Sirian Vaat

(GREEN TEAM)

With the bulk of their army attacking the imperial flotilla head on, Dega and his small band of infiltrators crept unnoticed beneath the waves aboard the confiscated submarine. A spire extending down from the underside of the imperial flotilla could be seen ahead as the submarine slowed its course. With the orbital shield disabled, the small vessel continued forward until finally it hung silently in the water beneath the spire. Affixed to the submerged hull were dozens of small hydro-power turbines, producing renewable current energy that would power the flotilla indefinitely.

"Ok everyone," Padawan Dega said, looking to the quarren and mon calamari troops standing at the ready. "We've only minutes before our friends on that shuttle reach the flotilla. Master Corran's provided the distraction. Now it's our turn to do our part! Explosives on each of these turbines set for maxium yield! Once we get our people and any prisoners off, we blow it. Be somewhere else at that point!" The troops cheered then as they followed Dega up into the flooding chamber. Within a minute, the outer doors opened and two dozen mon calamari, quarren and their nautolan commander swam free of the submarine and into the dark waters beneath the imperial flotilla. Only seconds had passed when suddenly a storm of blaster fire rained down upon them. Imperial aqua-troops descended upon them, firing at will, but the native warriors were far more agile in the water and evaded the imperials' fire.

An impression came into Dega's mind then, a hazed image of Master Corran, struggling, fighting. The emanating darkness of sith accompied the dreadful feeling that crept into his mind as he took a moment, absent-mindedly still deflecting blaster fire back at imperial attackers. "Master Corran... hold on!"

The seasoned Jedi was more capable than many Jedi Dega had known, but these two sith were not novices, Dega sensed. He's going to need my help. Looking about him to check on his troops, Dega was relieved to see they were holding their own against the imperial aqua-troops. Satisfied, he looked up to the spire descended down from the flotilla's underside. An idea struck him then and he swam in close and thrust his lightsaber into the thick plating, carving a hole large enough for entry. A moment later, a gesture of his hand pulled the piece free and it fell away into the depths. Dega gingerly slipped into the structure and up a now flooded access shaft until he finally reached the water line. He turned a wheel overhead and pushed the shaft hatch open, lifting himself up and onto the deck above. He's not far, he sensed, and charged off down a corridor into the base. Beyond the walls he could hear the exchange of blaster fire echoing throughout the facility. The two armies of Dac and the Empire were fully entangled outside. Explosions rocked on the exterior of the flotilla, sending geisers of water shooting up into the air and showering the mixed combatants.

***

"You're overconfidence here will cost you, fool," Lord Soren's apprentice, Priam, sneered as the two sith paced in a circle around Master Corran. Lord Soren glanced at his apprentice, a young pureblood sith with great martial skill and with a boiling hatred of Jedi that rivaled his own. Soren, himself a tan-skinned zabrak with four stump-like horns atop his bald head, was more poised and in control than his ravenous apprentice, having tempered his anger long ago enough to always be in full control of his faculties. His emotions and passion were strong indeed, but they were tools to him, and he used them well. Priam's emotions and passion were akin to rampaging degus, lashing out in every direction with reckless abandon at times, but still with deadly effect. Together, the two sith could make a grand mess of things, and it was for their combined natures that they had been left to defend the imperial flotilla against the inevitable attack of Jedi.

"You're hopelessly outmatched, my friend," Soren put in, nodding to his apprentice. Priam then launched himself suddenly, catching Ben off guard with a Force-fueled leap and an overhead chop of his lightsaber. The apprentice planned on the Jedi's overhead block of course, and with his arms extended overhead to meet the apprentice's attack, Soren leased a surge of Force Lightning into the back of the Jedi. Momentarily paralyzing him, Priam quickly stepped onto the bent knee of Ben and performed a whirling kick that caught the stunned Jedi in the head, sending him spinning sidelong to the ground. Soren's laugh echoed through the small chamber as whisps of smoke rose from Ben's form. He nodded to Priam, who smiled as he extended a hand forward and with the Force lifted Ben from the floor until he hovered a meter off the ground. Priam's hand grasped the air then and Ben's throat constricted.

"You Remnants are never going to learn!" Soren scolded, as he surged another stream of lightning into Ben's hovering body. His muscles rippled and swelled and his blood burned like battery acid. Ben was a strong Jedi in his own right, but against two formiddable sith, his survival seemed uncertain. "Always meddling!" Soren continued, his expression erupting with anger and hatred as he tapped into his emotions finally, fueling his powers. Priam held Ben aloft, smiling with great content and pleasure as he watched Ben writhe and spasm.

The hum of a lightsaber sounded from behind him, erasing the joyous expression from his face as he quickly spun about with his lightsaber slashing across blindly to meet his attacker. He roared as he came about, just as a figure leapt into the air, soaring over his head. A knee caught him in the forehead, stumbling him backward, and as he spun about once again with his lightsaber leading the way, he was blinded by a flash of green light and a blast of pain struck his face. Backpeddling, Priam held his chin with one hand and held his blade before him to ward off his attacker. Looking ahead, he growled as he watched a nautolan Jedi come out of a roll and Force Push his master, Soren, across the room, slamming the Sith Lord into the chamber wall.

"Started the fun without me, eh Master?" Dega said, keeping an eye on their opponents as he offered Ben a helping hand. The master took it graciously as he got back to his feet and stood ready at his friend's side. His arms and legs quivered as the last chains of lightning coursed through his body and then abated.

Priam felt at his chin. The newcomer's blade had carved a grotesque trench through the pureblood's chin and lower lip. With golden eyes looking upon them, Priam's body coursed with newfound strength as his hatred and anger boiled within him. He stalked forward, not even looking to see if his master had recovered. "Now you die, Remnants..."

