but he did take a long sip from the caf. It had cooled to just below the perfect temperature.
"It's not important that you do," Brystel replied. "But it is important that you answer my questions truthfully in the future. Failure to do so will result in unfortunate consequences to you and to your Separatist friend."
"She's not a separatist," Ruggle said again. "That is the truth."
"As I said, perhaps it is, perhaps it isn't," Brystel said. "Had you been truthful with me from the beginning, I would have been far more inclined towards believing you when you both claim she was a slave. Since you weren't, you'll have to convince me of your honesty."
Ruggle hung his head. "What… do you want to know? About the Charybdis?"
"We'll get to that in time, but for starters, I hear the Republic just attacked Boonta," Brystel said, leaning back in his seat. "Tell me everything about the battle."
Anakin Skywalker had to admit, the Zygerrians weren't giving him a lot of options. He was restrained both by physical deadlocks, as well as mechanically controlled cuffs that were wired to deliver electrical bursts if he struggled too much. He suspected they could also be activated if he refused to answer questions, but thus far he had received no visitors, let alone been interrogated.
Finally, the door to his cell opened and the ray shield dropped. Anakin couldn't help the look of disgust on his face as a Zygerrian in an ornate, tailored uniform, blue and gold, with the Confederacy's symbol prominently displayed on shoulder patches, stepped into the cell.
"Now, that is not an expression I would expect from a Jedi," the Zygerrian said with an amused smile. "But then, you're no ordinary Jedi, are you, Skywalker?"
"You have no idea," Anakin said, just as the Zygerrian began to float in the air. The alien slaver's eyes flew wide, hands instantly going to his throat as he began to choke and cough.
A moment later, electricity coursed through Anakin and he cried out in pain, losing his concentration and letting the wretch drop to the ground, spluttering.
"Enough of that," the Zygerrian said, rising to his feet. He seemed to recover quite quickly, straightening himself and his uniform. "Should you try that again, know that you will not be the only one to suffer for it. Ten slaves will be executed as well. The same is true should you try to escape or refuse to cooperate."
Anakin felt his fury rising in him, begging him to wield it, to simply crush the throat of the Zygerrian before him and be done with it, damn the consequences. He restrained that anger, pushed it down and let out a breath.
"You'll pay for what you've done."
"What I've done?" The Zygerrian asked, as though astonished at the suggestion. "I was content to simply control this sector of space, to defend it against Republic incursion. You and that mad dog of yours have been the ones causing so much chaos and death."
Mad dog? Anakin wondered to himself. The Hound perhaps? If so, it was pleasing to see that Brystel had apparently left his mark.
"Wait, you're the one they put in charge of this sector? This ship?" Anakin asked, letting skepticism into his tone. The Zygerrian's face hardened.
"Yes," he replied, before smiling smugly. He drew himself up to his full height, his chest puffing out proudly. "I am Batoya Scintel, brother of Miraj Scintel, Queen of Zygerria. Admiral of the Confederate Navy and commander of the Charybdis and all the forces in this sector."
"Oh," Anakin said, as though it were merely a small surprise. "I would have thought someone important would be given a ship this powerful. Like Grievous or Ventress."
Batoya's face clouded with darkness and Anakin didn't need the Force to know the man's outrage was genuine.
"Grievous is a close-minded fool and savage!" Batoya snarled. "Once the Charybdis is prepared and my fleet has dealt with your friends scurrying about behind my lines, I will show the whole galaxy what it means when Zygerria goes to war."
"Clearly it's not that impressive," Anakin said lightheartedly. "Since you haven't even managed to take down a single light cruiser."
Batoya took a step closer, raising one hand as if to strike Anakin, then stopped. His hand fell and the Zygerrian smiled cruelly as he instead produced a remote. With the press of a button, Anakin once more felt the electric current of his restraints. This time, however, he was ready for it. The only sound that emerged from his lips was a grunt as he refused to let the Zygerrian hear him scream.
Batoya held down the remote's button for a long time, but Anakin refused to yield. If he died, so be it. He refused to give the Zygerrian the satisfaction.
Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over. Anakin's chest heaved and he was soaked with sweat. Batoya stepped closer, studying him coldly.
"Count Dooku expects me to ask you questions about current Republic strategies," he said. "Where your ships are, what they carry, what their plans are. I don't care about that. Tell me where the Hound and its commander are hiding."
Anakin let out a tired laugh. "Even if I knew… I wouldn't tell you…"
Batoya's smile grew and he stepped back. "Activate the holo," he ordered to some unseen observer. A moment later, Anakin was staring at the miniature holoforms of ten scared looking people. Some were human, some twi'lek, some were other aliens. "Open the airlock."
An instant later, those ten people vanished as they were sucked out into the void.
"NO!" Anakin shouted, struggling in his cuffs, only for another burst of electricity to course through him.
"You killed those slaves," Batoya said after he'd gone limp again. "Not me. Don't kill another ten by refusing to answer."
Anakin took in a deep breath, then exhaled. He looked up at Batoya and the Zygerrian admiral went still at the expression on his face.
"When I kill you," Anakin said slowly. "You will wish it was as fast as that."
Batoya took an involuntary step back, fear flashing across his face. Then, bluster returned and he scoffed, but still looked away.
"You have twenty-four hours, Jedi," Batoya stated. "If you aren't willing to talk by then, I'll start executing ten more slaves every hour."
With that, Batoya turned and quickly stepped out of the cell. Anakin tried to calm the burning rage within him, but there was no point to it.
If he did escape, Batoya would certainly follow through on his word. However, Anakin couldn't exactly tell him where Den was, since he didn't know himself.
Suddenly, there was a shuffling sound and Anakin looked around his cell, trying to determine where it had come from. A moment later, a small item dropped down through the vent in the ceiling. The object hadn't even reached the floor before Anakin swiftly drew it to his hand with the Force, hoping that his silent watchers hadn't seen. Given no shocks came, nor any Zygerrians to investigate, he assumed not and he was able to examine the item more closely. He was surprised to see that it was an earbud commlink, one that he recognized as originating from his own ship's supplies.
"Artoo?" Anakin whispered quietly, trying to keep his lips from moving too much. He wouldn't have thought the bulky droid could have fit in such a tight vent. The language that came out of the vent, while not galactic basic, was also not binaric. Nonetheless, Anakin recognized it.
It was Jawaese. Specifically, it had been something along the lines of 'Shut up, idiot, or they'll hear us.'
Once more with the Force, Anakin pushed the commlink into his ear, where it was mostly hidden so long as no one went looking in there. A moment later, he heard a familiar droid's endearing beep.
"Artoo!" Anakin almost could have shouted for joy and he was barely able to whisper instead. Hanging his head as if in defeat, Anakin hid his mouth from most of the cell, letting him whisper quietly. "Artoo, where have you been?"
The droid told Anakin a surprisingly long and complicated story, one involving the astromech, a Zygerrian intent on throwing a Jawa slave down a garbage chute, a dianoga, and a trash compactor. The rude Jawa who was now assisting them had crawled through the vents to deliver the earpiece after Artoo had found it couldn't just roll up to Anakin's cell to break him out.
"You always did make friends fast," Anakin whispered, as much to himself as to the droid. "Listen, I need you to get a message out to the Republic, tell them they need to attack the Charybdis as soon as they've regrouped. We can't let it escape with all these slaves aboard. After that, we'll see about getting us all out of here."
Artoo whistled in concern, but Anakin just gave the droid a small laugh.
"Nah, we'll be fine. Just make sure to not get into any trouble and keep your sensors up in case any Republic ships come."
Artoo seemed unconvinced, but agreed and Anakin heard shuffling as the Jawa above them departed.
Den stepped into the medical bay, passing by a few droids and clone medics as they went to work upon the various patients. Most were slaves with health issues from their forced servitude, but others were among the warriors who had been engaged in the close-quarters fighting of their recent boarding actions, clones and Kaleesh predominant among them. The one he was concerned with, however, was separate from the rest and kept under the guard of two clone troopers in a secluded corner of the bay.
"Hello," Den greeted as he stepped into the small, curtained off room. It was occupied by a single medical droid and their patient, a togrutan in a sullustan's clothes. "You are Salfe, are you not?"
The togrutan stared at him with wide eyes, but she nodded. She seemed quite young, perhaps in her twenties at the latest. Fresh bacta patches covered her arm and she barely seemed to notice the medical droid as it worked.
"I am Lieutenant Commander Den Brystel," he said, taking a seat at the foot of her bed. "I'm in command of the Hound and our additional forces. I'm sorry to intrude on you during your time of recovery."
Salfe watched him closely, then whispered, quietly, "I know who you are."
Den cocked his head to one side. "Oh?"
"The mas-, the admiral spoke often of you," Salfe said. She was staring down at the folds of her blanket, a soft smile on her face. "He's been very annoyed ever since you started raiding. I think he's afraid."
"Is he now?" Den asked, hiding his surprise. He had no doubt he'd been an annoyance, but striking fear in such a high-ranking foe seemed like too much to hope for. They'd accomplished very little in the grand scheme of things.
Salfe nodded. "The other slaves have heard of you too. They think you're coming to save them."
"If I can, I'll certainly try," Den replied evenly.
Salfe let out a sigh of relief that told him she believed him. She glanced up at him. "And… what about mister Ruggle?"
"He is being held in a secure portion of the ship," Den said carefully. "I can't exactly allow a Separatist to walk freely, after all."
"I see," Salfe said softly. "Will he be safe?"
"We don't torture our prisoners, if that's what you're asking," Den said. "He won't suffer at our hands."
"Thank you," Salfe whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "He was… he was very kind to me. I told the aliens with the bone masks that he freed me, that he was different from the slavers, but they didn't listen."
"The kaleesh," Den nodded. "They suffered at the hands of the Zygerrians, just as you did. I hope you don't hold their anger against them."
Salfe said nothing to that and the pause dragged out for a long moment.
"If I may," Den began, coming to the point. "I'd like to ask you a few questions. About anything you might know about our shared enemies."
Salfe looked up at him, a determined glint in her eyes. Den recognized that glint from the eyes of almost every slave they'd managed to free.
"Anything."
"It seems you're quite popular, commander," Jatilla said as Den stepped back onto the Hound's bridge. The nautolan gestured to a holomap of the local sector, one which now included a significantly higher number of blinking red dots moving about it than it had the day before. "Batoya's got half his fleet out looking for you."
"Glad to have gotten under his fur," Den said with a small smile.
"Did you learn anything from the sullustan?" Raptor asked.
"I did indeed and he's agreed to continue providing more information to us as needed," Den replied. He glanced towards Hook. "I saw the togrutan as well. What's your assessment?"
Hook nodded. "She's pretty tough. It doesn't seem like her wounds were inflicted during the crash."
Den's brow furrowed. "The sullustan?"
"Possibly, but she was insistent it was Batoya," Hook answered. "I put her through a medical scan as well. This isn't the first time she's received cuts and wounds that would normally scar, but she seems to have always had surgery performed to remove them."
"Zygerrians don't like their pretty slaves disfigured," Jatilla said with disgust, looking away as she held her arm.
Den nodded. "Her story checks out. Regardless, I think it'd be better for her to stay in personal quarters for the time being. We have a few spare rooms, I recall."
"I can talk to her, if you want," Jatilla offered.
"Perhaps later," Den said. "For now, we have more pressing matters. The Charybdis appears to be undergoing more than just mechanical issues. Currently, numerous systems it possesses are disabled, including its interdiction device."
"We can get back to Republic space?" Hook asked.
"Even without interdiction, there's still a fleet in our way," Raptor pointed out and Den nodded.
"Precisely, and none of our ships are sufficient for surviving for long against such a force," he said, before gesturing to the map. "However, staying behind the lines are also no longer an option. Batoya has deployed in force to hunt us down."
"He's weakened his own frontlines to do it," Raptor noted. "The Republic will have to exploit that. We can probably hold out until then."
"Not likely," Slipknot said, shaking his head. "We've still been operating at a loss in terms of fuel and tibanna gas this whole time. Not to mention spare parts. We might manage another week before the Hound starts experiencing problems."
"It will take longer than that for the Republic to take advantage of this opportunity," Den said. "Even if we did abandon the Hound, we'd be left with whatever ships we've stolen, vessels that will inevitably face the same problems and aren't as powerful."
"So, we can't run and we can't hide," Raptor said, crossing his arms. "Fight to the end then?"
Xalas stepped forward. "We will gladly die if it means bringing death to our enslavers."
"Your willingness to die for the cause is admirable," Den said sincerely. "But I have no intention of this being our last stand. I believe there is a way out, though it will not be easy."
All of them stared at him, confused. Den manipulated the holomap, bringing up a shipyard. It was large, much larger than their usual targets. Despite this, it was occupied by only a single vessel.
"That's… that's insane," Jatilla said, staring in disbelief.
"Yes," Raptor agreed, though he sounded as amused as he was horrified. "But it just might work."
Xalas nodded in approval. "May the gods witness our glorious doom, then."
The hologram displayed a Providence-class ship with a half-destroyed prow.
R2-D2 was a miracle worker. Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn't very fond of droids, but he had to admit that Anakin's little blue astromech was one of the luckiest and most capable he'd ever known, though he wouldn't be telling Anakin that any time soon. His former padawan already had too much attachment to the droid, but it was times like these that he could see why.
"I understand how you all feel, my friends, but it simply isn't possible to launch another attack at this time," Palpatine said, sadly shaking his head. "The plight of these slaves is a terrible one and we should do all we can for them, but we cannot in good conscience leave our own citizens unprotected when madmen like Grievous are on the loose. Sending additional vessels is… simply not an option we have."
Yoda, Mace Windu, Obi-Wan, the Chancellor, as well as Mas Amedda and Director Armand Isard stood in Palpatine's office. The Director in particular seemed displeased to see the Jedi.
"Where exactly does this information come from?" The man asked, crossing his arms. Windu and Yoda shared a look.
"General Skywalker's droid was the one who contacted the Temple," Windu stated, receiving an unimpressed look from Isard and Amedda.
"A droid from a missing in action general," Isard said critically.
"The codes the droid provided were all in order," Obi-Wan said, turning Isard's gaze upon him.
"Jedi codes," the Director noted, glancing at the Chancellor.
"Is there a chance the information is correct?" Palpatine asked, seemingly hopeful. Obi-Wan knew he and Anakin were friends and he was glad to see the Chancellor had not been blinded by individuals like Isard.
"It's possible," Isard admitted. "However, my sources indicate that while Batoya has redistributed his forces, he is still maintaining a large force guarding the Charybdis. We should also keep in mind the possibility that he's setting a trap in case we try to capitalize on what only appears to be an opportunity to take out a powerful enemy vessel."
"Master Yoda?" The Chancellor asked, turning to the Jedi in question.
"Hrm, difficult to see the future is," Yoda admitted and Obi-Wan could tell Isard was suppressing a snort. "But trust in Skywalker's judgement, I do."
"We don't know for certain it is the general's judgement," Isard pointed out icily.
"Indeed," Amedda said, stepping forward. "For all we know, this droid could easily have been reprogrammed to deliver this message as a lure, correct codes or not."
"The Charybdis has thus far been a local threat, one that has been content to confine itself to the Boonta system," Windu stated. "However, once it's repaired, we have no assurances that it will remain that way. The Malevolence disrupted our operations throughout the Outer Rim and all indications show this vessel to be even more dangerous with the addition of interdiction technology. We cannot ignore it."
"Would it be possible to send a team of Jedi then?" The Chancellor suggested. "A direct assault was unable to deal with the ship, even under the capable command of Master Rancisis. Or, perhaps, a commando team, director?"
"That could be done," Isard nodded. "A few days and I can have a saboteur team ready to strike."
"And do what?" Obi-Wan asked, brow furrowing. Isard turned to him, a hard expression on his face.
"And remove a threat to the Republic," Isard stated.
"By destroying it, along with all the slaves?" Windu asked, crossing his arms.
And Anakin, Obi-Wan thought to himself. Sacrifice was the duty of a Jedi, he knew, but there was a difference between knowing that and fully believing it.
"I will do whatever is necessary to safeguard the Republic," Isard replied callously.
"I believe it would be a mistake to undertake such a mission as anything but a last resort," Windu said, turning back to the Chancellor. "A team of Jedi could be sent, but it will take time to recall a sufficient number."
Obi-Wan looked towards Windu, but the Jedi Master said nothing to him.
"I see," the Chancellor said, a look of somber consideration on his face. "Then, Skywalker will remain imprisoned, alongside all those slaves, until we can rescue them all."
Obi-Wan was no more fond of the idea than the Chancellor was. Anakin had struggled to leave his past behind and being near so many Zygerrians would not be easy for him. Obi-Wan could only trust his former padawan would do what was right and remain safe.
"Trust in the Force, we must," Yoda said and the Chancellor nodded.
"Indeed, Master Yoda, indeed."
The Chancellor didn't notice the glint of amusement in Yoda's eyes as the small Jedi Master glanced at Obi-Wan, who was deep in thought.
Captain Hrague would never say it aloud, but for some time now he had begun to suspect that Admiral Batoya was losing it.
Several times now, he and other high-ranking officers of Batoya's fleet had been summoned in holoform to watch as the admiral either had one of them executed or beat them to death himself. All because of one tiny gnat buzzing away in their ears.
That was all the Hound was, after all. An insect. True, this 'Den Brystel' had managed to evade them quite well, even managed to destroy a few stations of low value and capture some transports, but that was it. Yet, Batoya had done the unthinkable and crippled his own forces by spreading them out to catch a small fleet of raiders when the Republic itself was knocking on their door.
Hrague, at the very least, didn't have to worry about that. The Slavemaker was still damaged from that suicide run by the Arquitens-class cruiser that had rammed them during the first Battle of Boonta, the beginning of this madness. Most of its systems had been repaired, but the prow was still mangled, destroyed sections having to be cut away. Still, another week in the spacedock of Feladun and it would be ready to live up to its name once more.
Hrague was enjoying what had turned out to essentially be an unofficial vacation for him. His Zygerrian crew was, of course, still working the slaves to the bone to get the ship fixed faster, but for the captain, he was content to relax in his private quarters and catch up on some reading while the rest of the galaxy burned around him.
Given all the raids, one might assume that it was a poor idea to be so relaxed. However, the efforts of Batoya's bane had been limited to small ports, repair yards, and mining facilities, the sort of sites that no one would really miss. Feladun's spacedock was a shipyard of not insignificant size. True, most of its defensive fleet had been sent away to hunt for Brystel and Ruggle, but it was still protected by a Munificent-class cruiser and a few squadrons of vulture droids. A far stronger defense than anything the cowardly Republic insects were interested in fighting.
An alert from his commlink drew his attention away from the holonovel he'd been indulging in, a heroic story about a slave who had learned to accept his rightful place after being plucked from a savage backwater world by his new master and introduced to the wonders of the galaxy, culminating in the slave sacrificing himself to destroy a ship filled with rebellious slaves who'd tried to tempt him back into their savage ways. He threw the commlink a dirty look before activating it.
"This is Hrague," he said.
"Captain, there's a shuttlecraft requesting permission to board, but there appears to be some confusion as we weren't expecting a shipment," his first officer's voice said.
"Are their codes correct?" Hrague asked impatiently.
"Well, yes, sir," the Zygerrian said. "But our next fuel resupply isn't due for another two rotations."
"Is there anything else unusual about the shuttle?" Hrague asked. "Lifesigns?"
"No lifesigns, sir. Droid pilots."
"There's your explanation then," Hrague stated. "A droid must have messed up. Still, no reason to turn away fuel. Bring it aboard and get it unloaded, then find out what the issue was."
"Yes, captain."