(RED TEAM)

Those few conscious members of Red Team stirred withini the now derelict Phantom ship. East tended to the others, while Mak checked on Bick up front. He was relieved to find her all in one piece, and surprised to see her already up to her elbows underneath the cockpit's control panels, attempting to reroute power to the engines.

"Can’t ... reach ... the bypass switch," she explained. She winced suddenly as a power surge gave her a minor shock. She kicked the panel with frustration, sticking her wounded finger in her mouth to relieve the pain. "We’re dead in the water, but I contacted the fleet. Medvac shuttle is on the way.†She then turned back to East and Mak. "Let's check on the others and get everyone ready for evac. We'll have to move quick."

In the hold of the Phantom, Bick paled to find the rest of the team in dire condition. The others lay unconscious and injured upon the deck. Having been tossed about the hold of the ship rather violently during the devastation, many of them had suffered serious injuries.

“I can’t get a pulse,†Bick said, more so to herself, as she knelt next to Traxen and pressed her hand against his exposed neck. His hair was caked with blood and his skin had grown very pale. East and Mak joined Bick in attempting to rouse their companions. Within minutes, after they had managed to apply some minor aid to those less injured, the ship's proximity alarm suddenly sounded, followed by the ship's automated voice overhead. Remnants shuttle docking complete.

The door to the hatch slid open and, much to the relief of Red Team, a Remnants medical squad hurried into the hold, bearing emergency treatment kits and medpacs.

"Ok, let's go, let's go!" the medical officer shouted as his men rushed about prepping the wounded for immediate transport. "1 minute 'til cut away, let's move it!" He clapped his hands repeatedly to impress his sense of urgency on his team. Bick ran to his side, pointing back to towards the ship’s cockpit.

“We’ve got incoming!†the shuttle pilot shouted through the hatch from the shuttle beyond. “Unknown vessel on an intercept course! They’re firing!†The ship rocked suddenly as heavy canon fire impacted the already heavily damaged Phantom ship. Several of the medical crew lost their footing and slammed into the bulkhead, suffering injuries of their own, and pieces of the ship burst from the ceiling and walls, crashing into the crew.

The medical officer got back to his feet and looked to his crew. “We’re leaving! Now! Double time it!â€

“You can’t leave!†Bick shouted at the officer, grabbing at his collar as she too got back to her feet. Several of the medics ran through the hatch, carrying those members of Red Team closest to the exit. Another volley of canon fire struck the ship, this one even more violent than the last.

“We have to get back to Rem 1!†the officer returned.“They need us!†He then grabbed at Bick, clasping her about the wrist and dragging her to the hatch. “We don’t have time!†he shouted, gesturing to the few others laying about the hold.

Bick tried to free herself from the officer’s grip. Failing that, she turned and beat the man’s chest with her fists. “Let me go! I won’t leave them!â€

A small explosion burst on the other side of the hatch, within the shuttle, startling Bick and the officer. Bick used the distraction and shoved the officer away from her and jumped away. The officer tripped over the lip of the hatch and stumbled back into the shuttle, just as the emergency hatch closed, separating the two ships. Bick stood in the hold, staring at the hatch as she heard the engines of the medical shuttle roar to life. Through a side viewport, she could see the shuttle speeding away, leaving her behind.

She suddenly realized the seriousness of her predicament as she then saw the unknown vessel pass by the same viewport and move into docking position. This isn’t good. She looked about the hold, now cluttered with pieces of debris from the deteriorating ship around her, and waved her hand before her to disperse the cloud of coolant billowing about her. She gasped audibly when she spotted Thraxen upon the floor, unconscious and bleeding profusely from several wounds; and nearby she found Aidus, unconscious and still pinned to the deck by debris. Frantic, Bick then remembered another Remnant and ran to the cockpit. She found Per-ja, laying awkwardly upon the floor. A pool of blood had collected beneath his matted hair and several bone breaks could be clearly seen.

What have I gotten myself into? Bick knelt next to Per-ja and gently adjusted his broken arm to a comfortable position, and then moved to retrieve a med kit from beneath the dash. A moment later she had managed to carefully wrap his head with gauze and bandages. She breathed a sigh of resignation and slumped back in the corner of the cockpit, exhausted and aching all over herself. The sound of the hatch unsealing within the hold though made her heart freeze in her chest and she instinctively held her breath. Shakily retrieving her blaster pistol from her hip, she pushed herself back on her rump further into the corner of the cockpit, crouching low beneath the swivelling co-pilot’s chair, and all the while her eyes fixed on the entrance.

A moment later, a dark haired man in robes entered the cockpit. A second man followed, only this one wore long, stark-white hair, but was similarly dressed. For a moment, Bick had thought them Jedi; but the crimson red lightsaber alit in their hands told her otherwise. Neither of them scanned the cockpit or seemed to sense her as they both then looked down to the prone body of Per-ja. They exchanged nods, and then one of them extended a hand outward, palm facing downward. Bick held her breath again as she watched Per-ja’s body rise from the floor, until he came to eye level at which time the stark-haired sith lifted him onto his shoulder. The two mysterious men then turned and left the cockpit. Bick didn’t move; frozen in place. The sound of the hatch opening and closing once more, followed by the sound of a ship’s engines, finally encouraged her to come out from hiding. She moved to the hold, carefully checking to ensure nobody had remained, and then she gasped with shock.

Aidus and Thraxen, too, were gone.

Tears filled her eyes as guilt and regret suddenly pained her heart. “Bicky you coward. What have you done ....â€

(GOLD TEAM)

He didn’t tell her how their situation had changed during her meditation. She has enough on her mind as is. This is too important. Still, Brega couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder to the door of the chamber, now sealed by himself. It’s only a matter of time before they find us, he thought to himself; but he quickly dismissed the thought, knowing that even the slightest distraction could impede his ability to help Anlai in her efforts. As she returned once more to her meditation, Brega found himself smiling as he looked upon her small form. So determined. So fearless. He laid his hands upon her shoulders and steadied his breathing as he began to channel his mind upon hers once more, lending her his strength and protecting her mind from the sounds of destruction around them – of the battle ensuing just beyond their chamber. Just a little more time, he silently prayed within.

Just down the corridor from the chamber, Crisp crouched in the doorway of another, looking out and down the curving corridor to where she had last encountered their guests, somewhere near the medical bay of the ship. Trandoshans, bounty hunters it would seem, had boarded the Hammer. What had motivated the cunning lizard-men to attempting such a daring feat as boarding a Remnants warship in the middle of a fleet battle, Crisp couldn’t imagine; but the bottom line was, the Hammer was vulnerable and her crew was easy pickings in their eyes, most likely.

“I’m down here you slimy, pieces of lizard filth,†Crisp said under her breath as she eyed the curve of the corridor, waiting with her pistol in hand. A moment later, the several of the creatures crept into view around the distant curve of the hall. One of them parted into the open medical bay doorway, while the other two continued this way. Wearing typical hunter armor for their race and carrying a large blaster rifle in its three-fingered hands, the trandoshan sniffed the air as it stalked down the corridor. Crisp leveled her pistol, taking careful aim as she narrowed her eyes, measuring up a headshot.

Something suddenly rushed in from her left, reaching at her arms with scaled, clawed hands. She instinctively kicked out at the creature, catching it in the shin with her heel and stopping its momentum. The second trandoshan leered up at her, its tongue slithering at her within its open maw as it slapped her blaster away out of her grasp. She winced, clutching her hand for just a moment, but then quickly unsheathed the pair of vibro-knives clipped to her thighs and spun around the side of the much larger creature. While much stronger and imposing than her, the trandoshan was slow compared to the lithe zabrak. She sliced a knife across the thing’s calf as she came about, turning once again and imbedding the blade of the other knife in its lower back up to the hilt. It roared, flailing its arms wildly and spinning around to grab the woman by the throat. It lifted her into the air, gnashing its teeth at her as it struggled to pull the knife from its back. Crisp kicked at the creature and grabbed at the hand about her throat, but it was too strong. As her breath began to leave her, she looked ahead down the hallway to see a welcome sight: Jester, still in his UVA suit, had come up upon the first trandoshan and mowed the thing down with his twin blasters, and was running with great haste to aid Crisp.

***

A thud on the door of the chamber almost broke Brega’s concentration, but he steeled himself and did not let deter from his focus. Another thud, this time insistent; but still Brega focused. Another, and another, and another – the permasteel doorway bulged in its center as several trandoshans on the other side rammed it with their heavy shoulders and boots. They snarled and clawed at the small viewport at the top of the door, red eyes peering inside to see the two vulnerable Jedi deep in their meditation. Blaster fire then hit the door repeatedly, striking the motor casing that was, for now, keeping the door electronically sealed.

Anlai … we’re running out of time. Brega’s focus faltered as he sensed their impending danger. He bit his lip, frustrated and torn. His eyes opened ever so slightly as he parted his mind from aiding Anlai’s efforts to consider his options for protecting her physical form as well. Searching the ship through the Force, Brega sensed the others were still alive – in danger as well, yet alive; but the ship would soon be overwhelmed by the large group of trandoshan hunters. Brega sensed their hunger and bloodlust emanating throughout the ship, and the rising apprehension of the crew as they struggled to keep the boarders at bay. He suddenly swooned and was forced to reach out for the wall to steady himself as his attempt to impart his mind on multiple paths left him breathless and queasy. A heavy thud then struck the door, bending it inward enough to reveal the heads of their uninvited guests leering into the chamber. Two of the creatures immediately crawled through the opening, carrying blades and blasters as they competed to get into the small room.

Brega struggled to pull his mind away from Anlai, back into his own body. He had only a brief moment to send her a message as he retracted himself, leaving her mind to her own devices, no longer with his added protection. I’m sorry, I must!

The two trandoshans opened their toothy maws with excitement as they charged into the room, blades held high and claws reaching out for their prey. Brega’s eyes opened wide and his expression hardened. Rising from his cross-legged position on the floor, the chiss was up and on his feet in an instant. A blade whisked over his head as he deftly dodging a strike that would’ve cleaved him in half, and he flipped himself headlong over the sweeping strike of another. His teal lightsaber ignited as he tumbled, turning in his hand as he rolled back to his feet. He thrust the blade into the belly of a third trandoshan that had just dropped into the room. It shrieked in agony, clutching its smoldering belly as it fell to the floor. Brega spun about, ducking a hooking punch from one of the other creatures and blocking a clumsy kick with a well placed boot to its shin. As it doubled over in pain, Brega somersaulted over the thing’s back sidelong and came to land on the floor kneeling. An extended hand sent a wave of Force energy into the remaining trandoshan that sent it crashing into a bulkhead at the back of the room. The creature gasped briefly and then fell limply to the floor with a broken back. As Brega turned to finish the last trandoshan, spinning about with his blade and hacking a leg out from under the creature, he caught sight of the battle ensuing outside beyond the chamber. Col, Maitrayen, and they others were entrenched in skirmishes with more boarders than Brega can count. He sighed with resignation, and then looked down to the sniveling trandoshan at his feet, clutching its dismembered leg and writing in agony. He felt the thing’s hatred and mindless aggression, and pitied it. Nonetheless, as he hurried past to leave the chamber and aid his companions, Brega took a moment to grant the creature a quick death before departing.

*RP Status Update*

(all teams)

"Stern thrusters offline, general!" a crewman on the command bridge of Remnant 1 shouted over the cacophony of noise throughout the ship. Systems alarms droned overhead repeatedly, exterior explosions and relentless blaster fire from enemy fighters rocked the ship constantly, and control panels sparked from power surges. Officers shouted into their headsets, demanding sit reps from various departments throughout the capital ship.