With that, the communication cut out and Hrague returned to his holonovel.
Overseer Latai let out a yawn as the shuttle touched down, the Maxillipede-class craft's legs popping out to let it crawl the last few meters into the landing zone. He'd barely gotten any sleep in the last rotation. Repairing the Slavemaker was no easy task for any of them, the Overseers least of all, as it was their duty to make sure the slaves kept hard at work. It required constant vigilance, but such things could get tiring.
"Alright, move it, skugs," Latai said, gesturing to the shuttle with his unactivated electro-whip. "The Captain wants this unloaded quickly."
His team of slaves moved towards the shuttle as it lowered its boarding ramp and the rear doors opened, revealing a pair of B1 pilot droids with commlink booster packs on their backs. The pair quickly stepped down and into the hangar.
"Hey, where are you two going?" Latai demanded as they began to walk towards the edge of the hangar. The two droids stopped and turned, glancing at one another.
"Uh, we require a recharge," the droid said.
"That's right," the other droid stated. "Just a recharge. That's all."
Latai stared at the two droid, whose small movements would have seemed like nervous twitches on an organic.
"Whatever," he said. "Just stay out of the way of the crew. This is a warship, not an oil bath resort."
"You got it, boss!" The first droid said cheerfully and the two B1's quickly departed. Latai supposed he should probably note their erratic behavior in his report and recommend the two droids go for a memory wipe.
Nah, he already had his hands full with paperwork. He didn't need any more to add to that.
"What are you standing around for?" Latai demanded as he realized the slaves had paused in their work of unloading fuel cannisters. He activated the electro-whip and slapped it against the ground. "Get back to work!"
Two reprogrammed pilot droids stepped into the corridor of the Slavemaker and soon found a console with a dataport. After looking around surreptitiously, one turned around and allowed the other access to the booster pack, which opened to reveal it had been emptied of its internals to allow space for a computer spike. The second droid withdrew it and quickly inserted it into the dataport.
"Mission accomplished," the first droid said and fist bumped the second with a soft clink of metal. The console's screen turned to static for a moment, then reverted to normal. A moment later, a viewscreen appeared, revealing a nautolan woman.
"You got it working?" Jatilla asked, sounding almost surprised. One of the droids saluted, while the other planted its hands on its hips.
"You seem shocked," the second droid said. "We're fine-tuned automata, not lab-grown meat like those clones. We never fail!"
"Right, right," Jatilla said almost wearily. "Is the virus uploaded?"
"Yes, boss lady!" the first droid said in a serious voice. "Awaiting further orders!"
"Just make sure no one interrupts me while I work on the ship's computers, alright?" Jatilla said. "Don't touch the data spike."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Whatever you say."
First Officer Jeric reclined in the captain's chair, enjoying the sense of command, however fleeting and meaningless it might truly be. The Slavemaker was a powerful ship and he was pleased to serve aboard it, but one day he knew he'd command it.
"First Officer," his communications officer said. "I'm registering an unauthorized transmission being sent."
"Oh?" Jeric asked. It was uncommon, but hardly unheard of for a Zygerrian to call home without asking first. However, it was equally as possible that a slave had somehow gotten hold of a commlink or accessed a console and was trying to do the same. "What is the source?"
"I'm trying to find out, sir, but it keeps bouncing around the ship," the officer stated. Jeric leaned forward in his seat. That was not usual.
"What are the contents of this transmission?" He asked, a note of concern in his voice.
"I can't access it, sir, something is blocking me."
"First officer," his sensors officer said. "Ships are emerging from hyperspace."
"What?" Jeric asked, now genuinely confused. One unregistered shipment was an oddity, but multiple was-
"It's the raiders!" His sensors officer cried out, just as Jeric saw a fleet of captured Separatist craft jump into the system.
"Raise shields and order the shipyard to detach from us," Jeric shouted. There was no time to consider why the Republic had suddenly decided to commit suicide like this. "Gunners, prepare to fire."
"Sir, our turbolasers aren't responding!" His gunnery officer shouted. "They're offline!"
"What?!?"
Suddenly, the holographic display on the bridge activated without his input, revealing the glowing blue form of a Republic naval officer. One whose face was well-known to the Zygerrians by now.
"This is Lieutenant Commander Den Brystel of the Hound," Batoya's bane said. "Some of you may have heard of my efforts in this region. Thus far, I have freed over one thousand slaves and destroyed a dozen Zygerrian outposts. I have done this without losing a single ship. Now, I have come for you."
"Intimidation tactics?" Jeric scoffed. "Pathetic. We'll rip him apart."
"Sir, this communication… its going out across the entire ship!" His comms officer cried out. "The hangar, the mess hall, the slave quarters, everywhere!"
"All of you who suffer under the Zygerrians, stand with me now and fight! Kill your overseers and freedom is yours!"
Jeric snarled. "Get me control of our turbolasers and blast that cowardly Republic fool into space dust!"
The gunnery officer was silent, staring at his console in confusion for a moment, before he spoke. "Sir, we… just got control of our weapons systems back?"
"What are you waiting for then?!? Target the nearest ship!"
The powerful weapons of the Slavemaker rotated and began to charge. Nearby, the Munificent-class cruiser charged with defending Feladun had begun to move into position with its heavy guns, placing itself between the shipyard and the attacking fleet, its forward shields powering up to guard against the inevitable attack.
"Ready, sir!" His gunnery officer called.
"Open fire!" Jeric commanded and he watched in satisfaction as the heavy guns of the Slavemaker loosed bolts of red death. That satisfaction swiftly turned to horror, however, as those bolts slammed not into the enemy's shields, but into the exposed aft of their Munificent-cruiser ally.
"Sir, our targeting systems have been taken over!" His gunner officer called to him, even as the Munificent-class cruiser's engines failed from the unexpected salvo. "Our turbolasers won't stop firing!"
"Sir, security reports that there have been multiple outbreaks of violence by slaves throughout the ship!"
Jeric froze with uncertainty.
"G-get the captain," he said. When no one moved, he shouted, "GET THE CAPTAIN UP HERE, NOW!"
Den watched as the Slavemaker turned its allied vessel into a twisted wreck of slag metal. With the ship's targeting systems scrambled thanks to Jatilla's efforts, the ship was soon left alone. The shipyard's workers had already disengaged the locks on the Providence-class cruiser, but the ship was unmoving, though not due to their nautolan slicer.
"They'll be getting their bearings soon," Den said. "Launch vulture droids. Have a squadron fly into the enemy hangar at top speed."
"I don't have control over their point defenses," Jatilla warned him.
"It's fine if we lose a few," Den replied, even as the two squadrons of vulture droids they'd managed to acquire from previous raids burst forward. "Second squadron, screen the fleet. Do we have their comms?"
"One moment," Jatilla said as she was working on her console, before nodding. "We've got it."
"Begin broadcasting false alerts throughout the ship. Hull breaches, slave revolts, containment leaks, and anything else that will cause their response time to slow." Den turned back to the bridge, nodding towards a waiting Xalas and Raptor. The latter was already in spacetrooper gear, while the former had managed to find a spacesuit that fit over his alien biology, while also allowing him to wear his bone mask, freshly marked in what Den doubted was just red paint. "Get your troops ready. This whole plan depends on speed."
"Come," Xalas said, placing a hand on Raptor's shoulder. "A glorious death awaits us!"
"I'll settle for success," Raptor replied, but nodded anyways as the two swiftly departed. In prior raids, Den had preferred to risk only twenty clones armored in spacetrooper gear, as well as a handful of Kaleesh and other aliens out of the countless who wanted to fight. It was callous, but if something went wrong, he didn't want to lose his entire force.
Not this time. There could be no mistakes and capturing a vessel the size of the Slavemaker was going to require a lot more than just a few dozen soldiers. Every single clone he could spare, every slave with a big enough deathwish for them to agree to fight, he sent them all with every last weapon he could arm them with, whether it was a Republic-issued blaster, one of Separatist or Zygerrian make that they'd raided, or even just a long pipe take from their spare parts they wouldn't need.
"Vulture droids are angling for the hangar, sir," his sensors officer announced. There was a long pause, and then, "Contact! Reading a massive explosion in their hangar bay."
"Jatilla?" Den glanced at the nautolan for confirmation. She gave him a silent thumbs-up and he smiled. "Alright then. All assault craft, move in for docking."
"WHAT IN BLAZES IS GOING ON!?!" Captain Hrague demanded as he stormed onto the bridge of the chaos that was his ship. Jeric turned, looking simultaneously relieved to see him as well as terrified. The bridge crew were all in a panic, trying to figure out what was going on.
"Captain, the Repubic has launched an attack!" The fool said quickly, almost jumping out of the captain's chair at Hrague's approach.
"I can see that, you little skug, what I want to know is why WE FIRED ON OUR ALLY?!?" Hrague yelled, grabbing his first officer by the ear to drag him closer.
"Our targeting computers have been-!" Jeric's next words were cut off by the sound of a blaster shot burning its way through his sternum. The Zygerrian dropped to the ground and Hrague snarled at the corpse, holstering his blaster. The sudden execution had gotten the attention of the entire bridge crew.
"C-captain, the enemy seems to be trying to dock with us," one of his officer managed. "And there are reports of slave revolts on almost every deck."
"Recall all security teams to the bridge," Hrague ordered. " Once we've repelled the boarders, we'll clear this ship deck by deck of any slaves who haven't learned their lesson. Prepare countermeasures for their slicing. Deactivate the turbolasers and launch fighters."
"Our… our hangar suffered an explosion. It seems the rhydonium fuel aboard that shuttle…" The officer trailed off at the dark look on Hrague's face.
"Long-range communications?" He asked.
"Jammed, captain," the officer said, staring intently at the floor. Hrague wanted to execute him too, but that was more likely to result in a mutiny than it was to get his people to stop being so incompetent.
"Move us out of the shipyard," he ordered. "And prepare to jump to hyperspace."
"They're going to make a run for it," his sensors officer said.
"Can you shut down their hyperdrive?" Den asked, glancing at Jatilla, but she shook her head.
"They're trying to cut me out," she said. "It's all I can do to keep their targeting systems scrambled and the false alerts up."
"Then we'll need to hurry," Den said and he felt the Hound shake as the docking port connected them to the Slavemaker. "All ships connected?"
"Venture, here. Assault teams ready."
"Fighting Chance connected and ready to board."
"Zygerria's Doom ready."
Den nodded. "Launch the attack."
Lieutenant Casfer fought hard to catch his breath as he pressed his back to the wall. He felt as though he'd sprinted the length of the ship just to outrun those slaves, only nearly avoiding being blasted by his own squad of Zygerrian soldiers in their efforts to kill the ungrateful skugs. And now he was about to have to deal with an entirely new problem in the form of a Republic assault squad.
Battle droids marched down the corridor, taking up positions closer to the airlock the Republic was just outside of. Casfer had no issue with the droids acting as shields for the rest of them, especially with the pair of B2 super battle droids that had accompanied the squad of B1's.
The sparks of laser cutters began to shower around the blast doors as the Republic began to cut through. Casfer readied his blaster, just as all the others did, trying to calm his breathing and pounding heart.
The blast doors burst open, sending debris down the corridor and Casfer flinched at the sudden heat and brightness of the blast, feeling a small piece of shrapnel drag a bloody cut across his ear. The sound of blaster fire filled the corridor as the droids opened fire, but no return shots came from beyond the smoke-obscured airlock. Instead, four metal spheres bounced down the corridor, landing amidst the droids.
The droid poppers went off, turning the shields of the Zygerrians into piles of scrap that collapsed to the ground. One organic soldier who'd been too close was also caught in the blast and let out a pained cry as his nervous system suffered a shock that made him also drop to the ground, stunned.
Shapes emerged from the airlock and the Zygerrians opened fire, taking the first in the chest. The freed human slave collapsed to the ground, dead, but the others behind him kept moving. Blue and red bolts fired and several soldiers went down, even as more and more freeed slaves continued to emerge, along with white-armored clone troopers.
Dashing forward and drawing the most attention, however, were bone-faced Kaleesh wielding crude blades. They rushed the Zygerrian positions, letting out an alien war cry as they descended on their foes with ruthless savagery, hacking apart soldiers. Many died, but unless they were put down for good they just got up again and kept coming, heedless of their own lives.
"F-fall back!" Casfer shouted and he turned to run, only for an intense heat to burn through his shoulder and toss him to the ground. He landed poorly on his chest, knocking the breath from him and he gasped for air that just wouldn't come as he lay there, too stunned to even move.
Then a Kaleesh was in front of him, blade descending towards his throat.
"Security team four, respond!" The comms officer demanded. "Security team four?"
"What's going on out there?" Hrague asked. He could hear blasterfire outside the bridge and distant explosions getting closer. "Where are those security teams!?!"
"Captain, more slave uprisings are being reported," the officer said. "Several teams have been unable to withdraw and are now cut off or…"
The Zygerrian trailed off and Hrague snarled.
"Activate the shock collars!" He ordered. "Ship-wide, maximum power! Fry every last one of those treacherous skugs!"
"Sir, but if we do that, we'll lose half our organic crew!" The head overseer said, her face in dismay.
"And if we don't we'll lose the entire ship!" Hrague bit back. "Do it!"
"What about the boarding party?" The comms officer asked. "They have slaves with them that aren't equipped with shock collars. They'll kill us all if we do that."
"This is not a suggestion," Hrague said, his voice low and dangerous. "Obey my commands!"
The crew of Zygerrians looked around at one another, then at their captain.
"Commander, we're being hailed by the Slavemaker," the comms officer called. Den felt only somewhat surprised. It was hardly the first time Zygerrians had surrendered to him, but this would certainly have been the most humiliating for them.
"Put them on," he allowed. A moment later, a Zygerrian in the uniform of a head overseer appeared in holoform, sitting in a captain's chair. Den couldn't help but notice the blaster markings on the chair, despite the fact that none of his forces had reached the bridge yet.
"This is Overseer Treva, in command of the Slavemaker," the overseer said. "Withdraw your troops and ships, allow us to jump to hyperspace, or we will activate the shock collars of our slaves and kill them all."
"A straightforward request," Den noted to himself, his face displaying only stony disinterest. "Here's my counter-offer: Surrender your ship now and live to face trial in Republic space."
The overseer sneered. "There are over a thousand slaves aboard this ship. Can you live with so many 'innocent' deaths on your hands?"
"Yes," he replied coldly. "I can live with that. The question you should be asking yourself is, will you? If you do execute all those slaves, I have very little reason to keep the Kaleesh from being the first to reach your bridge."
The overseer swallowed. "You're bluffing," she said.
"Am I?" Den asked. "You're free to test that assumption at your own peril."
The two officers stared one another down. In the end, the Zygerrian was the first to blink.
"We… will surrender ourselves into the custody of your clone troopers," the overseer said, hanging her head in defeat.
Den smiled softly.
Ahsoka slipped into the hangar bay, doing her best to act natural as she moved towards the Twilight, while also trying to obscure the small backpack hanging off of her. The small cargo freighter was as much a useful tool as it was an ongoing project for her and her master, outfitted with upgrades and retrofitted parts to enhance it. Of course, the junker wasn't always the best at accepting those upgrades and parts, but it hadn't failed them yet. Or, rather, it hadn't gotten them killed yet.
R7 rolled alongside her, giving a soft whistle as the small droid also tried its best to be as unsuspicious as possible.
There's nothing unusual about me going to work on the ship, Ahsoka told herself as she nodded towards a pair of clone pilots who were walking past.
Ahsoka stepped onto the boarding ramp and trudged up and into the freighter, glancing behind her to make sure she wasn't seen. As she turned back around, however, she nearly ran straight into the waiting form of Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was leaning against the wall, an entirely unsurprised look on his face.
"M-master Kenobi!" Ahsoka said, smiling even as she inwardly cursed. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing, padawan," Obi-Wan said, looking more amused than displeased.
"I was just… going to do some maintenance on the Twilight," Ahsoka said sheepishly.
"Oh, really?" Obi-Wan asked. "Is that why you brought a backpack of what I am to assume are spare parts and not explosives and various other tools?"
"I was going to, uh, add a munitions launcher?" Ahsoka suggested. Obi-Wan smiled and Ahsoka closed her eyes, preparing for a scolding.
"Good, I'm sure that will help when we're trying to avoid being shot down on our way to the Charybdis."
Ahsoka opened her eyes, surprise and hope in them. "You're… you're coming with me?"
Obi-Wan looked back at her, his expression somber. "Anakin may no longer be my padawan, but he is still my responsibility in a way. He has had his own trials to face, more than most other Jedi. He needs us."
Then, he cracked a smile.
"Besides, I imagine he's not being the most gracious of houseguests. I practically expect the Zygerrians to be overjoyed when we come to get him."
"The last of the Zygerrian security teams have surrendered, sir," Raptor reported as he stepped back onto the bridge of the Hound. "All battle droids deactivated and the bridge crew surrendered the command codes to miss Jatilla. The Slavemaker is fully under our command."
Den nodded in approval. "Excellent. Terminate the prisoners, we won't be needing any more than those we already have," he ordered, before turning to look towards his comms officer. "Contact the Slavemaker's bridge."
A moment later, Jatilla, along with a team of slicers and engineers freed from slavery and clones of the same profession, appeared in holoform. She gave him a lazy salute, the grin on her face even wider than usual. "Quite a haul, commander. This ship's worth even more than all the credits I stole from the Banking Clan."
"Glad I could pad your resume," Den said with a smile, his amusement partly brought on by the relief of the battle having ended in victory with only a handful of casualties. "Progress?"
"Slaving a ship this big to the Hound is taking a bit of work." It was Slipknot who spoke now. "But Jatilla's working on getting a few of the droid crew reprogrammed to man the necessary systems. The two pilot droids are actually proving to be helpful with that, though I wish they'd be a bit less mouthy about it."
"Remember, all we need from it is engines, shields, and hyperdrive," Den said and both nautolan and clone nodded their understanding. "If you can't manage weapons in the time you have, that's fine. Keep up the good work, Brystel out."
Finally, Den turned to Xalas, who had approached silently.
"How goes the transfer?" He asked.
"Many of our new additions fell in battle," Xalas said, studying Den from behind his mask. "You inspired them to fight. I am pleased that tales of our efforts have spread so far."
"As am I," Den said. "But we can still do more once we've returned to Republic space and regrouped."
"I am not so sure," Xalas stated. "But you are the warlord."
Den tilted his head. "Surely you understand the Republic's greater resources can do more than anything we could hope to accomplish here."
" 'Can' and 'will' are two very different things in my experience," Xalas replied. "The Republic is the reason I was enslaved as much as the Huk were. You have my respect, Den Brystel, and my loyalty. The Republic has neither."
Den nodded. "I understand. Thank you for your trust."
"Do not abuse it."
Batoya glared through the viewport, incomprehension and rage plain on his face as cruiser after cruiser turned away and jumped into hyperspace, leaving Boonta, and him, behind. Within minutes, the Charybdis sat alone in orbit of the sole inhabited world of the system. Almost every ship in his fleet had been stolen from him by Grievous, ordered away to join in some nothing campaign, leaving him defenseless.
"Recall…" Batoya let out a long breath through gritted teeth. "All ships to this system. Every last one of them."
"Sir, our supply chain won't be able to handle that," one of his officers warned, staring at the floor and remaining perfectly still, as though trying to go unnoticed. "And with the raiders about…"
"It doesn't matter," Batoya stated, his voice quiet and low. "Only the Charybdis matters. Once it's repaired, I'll show them. I'll show them all."
Grievous, the Republic, Dooku, Skywalker.
Brystel.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Looks like his reunion with the dream team is coming.
I forsee den stocking that providence dreadnought with droid crews and slave circuits, then ramming it into the charybdis, irrespective of if there are any jedi onboard.
Love the experience he's gaining, and the skill he's showing in his guerrilla warfare. Maybe he'll get a promotion to admiral out of this (if only admiral of a small fleet). Or at least to whatever they call the captain of a venator.
Love the experience he's gaining, and the skill he's showing in his guerrilla warfare. Maybe he'll get a promotion to admiral out of this (if only admiral of a small fleet). Or at least to whatever they call the captain of a venator.
Last edited:
By all means, gush about it to everyone you know.
32: Arc 10 - Cut Off, Part 7
New
Arc 10 - Cut Off, Part 7
Batoya glared down at the datapad containing the lists upon lists of cruisers, freighters, frigates, shuttles, and every other craft he was managing to scrape up from what was left of his once proud sector fleet. It was pitifully small and he hadn't gotten any sleep for nearly two rotations now while he tried to make the impossible work of having those ships bring him all the necessary parts to repair the Charybdis.
At present, his escort fleet consisted of a pair of Munificent-class frigates, a rundown Dreadnaught-class cruiser that was under-armed even by Ruusan Reformation standards, and roughly thirty transport craft that were no more dangerous than a hutt armed with a handheld blaster.
"Admiral Batoya," the sensors officer called and Batoya had to take a moment to really hear him. "A ship just dropped out of hyperspace. A cargo freighter, identifying as the Pedunkee Mufkin. Its engines appear heavily damaged and it's leaking fuel."
Batoya straightened, a bit of sharpness returning to his eyes. Was it Brystel?
"Is it allied?"
"Yes, sir, but it's not registered to this sector. It's listed as a privateer."
"Lifesigns?"
"Two, but we haven't been able to establish communication. Their comms may be down as well."
It wasn't impossible that this was some kind of trick… Brystel was crafty. There had been no reports of activity from him recently. Was he trying to attack the Charybdis itself? To further make a mockery of him?!?
"Activate the tractor beam then and bring them aboard," Batoya ordered. "Have a security team confine them for interrogation and sweep that ship for any signs of deception. If they resist or object, shoot them."
"Yes, admiral."
"And boost our sensors! If there is even a hint of that wretched Republic dog trying to run back home, I want to know about it!"
Sergeant Darin watched as the cargo freighter's boarding ramp slowly descended, old hydraulic pipes hissing with effort. To even call the ship a junker was going a bit far. It seemed like it'd be the garbage a junker would haul around. Half of its main cylindrical engine looked like it had been blown off, possibly by a laser cannon shot. Had he looked closer, he might have seen the telltale signs of a thermal detonator's work. Had he been an engineer, he might also notice that the damage, while quite nasty in appearance, was almost entirely superficial.
" 'Ello down there!" A man's voice called to them from further inside the ship. His accent was unfamiliar, no doubt belonging to some nameless Outer Rim backwater. A moment later, the human himself appeared at the top of the ramp. He had messy auburn hair with grease running through it and oil stains on his face and was wearing some kind of raggedy poncho. Darin stepped toward him and nearly stumbled as a horrid stench finally hit him like a wall. He had worked as a guard in the slave pits before, but this stench outstripped even the disgusting smells he'd encountered then.
A moment later, an orange-skinned togruta popped her own head out of the ship, sending an annoyed glare towards the Zygerrians, and then one towards her copilot. She said something in huttese, which Darin was only passingly familiar with. Mostly, he recognized a lot of the swears and insults she used. Her copilot responded in a similarly crass fashion, the pair both gesticulating wildly and angrily. He was only able to catch maybe every fourth word, but he believed they were discussing whose fault it was that the engine had exploded.
"Shut it!" Darin ordered and his soldiers moved forward. "You're both to be detained by order of Admiral Batoya!"
This did not silence the two as they argued, in fact it only seemed to make them angrier with one another, though they didn't resist as they were both placed into binders by the soldiers and swiftly escorted down. The small togruta did have to be forcibly pulled away as she tried to kick out at her comrade when they passed by each other to emphasize her argument.
Despite their obvious low-class upbringings, the two looked mostly healthy and likely could have cleaned up well. Darin suspected that both would have made for excellent slaves, but there was little point in speculating. If the two were sold, he wouldn't be seeing any of the profits.
Ultimately, he had to have both of the prisoners gagged just to get them to shut up. None of the Zygerrians noticed that they'd picked up a third addition in the form of a small, red and green astromech rolling a short way behind them.
"Admiral, ship jumping in from hyperspace!" The officer called.
"Is it the Hound?!?" Batoya demanded, all other thoughts discard as he rushed to the sensor station. "Well?!?"
"No, sir, it's…" The officer stared at his console in confusion. "The Slavemaker?"
"What?" Batoya was caught entirely off-guard. That particular Providence-class should have still been undergoing repairs after the damage it had suffered in the first battle with the Republic fleet. He knew because it was one of the handful of capital ships he still commanded, having been passed over by Grievous.
"More ships jumping in!" The officer called out. "Admiral, the Hound is among them! They're forming up with the Slavemaker!"
Batoya stared at the console's readouts, unwilling to believe them for a long moment. Then, he began to laugh.
"I would expect nothing less, my enemy," Batoya hissed through a grin that stretched his lips wide. "Bring us about to intercept and charge cannons."
"Admiral, we're still damaged," his first officer warned. "We can't risk the Charybdis, we should leave it to the other ships in the-."
Batoya grabbed the Zygerrian by the scruff of his neck, pulling him close and snarling. "I. Said. Charge. Cannons."
The Zygerrian nodded slowly and Batoya shoved him away.
"And have the freighter prisoners executed. They might be his agents."
Anakin's eyes were shut. He didn't meditate very often, he preferred action compared to just sitting around, but that wasn't really an option for him at the moment. Despite his best attempts, however, it felt as though relaxation was just beyond his reach. It wasn't like this when he was working on something and the lack of movement was agitating.
Obi-Wan would tell him to calm and center himself, but that had never really come easy to Anakin. He let out a sigh, opening his eyes and studying his blank cell once more. Still bound to the wall, there was even less to do now.
He almost grinned when he heard a chirping beep in his ear. And he couldn't have been happier about the news. A Republic ship had just arrived.
"Alright, Artoo, scramble their feed," Anakin whispered. A moment later, a whistle of confirmation sounded in his ear. Anakin took a deep breath and then pushed.
There was a 'click' and the shackles binding him to the wall snapped open, dropping him to the cell floor. He took a moment to luxuriate in being able to move his limbs again, stretching overstrained muscles, then headed over to the entrance. It had taken him several attempts, and several increasingly painful shocks, but feeling out the internal mechanisms of his locks had actually been the most enjoyable thing he'd had to do while imprisoned.
"Alright," Anakin said aloud, no longer worried about the Zygerrians set to watch him overhearing. "Can you deal with the door?"
His reply was the said door opening, ray shield dropping in the same moment. The pair of Zygerrian soldiers set to guard his cell twisted around, eyes going wide with shock as their Jedi prisoner stepped free and, without a moment's hesitation, threw out his hands. The two slavers were thrown backwards, striking the other side of the corridor with enough force that there was an audible crack of bone. Their limp corpses dropped to the ground.
A few moments later, Artoo trundled down the corridor, whistling happily as the small droid emerged from his hiding place, followed by a Jawa who'd taken to wearing a Zygerrian helmet that was slightly too big for him in place of a hood.
"Hey, buddy," Anakin greeted, patting the droid on the head. "Miss me?"
Artoo whistled in affirmation, wobbling from side to side. Anakin chuckled, nodding towards the Jawa and greeting it in their language. The Jawa replied simply, asking if they could leave.
"Not yet," Anakin said. "First, contact Obi-Wan. I'm sure he's leading the fleet."
Then, R2 gave him a negative beep and shook from side-to-side.
"Wait, what?" Anakin stared at the small droid. "But you said a Republic ship-? Wait, is it-?"
R2 whistled again and Anakin noted that the Jawa seemed just as shocked as he was.
"The Hound is here? And they've got a-?"
Anakin didn't get to finish his question as a blaster shot suddenly passed through the air mere centimeters from his head. He leapt to the side, grabbing the Jawa under one arm and Force pulling R2 along with him as he took cover. Further down the corridor, four Zygerrian guards seemed like they weren't bothering with giving him a chance to surrender again.
The Jawa shouted at him, speaking so quickly that Anakin wasn't able to understand him clearly through the sounds of blasterfire.
"What did you say?" Anakin shouted back and the Jawa pointed enthusiastically at a dataport on the wall, next to R2. The droid understood and R2's scomp link popped out and inserted into the port.
A few moments later, every cell door on the prison level slid open, restraints deactivating.
Den took a deep breath as they entered the system, the bulk of the ship that had once been known as the Slavemaker looming large in their viewport. It had not been that long since the battle where Reeves and the rest had lost their lives. Nonetheless, there was no time to grieve for them anymore than there was for the others who had died in the time since.
"How is the Emancipator looking, Slipknot?" Den asked, glancing at the nearby consoles that had been dedicated to the slaved controls of the Providence-class. Additional consoles and processors that had been wired into the Hound's systems to deal with the far greater system load that the larger vessel required, despite having most of its functions automated, were scattered throughout the bridge and manned by clones and freed slaves alike.
"Just don't ask for anything fancy and we'll be fine," The clone replied. "Starboard shields are holding strong, engines are functioning. Weapons are online, but without gunners to assist the targeting system, I wouldn't trust them to hit anything smaller than a battlecruiser."
"It's fortunate that they're throwing one at us then," Den said, as much to himself as to the clone. The Charybdis' massive form loomed on the edge of the holomap. The Emancipator and the rest of the raider fleet kept a tight formation, keeping the bulk of the Emancipator between themselves and the slowly approaching Subjugator-class ship. That the rest of the Separatist fleet, small though it was, seemed content to hang back was a blessing he wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve.
"Fortunate?" Ruggle Schmong asked, utterly terrified. Den had brought him to the bridge for the battle in case he happened to have any helpful, last minute insights on the Charybdis, but given the sullustan's fear of being in battle, Den wasn't sure how much help he'd actually be. "We're doomed!"
"Batoya certainly seems mad," Jatilla said, grinning, but even she couldn't keep the hint of nervousness from her voice. Den just nodded.
Their escape point was on the other side of Boonta, a five minute journey. The Charybdis was in a perfect position to intercept them, but that was what the Emancipator was for.
"Keep us steady, Slipknot," Den ordered. "Sensors, stay alert for those cruisers. If they start moving, I want to know about it." He turned to Jatilla. "Is your illusion up and running?"
Jatilla nodded with a mischievous grin.
"Commander, the Charybdis is firing," Slipknot said. "Shields are holding. Fighters entering point defense range."
"They'll ignore the Emancipator and head for the fleet," Den said and he was right. He watched as the swarm of vulture droids approached, their numbers decimated by previous battles and possibly even from self-inflicted casualties wrought by the Charybdis's technical issues. The tiny fightercraft had simple programming, but they were nimble and maneuverable enough that the even simpler programming of the Charybdis's automated point defense cannons were only able to score a dozen or so kills before they'd crossed its bulk and entered into range of the rest of the fleet. "Contingency Aurek."
Almost the moment after the order left his lips, it was followed. Reprogrammed vulture droids hidden along the port side of the Emancipator deactivated the magnetic attachments holding them to the hull. In an instant, the attacking fighters were flanked by their own kind, even as they were met with the full fury of the rest of the fleet's point defense cannons, which were far more accurate in the destruction they wreaked.
There were cheers on the bridge as the enemy vulture droids were shredded apart by the score, but they fell away quickly enough as professionalism took over once more. They were not out of this yet.
"This is cell level nine-four, the prisoners have escaped! I repeat the prisoners have- AGH!"
Darin barely had a moment to consider what that or the sudden alarms blaring through the ship meant before he was suddenly lifted up by an invisible hand and slammed against the ceiling, his head striking metal. The world swam in his eyes as he dropped back to the ground.
Ahsoka ducked, narrowly avoiding the blaster shot, before springing into a backflip that culminated in her crashing bootsfirst into the Zygerrian soldier's chest, sending him to the ground. Her hands still bound behind her back, she rolled to the side to avoid an electro-whip that lashed out at her from another soldier, then sweeped the feet out from under the same soldier.
Obi-Wan sidestepped a blaster shot, then tilted his head to avoid another. A powerful kick sent a battle droid tumbling into its compatriot.
R7 whistled loudly and two metal cylinders ejected from its domed head, flying through the air towards them. Both Jedi called on the Force, drawing their lightsabers into their hands and cutting through their binders in an instant.
"Jedi!" One of the remaining Zygerrians cried out in alarm, fumbling for his commlink. Both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan flung out a hand and the Force sent the rest flying backwards, the slavers landing in a pile of limbs alongside broken droids.
"It sounds like Anakin's been making friends," Obi-Wan said, dusting himself off as he hooked his lightsaber to his belt. Ahsoka opened her mouth to reply, when a door on the side of the corridor slid open. Both Jedi twisted around, lightsabers igniting in an instant.
The twi'lek slave carrying a crate froze, eyes going wide at the sight before him. A moment later, he dropped the crate, throwing his hands up even as he crouched down, bowing his head.
"P-please don't hurt me!" The slave cried. Two lightsabers deactivated with a soft hiss.
"Hey, hey, its ok," Ahsoka said quickly, kneeling down and holding her hands up in a soothing gesture. "You just startled us, we won't hurt you. We're not with the Zygerrians."
The twi'lek stared up at them with wide eyes that were fixed on the lightsabers now hooked to their waists. "You… you are Jedi as well?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "We are. You saw another Jedi?"
"Y-yes, one was captured. He slew my overseer before he was taken. Do you work for the Mad Dog?"
The two Jedi shared a glance. "Mad Dog?" Ahsoka asked.
"The Hound and its commander!" The twi'lek said, eyes burning with hope and excitement. "I never thought he would send not one, but three Jedi to save us!"
"We aren't-?" Ahsoka began, now genuinely confused, but Obi-Wan placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Yes, we're friends of his. Will you help us?"
The twi'lek nodded so fast Ahsoka was worried his head might fly off.
"Admiral, our fighters have nearly all been destroyed," the sensors officer said. Batoya's eye twitched.
"Sir, we should call up the other ships," his first officer warned. Batoya sent a disbelieving glare at him.
"I command the most powerful ship in the entire Separatist Navy," Batoya growled. "Do you think I fear a single cruiser and a few pitiful transports?!?"
"Admiral," the comms officer suddenly said, before the first officer could reply. "Receiving reports of escaped prisoners on cell level nine-four."
"That's the cell with the Jedi," the first officer said, eyes going wide. Batoya barely heard him.
"Handle it," he ordered the Zygerrian, who stared at him even as he turned back to the battle before him. "Get us closer and intensify forward firepower!"
"Admiral, many of our turbolasers are still not fully operational," one of his gunners warned. "Intensifying their power might cause them to burn out."
"We'll deal with the repair issues later!" Batoya snarled. "Now, give me more power!"
The first officer turned to the comms officer, though he kept one eye and ear on the battle. "Mobilize security teams. Terminate all hostiles."
"Keep moving!" Anakin cried out as he charged the Zygerrians. He wished not for the first time he had his lightsaber, but it had been taken from him and it seemed that the guards weren't the ones who'd kept it. Batoya likely had it, almost certainly as a trophy, and the idea of the Zygerrian slaver holding something so important to him filled him with a deep rage.
He reached with the Force and ripped a durasteel panel off the corridor he and the dozens of others of freed slaves and prisoners were rushing down, bringing it up and in front of them to block an incoming storm of blaster fire. A powerful Force push sent the panel flying into the squad of slaver soldiers, killing the first one it struck and stunning another three. Then, the slaves descended upon their former masters with an anger to match the one he felt. Cries for mercy and shrieks of pain were soon turned to silence as Zygerrians were beaten to death, whether by hand or by improvised weapon. The blasters were taken up and though Anakin was offered one, he chose to continue fighting with his hands.
"We need to keep moving," Anakin said again, leading the slaves down another corridor after Artoo whistled directions in his ear. The little droid was patched into the ship's internal communications systems and keeping the growing band of fighters one step ahead of its security, while also causing havoc by creating false alarms and leading squads of slavers around in circles. "Artoo, any luck getting through to the Hound?"
A negative chirp was his reply. The short-range commlink they were using was strong, but not that strong. And that was assuming their signal wasn't just being ignored as a Separatist trick. He could only hope that Brystel would respond.
"Alright," Ahsoka said as they reached a console in the corridor. "R7, patch in and let's find out where Skyguy's hiding."
"Given the alarms, I doubt that 'hiding' is the correct word," Obi-Wan said, stepping aside to allow R7 access. The twi'lek slave, Haka, was looking nervously from one end of the corridor to the other.
"We'll be okay," Ahsoka said, trying to reassure the poor being. "Once we link up with my master, we'll get you and everyone we can to safety."
Haka nodded, putting on a brave face, but his anxiety remained strong in the Force. Ahsoka wasn't sure what else she could say and R7's whistle drew her attention away regardless.
"What attack?" Ahsoka asked, confused. R7 was whistling and beeping faster and faster, so much so that Obi-Wan couldn't keep up.
"What's it saying?"
"There's a Republic ship attacking the Charybdis," Ahsoka said, glancing at Kenobi. "Did you know about that?"
"No," Obi-Wan said, brow furrowing. "Just one ship?"
R7 whistled again and Ahsoka's eyes widened.
"The Hound?!?" She repeated in disbelief. Haka's eyes widened.
"The Mad Dog is here?" He whispered, eyes tearing up in an instant. The twi'lek collapsed to his knees. "He has come… he has come to save us."
"That's…" Obi-Wan was stunned into silence for a moment, though not for any kind of reverence like what Haka was experiencing. No matter how many small ships Brystel had captured, attacking the Charybdis was suicidal, wasn't it? What could have possibly possessed him to-?
R7 beeped and shifted back and forth. Obi-Wan looked to Ahsoka for help, but she seemed just as confused.
"Wait, he's using a what as a shield?"
"Slipknot, how are the Emancipator's shields looking?" Den asked as the Charybdis continued to close on them. The massive battlecruiser was moving at an angle to intercept them, as he'd expected it to. Batoya didn't want them escaping. And, at this rate, they wouldn't. The larger battlecruiser might not have been as fast as the swiftest of Den's ships, but it was faster than the slowest. Soon, the Charybdis would be blocking their only escape route.
Or so Batoya was likely thinking.
"Falling fast, sir," Slipknot replied.
"I see," Den said. "And have you locked onto Ruggle's targets?"
"All ready, sir."
Den glanced at Jatilla, who gave him a mischievous grin and a nod in return. "Then let's pop 'our' head out of the water for them. Contingency Besh."
"Admiral, the Hound is breaking away from their formation!" The sensors officer called.
"Target it with all cannons!" Batoya ordered.
"Belay that order!" His first officer said, stepping closer. "Admiral, this is clearly some kind of trick, we should focus on destroying the primary threat!"
"I will not be questioned by my crew!" Batoya said, shoving the Zygerrian away. "Open fire!"
The heavy cannons of the Charybdis turned upon the Hound, crimson bolts crossing through the void to strike at the light cruiser. However, the ship was small and maneuverable, nor were they so close that the Charybdis' gunners had an easy shot. The Hound took a few hits, breaking the first layer of its shielding, but then it dipped back down behind the Slavemaker and was out of range. Batoya snarled.
"Coward!" He spat.
"Retarget the Slavemaker," the first officer said. "Don't give them time to recover!"
"Admiral, the Hound is emerging again!" The sensors officer announced.
"Should we target it again?" The gunners asked.