"What's the imperial fleet's condition?!" General Hun bellowed from his elevated command chair. His hand flurried over the armrest control panel, bringing up ship-wide department reports. He growled with annoyance as he added up damage reports, gripping the other armrest with his other hand. 

An officer turned about in his chair, looking to the general and his monitor back and forth. "Imperial air carrier and troops transport are down, general! As well as the orbital station!" He dared a smile as he relayed the news, but Hun merely scowled back at him. The smile vanished. "One of the terminus destroyers is adrift, but still in the fight, attempting to track the other."

A power surge burst through the ceiling overhead, startling the crewman as it showered them with sparks and panels fell to the deck. A series of dangling down before the general. He reached up and ripped the tangle from the celiing and tossed the mess to the floor. "What about our carriers? And the imperial dreadnaught?"

"Our air carrier is destroyed, sir," another crewman reluctantly reported, holding his head in his hand. "And our troops transport is adrift." All went silent with the grim news.

"The dreadnaught is still out there, general; but it's only engaing the small fighters," the first officer then reported. "What isn't it firing on us?"

A loud voice sounded over the ship-wide comms. "Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert! Repel Boarders! Levels 5 , 7 and 9!"

"That's why," the general growled as he rose from his chair. The crewman exchange worrisome looks, and then looked to the general for orders.

Hun stood there, his expression growing fierce as he considered their situation. Looking to each of the officers, sitting at their monitors with looks of shock upon their paling faces. "Stay at your stations!" Hun barked. "Lieutenant Lott, call back Gold and Red teams, we're going to need their help. And you have the con."

The lieutenant wore a bewildered expression. "Where are you going, general!?"

Hun was already on his way to the bridge's lift. He paused as the door slide open and glanced back to the weary man. "We have company. I like to great my guests personally, lieutenant. As you were."

(GREEN TEAM)

Boyle breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted the Aralias and Night Squad charging their way across the hangar, dodging blaster fire from the many imperials on either side of the hangar and returning fire as they ran. Demon winced as a lucky shot caught him in the belly, momentarily buckling him, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. He silently thanked Plague as his teammate rushed to his side to support him with one arm.

“C’mon!†Boyle screamed, sounding frantic. He instinctively ducked each time an imperial shot ricocheted off the shuttles viewport. Shields are holding. With the engines primed and ready, he looked anxiously over his shoulder to the hold of the shuttle, watching as Green Team clamored aboard. One by one, Night Squad reached the shuttle.

Kota reached out to help Ghoul and Spectre aboard, whom in turn assistant Aralias and Demon. Boyle’s hand was poised over the launch throttle however, ready to punch it the moment the last of them was aboard. He prayed he wouldn’t have to leave anyone behind, silently begging them all to hurry to avoid such an outcome. This is my first mission damn it, I am NOT leaving anyone behind.

“Where’re the other troopers?!†Spectre shouted over the noise of blasterfire. He stood in the open side of the shuttle, deflecting blaster fire as more of their troops hurried to the shuttle.

“Dead!†Ghoul shouted back as he hopped up onto the lip of the door, turning to return fire with his rifle.

Spectre frowned at the news, and then looked across the debris littering the hangar floor to the last of their team, who had lingered to cover the escape of their comrades. “Demon! Plague! Hustle up!â€

A grenade exploded directly in front of the two Night Squad troopers as they made their way through the debris field, Ghoul still supported by Plague, whose own personal shields were beginning to falter. The blast of the explosion showered them with permacrete dust, clouding their vision but otherwise not harming them. They plodded along blindly, shooting randomly towards enemy positions as they struggled forward.

The voice of Ghoul came from ahead, yelling above the cacophony of blaster fire and explosions. “RPG! Hit the deck!†They barely saw their teammate when he suddenly came crashing through the dust cloud and tackled the two troopers to the hangar deck. The RPG explosion hit not several feet away, sending a concussion blast over the trio of troopers and showering them with ship debris. Ghoul sat up and rubbed his eyes. Demon was moaning groggily from the effects of the grenade’s blast as he, too, lifted himself up onto his hands and knees.

“Two points for the effort, G,†Demon said, wincing as he tried to manage a chuckle. He reached over to help his friend up. “Alright, hero. Let’s get moving.†He lifted Ghoul’s arm up and laid it across his shoulders as he himself rose to bended knee. Ghoul’s head lolled to one side.

“G?†He paused, giving the man a gentle shake to rouse him. “G, wake up.†He turned the man about and lifted the visor of his helm. His eyes were closed; a somewhat sad expression upon his face. It was then when Demon realized the gravity of the man's wounds. As the dust cleared about them, Demon could see the numerous pieces of schrapnel protruding from Ghoul's limbs and torso. He urgently tucked the bracer on Ghoul's wrist back and checked his pulse.

“What’s the hold up?!†Plague shouted as rose to his feet and managed to bring up his rifle to return fire on the swarming imperials. He gave the two a quick glance, and then looked again, lowering down behind cover to give them his full attention. Somewhere behind them, the voices of the comrades aboard the shuttle shouted above the noise of the hangar, begging them to hurry. Through the impermeable dust cloud still falling all about them, they could see the humming lightsabers of their Jedi friends deflecting blaster bolts back into the enemy ranks.

“I gotta go!†Boyle shouted back into the shuttle, his hand now gripping the launch throttle. The shuttle’s shields were failing from the intense and constant blaster fire. System warnings were sounded throughout the cockpit. “Come on!†he screamed. “Get aboard or we all die!â€

Plague reached out for Demon, shaking him violently, "We gotta get out of here!" he shouted. He gestured to Ghoul. "Is he dead?!" Ghoul merely shrugged, unable to verify their friend's vitals with all the noise and commotion. The two then exchanged nods of agreement and together lifted Ghoul's arms up and over their heads.