"Lock onto its signal and fire missiles!"
"Admiral, we'd have to lower our shields to do that!" His first officer interrupted again and Batoya sneered.
"They can do nothing to this ship!" Batoya said once more. "Fire!"
A swarm of missiles streaked out across the void towards the Hound. He watched as it undertook evasive maneuvers and he almost laughed at the panicked reaction. Rather than trying to go back behind the Slavemaker, something which might have been enough to save their pathetic lives, they were pulling up and away from it. He watched as the missiles reached their target and exploded, the signal winking out in an instant.
He blinked. Was that it? Had he done it? Relief and shock flooded him all at once. To be rid of his foe after all this time, he… he didn't know how to feel. Satisfied? Victorious? Should he celebrate? For so small a death, the trouble it had caused him was-.
"Incoming missiles!" The sensors officer shouted. "Fired from the Slavemaker!"
Batoya growled as he was shaken from his thoughts as proton torpedoes lit up across the prow of the Charybdis. Yet, something was odd about the placement of the torpedoes. It almost seemed random, rather than targeted, as most missed anything important like their diminishing number of weapons systems.
"Prepare to-!" Batoya started to give the order to return fire, when the sensors officer called out something that made him go still.
"Admiral, the Hound's signal just reappeared! The ship we destroyed… it was a Diamond-class cruiser bouncing the signal off of itself!"
Batoya stared down at the holoprojection of the fleet, watching as a new ship appeared, detaching from the Slavemaker, where it'd been able to power down and mask itself within the signature of the larger vessel, relying upon the craft to also carry it along until then.
Another trick. Batoya's teeth ground against one another.
"And that, children, is how you convince judiciaries and slaver scum to chase bait while you make a clean getaway," Jatilla said, leaning back in her seat, hands wrapped around the back of her neck. The Emancipator was not the only ship they'd had slaved to another, the emptied Diamond-class cruiser had proven a useful, if short-lived distraction for their foe.
"We're not out of this yet," Den said. "Emancipator, shield status?"
"Coming back online now," Slipknot said. "Managed to bring them up a bit."
"Effect of strike?"
"All targets destroyed," Slipknot announced.
"Commander, reading fluctuations in the enemy's shields!" His sensors officer called. Den glanced at Ruggle, an almost impressed look on his face.
"Just as you said," Den noted, nodding in approval before turning back. "All hands, make ready for Contingency Cresh. Raptor, are your men ready?"
"Just give us the word."
"WHY IS THAT SHIP STILL HERE!?!" Batoya demanded.
"Admiral, another two turbolasers just burned out," one of his gunners said, unable to keep the nervousness from his voice. "If we keep firing nonstop, the rest might-."
"THEN USE THE BROADSIDE TURBOLASERS!" Batoya shouted. "BRING US ABOUT AND FIRE!"
The Charybdis turned further, bringing fresher cannons around to face their foe.
"Admiral, shields are fluctuating," another officer announced. "I think… Sir, they cut the power lines to the forward shield generators!"
"What!?!" Batoya demanded. That was impossible, they couldn't have managed that. There were redundant power lines spread across the hull, even if they'd had a thousand proton torpedoes, random strikes couldn't have managed-
They hadn't struck randomly. Ruggle. That verminous little wretch had…
"Admiral, there's a revolt brewing aboard the ship," the first officer said to him, but Batoya barely heard him. "If the Jedi is coordinating with the Hound, he might be the larger threat here. If we withdraw-."
"I told you to deal with him," Batoya snarled back. "So deal with him. Or I'll find someone else who can."
"Admiral, the Slavemaker is breaking formation!" The sensors officer called, eyes going wide and panic entering his voice. "It's heading for us!"
Batoya felt a little bit of cold fear mix with the hot rage in his blood.
"Destroy it!" He shouted. "DESTROY IT, NOW!"
"It's too late!" His first officer called. "Evasive maneuvers!"
The Charybdis listed to one side as swiftly as it was able to, turning up and away even as the Slavemaker drew nearer. The captured Providence-class' crumpled prow slammed into the belly of the Charybdis, tearing through multiple decks and ripping away layers upon layers of armor. The lower half of the massive ion cannon on their port side cracked in half and it was only because the system had been taken offline for repairs that they did not suffer another incident.
Batoya was nearly thrown across the bridge and some of his officers with less of an iron grip upon something stable were tossed about. Many of the droids that fell over did not get up again.
"Get the rest of the ships up here!" His first officer cried out. This time, Batoya did not disagree.
Anakin landed on his side with a grunt as the entire ship shook, throwing slaves and Zygerrians about.
"Artoo, what was that?!?" Anakin asked. The droids whistles were coming almost too fast for him to make sense of them. Yet, when the words finally clicked together in his head, he couldn't help but laugh.
Obi-Wan let out a groan as he picked himself up off the ground. Trying to find Anakin was going about as well as could be expected given the chaos of the ship they were on, not to mention the size. The sudden lurching was not helping, nor were the sound of distant explosions. At the very least, Ahsoka had seemed pleased when she had realized that all the false alarms that had been leading them down dead ends and into squads of lost Zygerrian soldiers was likely proof that Artoo was still active.
Both Anakin and Ahsoka were far too attached to that little droid.
"R7, what was that?" Ahsoka asked as she rose rubbing her arm where she'd landed. Haka was testing one of his legs, wincing when he put weight on it, but otherwise seeming to be fine. The droid quickly plugged into another dataport in the wall and replied a moment later. This time, Obi-Wan understood what the droid had said all too well.
"He rammed us," Obi-Wan said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"We should probably hurry and find my master," Ahsoka said, smiling nervously. "Before Brystel throws another ship at us."
R7 whistled something else at that, which left both of them staring at the droid in stunned silence. Haka looked to both of them.
"What?" He asked. "What is the Mad Dog doing?"
"He's…" Obi-Wan let out an emphatic sigh. "He's coming aboard."
Den gripped the back of the navigator's seat as the Hound and the rest of his impromptu fleet flew at each of their top speeds towards the listing Charybdis. The battlecruiser had taken a hit, but even though a chunk of it had been ripped off, it was strong enough to ignore that. Den had known that the best case scenario of the Charybdis being destroyed in the ramming attack had been unlikely, even with Ruggle's advice on how to remove its shields.
He was more surprised to see that the Emancipator seemed to have gotten off fairly lightly as well. Sure, the half-recovered prow now looked four times worse than it had after the Gallant Warrior's own suicidal ramming attack against it, and half the armor on its topside had been ripped away, along with the bridge and tower and part of its engines block, but apart from that, the other engines seemed to still function. That the ship itself was still able to maneuver at all was nothing short of a miracle, not that it would help him much at the moment as it just continued to burn towards the other side of the system.
The Hound swung around, moving low over the cracked ion cannon disk and nearing one of the cylindrical superstructures that poked out from the side of the ship behind it. The Charybdis' defenses were sparse in that area and what was there was easily dealt with by the fleet. It was not long before each vessel found its docking port and connected, clamping on and holding fast.
But they would not be there for long. Den could see the two Munificent-class frigates moving in to finally support their admiral.
The airlock's doors shunted open and Xalas and the Kaleesh charged through, finding only a squad of battle droids in their path. With ease and finesse, they cut down the flimsy droids before the clones had even followed them out.
"Secure the corridor!" Raptor ordered, moving quickly to unsling the pack he carried, drawing out a computer spike from it. As the rest of the troops carried by the Hound to this fight quickly filled the corridor, moving as fast as they could manage to empty the tube connecting the battlecruiser to the Arquitens-class, Raptor slid the slicing tool into a dataport in the wall. "Jatilla, the spike is in. Status?"
"Gimme a minute, will you?" Came an annoyed reply through the commlink. "These systems are a bit more advanced than what they use for their other stuff."
"Commander," Raptor said, changing comms channels. "All troops are aboard. You are free to detach."
"Understood. Give'em hell."
The airlock resealed and the sound of the Hound's docking array detaching echoed down the corridor as the light cruiser pulled away. On other decks and in other sections of the ship, the rest of their impromptu fleet, having delivered their boarding parties, performed similar actions.
"Hey, clone," Jatilla chirped in his ear. "Watch this."
With only that as warning, the holoprojector of the console he was near lit up, displaying the image of the commander. And all across the ship, similar images appeared. Slaves, Zygerrians, and droids all looked up and away from their various labors.
"My name is Lieutenant Commander Den Brystel. Some of you may know me as the Mad Dog that's been killing Batoya's men, capturing his ships, and freeing your fellow slaves."
"Through those efforts, we have freed countless slaves and killed just as many Zygerrians."
Anakin stared at the holoprojected image of the lieutenant commander, standing defiantly before an impossibly stronger foe. Ahead of him, a squad of Zygerrians and battle droids who'd set up a chokepoint had temporarily ceased fire as both sides paused in the face of the sudden and unexpected announcement.
"I am here, now, with a fleet of warships and an army of free beings who have chosen to fight to keep that freedom."
"I am now offering you a choice. The first choice that any of you have been given in a very long time."
Ahsoka and Obi-Wan looked to one another, while Haka collapsed to his knees, staring at the image as if in worship.
"Join me. Join us! My troops are already aboard this vessel!"
"Kill the Zygerrians! Take back the lives they stole from you!"
Batoya glared at the holoprojected image of his most hated foe. Everything was a buzz in his ears, like little insects flying around. His hands grasped at the empty air, then squeezed so tight that his nails bit through flesh and blood dripped to the ground. He didn't see the comms officer at work, opening a long range channel.
"Take revenge for every humiliation, every beating, every murder!"
"Take back your freedom!"
With that, the holoprojected image faded away, leaving the slave barracks once again in darkness. The Zygerrian overseer looked down into the sweating masses before him and saw a hundred pairs of eyes looking back, glinting in the dark. He backed away, hand going to his waist, where the remote for control of their shock collars sat fixed to his belt.
He never saw who threw the pipe, only felt the metal collide with his head, his vision exploding with sparks as he fell over. He heard distant shouting and saw forms clambering up out of the dark. He struggled as hands reached up and grabbed him, but he was unable to stop himself from being pulled away and into the mass below.
He screamed, then gurgled, and finally fell silent.
And the slaves rose.
"He can't seriously be expecting to capture this ship, right?" Ahsoka asked, glancing at Obi-Wan.
"Perhaps, perhaps not," the Jedi Master replied. "He's gotten this far. He might be trying to capture the vessel, he might be trying to sabotage it."
"He can do it," Haka said resolutely, standing up. His expression was determined, confident even. Fear still emanated from him in the Force, but it was overcome by a deep focus and anger. Ahsoka wasn't sure she liked the feeling, nor the fact that she could feel those same emotions growing stronger all across the ship, like a background hum in her mind that was getting louder and louder. "What's the plan?"
Ahsoka and Obi-Wan shared a look. "First, we still need to find Anakin," Obi-Wan said.
"If Artoo is the one causing all the false alarms, we might be able to contact him," Ahsoka suggested. "We should also probably try and contact the Hound and find out what's going on."
"Right," Obi-Wan nodded. "R7, check short-range comms for Republic signals."
Anakin watched as the holoimage faded. He felt what was about to happen occur before it did, like the building of a charge in the atmosphere before lightning struck. The cheer that went up among the prisoners and freed slaves he'd been leading was almost deafening, shaking the corridor they stood in as they began to rush forwards.
"Wait!" Anakin tried to stop them, but it was too late. The Zygerrians and battle droids opened fire, killing a dozen slaves and prisoner in the first few seconds. But there were more bodies rushing forwards than even the repeating blasters of the super battle droids could deal with. The insane fervor of the slaves drove them onwards and they fell upon their former captors with a zealous barbarism that would have sickened him if he hadn't known the reason behind their anger.
A chirping in his ear drew his attention and he spoke even as he joined the charge, trying to minimize the casualties as best he could.
"Artoo, what is it?" Anakin asked. The droid beeped and whistled. "What? Put them through!"
"Anakin, are you there?" Anakin had never felt so relieved to hear Obi-Wan's voice. At least, not that he could recall in that instant.
"I'm here, master," Anakin said. "So, you managed to contact the commander and organize this rescue?"
"What? No, we came on our own. We thought you might have somehow established contact with the Hound to do this."
Then… the Hound was operating independently. Anakin wasn't sure whether he should laugh at Brystel's gaul or balk at the sheer insanity of attacking a ship like the Charybdis with a light cruiser and an escort of transports.
"Look, we need to secure transport out of here."
"Alright, you do that. I'm headed for the bridge."
"Anakin! Brystel might be trying to blow up this ship!"
"Sorry to cut in like this, but are you people with the Republic?" A female voice asked, one Anakin found unfamiliar.
"Who is this?" He demanded. The line they were on was a secure Jedi channel. Even the Hound, assuming it was within range, couldn't have accessed it.
"Name's Jatilla and I couldn't help but notice that there's two more slicers currently wreaking havoc on this ship. Tracing your signals took a little work, so color me impressed."
An annoyed whistle came from Artoo, who seemed quite displeased to have been followed.
"Are you with Brystel?" Obi-Wan asked.
"As it happens, I am. Putting him through now."
"This is Lieutenant Commander Brystel of the Hound. Identify yourselves."
"Brystel, this is Skywalker," Anakin said quickly.
Brystel didn't miss a beat. "Provide clearance codes."
Anakin's brow furrowed a bit at that, but he guessed Brystel hadn't survived out behind Separatist lines by taking people at their word if he could help it. After providing his codes, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka both did as well. If Brystel was surprised to learn there were three Jedi unexpectedly aboard the ship he was attacking, he hid it well.
"Generals. Commander. What are your orders?"
Obi-Wan spoke first. "What exactly is your plan here, commander?"
"I have troops moving to capture the admiral on the bridge. He's the brother of the Zygerrian Queen, so the plan was to hold him and our other prisoners hostage in exchange for safe passage back to Republic space. If possible, we'd take the ship with us."
Anakin had to laugh. He really was trying to capture an entire battlecruiser.
"Well, then… How can we help?"
Batoya's jaw was clenched so tightly, he felt his teeth crack.
"WHERE ARE THOSE SHIPS?!?" Batoya demanded.
"Two minutes out, sir," the sensors officer said.
"Admiral," his first officer said in a low, quiet voice as he drew near. "I believe it might be pertinent for you to move command to one of the frigates."
The back of Batoya's fist collided with the man's skull, sending the wretch stumbling backwards, hands groping for purchase that wasn't there. Batoya's hand fell to his holstered blaster and he snarled harshly.
"I am Batoya Scintel!" He shouted. "Prince of Zygerria! Admiral of the Confederacy! I do not cower! I do not retreat!"
His first officer rose, a look of anger finally bubbling over in his eyes, but it vanished in a moment, replaced by shock. The Zygerrian fell to one knee. Batoya smiled, thinking the gesture was for him, until he noticed that the rest of the Zygerrians were all kneeling as well. And it wasn't to him.
He turned around and stared up at the holographic image of a displeased Zygerrian woman in blue and gold finery, a circlet of precious metals and gems wrapped around her brow.
"S-sister," Batoya said, shock temporarily overcoming his anger. "What… to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"You know perfectly well what," Miraj Scintel, Queen of Zygerria, growled. Her own scowl made him shrink away, like a scolded child. "Batoya, you fool. I would have you killed if we weren't siblings."
"Sister, I assure you," Batoya said carefully, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "Whatever you've heard is not the case, I have the situation well in-!"
"Silence." Batoya's mouth clacked shut. "You will withdraw from this engagement and return to Zygerria, at once. Do you understand?"
Batoya's eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. "Sister, please, I am so close to-!"
"Enough of this!" Miraj said. "You have received your Queen's command. Obey it."
With that, the holoimage of his sister vanished. Batoya stared at the space where it had been for a long moment.
"Admiral," his first officer said carefully behind him. "A shuttle has been prepared in the hangar bay for you. We should leave now."
Batoya's eyes squeezed shut. When they opened again, resolve was in them. "We're not leaving."
"Admiral-!"
"Press the attack," Batoya ordered, stepping forward. "We fight to the-!"
He never got to finish, as the stun blast cut him off and sent him crashing to the ground. The first officer stepped forward, holstering his blaster pistol. No one moved to detain him.
"Get the droids up here and have them set a course for Boonta's surface," the Zygerrian ordered. "We're getting off this junkheap. Have all remaining security forces deploy to cover our escape."
He stared down at the prone Batoya, seemingly weighing his options.
"And someone help me carry him."
Raptor rolled to the side, avoiding the whip of the Zygerrian soldier, his blaster carbine barking once and dropping the alien slaver. Another Zygerrian was drawing a bead on him, but then Xalas was there, carving through flesh.
"I surrender!" A Zygerrian crewman shouted, throwing up his hands. He wasn't dressed in a soldier's uniform, nor did he have a weapon. Another shot from Raptor's blaster ensured he'd never get the chance to pick one up.
"Commander," Raptor said as he led the strike force forward. "We're nearly at the rear hangar."
"Good. General Kenobi and Commander Tano are getting close to the bridge. If the admiral tries to escape, it will be likely from there. Secure all ships."
"Yes, sir," Raptor said. The presence of the Jedi was a surprise. Raptor was still debating with himself whether it was a welcome one. He didn't mind having their skillset, but Jedi could bring a lot of problems too. And, at the moment, those problems included his allies. Xalas had said nothing upon hearing the Jedi being present, but the glint in his eye was recognizable even in his alien features.
Hopefully, the alien could restrain his hatred for the Jedi until after the battle. He'd found Xalas to be fairly practical, but the Kaleesh were not fond of the Jedi. At the very least, Xalas had yet to share with the rest of his warriors that Jedi were present, which was a promising sign. Raptor just hoped he didn't do anything stupid.
"Head's up, boys," Jatilla said into their ears. "You've got slavers and droids inbound. Commandos, destroyers, and… something else."
"Elaborate," Raptor ordered, annoyed at the vague description.
"I'm not sure. I haven't seen this kind of droid signal before."
"Is there only one of them?" Raptor asked.
"It's moving with a squad of commandos. Another is heading to intercept the Jedi. Hold on, I've got security feed. Patching it into your commlink."
Raptor withdrew his commlink, activating it and watching as a squad of commando droids ran by. Following behind them, carrying an electrostaff, stalked an IG-100 Magnaguard.
Raptor muted his helmet and began to swear.
"Alright, course is locked in," the B1 Pilot droid said. The bridge of the Charybdis was nearly empty, the only ones left in it being a trio of pilot droids.
"I guess that's it then," another said, taking a seat by the navigator's console. "I have to say, not how I thought I'd go out."
"And how's that?" The third asked.
"I don't know," the second droid said. "I thought I'd be infantry. Then I got reprogrammed for piloting."
"Hey, look," the first droid said, nodding towards the viewport, where Boonta was coming into view as the Charybdis swung around. "That's a pretty planet."
"Yeah," the other two droids agreed.
"So, what do we do now?" The second droid asked after a while.
"I guess they want us to stay and make sure we crash," the first said with the droid equivalent of a shrug.
"Yeah… But did they order us to stay?" The third droid asked.
"I don't know," the first said.
"They didn't tell me anything," the second added.
"Me neither," the third stated.
"So…" The first said slowly. "Can we leave?"
"There's an escape pod attached to the bridge," the second noted. "We might hit the surface after the ship does."
"Sounds good to me," the third said. The trio of droids departed from the bridge. Just as they stepped through one set of sliding doors, which closed after them, another set opened elsewhere on the bridge. Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Haka burst onto the bridge, weapons raised, only to find it empty.
"They abandoned ship?" Obi-Wan wondered aloud.
"I guess they decided keeping this thing was more trouble than it was worth," Ahsoka said. "But.. Oh."