Wraith and Spectre ceased fire for several moments as their fellow Night Squad members suddenly appeared through the dust cloud, coming to the open side of the shuttle. They exchanged grim expressions with their fellow squadmates, and then helped them lift Ghoul aboard.

An explosion, somewhere within the great air carrier’s massive body, suddenly boomed in the distance. The floor throughout the hangar shuddered and rumbled, sending rippling waves up the legs of Remnants and Imperials alike. Night Squad exchanged knowing looks – their handiwork.

“Boyle!†Demon shouted from the hold. “Punch it!â€

Boyle didn’t look back to confirm whom had given the order. They better all be aboard, ‘cuz we are out of here! And punch it he did. The small shuttle’s engines roared as the ship lifted from the hangar deck. With the Remnants no longer returning fire, the imperials’ assault intensified. Warning: Shields failing, Warning: Shields…

“I know! Shut up!†Boyle shouted back at the computer, slamming a fist into the console. He gripped the shuttle’s manual steering grips with white knuckles as he attempted to avoid blaster fire, all the while his eyes staring ahead at the black void of space beyond the shields of the carrier’s hangar bay. “C’mon, baby! C’mon, baby! C’mooon BABY!â€

The shuttle slammed into a piece of fighter wreckage, sending a splash of sparks over the viewport and a ear-piercing screech throughout the hangar. Through the port and starboard viewports, the team members could see the imperial hangar falling apart around them as they departed. Floors above crashed through the ceiling, crushing imperial troops still firing upon the fleeing shuttle. The floor itself erupted.

Boyle, sitting in the pilot’s chair, was holding his breath as he put the shuttle at full throttle, crashing into unavoidable wreckage, crushing Imperial troops that failed to get out of the way. Warning: Shields Failing. “Come on!!!!!!†A red light suddenly lit up on the console overhead. Shields were done, and one of their twin engines just died. Just then, Boyle looked ahead to see the hangar bay exit nearing. Only a few dozen yards! He then noticed, off to one side, the single imperial trooper standing atop a large piece of rubble, with a rather large projectile weapon mounted upon his shoulder.

Boyle’s expression soured. “Aw, you son of a bi…â€

The weapon fired. A single projectile explosive streaked across the hangar and slammed into the portside hull. Boyle had only time to curse before the shuttle violently lurched and spun about, throwing his body aside in his seat and wrapping his head into the bulkhead. How he remained conscious, he did not know; but he took pleasure in watching as the shuttle suddenly flatted the imperial soldier that had caused their destruction. Fighting consciousness and the shuttle’s steering, Boyle bit his lip and squeezed his hands tightly, trying to keep hold of the moment and get his team to safety. He watched as the floors above and below the shuttle fell away, the imperials throughout the hangar screaming as they fell away as well.

With great elation, Boyle fell back in his seat with a smile as the shuttle finally shot out of the hangar bay; and just as the floors and ceiling fell away, sending the dozens of poor imperial troopers to their unavoidable deaths. Aralias and the others stirred in the back of the shuttle, each of them groaning or moaning with pain from bad bruises and other minor injuries. And then it happened - with a great moan, the imperial air carrier’s main power generators exploded, disintegrating much of the ship, and splitting what was left of the great vessel into two pieces. The bow of the ship vaulted away from its stern half, crashing through fighters of both fleets as it shot through space like a catapulted boulder. The imperial destroyers, distracted by the ongoing battle between the fleets, were unaware as the projectile half of their carrier suddenly shot through their midst and punched through the midsection of their troops transport and took the tail end off of one of the terminus destroyers, utterly destroying the first and completely disabling the latter.

Boyle sat wide-eyed in his seat, watching as the carnage of their team’s efforts wreaked havoc on the entire imperial fleet. He slowly turned his gawking expression upon his teammates, also watching from the hold of the shuttle.

The troopers of Night Squad all looked to each other, impressed. “We meant to do that,†Demon said matter of factly, and the squad shared a chuckle. With the team in relative safety for the moment, Plague checked Ghoul's vitals.

"He must've covered the two of you from the explosion," Spectre reasoned, nodding to Plague and Demon, neither of whom suffered any shrapnel wounds. The squad watched grimly as Plague checked their comrade's vitals.

"He's alive, barely," Plague confirmed with a sigh of relief. He began immediately removing those pieces of shrapnel that could be safely extracted without causing further damage. "He should be dead with these wounds," he said, shaking his head with disbelief. "I'll need a bacta tank for him if he's to survive."

In the cockpit, Boyle shook his head, smiling with relief. He wiped the sweat from his brow and moved to the controls, steering the shuttle away from the fleet and heading into the nearby atmosphere of the planet. “Resuming course to Dac, General Aramis,†he said, his tone sounding pleased. “The ship's handling like a bantha with no right legs, but I'll get us there. We’ll reach the surface in a few minutes.â€

A moment later, they received a curious transmission: “Imperial Shuttle-craft 651, you are cleared for landing at the Imperial Flotilla. What is your cargo?â€

Boyle blinked several times with surprise.

(GOLD TEAM)

Jester gritted his teeth with frustration as he attempted to fuse a piece of patch metal over yet another minor hull breach on the Hammer’s dorsal exterior. In his left hand he held the magnetic sealer, a rod with a long, flat clamp-like appendage that held the patch piece in place. In his right hand he gripped the fusing torch. Welding the small patches into place wasn’t difficult, but it was time consuming; and with each Remnant or imperial fighter swooping by in the area, Jester found concentrating on the task at hand anything but easy. He was however thankful that their allies were providing cover for the Hammer while the crew made its repairs.

“Hey, Tank! How you making out over there?†Jester said into his helm comm, hoping his friend could distract him from the fighters in the area.