"What?" Obi-Wan turned his gaze to where she was looking and saw the approaching planet in the viewport. "Oh."
"Any signs of a shuttle taking off?" Den asked. The pair of Munificents had altered their course. Rather than trying to get around and into range of his fleet, which had been busy scurrying around to avoid just that, they were moving towards the flank, no doubt to protect Batoya's escape. There was little he could do against the larger vessels at the moment. It was up to the strike force.
"There was an escape pod, sir, but no lifesigns aboard," his sensors officer stated. "Sir! The Charybdis is changing course!"
"What's its heading?" Den demanded, turning back to the holoprojection of the battlefield.
"Its heading straight for Boonta's surface!"
Den's teeth clenched tight. "Contact the boarding team! Order them to find the nearest escape craft, immediately!"
"Wait!" Jatilla said quickly. "Get me access to the navigation and I can send it wherever you want!"
Den considered it, then turned towards his comms officer. "Get me General Skywalker."
The commando droid lashed out, the vibrosword cutting through the air where Raptor's neck had been moments earlier. He pushed off the ground, his shoulder shoving the droid off-balance, but it just rolled backwards with the momentum and came up again in a fighting stance, still holding the sword.
The droid slashed for him, but then Xalas was there, his own blade slamming into the droid's neck. The blade wasn't sharp enough to cut through, but the force of the blow was enough to knock the droid's head off kilter, sending it stumbling back. Raptor charged forward and managed to get his mechanical hand around its neck. Without waiting, he ripped the droid's head off, putting it down for good.
Xalas considered his blade, which had blunted from the force of the blow. Grunting in annoyance, he sheathed it, then plucked up the vibrosword. Raptor replaced his own blaster with one of the droids'.
Around him, the rest of the commando droids had been dealt with, leaving Raptor, Xalas, and two pairs of clones and Kaleesh. No sign of the Magnaguard, which Raptor wasn't sure was a good thing.
"Keep your eyes sharp," Raptor ordered. He'd had to leave quite a few men behind to hold off Zygerrian security teams trying to stop their advance, something which had reduced their numbers far more than he'd have liked. "Jatilla, any sign of the Magnaguard?"
He waited for a response, but nothing came.
"Jatilla?"
Still, nothing.
"Our foe blocks our signal," Xalas remarked. Raptor nodded grimly, raising his blaster, eyes scanning the corridor. The rest of the squad were equally as on edge.
"Keep moving," Raptor said. "We can't wait for it."
They started forwards. Raptor had been certain the Magnaguard would have been with the commando droids. Or, perhaps, it would have set up a kill box with the destroyer droids and the super battle droids. Yet, it had done nothing. And he was starting to understand why. He was tired, they all were, and they were out of droid poppers and other grenades. It had let the rest of the droids go ahead to wear them down. Now it would be waiting for them.
The next room they crossed through was a storage room, mainly dedicated to droid repair it seemed, as the shelves were filled with spare parts, from limbs, to heads, to internal wiring. The shelves were high, easily six meters at least, and the lights were off.
"It is here," Xalas said softly. Raptor agreed.
"Spread out," Raptor ordered. If it had any explosives, it might try to take out the entire group at once. He'd rather avoid that. "Move to the entrance. Kicker, Malaen, you two on the rear. Quip, Jaerom, middle. Xalas, you're with me."
As they moved in, Xalas drew closer and spoke quietly. "If it is here, I and my warriors can deal with it. Your troopers should go ahead to get the admiral."
"No," Raptor said firmly. "If Magnaguards are as deadly as they say, only the six of us stand a chance."
"You fear this droid?" Xalas asked and Raptor wasn't sure if the alien was mocking him or not.
"Let's just say I'm glad the Seppies haven't mass produced them," Raptor replied.
They were nearing the entrance, but Raptor's anxiety didn't diminish. When they finally reached the blast door, he kept sweeping the rest of the room, while Kicker moved to the door controls.
The explosion that blasted out of the console was small, but powerful enough to blast Kicker away, his scorched armored form slamming into Malaen behind him with enough force to crack bone and take them both to the ground. There was no time to check on them, as Raptor and the rest of the group stumbled away from the explosion. That was when the Magnaguard chose to strike.
Its glowing red photoreceptors blinking back to life, the droid descended from the ceiling, electrostaff shocking into life, generating a twirling ring of purple death as it moved with a cat-like grace that belied its tall, heavy form.
Jaerom was the first to go, the magnaguard's staff slamming into his stomach and sending a lethal burst of electricity through the Kaleesh warrior. The freed slave collapsed backwards, limbs twitching and shuddering as he died.
Raptor and Quip both opened fire a moment later, but the droid was already moving by then. It rushed Quip, deflecting his shots with its staff before reaching out with one hand and grasping the clone by the throat. With mechanical strength, the droid tossed Quip into one of the shelves with enough force to make the wall-sized structure shudder, knocking many droid parts loose, the trooper's head snapping back with a loud crack.
Two of Raptor's shots landed, but they were absorbed by the droid's heavy armor. It turned and rushed towards him next, only for Xalas to intercept it with his looted blade. The droid's electrostaff slashed through the air where Xalas' skull had been, only to drop to the ground as the blade came up and sliced neatly through the droid's wrist.
The droid changed tactics in an instant, its one remaining fist slamming into Xalas' gut and dropping him to his knees in a moment. As the droid prepared to bash the Kaleesh down into the ground, Raptor fired and scored a hit on one of its head's photoreceptors, the small light winking out. The magnaguard stumbled back, regained its balance in a moment, then picked up Xalas by the back of his shirt and tossed him at Raptor. The clone lieutenant had barely a moment to drop his blaster and catch the Kaleesh, falling backwards as he rolled with the momentum.
The droid charged towards them, only for a stray blaster bolt to strike it in the shoulder. The droid turned around and saw Malaen lying on his side, Kicker's blaster carbine in his hands. Malaen fired again, but he wasn't a sharpshooter. The blast went wide and the magnaguard simply plucked up Raptor's lost blaster and fired a shot that ended the wounded warrior's life.
It turned back around, just in time for Xalas's vibroblade to bury itself into the large photoreceptor in its chest. The magnaguard lifted the blaster in its one remaining hand, only for Raptor to grab hold of it with both his mechanical and organic limbs and wrench it away. The droid's sliced up limb drew back and buried itself in Xalas' side, the Kaleesh grunting with pain as it tried to wrench him off of itself and skewer him at the same time.
Xalas drew back, pulling his blade free, but clung onto the droid's limb that had impaled him. Together, the pair kept the droid in place, if only for a moment. That was all he needed.
Shouting something in his alien tongue, Xalas' blade sliced through the neck of the Magnaguard, decapitating the droid and finally ending it. The droid collapsed backwards, its weaponized limb being almost ripped out of the Kaleesh, splattering the floor in alien blood.
Both Raptor and Xalas fell to their knees, panting hard.
"You're wounded," Raptor said, moving to help the elder Kaleesh, but the alien just held up a hand.
"No time," Xalas stated firmly. "Batoya comes first. I can still fight."
Raptor nodded and the two rose back up, rearming themselves. Raptor spared a look for the last of their warriors, but that was all he could do. They moved on, their path now open.
The hangar was smaller than the main one, but large enough for several shuttle craft. Only one was present in it, however, a GX1 Short Hauler, one painted blue with golden accents in the style of the Zygerrian royal family. Raptor watched as an unconscious Zygerrian in an admiral's uniform was hoisted aboard by a pair of officers. Raptor opened fire and Xalas charged after them, but the boarding ramp slid up and the shuttle rose before blasting out into the void.
Raptor lowered his blaster and Xalas dropped to his knees, clutching his side.
The Kaleesh threw back his head and roared into the stars.
The blastdoors of the bridge slid open and Obi-Wan turned, lightsaber in hand, only to relax in a moment.
"Oh, it's you," he said and Anakin grinned.
"I see things up here are going about as well as can be expected without me," Anakin said as he stepped in, R2 rolling past him to plug into a dataport nearby to where R7 and Ahsoka worked.
"A little less chit-chat and a little more stopping us all from being pasted!" Ahsoka called annoyed.
"It's funny," Anakin said as he joined Ahsoka in ripping apart the control panels, talking as though he were taking a walk on a beach, rather than trying to stop a kilometers-long battlecruiser from plummeting to its doom. "Last time I was aboard one of these things, I was getting it to crash, now I'm trying to save it."
"Can you do it?" Obi-Wan asked, anxiously. The idea of abandoning all the slaves aboard to their deaths, not to mention the people on the planet far below, was horrifying to him. However, if they could do nothing, they would have to flee.
"How long have you known me?" Anakin asked without a hint of uncertainty. "Hey, Jatilla, right? You there?"
"Here, uh, mister Jedi," a nautolan woman said, her holographic image being projected by R2 as she was hard at work on a console of her own. "I'm connected to the ship systems. Wow, they really fried this thing."
"I think that was mostly the ion blast they hit themselves with," Anakin said almost conversationally. "Artoo, there's a fried pathway here, can you-? Thanks, buddy."
Obi-Wan resisted the urge to tap his foot as Anakin and the rest delved into talk of technical jargon that he only understood a bit of.
"Hey, so… in case you guys don't survive this," Jatilla said. "Can I have that R2 unit? It is really efficient at this."
Artoo whistled in both annoyance and smugness at that.
"Sorry, Artoo's his own droid," Anakin replied, before rising up and patting himself off. "Hmmm… Welp, that's it I guess."
"What?" Obi-Wan glanced at the viewport. Boonta was getting worryingly close now. "Anakin, we're still falling, what do you mean-?"
"Nothing to be done," Anakin said with a shrug as he stepped over to the pilot's controls. "They set the main engines to full burn. We'd need an hour to change that."
Obi-Wan stared at his old padawan.
"Fortunately," Anakin said at last as he pressed a single button. "They neglected the auxiliary engines."
With that, the Charybdis lurched to the side, the sight of Boonta being replaced by star-filled void. Obi-Wan let out a sigh of relief, then sent an annoyed look towards his old padawan, who just grinned cheekily in reply, kicking his feet up on the console and wrapping his hands behind his head.
"They also seem to have neglected to lock us out of the weapon systems," Anakin noted with some glee. "Artoo, if you would be so kind?"
All at once, the remaining cannons turned and opened fire on the Munificent-class frigates flanking it. The diminished firepower of the battlecruiser was still enough to threaten the lighter ships.
"General Skywalker, a shuttle just took off from the auxiliary hangar!" The voice of a clone came through his comm link. Anakin's cheeriness was gone in an instant. "Admiral Batoya is aboard!"
"Artoo, concentrate your fire on that shuttle!" Anakin ordered, but it was too late. He watched as the ship leapt away into hyperspace, soon followed by the remaining Separatist ships.
They had won… but Anakin couldn't help the sour taste in his mouth.
A cheer went up across the fleet as the last of the Separatist ships vanished into hyperspace, leaving the Hound and its captured fleet alone with its newest prize. And what a prize it was.
Hands behind his back, Den looked out upon their victory. It was wrecked, ruined almost, but intact.
"Make all preparations for our departure from this system," Den ordered calmly as he turned on his heel. "And prepare for our return to Republic space. Contact the Charybdis and find out what will be needed for the ship to be brought with us, if it can be. If asked, inform the Generals that I will return momentarily."
Den walked off the bridge, heading for his personal office, which was quite close by. Once there, he let himself inside, locked the door behind him, and then sat down at his desk. For a long moment, he just sat there, staring at the closed door.
Then, he began to laugh. It was not a humorous laugh. It was not a good laugh. Tears streamed down his face as his laughs became sobs and he rested his head against the desk, finally quieting save for the heaving of his chest as he sucked in lungfuls of air. Under his uniform, he was sweating more than if he'd gone thirty rounds in the sparring ring with Raptor.
He rose up, leaning against the back of his chair as he got his breathing under control, letting out one final, pained breath. He felt as though he'd aged twenty years in as many minutes. He stared at the head of the tactical droid that Raptor had gifted him back on Quell.
"How the karking hell am I supposed to explain this?"
"Count Dooku. The rest of Batoya's fleet has fled the system," the holographic image of General Grievous said. "But the Republic has captured the Charybdis. I have a force nearby that can ensure they do not escape with it or their lives."
"There is no need for that, General," Count Dooku said. "The capture of the Charybdis and the principle engineer of the Subjugator-class ships is unexpected, but even this can be used to serve our plans. Divert your attention to attacking Republic forces elsewhere and leave Skywalker and Brystel to my master."
"As you wish, Count," Grievous said, bowing before his image flickered away.
Dooku turned in his seat, fingers steepled before him as he considered the long hall of his office in his palace on Serenno. Winter had arrived for this region of his homeworld, snow falling in a flurry outside. It reminded him of another world he'd visited once during its own winter.
"You wished to speak to me, my lord?"
Dooku turned, considering the holographic image of one of a countless number of agents that served him. This particular one served Dooku the Separatist, rather than Dooku the Sith.
"There is a lieutenant commander in the Republic Navy," Dooku said. "His name is Den Brystel. You will find he was raised on Obroa-Skai for most of his life. Go there and find out everything you can about him."
"Am I to kill him?" He could sense the man's confusion. But the Force moved in strange ways and Dooku knew better than most that when the Dark Side provided an opportunity, it had to be seized with both hands.
"If it is necessary, that will be a task left for others. First, we shall determine where his loyalties truly lie."
Batoya's eyes blinked open. Rays of sunlight danced between gossamer curtains. The smell of freshly cooked meats and other delicacies tickled at his senses. Groggily, he rose and realized immediately that he was not aboard the Charybdis. It took him a moment to recognize his old room in the palace on Zygerria.
He looked around and soon found he was not alone. His sister rested on the balcony, looking out over the capital. Transports and freighters carrying fresh slaves and the treasure to buy them flew in and out of the spaceports like a river of commerce.
Her gaze turned and found him in a moment. Unlike the last time he had seen her, she no longer looked upset. Nonetheless, he shrank back into his bedding as she approached.
"Brother," Miraj Scintel drawled. "I trust you enjoyed your time playing soldier?"
"I… what happened?" He asked.
"Your first officer stunned you after he learned you were going to disobey my orders," she said, sitting on the side of his bed. Batoya felt a flicker of fury grow in him, but it was subdued by the icy gaze of the realization that his sister knew of his disobedience.
"I… I had a good reason," he lied.
"I am sure," She said. "That is why I had him and the rest of the survivors of your crew whipped and executed. For that, and for stunning a member of the royal family, of course."
"Then… I'm forgiven?" Batoya asked carefully. Miraj reached forward with claw-like fingers, making him shrink back, only for those fingers to ruffle his hair.
"I could never stay mad at my baby brother," she said with a soft smile. He gave her a weak one in return. "After all, I'm in mourning over his death."
Batoya went very still. "You… You're not going to…" He felt the blood drain from his face, but Miraj's smile only grew.
"No, of course not," she said. "But, as I'm sure you can imagine, Count Dooku isn't pleased about your loss of his pretty new warship. If he knew you were alive, he'd have your head on a platter."
Batoya let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you… sister."
"Of course," Miraj said. "You'll just have to stay in the palace for a while, until you have a chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of the Separatist Alliance."
Batoya rose, resolve in his eyes. "I already know how." Brystel. He'd hunt him down and then-
Miraj's gaze hardened. "No. You don't. You know nothing. You will wait here, in the palace, under watch, until I have determined how you might better serve Zygerria."
Batoya wanted to object, wanted to tell her she couldn't order him around like this… But he couldn't. He hung his head and nodded and her gaze softened again.
"Good," she said, ruffling his hair again. "Now, come join me for breakfast."
Commodore Garask considered the fleet before him grimly. Three Venator-class star destroyers and a pair of retrofitted acclamators meant for space combat rather than troop transportation. Hardly enough to take on a foe like the Charybdis if it came knocking. He was not looking forward to facing such a vessel, if it did come to that. With any luck, high command on Coruscant would send a proper fleet to deal with it, rather than relying on mad Jedi plans.
"Commodore, incoming transmission," his comms officer announced.
"Source?"
"Transponder code says the Hound," the officer said. "They're reporting they've managed to escape Separatist space and would like to speak with the highest ranking officer present."
Garask let out a sigh. He supposed he would be expected to give some kind of hero's welcome to some up and coming lieutenant commander who'd spent a few weeks behind enemy lines and assumed that made him a legend.
"Put them through," he ordered. Oddly, there was only audio, rather than any holographic visual. "Hound, this is Commodore Garask of Task Force Ninety-two."
"Commodore, this is Lieutenant Commander Den Brystel of the Hound."
"You needed to speak with me?"
"Yes, sir. I know it's a bit unusual, but we're sitting on the edge of the system right now. We, uh… wanted to give you fair warning we'd be coming in with a few… captured ships."
'Fair warning'? He could at least try to not seem like he was angling for a ceremony.
"Thank you, commander, but no warning is necessary," Garask said, starting to let his annoyance creep into his voice. "You may return to active service as you like."
For a moment, there was silence on the other end and he thought the lieutenant commander might have been insulted. Garask hoped he was.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. We'll be coming over now."
Finally, Garask thought to himself. He could admire ambition in young officers, but some took it too far, asking for something they thought they deserved but just hadn't anything to achieve.
"Multiple ships dropping out of hyperspace, Commodore," his sensors officer said. "Several separatist transponders, but they're broadcasting friendly codes."
Garask felt a bit of curiosity. He'd thought Brystel had meant he'd captured a few shuttles at most, but he was actually seeing a few transports out there comparable in size to a corvette or even larger. The biggest prize was obviously the Corona-class armed frigate. All of them seemed damaged in one way or another, but that was to be expected from captured-
"Another ship exiting hyperspace," the sensors officer announced. His voice seemed… oddly concerned.
Garask's eyes widened as he watched what was possibly the most battle damaged Providence-class carrier he had ever seen drop out of hyperspace. The cylindrically shaped ship looked like its top half had been scraped off and he was starting to understand why Brystel had wanted to give them a fair warning. Seeing a ship like that would definitely raise alarm bells if it had come out of nowhere. Certainly, the man was deserving of accolades as well, though Garask couldn't imagine how it had gotten into such a state.
"Contact the Hound," Garask ordered. "Tell them…" He sighed. "Tell them, well done and they can-."
"Large hyperspace signature emerging, sir!" The sensors officer said, suddenly bolting up straight. "Sir, I think… I think it's the-!"
The Charybdis emerged like a deep sea predator rising from fathomless depths to devour its prey.
"Stars above!" Garask shouted. "All hands to battle stations!"
"We're receiving transmission from the enemy!" The comms officer announced. Garask leapt at the opportunity to extend his life.
"Put them through! Put them through!"
A moment later, the holographic image emerged. Garask had expected the infamous Admiral Batoya, the slaver-prince of Zyerria, to appear. Instead, he had to blink.
"General… Skywalker?"
"Commodore Garask," Skywalker said with a friendly nod. "I don't suppose you could spare a few tug boats for our ship? The hyperdrive is acting up."
Batoya glared down at the datapad containing the lists upon lists of cruisers, freighters, frigates, shuttles, and every other craft he was managing to scrape up from what was left of his once proud sector fleet. It was pitifully small and he hadn't gotten any sleep for nearly two rotations now while he tried to make the impossible work of having those ships bring him all the necessary parts to repair the Charybdis.
At present, his escort fleet consisted of a pair of Munificent-class frigates, a rundown Dreadnaught-class cruiser that was under-armed even by Ruusan Reformation standards, and roughly thirty transport craft that were no more dangerous than a hutt armed with a handheld blaster.