On the stern side of the ship, Tank was regarding the Hammer’s twin engines with incredulity. The coil fusers were stripped and the outer housing was cracked. He regarded the welding tools in his hands and huffed with amusement.

“Well?â€

“I don’t even know where to start,†Tank replied dismally. He stuck his head into the housing for a closer look. Yep, this is hopeless. “We got any spare engines in the hold or anything? ‘Cuz this thing’s going nowhere with these babies.â€

“Ay! Be positive!†Jester shot back, giving the piece of patch metal a knock as he finished welding it to the hull. He looked around for more breaches, spotting several small ones, and gave a chuckle. “We all took ship mechanics at the Remnant Academy. We can do this.â€

â€I barely passed Ship Mechanics 101!†Tank replied gruffly as he reached into the engine housing to remove a piece of lodged scrap metal. “And I cheated! Crisp let me copy her work!â€

Jester grinned widely as he moved on to the next piece. “Yeah, me too.â€

Tank tossed the piece of scrap over his shoulder. It drifted off into space. He then furrowed his brow curiously. “Wait, if Crisp is so smart with this stuff why isn’t she out here with us?!â€

“’Cuz I’m in here putting the shields back together, ya big oaf,†Crisp chimed in over the comm. The zabrak was in the belly of the ship, sitting on her legs in a vertical shaft with systems panels all around her. The goggles upon her face shielded her eyes as she worked a hydrospanner on an open circuit conduit. Outside Tank winced knowing she overheard, while Jester was smiling ear to ear.

“If you guys focused more on your work and less on chatter, we might be out of here sometime today,†Crisp added.

Meanwhile, Brega tended to the wounds of Anlai, whom he had carried to the safety of a quiet chamber on the ship. Miraculously, the young Jedi had maintained her Battle Meditation even through the carnage of the ship’s battle with the sith Fury. Brega admired her tenacity, but lamented at her grave injuries. A bad gash across Anlai’s right arm was bleeding profusely. Brega tended to it first, binding it with a piece of medical wrapping from a medpac. He kneeled before her, brushing her hair away from her face to inspect her. Her cheek was swollen, struck by a falling object, and another minor gash crossed her forehead. Her left arm hung limply at her side, likely broken Brega realized with dismay. But she still sat, eyes closed, with her mind stretching out over the battlefield to help their friends.

“Hang in there, my friend,†Brega said softly to her as he dabbed the cut on her forehead with a wet cloth. She was pale, he noted, and her breathing was labored. A thin stream of blood trickled down from one of her nostrils then, and her head swayed to one side. Deeply concerned, Brega cradled her head between his hands. “Anlai? Anlai?!†She did not respond. Her teeth clenched, as if she was struggling to maintain a kind of hold on something with her mind.

Behind him, beyond the chamber, Brega could hear the fleet reports sounding over the Hammer’s open comm. The starfighters were winning their fight against the imperial mark fighters, despite being outnumbered; one of the terminus ship’s was adrift, and their air carrier was disabled. The tide was shifting it seemed. Against impossible odds, the Remnants fleet was somehow gaining the upper hand. The crew of the Hammer clasped hands in hearing the news of their comrades victories, but Brega did not share in their optimism. He looked back to Anlai, knowing that it was through her efforts that their comrades were persevering against their great opposition, that she was leveling the battlefield.

And it was killing her.

***

Vas groaned as the ship's medical droid tended to her wounds. It apologized, albeit with no actual sympathy in its tone. She rolled her eyes as the droid droned on about the severity of her injuries, advising her of the physical inactivities she should adhere to in the days following. In her mind however, she was only counting the seconds until she could get back into the fight.

A strange sound then came from without the ship overhead, drawing a curious upward look from Vas and even the medical droid.

"That sounded like a ship..."

***

Jester, still working on the ship's many hull breaches, was on his back outside, holding onto the ship as he tried to flatten himself against it to avoid being crushed by the ship that had suddenly decloaked overhead and moved in close to the Hammer.

"Uh, guys? We ... have company."

The Mantis-model ship had no markings, but it was heavily armed with numerous modified weapon systems protruding from its horizontal wings and underside. Through the transparisteel viewport, Jester squinted to make out the occupants of the small vessel. His eyes went wide as a pair of faces leaned forward and looked out upon the Hammer with hungry eyes. Hungry, reptillian eyes.

Jester gulped. Trandoshans.

(GREEN TEAM – BEN)

Padawan Dega rushed to meet Master Ben, coming to the veteran Jedi’s side nd giving a quick nod in salute. “The sub has been repaired,†the young nautolan said with his thick, earthy accent. He brushed his head tendrils away from his face, revealing his enthusiastic smile. “Our Dac engineers have outfitted her with a sonar jammer and ripped her guts out to allow for crew transport. They even modified her engines for stealth running. Talented bunch these Dac.† A handful of troops, a mix of quarren, mon cals, and Remnants soldiers, then arrived at their position and gave readiness salutes.

“What did you have in mind, Master?†Dega asked, although the smile on his face implied he already had an idea of what daring feat Ben intended for their little group.

An intelligence trooper then hurried up to meet the group. He nodded to Dega and the others, and then gave Master Ben a formal salute. "General, long-range scanners should a massive energy drop surrounding the enemy flotilla. We think their shields are down, sir!"

(RED TEAM)

As if en queue, a massive explosion suddenly erupted within the orbital station just moments after the Red Team departed aboard their confiscated Phantom ship. A wing of the station broke off from the main body and drifted towards the planet’s atmosphere, and then a series of smaller explosions burst through the station’s outer hull at various points. The teams had successfully detonated their charges and destroyed the station’s cooling systems, resulting with its generators overloading and the subsequent explosions. Several moments later, one final, cataclysmic explosion erupted in the center of the station, splitting the station in half and disintegrating its remains instantly into a massive fireworks display.