"Admiral Batoya," the sensors officer called and Batoya had to take a moment to really hear him. "A ship just dropped out of hyperspace. A cargo freighter, identifying as the Pedunkee Mufkin. Its engines appear heavily damaged and it's leaking fuel."
Batoya straightened, a bit of sharpness returning to his eyes. Was it Brystel?
"Is it allied?"
"Yes, sir, but it's not registered to this sector. It's listed as a privateer."
"Lifesigns?"
"Two, but we haven't been able to establish communication. Their comms may be down as well."
It wasn't impossible that this was some kind of trick… Brystel was crafty. There had been no reports of activity from him recently. Was he trying to attack the Charybdis itself? To further make a mockery of him?!?
"Activate the tractor beam then and bring them aboard," Batoya ordered. "Have a security team confine them for interrogation and sweep that ship for any signs of deception. If they resist or object, shoot them."
"Yes, admiral."
"And boost our sensors! If there is even a hint of that wretched Republic dog trying to run back home, I want to know about it!"
Sergeant Darin watched as the cargo freighter's boarding ramp slowly descended, old hydraulic pipes hissing with effort. To even call the ship a junker was going a bit far. It seemed like it'd be the garbage a junker would haul around. Half of its main cylindrical engine looked like it had been blown off, possibly by a laser cannon shot. Had he looked closer, he might have seen the telltale signs of a thermal detonator's work. Had he been an engineer, he might also notice that the damage, while quite nasty in appearance, was almost entirely superficial.
" 'Ello down there!" A man's voice called to them from further inside the ship. His accent was unfamiliar, no doubt belonging to some nameless Outer Rim backwater. A moment later, the human himself appeared at the top of the ramp. He had messy auburn hair with grease running through it and oil stains on his face and was wearing some kind of raggedy poncho. Darin stepped toward him and nearly stumbled as a horrid stench finally hit him like a wall. He had worked as a guard in the slave pits before, but this stench outstripped even the disgusting smells he'd encountered then.
A moment later, an orange-skinned togruta popped her own head out of the ship, sending an annoyed glare towards the Zygerrians, and then one towards her copilot. She said something in huttese, which Darin was only passingly familiar with. Mostly, he recognized a lot of the swears and insults she used. Her copilot responded in a similarly crass fashion, the pair both gesticulating wildly and angrily. He was only able to catch maybe every fourth word, but he believed they were discussing whose fault it was that the engine had exploded.
"Shut it!" Darin ordered and his soldiers moved forward. "You're both to be detained by order of Admiral Batoya!"
This did not silence the two as they argued, in fact it only seemed to make them angrier with one another, though they didn't resist as they were both placed into binders by the soldiers and swiftly escorted down. The small togruta did have to be forcibly pulled away as she tried to kick out at her comrade when they passed by each other to emphasize her argument.
Despite their obvious low-class upbringings, the two looked mostly healthy and likely could have cleaned up well. Darin suspected that both would have made for excellent slaves, but there was little point in speculating. If the two were sold, he wouldn't be seeing any of the profits.
Ultimately, he had to have both of the prisoners gagged just to get them to shut up. None of the Zygerrians noticed that they'd picked up a third addition in the form of a small, red and green astromech rolling a short way behind them.
"Admiral, ship jumping in from hyperspace!" The officer called.
"Is it the Hound?!?" Batoya demanded, all other thoughts discard as he rushed to the sensor station. "Well?!?"
"No, sir, it's…" The officer stared at his console in confusion. "The Slavemaker?"
"What?" Batoya was caught entirely off-guard. That particular Providence-class should have still been undergoing repairs after the damage it had suffered in the first battle with the Republic fleet. He knew because it was one of the handful of capital ships he still commanded, having been passed over by Grievous.
"More ships jumping in!" The officer called out. "Admiral, the Hound is among them! They're forming up with the Slavemaker!"
Batoya stared at the console's readouts, unwilling to believe them for a long moment. Then, he began to laugh.
"I would expect nothing less, my enemy," Batoya hissed through a grin that stretched his lips wide. "Bring us about to intercept and charge cannons."
"Admiral, we're still damaged," his first officer warned. "We can't risk the Charybdis, we should leave it to the other ships in the-."
Batoya grabbed the Zygerrian by the scruff of his neck, pulling him close and snarling. "I. Said. Charge. Cannons."
The Zygerrian nodded slowly and Batoya shoved him away.
"And have the freighter prisoners executed. They might be his agents."
Anakin's eyes were shut. He didn't meditate very often, he preferred action compared to just sitting around, but that wasn't really an option for him at the moment. Despite his best attempts, however, it felt as though relaxation was just beyond his reach. It wasn't like this when he was working on something and the lack of movement was agitating.
Obi-Wan would tell him to calm and center himself, but that had never really come easy to Anakin. He let out a sigh, opening his eyes and studying his blank cell once more. Still bound to the wall, there was even less to do now.
He almost grinned when he heard a chirping beep in his ear. And he couldn't have been happier about the news. A Republic ship had just arrived.
"Alright, Artoo, scramble their feed," Anakin whispered. A moment later, a whistle of confirmation sounded in his ear. Anakin took a deep breath and then pushed.
There was a 'click' and the shackles binding him to the wall snapped open, dropping him to the cell floor. He took a moment to luxuriate in being able to move his limbs again, stretching overstrained muscles, then headed over to the entrance. It had taken him several attempts, and several increasingly painful shocks, but feeling out the internal mechanisms of his locks had actually been the most enjoyable thing he'd had to do while imprisoned.
"Alright," Anakin said aloud, no longer worried about the Zygerrians set to watch him overhearing. "Can you deal with the door?"
His reply was the said door opening, ray shield dropping in the same moment. The pair of Zygerrian soldiers set to guard his cell twisted around, eyes going wide with shock as their Jedi prisoner stepped free and, without a moment's hesitation, threw out his hands. The two slavers were thrown backwards, striking the other side of the corridor with enough force that there was an audible crack of bone. Their limp corpses dropped to the ground.
A few moments later, Artoo trundled down the corridor, whistling happily as the small droid emerged from his hiding place, followed by a Jawa who'd taken to wearing a Zygerrian helmet that was slightly too big for him in place of a hood.
"Hey, buddy," Anakin greeted, patting the droid on the head. "Miss me?"
Artoo whistled in affirmation, wobbling from side to side. Anakin chuckled, nodding towards the Jawa and greeting it in their language. The Jawa replied simply, asking if they could leave.
"Not yet," Anakin said. "First, contact Obi-Wan. I'm sure he's leading the fleet."
Then, R2 gave him a negative beep and shook from side-to-side.
"Wait, what?" Anakin stared at the small droid. "But you said a Republic ship-? Wait, is it-?"
R2 whistled again and Anakin noted that the Jawa seemed just as shocked as he was.
"The Hound is here? And they've got a-?"
Anakin didn't get to finish his question as a blaster shot suddenly passed through the air mere centimeters from his head. He leapt to the side, grabbing the Jawa under one arm and Force pulling R2 along with him as he took cover. Further down the corridor, four Zygerrian guards seemed like they weren't bothering with giving him a chance to surrender again.
The Jawa shouted at him, speaking so quickly that Anakin wasn't able to understand him clearly through the sounds of blasterfire.
"What did you say?" Anakin shouted back and the Jawa pointed enthusiastically at a dataport on the wall, next to R2. The droid understood and R2's scomp link popped out and inserted into the port.
A few moments later, every cell door on the prison level slid open, restraints deactivating.
Den took a deep breath as they entered the system, the bulk of the ship that had once been known as the Slavemaker looming large in their viewport. It had not been that long since the battle where Reeves and the rest had lost their lives. Nonetheless, there was no time to grieve for them anymore than there was for the others who had died in the time since.
"How is the Emancipator looking, Slipknot?" Den asked, glancing at the nearby consoles that had been dedicated to the slaved controls of the Providence-class. Additional consoles and processors that had been wired into the Hound's systems to deal with the far greater system load that the larger vessel required, despite having most of its functions automated, were scattered throughout the bridge and manned by clones and freed slaves alike.
"Just don't ask for anything fancy and we'll be fine," The clone replied. "Starboard shields are holding strong, engines are functioning. Weapons are online, but without gunners to assist the targeting system, I wouldn't trust them to hit anything smaller than a battlecruiser."
"It's fortunate that they're throwing one at us then," Den said, as much to himself as to the clone. The Charybdis' massive form loomed on the edge of the holomap. The Emancipator and the rest of the raider fleet kept a tight formation, keeping the bulk of the Emancipator between themselves and the slowly approaching Subjugator-class ship. That the rest of the Separatist fleet, small though it was, seemed content to hang back was a blessing he wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve.
"Fortunate?" Ruggle Schmong asked, utterly terrified. Den had brought him to the bridge for the battle in case he happened to have any helpful, last minute insights on the Charybdis, but given the sullustan's fear of being in battle, Den wasn't sure how much help he'd actually be. "We're doomed!"
"Batoya certainly seems mad," Jatilla said, grinning, but even she couldn't keep the hint of nervousness from her voice. Den just nodded.
Their escape point was on the other side of Boonta, a five minute journey. The Charybdis was in a perfect position to intercept them, but that was what the Emancipator was for.
"Keep us steady, Slipknot," Den ordered. "Sensors, stay alert for those cruisers. If they start moving, I want to know about it." He turned to Jatilla. "Is your illusion up and running?"
Jatilla nodded with a mischievous grin.
"Commander, the Charybdis is firing," Slipknot said. "Shields are holding. Fighters entering point defense range."
"They'll ignore the Emancipator and head for the fleet," Den said and he was right. He watched as the swarm of vulture droids approached, their numbers decimated by previous battles and possibly even from self-inflicted casualties wrought by the Charybdis's technical issues. The tiny fightercraft had simple programming, but they were nimble and maneuverable enough that the even simpler programming of the Charybdis's automated point defense cannons were only able to score a dozen or so kills before they'd crossed its bulk and entered into range of the rest of the fleet. "Contingency Aurek."
Almost the moment after the order left his lips, it was followed. Reprogrammed vulture droids hidden along the port side of the Emancipator deactivated the magnetic attachments holding them to the hull. In an instant, the attacking fighters were flanked by their own kind, even as they were met with the full fury of the rest of the fleet's point defense cannons, which were far more accurate in the destruction they wreaked.
There were cheers on the bridge as the enemy vulture droids were shredded apart by the score, but they fell away quickly enough as professionalism took over once more. They were not out of this yet.
"This is cell level nine-four, the prisoners have escaped! I repeat the prisoners have- AGH!"
Darin barely had a moment to consider what that or the sudden alarms blaring through the ship meant before he was suddenly lifted up by an invisible hand and slammed against the ceiling, his head striking metal. The world swam in his eyes as he dropped back to the ground.
Ahsoka ducked, narrowly avoiding the blaster shot, before springing into a backflip that culminated in her crashing bootsfirst into the Zygerrian soldier's chest, sending him to the ground. Her hands still bound behind her back, she rolled to the side to avoid an electro-whip that lashed out at her from another soldier, then sweeped the feet out from under the same soldier.
Obi-Wan sidestepped a blaster shot, then tilted his head to avoid another. A powerful kick sent a battle droid tumbling into its compatriot.
R7 whistled loudly and two metal cylinders ejected from its domed head, flying through the air towards them. Both Jedi called on the Force, drawing their lightsabers into their hands and cutting through their binders in an instant.
"Jedi!" One of the remaining Zygerrians cried out in alarm, fumbling for his commlink. Both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan flung out a hand and the Force sent the rest flying backwards, the slavers landing in a pile of limbs alongside broken droids.
"It sounds like Anakin's been making friends," Obi-Wan said, dusting himself off as he hooked his lightsaber to his belt. Ahsoka opened her mouth to reply, when a door on the side of the corridor slid open. Both Jedi twisted around, lightsabers igniting in an instant.
The twi'lek slave carrying a crate froze, eyes going wide at the sight before him. A moment later, he dropped the crate, throwing his hands up even as he crouched down, bowing his head.
"P-please don't hurt me!" The slave cried. Two lightsabers deactivated with a soft hiss.
"Hey, hey, its ok," Ahsoka said quickly, kneeling down and holding her hands up in a soothing gesture. "You just startled us, we won't hurt you. We're not with the Zygerrians."
The twi'lek stared up at them with wide eyes that were fixed on the lightsabers now hooked to their waists. "You… you are Jedi as well?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "We are. You saw another Jedi?"
"Y-yes, one was captured. He slew my overseer before he was taken. Do you work for the Mad Dog?"
The two Jedi shared a glance. "Mad Dog?" Ahsoka asked.
"The Hound and its commander!" The twi'lek said, eyes burning with hope and excitement. "I never thought he would send not one, but three Jedi to save us!"
"We aren't-?" Ahsoka began, now genuinely confused, but Obi-Wan placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Yes, we're friends of his. Will you help us?"
The twi'lek nodded so fast Ahsoka was worried his head might fly off.
"Admiral, our fighters have nearly all been destroyed," the sensors officer said. Batoya's eye twitched.
"Sir, we should call up the other ships," his first officer warned. Batoya sent a disbelieving glare at him.
"I command the most powerful ship in the entire Separatist Navy," Batoya growled. "Do you think I fear a single cruiser and a few pitiful transports?!?"
"Admiral," the comms officer suddenly said, before the first officer could reply. "Receiving reports of escaped prisoners on cell level nine-four."
"That's the cell with the Jedi," the first officer said, eyes going wide. Batoya barely heard him.
"Handle it," he ordered the Zygerrian, who stared at him even as he turned back to the battle before him. "Get us closer and intensify forward firepower!"
"Admiral, many of our turbolasers are still not fully operational," one of his gunners warned. "Intensifying their power might cause them to burn out."
"We'll deal with the repair issues later!" Batoya snarled. "Now, give me more power!"
The first officer turned to the comms officer, though he kept one eye and ear on the battle. "Mobilize security teams. Terminate all hostiles."
"Keep moving!" Anakin cried out as he charged the Zygerrians. He wished not for the first time he had his lightsaber, but it had been taken from him and it seemed that the guards weren't the ones who'd kept it. Batoya likely had it, almost certainly as a trophy, and the idea of the Zygerrian slaver holding something so important to him filled him with a deep rage.
He reached with the Force and ripped a durasteel panel off the corridor he and the dozens of others of freed slaves and prisoners were rushing down, bringing it up and in front of them to block an incoming storm of blaster fire. A powerful Force push sent the panel flying into the squad of slaver soldiers, killing the first one it struck and stunning another three. Then, the slaves descended upon their former masters with an anger to match the one he felt. Cries for mercy and shrieks of pain were soon turned to silence as Zygerrians were beaten to death, whether by hand or by improvised weapon. The blasters were taken up and though Anakin was offered one, he chose to continue fighting with his hands.
"We need to keep moving," Anakin said again, leading the slaves down another corridor after Artoo whistled directions in his ear. The little droid was patched into the ship's internal communications systems and keeping the growing band of fighters one step ahead of its security, while also causing havoc by creating false alarms and leading squads of slavers around in circles. "Artoo, any luck getting through to the Hound?"
A negative chirp was his reply. The short-range commlink they were using was strong, but not that strong. And that was assuming their signal wasn't just being ignored as a Separatist trick. He could only hope that Brystel would respond.
"Alright," Ahsoka said as they reached a console in the corridor. "R7, patch in and let's find out where Skyguy's hiding."
"Given the alarms, I doubt that 'hiding' is the correct word," Obi-Wan said, stepping aside to allow R7 access. The twi'lek slave, Haka, was looking nervously from one end of the corridor to the other.
"We'll be okay," Ahsoka said, trying to reassure the poor being. "Once we link up with my master, we'll get you and everyone we can to safety."
Haka nodded, putting on a brave face, but his anxiety remained strong in the Force. Ahsoka wasn't sure what else she could say and R7's whistle drew her attention away regardless.
"What attack?" Ahsoka asked, confused. R7 was whistling and beeping faster and faster, so much so that Obi-Wan couldn't keep up.
"What's it saying?"
"There's a Republic ship attacking the Charybdis," Ahsoka said, glancing at Kenobi. "Did you know about that?"
"No," Obi-Wan said, brow furrowing. "Just one ship?"
R7 whistled again and Ahsoka's eyes widened.
"The Hound?!?" She repeated in disbelief. Haka's eyes widened.
"The Mad Dog is here?" He whispered, eyes tearing up in an instant. The twi'lek collapsed to his knees. "He has come… he has come to save us."
"That's…" Obi-Wan was stunned into silence for a moment, though not for any kind of reverence like what Haka was experiencing. No matter how many small ships Brystel had captured, attacking the Charybdis was suicidal, wasn't it? What could have possibly possessed him to-?
R7 beeped and shifted back and forth. Obi-Wan looked to Ahsoka for help, but she seemed just as confused.
"Wait, he's using a what as a shield?"
"Slipknot, how are the Emancipator's shields looking?" Den asked as the Charybdis continued to close on them. The massive battlecruiser was moving at an angle to intercept them, as he'd expected it to. Batoya didn't want them escaping. And, at this rate, they wouldn't. The larger battlecruiser might not have been as fast as the swiftest of Den's ships, but it was faster than the slowest. Soon, the Charybdis would be blocking their only escape route.
Or so Batoya was likely thinking.
"Falling fast, sir," Slipknot replied.
"I see," Den said. "And have you locked onto Ruggle's targets?"
"All ready, sir."
Den glanced at Jatilla, who gave him a mischievous grin and a nod in return. "Then let's pop 'our' head out of the water for them. Contingency Besh."
"Admiral, the Hound is breaking away from their formation!" The sensors officer called.
"Target it with all cannons!" Batoya ordered.
"Belay that order!" His first officer said, stepping closer. "Admiral, this is clearly some kind of trick, we should focus on destroying the primary threat!"
"I will not be questioned by my crew!" Batoya said, shoving the Zygerrian away. "Open fire!"
The heavy cannons of the Charybdis turned upon the Hound, crimson bolts crossing through the void to strike at the light cruiser. However, the ship was small and maneuverable, nor were they so close that the Charybdis' gunners had an easy shot. The Hound took a few hits, breaking the first layer of its shielding, but then it dipped back down behind the Slavemaker and was out of range. Batoya snarled.
"Coward!" He spat.
"Retarget the Slavemaker," the first officer said. "Don't give them time to recover!"
"Admiral, the Hound is emerging again!" The sensors officer announced.
"Should we target it again?" The gunners asked.
"Lock onto its signal and fire missiles!"
"Admiral, we'd have to lower our shields to do that!" His first officer interrupted again and Batoya sneered.
"They can do nothing to this ship!" Batoya said once more. "Fire!"
A swarm of missiles streaked out across the void towards the Hound. He watched as it undertook evasive maneuvers and he almost laughed at the panicked reaction. Rather than trying to go back behind the Slavemaker, something which might have been enough to save their pathetic lives, they were pulling up and away from it. He watched as the missiles reached their target and exploded, the signal winking out in an instant.
He blinked. Was that it? Had he done it? Relief and shock flooded him all at once. To be rid of his foe after all this time, he… he didn't know how to feel. Satisfied? Victorious? Should he celebrate? For so small a death, the trouble it had caused him was-.
"Incoming missiles!" The sensors officer shouted. "Fired from the Slavemaker!"
Batoya growled as he was shaken from his thoughts as proton torpedoes lit up across the prow of the Charybdis. Yet, something was odd about the placement of the torpedoes. It almost seemed random, rather than targeted, as most missed anything important like their diminishing number of weapons systems.
"Prepare to-!" Batoya started to give the order to return fire, when the sensors officer called out something that made him go still.
"Admiral, the Hound's signal just reappeared! The ship we destroyed… it was a Diamond-class cruiser bouncing the signal off of itself!"
Batoya stared down at the holoprojection of the fleet, watching as a new ship appeared, detaching from the Slavemaker, where it'd been able to power down and mask itself within the signature of the larger vessel, relying upon the craft to also carry it along until then.
Another trick. Batoya's teeth ground against one another.
"And that, children, is how you convince judiciaries and slaver scum to chase bait while you make a clean getaway," Jatilla said, leaning back in her seat, hands wrapped around the back of her neck. The Emancipator was not the only ship they'd had slaved to another, the emptied Diamond-class cruiser had proven a useful, if short-lived distraction for their foe.
"We're not out of this yet," Den said. "Emancipator, shield status?"
"Coming back online now," Slipknot said. "Managed to bring them up a bit."
"Effect of strike?"
"All targets destroyed," Slipknot announced.
"Commander, reading fluctuations in the enemy's shields!" His sensors officer called. Den glanced at Ruggle, an almost impressed look on his face.
"Just as you said," Den noted, nodding in approval before turning back. "All hands, make ready for Contingency Cresh. Raptor, are your men ready?"
"Just give us the word."
"WHY IS THAT SHIP STILL HERE!?!" Batoya demanded.
"Admiral, another two turbolasers just burned out," one of his gunners said, unable to keep the nervousness from his voice. "If we keep firing nonstop, the rest might-."
"THEN USE THE BROADSIDE TURBOLASERS!" Batoya shouted. "BRING US ABOUT AND FIRE!"
The Charybdis turned further, bringing fresher cannons around to face their foe.
"Admiral, shields are fluctuating," another officer announced. "I think… Sir, they cut the power lines to the forward shield generators!"
"What!?!" Batoya demanded. That was impossible, they couldn't have managed that. There were redundant power lines spread across the hull, even if they'd had a thousand proton torpedoes, random strikes couldn't have managed-
They hadn't struck randomly. Ruggle. That verminous little wretch had…
"Admiral, there's a revolt brewing aboard the ship," the first officer said to him, but Batoya barely heard him. "If the Jedi is coordinating with the Hound, he might be the larger threat here. If we withdraw-."
"I told you to deal with him," Batoya snarled back. "So deal with him. Or I'll find someone else who can."
"Admiral, the Slavemaker is breaking formation!" The sensors officer called, eyes going wide and panic entering his voice. "It's heading for us!"
Batoya felt a little bit of cold fear mix with the hot rage in his blood.
"Destroy it!" He shouted. "DESTROY IT, NOW!"
"It's too late!" His first officer called. "Evasive maneuvers!"
The Charybdis listed to one side as swiftly as it was able to, turning up and away even as the Slavemaker drew nearer. The captured Providence-class' crumpled prow slammed into the belly of the Charybdis, tearing through multiple decks and ripping away layers upon layers of armor. The lower half of the massive ion cannon on their port side cracked in half and it was only because the system had been taken offline for repairs that they did not suffer another incident.
Batoya was nearly thrown across the bridge and some of his officers with less of an iron grip upon something stable were tossed about. Many of the droids that fell over did not get up again.
"Get the rest of the ships up here!" His first officer cried out. This time, Batoya did not disagree.
Anakin landed on his side with a grunt as the entire ship shook, throwing slaves and Zygerrians about.
"Artoo, what was that?!?" Anakin asked. The droids whistles were coming almost too fast for him to make sense of them. Yet, when the words finally clicked together in his head, he couldn't help but laugh.
Obi-Wan let out a groan as he picked himself up off the ground. Trying to find Anakin was going about as well as could be expected given the chaos of the ship they were on, not to mention the size. The sudden lurching was not helping, nor were the sound of distant explosions. At the very least, Ahsoka had seemed pleased when she had realized that all the false alarms that had been leading them down dead ends and into squads of lost Zygerrian soldiers was likely proof that Artoo was still active.
Both Anakin and Ahsoka were far too attached to that little droid.
"R7, what was that?" Ahsoka asked as she rose rubbing her arm where she'd landed. Haka was testing one of his legs, wincing when he put weight on it, but otherwise seeming to be fine. The droid quickly plugged into another dataport in the wall and replied a moment later. This time, Obi-Wan understood what the droid had said all too well.
"He rammed us," Obi-Wan said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"We should probably hurry and find my master," Ahsoka said, smiling nervously. "Before Brystel throws another ship at us."
R7 whistled something else at that, which left both of them staring at the droid in stunned silence. Haka looked to both of them.
"What?" He asked. "What is the Mad Dog doing?"
"He's…" Obi-Wan let out an emphatic sigh. "He's coming aboard."
Den gripped the back of the navigator's seat as the Hound and the rest of his impromptu fleet flew at each of their top speeds towards the listing Charybdis. The battlecruiser had taken a hit, but even though a chunk of it had been ripped off, it was strong enough to ignore that. Den had known that the best case scenario of the Charybdis being destroyed in the ramming attack had been unlikely, even with Ruggle's advice on how to remove its shields.
He was more surprised to see that the Emancipator seemed to have gotten off fairly lightly as well. Sure, the half-recovered prow now looked four times worse than it had after the Gallant Warrior's own suicidal ramming attack against it, and half the armor on its topside had been ripped away, along with the bridge and tower and part of its engines block, but apart from that, the other engines seemed to still function. That the ship itself was still able to maneuver at all was nothing short of a miracle, not that it would help him much at the moment as it just continued to burn towards the other side of the system.
The Hound swung around, moving low over the cracked ion cannon disk and nearing one of the cylindrical superstructures that poked out from the side of the ship behind it. The Charybdis' defenses were sparse in that area and what was there was easily dealt with by the fleet. It was not long before each vessel found its docking port and connected, clamping on and holding fast.
But they would not be there for long. Den could see the two Munificent-class frigates moving in to finally support their admiral.
The airlock's doors shunted open and Xalas and the Kaleesh charged through, finding only a squad of battle droids in their path. With ease and finesse, they cut down the flimsy droids before the clones had even followed them out.
"Secure the corridor!" Raptor ordered, moving quickly to unsling the pack he carried, drawing out a computer spike from it. As the rest of the troops carried by the Hound to this fight quickly filled the corridor, moving as fast as they could manage to empty the tube connecting the battlecruiser to the Arquitens-class, Raptor slid the slicing tool into a dataport in the wall. "Jatilla, the spike is in. Status?"
"Gimme a minute, will you?" Came an annoyed reply through the commlink. "These systems are a bit more advanced than what they use for their other stuff."
"Commander," Raptor said, changing comms channels. "All troops are aboard. You are free to detach."
"Understood. Give'em hell."
The airlock resealed and the sound of the Hound's docking array detaching echoed down the corridor as the light cruiser pulled away. On other decks and in other sections of the ship, the rest of their impromptu fleet, having delivered their boarding parties, performed similar actions.
"Hey, clone," Jatilla chirped in his ear. "Watch this."
With only that as warning, the holoprojector of the console he was near lit up, displaying the image of the commander. And all across the ship, similar images appeared. Slaves, Zygerrians, and droids all looked up and away from their various labors.
"My name is Lieutenant Commander Den Brystel. Some of you may know me as the Mad Dog that's been killing Batoya's men, capturing his ships, and freeing your fellow slaves."
"Through those efforts, we have freed countless slaves and killed just as many Zygerrians."
Anakin stared at the holoprojected image of the lieutenant commander, standing defiantly before an impossibly stronger foe. Ahead of him, a squad of Zygerrians and battle droids who'd set up a chokepoint had temporarily ceased fire as both sides paused in the face of the sudden and unexpected announcement.
"I am here, now, with a fleet of warships and an army of free beings who have chosen to fight to keep that freedom."
"I am now offering you a choice. The first choice that any of you have been given in a very long time."
Ahsoka and Obi-Wan looked to one another, while Haka collapsed to his knees, staring at the image as if in worship.
"Join me. Join us! My troops are already aboard this vessel!"
"Kill the Zygerrians! Take back the lives they stole from you!"
Batoya glared at the holoprojected image of his most hated foe. Everything was a buzz in his ears, like little insects flying around. His hands grasped at the empty air, then squeezed so tight that his nails bit through flesh and blood dripped to the ground. He didn't see the comms officer at work, opening a long range channel.
"Take revenge for every humiliation, every beating, every murder!"
"Take back your freedom!"
With that, the holoprojected image faded away, leaving the slave barracks once again in darkness. The Zygerrian overseer looked down into the sweating masses before him and saw a hundred pairs of eyes looking back, glinting in the dark. He backed away, hand going to his waist, where the remote for control of their shock collars sat fixed to his belt.
He never saw who threw the pipe, only felt the metal collide with his head, his vision exploding with sparks as he fell over. He heard distant shouting and saw forms clambering up out of the dark. He struggled as hands reached up and grabbed him, but he was unable to stop himself from being pulled away and into the mass below.
He screamed, then gurgled, and finally fell silent.
And the slaves rose.
"He can't seriously be expecting to capture this ship, right?" Ahsoka asked, glancing at Obi-Wan.
"Perhaps, perhaps not," the Jedi Master replied. "He's gotten this far. He might be trying to capture the vessel, he might be trying to sabotage it."
"He can do it," Haka said resolutely, standing up. His expression was determined, confident even. Fear still emanated from him in the Force, but it was overcome by a deep focus and anger. Ahsoka wasn't sure she liked the feeling, nor the fact that she could feel those same emotions growing stronger all across the ship, like a background hum in her mind that was getting louder and louder. "What's the plan?"
Ahsoka and Obi-Wan shared a look. "First, we still need to find Anakin," Obi-Wan said.
"If Artoo is the one causing all the false alarms, we might be able to contact him," Ahsoka suggested. "We should also probably try and contact the Hound and find out what's going on."
"Right," Obi-Wan nodded. "R7, check short-range comms for Republic signals."
Anakin watched as the holoimage faded. He felt what was about to happen occur before it did, like the building of a charge in the atmosphere before lightning struck. The cheer that went up among the prisoners and freed slaves he'd been leading was almost deafening, shaking the corridor they stood in as they began to rush forwards.
"Wait!" Anakin tried to stop them, but it was too late. The Zygerrians and battle droids opened fire, killing a dozen slaves and prisoner in the first few seconds. But there were more bodies rushing forwards than even the repeating blasters of the super battle droids could deal with. The insane fervor of the slaves drove them onwards and they fell upon their former captors with a zealous barbarism that would have sickened him if he hadn't known the reason behind their anger.
A chirping in his ear drew his attention and he spoke even as he joined the charge, trying to minimize the casualties as best he could.
"Artoo, what is it?" Anakin asked. The droid beeped and whistled. "What? Put them through!"
"Anakin, are you there?" Anakin had never felt so relieved to hear Obi-Wan's voice. At least, not that he could recall in that instant.
"I'm here, master," Anakin said. "So, you managed to contact the commander and organize this rescue?"
"What? No, we came on our own. We thought you might have somehow established contact with the Hound to do this."
Then… the Hound was operating independently. Anakin wasn't sure whether he should laugh at Brystel's gaul or balk at the sheer insanity of attacking a ship like the Charybdis with a light cruiser and an escort of transports.
"Look, we need to secure transport out of here."
"Alright, you do that. I'm headed for the bridge."
"Anakin! Brystel might be trying to blow up this ship!"
"Sorry to cut in like this, but are you people with the Republic?" A female voice asked, one Anakin found unfamiliar.
"Who is this?" He demanded. The line they were on was a secure Jedi channel. Even the Hound, assuming it was within range, couldn't have accessed it.
"Name's Jatilla and I couldn't help but notice that there's two more slicers currently wreaking havoc on this ship. Tracing your signals took a little work, so color me impressed."
An annoyed whistle came from Artoo, who seemed quite displeased to have been followed.
"Are you with Brystel?" Obi-Wan asked.
"As it happens, I am. Putting him through now."
"This is Lieutenant Commander Brystel of the Hound. Identify yourselves."
"Brystel, this is Skywalker," Anakin said quickly.
Brystel didn't miss a beat. "Provide clearance codes."
Anakin's brow furrowed a bit at that, but he guessed Brystel hadn't survived out behind Separatist lines by taking people at their word if he could help it. After providing his codes, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka both did as well. If Brystel was surprised to learn there were three Jedi unexpectedly aboard the ship he was attacking, he hid it well.
"Generals. Commander. What are your orders?"
Obi-Wan spoke first. "What exactly is your plan here, commander?"
"I have troops moving to capture the admiral on the bridge. He's the brother of the Zygerrian Queen, so the plan was to hold him and our other prisoners hostage in exchange for safe passage back to Republic space. If possible, we'd take the ship with us."
Anakin had to laugh. He really was trying to capture an entire battlecruiser.
"Well, then… How can we help?"
Batoya's jaw was clenched so tightly, he felt his teeth crack.
"WHERE ARE THOSE SHIPS?!?" Batoya demanded.
"Two minutes out, sir," the sensors officer said.
"Admiral," his first officer said in a low, quiet voice as he drew near. "I believe it might be pertinent for you to move command to one of the frigates."
The back of Batoya's fist collided with the man's skull, sending the wretch stumbling backwards, hands groping for purchase that wasn't there. Batoya's hand fell to his holstered blaster and he snarled harshly.
"I am Batoya Scintel!" He shouted. "Prince of Zygerria! Admiral of the Confederacy! I do not cower! I do not retreat!"
His first officer rose, a look of anger finally bubbling over in his eyes, but it vanished in a moment, replaced by shock. The Zygerrian fell to one knee. Batoya smiled, thinking the gesture was for him, until he noticed that the rest of the Zygerrians were all kneeling as well. And it wasn't to him.
He turned around and stared up at the holographic image of a displeased Zygerrian woman in blue and gold finery, a circlet of precious metals and gems wrapped around her brow.
"S-sister," Batoya said, shock temporarily overcoming his anger. "What… to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"You know perfectly well what," Miraj Scintel, Queen of Zygerria, growled. Her own scowl made him shrink away, like a scolded child. "Batoya, you fool. I would have you killed if we weren't siblings."
"Sister, I assure you," Batoya said carefully, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "Whatever you've heard is not the case, I have the situation well in-!"
"Silence." Batoya's mouth clacked shut. "You will withdraw from this engagement and return to Zygerria, at once. Do you understand?"
Batoya's eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. "Sister, please, I am so close to-!"
"Enough of this!" Miraj said. "You have received your Queen's command. Obey it."
With that, the holoimage of his sister vanished. Batoya stared at the space where it had been for a long moment.
"Admiral," his first officer said carefully behind him. "A shuttle has been prepared in the hangar bay for you. We should leave now."
Batoya's eyes squeezed shut. When they opened again, resolve was in them. "We're not leaving."
"Admiral-!"
"Press the attack," Batoya ordered, stepping forward. "We fight to the-!"
He never got to finish, as the stun blast cut him off and sent him crashing to the ground. The first officer stepped forward, holstering his blaster pistol. No one moved to detain him.
"Get the droids up here and have them set a course for Boonta's surface," the Zygerrian ordered. "We're getting off this junkheap. Have all remaining security forces deploy to cover our escape."
He stared down at the prone Batoya, seemingly weighing his options.
"And someone help me carry him."
Raptor rolled to the side, avoiding the whip of the Zygerrian soldier, his blaster carbine barking once and dropping the alien slaver. Another Zygerrian was drawing a bead on him, but then Xalas was there, carving through flesh.
"I surrender!" A Zygerrian crewman shouted, throwing up his hands. He wasn't dressed in a soldier's uniform, nor did he have a weapon. Another shot from Raptor's blaster ensured he'd never get the chance to pick one up.
"Commander," Raptor said as he led the strike force forward. "We're nearly at the rear hangar."
"Good. General Kenobi and Commander Tano are getting close to the bridge. If the admiral tries to escape, it will be likely from there. Secure all ships."
"Yes, sir," Raptor said. The presence of the Jedi was a surprise. Raptor was still debating with himself whether it was a welcome one. He didn't mind having their skillset, but Jedi could bring a lot of problems too. And, at the moment, those problems included his allies. Xalas had said nothing upon hearing the Jedi being present, but the glint in his eye was recognizable even in his alien features.
Hopefully, the alien could restrain his hatred for the Jedi until after the battle. He'd found Xalas to be fairly practical, but the Kaleesh were not fond of the Jedi. At the very least, Xalas had yet to share with the rest of his warriors that Jedi were present, which was a promising sign. Raptor just hoped he didn't do anything stupid.
"Head's up, boys," Jatilla said into their ears. "You've got slavers and droids inbound. Commandos, destroyers, and… something else."
"Elaborate," Raptor ordered, annoyed at the vague description.
"I'm not sure. I haven't seen this kind of droid signal before."
"Is there only one of them?" Raptor asked.
"It's moving with a squad of commandos. Another is heading to intercept the Jedi. Hold on, I've got security feed. Patching it into your commlink."
Raptor withdrew his commlink, activating it and watching as a squad of commando droids ran by. Following behind them, carrying an electrostaff, stalked an IG-100 Magnaguard.
Raptor muted his helmet and began to swear.
"Alright, course is locked in," the B1 Pilot droid said. The bridge of the Charybdis was nearly empty, the only ones left in it being a trio of pilot droids.
"I guess that's it then," another said, taking a seat by the navigator's console. "I have to say, not how I thought I'd go out."
"And how's that?" The third asked.
"I don't know," the second droid said. "I thought I'd be infantry. Then I got reprogrammed for piloting."
"Hey, look," the first droid said, nodding towards the viewport, where Boonta was coming into view as the Charybdis swung around. "That's a pretty planet."
"Yeah," the other two droids agreed.
"So, what do we do now?" The second droid asked after a while.
"I guess they want us to stay and make sure we crash," the first said with the droid equivalent of a shrug.
"Yeah… But did they order us to stay?" The third droid asked.
"I don't know," the first said.
"They didn't tell me anything," the second added.
"Me neither," the third stated.
"So…" The first said slowly. "Can we leave?"
"There's an escape pod attached to the bridge," the second noted. "We might hit the surface after the ship does."
"Sounds good to me," the third said. The trio of droids departed from the bridge. Just as they stepped through one set of sliding doors, which closed after them, another set opened elsewhere on the bridge. Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Haka burst onto the bridge, weapons raised, only to find it empty.
"They abandoned ship?" Obi-Wan wondered aloud.
"I guess they decided keeping this thing was more trouble than it was worth," Ahsoka said. "But.. Oh."
"What?" Obi-Wan turned his gaze to where she was looking and saw the approaching planet in the viewport. "Oh."
"Any signs of a shuttle taking off?" Den asked. The pair of Munificents had altered their course. Rather than trying to get around and into range of his fleet, which had been busy scurrying around to avoid just that, they were moving towards the flank, no doubt to protect Batoya's escape. There was little he could do against the larger vessels at the moment. It was up to the strike force.
"There was an escape pod, sir, but no lifesigns aboard," his sensors officer stated. "Sir! The Charybdis is changing course!"
"What's its heading?" Den demanded, turning back to the holoprojection of the battlefield.
"Its heading straight for Boonta's surface!"
Den's teeth clenched tight. "Contact the boarding team! Order them to find the nearest escape craft, immediately!"
"Wait!" Jatilla said quickly. "Get me access to the navigation and I can send it wherever you want!"
Den considered it, then turned towards his comms officer. "Get me General Skywalker."
The commando droid lashed out, the vibrosword cutting through the air where Raptor's neck had been moments earlier. He pushed off the ground, his shoulder shoving the droid off-balance, but it just rolled backwards with the momentum and came up again in a fighting stance, still holding the sword.