“Nice job, Red Team,†came the voice of General Hun over Per-Ja’s comlink, although his tone sounded less than enthusiastic. “When you and your team are done celebrating, perhaps you could help salvage the remains of our air carrier.â€

The team’s pilot, Private Bick, scanned the two fleets with the ship’s long-range scanners. “It’s gone, sir,†she said, turning to Per-ja with disbelief. “Our air carrier. Destroyed.â€

The members of Red Team went silent as they considered the great loss. Fifteen-hundred crewman, and who knows how many troops.

The Phantom ship suddenly rocked from a series of blaster fire as the pursuing Sith Fury ship passed overhead, peppering its hull with deadly fire from its canons. “We’re hit!†Bick shouted. “Shields are down to thirteen percent!†She returned fire on the enemy ship, but the shots were absorbed by its shields with no effect. Bick shot a glance over his shoulder to their team leader, Per-ja. “I think you confiscated the lesser ship, sir!†She tried frantically to out maneuver the Fury, but the ship was too nimble and its pilot too crafty to evade. The Phantom banked sharply left, and then right, barely avoiding the Fury’s canon fire. Bick cursed as she considered their options, and then, with no time to consult their team leader, she banked the ship hard towards one of the terminus destroyers.

“Yeah, I know – bad idea!†she said through clenched teeth as the destroyer opened fire on the approaching Phantom. Its heavy canons streaked all around the small craft as it zigzagged its way into close range. “With any luck, that Fury will have just as fun a time with this!†Bick explained, managing a nervous chuckle. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the manual attitude and pitch control handles, using them to put the ship into impossible dives and side juts to avoid the Fury’s assault, all the while nimbly skimming along the surface of the terminus destroyer.

The second terminus destroyer closed in, eager to take a swat at the small Phantom vessel as well. Bick smiled and altered her course to intercept the second terminus, knowing the Fury was close behind her. The second terminus ship moved to block the Phantom’s path, but the much smaller ship jigged and was gone under its bulk. The Fury shot past the command bridge of the terminus, making the bridge crew instinctively duck with fear of a collision.

“Well, we’ve got their attention,†Bick said, sounding out of breath, no doubt from holding it. “Now what do we do, sir?â€

GOLD TEAM

(Zeki, Mait, Colt, Larial)

Aboard the Hope's Fire, Larial's efforts to free herself from the metal pinning her to the cockpit floor; but something even more troubling then presented itself.

Warning. Warning, the ship's automated voice came from the open speakers, its tone droning up and down as the ship's systems failed one by one. Exterior Hatch Breach. Exterior Hatch Breach. Intruder Alert. Intruder Alert.

The sound of a sharp crack, like lightning, sounded somewhere on the ship. Electrical wiring and junctions burst throughout the ship's interior, overhead, showing the two prone remnants with sparks. The lights aboard the ship then failed, immediately triggering the emergency lighting system. Small, encased lamps postiioned several meters apart throughout the ship blinked slowly, providing sparatic light and leaving everything inbetween in shadow.

Vas, on the deck and pinned as well, looked to Larial wide-eyed. "I think we have an uninvited guest. Let's get out of here!"

Somewhere on the ship, a guest to the ship, indeed uninvited, stalked down the various corridors. A pressure helmet dropped to the floor. The helmet of a sith pilot. It rolled into a pocket of lamp light. The blood splatter on the inside of the visor was thick, and in the rest of the helmet as well. A pair of imperial boots clomped on the gridwalk of the corridor, one of them dragging with each step as the leg to which it was attached was severely injured. A gloved hand was firmly placed against the thigh of that leg as the guest limped along, holding pressure to an open wound beneath those black, pilot's greaves. The left hand snapped downward, flicking a black glove to the deck, and revealed red, scarred skin. Blood trickled freely down the arm within the guest's suit, under the cuff at the wrist and dripped from the tips of its fingers. The hand then snap-activated a lightsaber than, casting a brilliant crimson light on the sparsely lit corridor.

Coming upon a polished surface at eye level, the guest took a moment to regard themself, lifting the red lightsaber up for more light. The severely lacerated and blood-caked face of a pureblood sith looked back from the reflective surface with golden eyes. He turned his face this way and that, inspecting his wounds, and then smiled. Blood poured out of his mouth, along with several broken teeth. He smiled even wider then, even laughing whole-heartedly.

Turning away from his image, the sith plunged the end of his lightsaber into the gridwalk, dragging it through the metal as he stalked on down the corridor, leaving a molten trench in his wake.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" he taunted.

RED TEAM

(Per-Ja, Mak, East, Aidus, Aloriana, Thraxen, Jezabeth)

**Engineering**

Blaster bolts peppered the deck all around Mak as he tucked and rolled onto the main floor after having dropped from a catwalk overhead. The explosion overhead blew the catwalk apart, and several others nearby, sending piping and scaffolding pieces in every direction like schrapnel. Imperial troops shrieked as the walkways fell out from under them, dropping them several levels onto other catwalks or onto the main floor itself. Several other small explosions went off as well as the initial blast caused a chain reaction of destruction throughout engineering. A team of fire control troopers were busy trying to contain a blaze off to one side, while engineers scurried about trying to stabilize the various containment systems that were now overheating and shutting down. Technicians and operators in ran from engineering altogether, cowering to avoid blaster fire as they ran out with their hands shielding their faces.

Mak spotted East on the far side of the room, taking cover from a barrage of heavy fire from a small squad of troopers hunkered down amidst stacked crates filled with machine parts. At their backs, one of engineering's three giant cooling systems could be seen. A giant, reinforced shaft of permacrete and transparisteel, several meters in diameter, pumped vibrant blue coolant into the station's power generators. Mak noted that only a significant blast would rupture the tank, and that all three systems would need to be destroyed if they were to shut down the station's power generators.