The droid slashed for him, but then Xalas was there, his own blade slamming into the droid's neck. The blade wasn't sharp enough to cut through, but the force of the blow was enough to knock the droid's head off kilter, sending it stumbling back. Raptor charged forward and managed to get his mechanical hand around its neck. Without waiting, he ripped the droid's head off, putting it down for good.
Xalas considered his blade, which had blunted from the force of the blow. Grunting in annoyance, he sheathed it, then plucked up the vibrosword. Raptor replaced his own blaster with one of the droids'.
Around him, the rest of the commando droids had been dealt with, leaving Raptor, Xalas, and two pairs of clones and Kaleesh. No sign of the Magnaguard, which Raptor wasn't sure was a good thing.
"Keep your eyes sharp," Raptor ordered. He'd had to leave quite a few men behind to hold off Zygerrian security teams trying to stop their advance, something which had reduced their numbers far more than he'd have liked. "Jatilla, any sign of the Magnaguard?"
He waited for a response, but nothing came.
"Jatilla?"
Still, nothing.
"Our foe blocks our signal," Xalas remarked. Raptor nodded grimly, raising his blaster, eyes scanning the corridor. The rest of the squad were equally as on edge.
"Keep moving," Raptor said. "We can't wait for it."
They started forwards. Raptor had been certain the Magnaguard would have been with the commando droids. Or, perhaps, it would have set up a kill box with the destroyer droids and the super battle droids. Yet, it had done nothing. And he was starting to understand why. He was tired, they all were, and they were out of droid poppers and other grenades. It had let the rest of the droids go ahead to wear them down. Now it would be waiting for them.
The next room they crossed through was a storage room, mainly dedicated to droid repair it seemed, as the shelves were filled with spare parts, from limbs, to heads, to internal wiring. The shelves were high, easily six meters at least, and the lights were off.
"It is here," Xalas said softly. Raptor agreed.
"Spread out," Raptor ordered. If it had any explosives, it might try to take out the entire group at once. He'd rather avoid that. "Move to the entrance. Kicker, Malaen, you two on the rear. Quip, Jaerom, middle. Xalas, you're with me."
As they moved in, Xalas drew closer and spoke quietly. "If it is here, I and my warriors can deal with it. Your troopers should go ahead to get the admiral."
"No," Raptor said firmly. "If Magnaguards are as deadly as they say, only the six of us stand a chance."
"You fear this droid?" Xalas asked and Raptor wasn't sure if the alien was mocking him or not.
"Let's just say I'm glad the Seppies haven't mass produced them," Raptor replied.
They were nearing the entrance, but Raptor's anxiety didn't diminish. When they finally reached the blast door, he kept sweeping the rest of the room, while Kicker moved to the door controls.
The explosion that blasted out of the console was small, but powerful enough to blast Kicker away, his scorched armored form slamming into Malaen behind him with enough force to crack bone and take them both to the ground. There was no time to check on them, as Raptor and the rest of the group stumbled away from the explosion. That was when the Magnaguard chose to strike.
Its glowing red photoreceptors blinking back to life, the droid descended from the ceiling, electrostaff shocking into life, generating a twirling ring of purple death as it moved with a cat-like grace that belied its tall, heavy form.
Jaerom was the first to go, the magnaguard's staff slamming into his stomach and sending a lethal burst of electricity through the Kaleesh warrior. The freed slave collapsed backwards, limbs twitching and shuddering as he died.
Raptor and Quip both opened fire a moment later, but the droid was already moving by then. It rushed Quip, deflecting his shots with its staff before reaching out with one hand and grasping the clone by the throat. With mechanical strength, the droid tossed Quip into one of the shelves with enough force to make the wall-sized structure shudder, knocking many droid parts loose, the trooper's head snapping back with a loud crack.
Two of Raptor's shots landed, but they were absorbed by the droid's heavy armor. It turned and rushed towards him next, only for Xalas to intercept it with his looted blade. The droid's electrostaff slashed through the air where Xalas' skull had been, only to drop to the ground as the blade came up and sliced neatly through the droid's wrist.
The droid changed tactics in an instant, its one remaining fist slamming into Xalas' gut and dropping him to his knees in a moment. As the droid prepared to bash the Kaleesh down into the ground, Raptor fired and scored a hit on one of its head's photoreceptors, the small light winking out. The magnaguard stumbled back, regained its balance in a moment, then picked up Xalas by the back of his shirt and tossed him at Raptor. The clone lieutenant had barely a moment to drop his blaster and catch the Kaleesh, falling backwards as he rolled with the momentum.
The droid charged towards them, only for a stray blaster bolt to strike it in the shoulder. The droid turned around and saw Malaen lying on his side, Kicker's blaster carbine in his hands. Malaen fired again, but he wasn't a sharpshooter. The blast went wide and the magnaguard simply plucked up Raptor's lost blaster and fired a shot that ended the wounded warrior's life.
It turned back around, just in time for Xalas's vibroblade to bury itself into the large photoreceptor in its chest. The magnaguard lifted the blaster in its one remaining hand, only for Raptor to grab hold of it with both his mechanical and organic limbs and wrench it away. The droid's sliced up limb drew back and buried itself in Xalas' side, the Kaleesh grunting with pain as it tried to wrench him off of itself and skewer him at the same time.
Xalas drew back, pulling his blade free, but clung onto the droid's limb that had impaled him. Together, the pair kept the droid in place, if only for a moment. That was all he needed.
Shouting something in his alien tongue, Xalas' blade sliced through the neck of the Magnaguard, decapitating the droid and finally ending it. The droid collapsed backwards, its weaponized limb being almost ripped out of the Kaleesh, splattering the floor in alien blood.
Both Raptor and Xalas fell to their knees, panting hard.
"You're wounded," Raptor said, moving to help the elder Kaleesh, but the alien just held up a hand.
"No time," Xalas stated firmly. "Batoya comes first. I can still fight."
Raptor nodded and the two rose back up, rearming themselves. Raptor spared a look for the last of their warriors, but that was all he could do. They moved on, their path now open.
The hangar was smaller than the main one, but large enough for several shuttle craft. Only one was present in it, however, a GX1 Short Hauler, one painted blue with golden accents in the style of the Zygerrian royal family. Raptor watched as an unconscious Zygerrian in an admiral's uniform was hoisted aboard by a pair of officers. Raptor opened fire and Xalas charged after them, but the boarding ramp slid up and the shuttle rose before blasting out into the void.
Raptor lowered his blaster and Xalas dropped to his knees, clutching his side.
The Kaleesh threw back his head and roared into the stars.
The blastdoors of the bridge slid open and Obi-Wan turned, lightsaber in hand, only to relax in a moment.
"Oh, it's you," he said and Anakin grinned.
"I see things up here are going about as well as can be expected without me," Anakin said as he stepped in, R2 rolling past him to plug into a dataport nearby to where R7 and Ahsoka worked.
"A little less chit-chat and a little more stopping us all from being pasted!" Ahsoka called annoyed.
"It's funny," Anakin said as he joined Ahsoka in ripping apart the control panels, talking as though he were taking a walk on a beach, rather than trying to stop a kilometers-long battlecruiser from plummeting to its doom. "Last time I was aboard one of these things, I was getting it to crash, now I'm trying to save it."
"Can you do it?" Obi-Wan asked, anxiously. The idea of abandoning all the slaves aboard to their deaths, not to mention the people on the planet far below, was horrifying to him. However, if they could do nothing, they would have to flee.
"How long have you known me?" Anakin asked without a hint of uncertainty. "Hey, Jatilla, right? You there?"
"Here, uh, mister Jedi," a nautolan woman said, her holographic image being projected by R2 as she was hard at work on a console of her own. "I'm connected to the ship systems. Wow, they really fried this thing."
"I think that was mostly the ion blast they hit themselves with," Anakin said almost conversationally. "Artoo, there's a fried pathway here, can you-? Thanks, buddy."
Obi-Wan resisted the urge to tap his foot as Anakin and the rest delved into talk of technical jargon that he only understood a bit of.
"Hey, so… in case you guys don't survive this," Jatilla said. "Can I have that R2 unit? It is really efficient at this."
Artoo whistled in both annoyance and smugness at that.
"Sorry, Artoo's his own droid," Anakin replied, before rising up and patting himself off. "Hmmm… Welp, that's it I guess."
"What?" Obi-Wan glanced at the viewport. Boonta was getting worryingly close now. "Anakin, we're still falling, what do you mean-?"
"Nothing to be done," Anakin said with a shrug as he stepped over to the pilot's controls. "They set the main engines to full burn. We'd need an hour to change that."
Obi-Wan stared at his old padawan.
"Fortunately," Anakin said at last as he pressed a single button. "They neglected the auxiliary engines."
With that, the Charybdis lurched to the side, the sight of Boonta being replaced by star-filled void. Obi-Wan let out a sigh of relief, then sent an annoyed look towards his old padawan, who just grinned cheekily in reply, kicking his feet up on the console and wrapping his hands behind his head.
"They also seem to have neglected to lock us out of the weapon systems," Anakin noted with some glee. "Artoo, if you would be so kind?"
All at once, the remaining cannons turned and opened fire on the Munificent-class frigates flanking it. The diminished firepower of the battlecruiser was still enough to threaten the lighter ships.
"General Skywalker, a shuttle just took off from the auxiliary hangar!" The voice of a clone came through his comm link. Anakin's cheeriness was gone in an instant. "Admiral Batoya is aboard!"
"Artoo, concentrate your fire on that shuttle!" Anakin ordered, but it was too late. He watched as the ship leapt away into hyperspace, soon followed by the remaining Separatist ships.
They had won… but Anakin couldn't help the sour taste in his mouth.
A cheer went up across the fleet as the last of the Separatist ships vanished into hyperspace, leaving the Hound and its captured fleet alone with its newest prize. And what a prize it was.
Hands behind his back, Den looked out upon their victory. It was wrecked, ruined almost, but intact.
"Make all preparations for our departure from this system," Den ordered calmly as he turned on his heel. "And prepare for our return to Republic space. Contact the Charybdis and find out what will be needed for the ship to be brought with us, if it can be. If asked, inform the Generals that I will return momentarily."
Den walked off the bridge, heading for his personal office, which was quite close by. Once there, he let himself inside, locked the door behind him, and then sat down at his desk. For a long moment, he just sat there, staring at the closed door.
Then, he began to laugh. It was not a humorous laugh. It was not a good laugh. Tears streamed down his face as his laughs became sobs and he rested his head against the desk, finally quieting save for the heaving of his chest as he sucked in lungfuls of air. Under his uniform, he was sweating more than if he'd gone thirty rounds in the sparring ring with Raptor.
He rose up, leaning against the back of his chair as he got his breathing under control, letting out one final, pained breath. He felt as though he'd aged twenty years in as many minutes. He stared at the head of the tactical droid that Raptor had gifted him back on Quell.
"How the karking hell am I supposed to explain this?"
"Count Dooku. The rest of Batoya's fleet has fled the system," the holographic image of General Grievous said. "But the Republic has captured the Charybdis. I have a force nearby that can ensure they do not escape with it or their lives."
"There is no need for that, General," Count Dooku said. "The capture of the Charybdis and the principle engineer of the Subjugator-class ships is unexpected, but even this can be used to serve our plans. Divert your attention to attacking Republic forces elsewhere and leave Skywalker and Brystel to my master."
"As you wish, Count," Grievous said, bowing before his image flickered away.
Dooku turned in his seat, fingers steepled before him as he considered the long hall of his office in his palace on Serenno. Winter had arrived for this region of his homeworld, snow falling in a flurry outside. It reminded him of another world he'd visited once during its own winter.
"You wished to speak to me, my lord?"
Dooku turned, considering the holographic image of one of a countless number of agents that served him. This particular one served Dooku the Separatist, rather than Dooku the Sith.
"There is a lieutenant commander in the Republic Navy," Dooku said. "His name is Den Brystel. You will find he was raised on Obroa-Skai for most of his life. Go there and find out everything you can about him."
"Am I to kill him?" He could sense the man's confusion. But the Force moved in strange ways and Dooku knew better than most that when the Dark Side provided an opportunity, it had to be seized with both hands.
"If it is necessary, that will be a task left for others. First, we shall determine where his loyalties truly lie."
Batoya's eyes blinked open. Rays of sunlight danced between gossamer curtains. The smell of freshly cooked meats and other delicacies tickled at his senses. Groggily, he rose and realized immediately that he was not aboard the Charybdis. It took him a moment to recognize his old room in the palace on Zygerria.
He looked around and soon found he was not alone. His sister rested on the balcony, looking out over the capital. Transports and freighters carrying fresh slaves and the treasure to buy them flew in and out of the spaceports like a river of commerce.
Her gaze turned and found him in a moment. Unlike the last time he had seen her, she no longer looked upset. Nonetheless, he shrank back into his bedding as she approached.
"Brother," Miraj Scintel drawled. "I trust you enjoyed your time playing soldier?"
"I… what happened?" He asked.
"Your first officer stunned you after he learned you were going to disobey my orders," she said, sitting on the side of his bed. Batoya felt a flicker of fury grow in him, but it was subdued by the icy gaze of the realization that his sister knew of his disobedience.
"I… I had a good reason," he lied.
"I am sure," She said. "That is why I had him and the rest of the survivors of your crew whipped and executed. For that, and for stunning a member of the royal family, of course."
"Then… I'm forgiven?" Batoya asked carefully. Miraj reached forward with claw-like fingers, making him shrink back, only for those fingers to ruffle his hair.
"I could never stay mad at my baby brother," she said with a soft smile. He gave her a weak one in return. "After all, I'm in mourning over his death."
Batoya went very still. "You… You're not going to…" He felt the blood drain from his face, but Miraj's smile only grew.
"No, of course not," she said. "But, as I'm sure you can imagine, Count Dooku isn't pleased about your loss of his pretty new warship. If he knew you were alive, he'd have your head on a platter."
Batoya let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you… sister."
"Of course," Miraj said. "You'll just have to stay in the palace for a while, until you have a chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of the Separatist Alliance."
Batoya rose, resolve in his eyes. "I already know how." Brystel. He'd hunt him down and then-
Miraj's gaze hardened. "No. You don't. You know nothing. You will wait here, in the palace, under watch, until I have determined how you might better serve Zygerria."
Batoya wanted to object, wanted to tell her she couldn't order him around like this… But he couldn't. He hung his head and nodded and her gaze softened again.
"Good," she said, ruffling his hair again. "Now, come join me for breakfast."
Commodore Garask considered the fleet before him grimly. Three Venator-class star destroyers and a pair of retrofitted acclamators meant for space combat rather than troop transportation. Hardly enough to take on a foe like the Charybdis if it came knocking. He was not looking forward to facing such a vessel, if it did come to that. With any luck, high command on Coruscant would send a proper fleet to deal with it, rather than relying on mad Jedi plans.
"Commodore, incoming transmission," his comms officer announced.
"Source?"
"Transponder code says the Hound," the officer said. "They're reporting they've managed to escape Separatist space and would like to speak with the highest ranking officer present."
Garask let out a sigh. He supposed he would be expected to give some kind of hero's welcome to some up and coming lieutenant commander who'd spent a few weeks behind enemy lines and assumed that made him a legend.
"Put them through," he ordered. Oddly, there was only audio, rather than any holographic visual. "Hound, this is Commodore Garask of Task Force Ninety-two."
"Commodore, this is Lieutenant Commander Den Brystel of the Hound."
"You needed to speak with me?"
"Yes, sir. I know it's a bit unusual, but we're sitting on the edge of the system right now. We, uh… wanted to give you fair warning we'd be coming in with a few… captured ships."
'Fair warning'? He could at least try to not seem like he was angling for a ceremony.
"Thank you, commander, but no warning is necessary," Garask said, starting to let his annoyance creep into his voice. "You may return to active service as you like."
For a moment, there was silence on the other end and he thought the lieutenant commander might have been insulted. Garask hoped he was.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. We'll be coming over now."
Finally, Garask thought to himself. He could admire ambition in young officers, but some took it too far, asking for something they thought they deserved but just hadn't anything to achieve.
"Multiple ships dropping out of hyperspace, Commodore," his sensors officer said. "Several separatist transponders, but they're broadcasting friendly codes."
Garask felt a bit of curiosity. He'd thought Brystel had meant he'd captured a few shuttles at most, but he was actually seeing a few transports out there comparable in size to a corvette or even larger. The biggest prize was obviously the Corona-class armed frigate. All of them seemed damaged in one way or another, but that was to be expected from captured-
"Another ship exiting hyperspace," the sensors officer announced. His voice seemed… oddly concerned.
Garask's eyes widened as he watched what was possibly the most battle damaged Providence-class carrier he had ever seen drop out of hyperspace. The cylindrically shaped ship looked like its top half had been scraped off and he was starting to understand why Brystel had wanted to give them a fair warning. Seeing a ship like that would definitely raise alarm bells if it had come out of nowhere. Certainly, the man was deserving of accolades as well, though Garask couldn't imagine how it had gotten into such a state.
"Contact the Hound," Garask ordered. "Tell them…" He sighed. "Tell them, well done and they can-."
"Large hyperspace signature emerging, sir!" The sensors officer said, suddenly bolting up straight. "Sir, I think… I think it's the-!"
The Charybdis emerged like a deep sea predator rising from fathomless depths to devour its prey.
"Stars above!" Garask shouted. "All hands to battle stations!"
"We're receiving transmission from the enemy!" The comms officer announced. Garask leapt at the opportunity to extend his life.
"Put them through! Put them through!"
A moment later, the holographic image emerged. Garask had expected the infamous Admiral Batoya, the slaver-prince of Zyerria, to appear. Instead, he had to blink.
"General… Skywalker?"
"Commodore Garask," Skywalker said with a friendly nod. "I don't suppose you could spare a few tug boats for our ship? The hyperdrive is acting up."
Holy shit, this was a long one. Hope you all don't mind, you may have noticed that chapters have been increasing in length, but this one is probably going to be the longest in the story or at least one of the longest. I'm not sure if future chapters will continue to be as long as the past couple have been, it will largely depend on how I feel the story fits into those chapters.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
As expected of a mission that collides head on with Anakin and co.
This is definitely worth a promotion for den.
I wonder if he can get a venator, and keep the kaleesh and other volunteers as auxilliaries? Jatilla for one would certainly continue to be useful, as would the kaleesh warriors.
I wonder if he can get a venator, and keep the kaleesh and other volunteers as auxilliaries? Jatilla for one would certainly continue to be useful, as would the kaleesh warriors.
AspiringSteampnk
Mechanically-Inclined Overthinker
- Location
- A window with a nice view.
Fortunately it seems Brystel is in agreement with you on that. There are no good slavers.
Also, wow, that was awesome! If Brystel was a hero before, he's going to be a legend after this stunt. This story is always a highlight of my week, and you have the TCW tone nailed down. Hopefully the Republic takes care of the ex-slaves, though I wouldn't put it past them to decide "Congrats, you're free- but sending you back or keeping you as POWs will step on fewer toes, so... sorry."
Also, wow, that was awesome! If Brystel was a hero before, he's going to be a legend after this stunt. This story is always a highlight of my week, and you have the TCW tone nailed down. Hopefully the Republic takes care of the ex-slaves, though I wouldn't put it past them to decide "Congrats, you're free- but sending you back or keeping you as POWs will step on fewer toes, so... sorry."
Frankly I was worried the shop battle would be split between more than one character, so i love that you managed to do it all in one, and i'll never say no to longer chapters. TFTC and I'm looking forward to the next one!
So, I'm afraid I won't be able to post an update for this story on Monday next week. Classes and some other stuff are keeping me bogged down. I've been struggling to meet my own deadlines, so I'm hoping that the extra week will give me time to get back onto my usual schedule.