"Fan out! Find them!" he then heard a distinctive voice say from the far side of the level. He spotted the source - a giant of a man, wearing an officer's uniform and with impecably well-groomed features. He pointed to several sections of engineering and several groups of the dozen troopers at his side charged off accordingly, weaving amongst the large machinery with rifles at the ready and in tight formation. Imperial Special Forces. The officer himself stalked off alone in search of the remnants intruders, pulling a vibrosword from his back with one hand and taking up a blaster pistol from his waist with the other.  

**Elsewhere on the station**

Several controllers wasted no time in leaving thier terminals as the two Remnants entered the orbital station's command center, giving the two figures, Thraxen particularly, a wide birth as they sheepishly shuffled past them at the doorway and hurried off to safety. Those controllers that stayed at their terminals, whether it was out of some misplaced loyalty to their post or simply fear that froze them in place, continued with their duties, relaying information to damage control teams in engineering and attempting to stabilize systems station-wide. Automated warnings sounded throughout the station on speakers and an incessant alarm rang in their ears.

The station's systems were failing, thanks to the efforts of a few individuals down on the engineering level. One controller eyed Thraxen and Jezabeth uneasily as they approached. He attempted to lower his voice as he sent a message to one of the nearby terminus ships.

"Um ... excuse me, commander, but the Remnants are ... yes, Remnants ... they're uh, they're here. Yes, sir. Yes. Sir." He killed the communication as the two remnants neared, looking to them with a rather transparent smile of hospitality. "Gree-greetings, fine sirs. I mean, sir and madam. I'm Mr. Pryce, or just Pryce if you prefer." He chuckled awkwardly. "How uh ... how can I - We - help you?"

Several nearby controllers looked to Pryce with incredulous expressions. We? They stood up all at once, dropped their earpieces to the desk top, and promptly exited the command center, leaving controller Pryce to his "negotiations" with the remnants intruders.

GOLD TEAM

(Colt, Mait, Zeki, *Larial*)

On the bridge of the Hammer, Padawan Brega stood at Zek-anlai's back, the chiss Jedi's blue hands laid lightly upon her shoulders as she concentrated her efforts on bolstering the resolve of their allies through her battle meditation. Brega in turn concentrated on lending his own fortitude to Zek-anlai. Her task was not an easy one, and to those unaccustomed to the great mental and physical strain that a battle meditation attempt imposed, the effects could be most taxing on the user.

Brega silently congratulated her on her initial efforts as he too could feel the influence of Zek-anlai's spirit as it stretched out through the Force and touched the hearts of her comrades. He felt an inner warmth that reassured him, and knew, as he took a moment to regard the crew about the bridge of the ship, that they had felt it as well. He smiled ever so slightly as he sensed the confidence and benevolent effects of her efforts on the crew.

*Meanwhile, the Hammer's pod turrets occupants were experiencing some different sensations ...

"Damn it!" Tank cursed as a blast from the Sith Fury fighter blasted his turret pod's shields. Sparks spat at him from his targetting system and he shooed them away as he tried to spot his target - the pursuing sith Fury. It shot from left to right, avoiding nearly point-blank fire from both his and Jester's turrets. The pilot's reflexes were uncanny. The ship then disappeared out of Tank's view. "No shot! Port side, Jest!"

Jester was already aware, cursing as well as he swivelled his pod turret from one angle to another, over and over, trying to find a shot on the impossibly evasive sith fighter. "Dorsal shields, Crisp!" he shouted into his helm comlink, hoping the Hammer's zabrak co-pilot was listening. The moment the shields were reinforced, however, the Fury suddenly dived out of Jester's view and then back once again. "For the love of ...  Who's flying this friggin' thing!? The Emperor!?" Jester slammed his foot down with frustration. He then nearly fell out of his chair as the Hammer's suddenly went full throttle and spun on its axis as it banked and dived into enemy fighter traffic. Mr. Gamble's bag of tricks just got opened, he thought to himself, and not a moment too soon. 

Enemy fighters zipped past at every angle, scattering to get out of the way of the much larger Remnants vessel. The ship banked and turned as it soared into their ranks, drawing frantic fire from the fighters that often hit each other more than the Hammer itself. Much to his relief, the sith fury ship, while still in pursuit, was far too busy trying to avoid its own allied fighters, that soared past like asteroids, to effectively fire upon the the Hammer as it continued its seemingly suicidal plunge straight into the ranks of imperial fighter squadrons. A fighter clipped the Hammer, port side, ripping a series of panels from the ship's main wing. Another flew past, hitting the belly of the ship. Alarms sounded. Warning: Minor Hull Breach. Jester fired his turret at the Fury with abandon, yelling at the cursed fighter as if the pilot could hear him.

The Fury fired, a heavy barrage that ripped into the aft section of the Hammer. Warning: Main Power System Damaged. Rerouting to Auxillary Systems. Another salvo from the Fury. Warning: Dorsal Shields Disabled. Jester squeezed his triggers until his knuckles were white. Miss, miss, miss, hit! The Fury spun about, taking a direct blow to its port wing. Jester fired again, and again, until his turret overheated. "Nooo!" The Fury's cannons fired again, ripping up the dorsal hull of the Hammer, carving a trench toward Jester's turret pod; but he refused to abandon his weapon. He waited, watching his turret's cooldown meter dropping, dropping, dropping. His weapon was charged and ready, and he wasted no time in squeezing the triggers; but the Fury's fire was upon him, striking the pod's shields repeatedly. Warning: Dorsal Pod Shields Failing. "Die you son of a ... !"

Strong hands grabbed Jester about the chest and pulled him roughly from his pod. A fist slammed against a panel and the hatch sealed, just as the pod was destroyed. Fuming and struggling to be freed of whomever had torn him from his pod, Jester jumped at the ladder, batting away the hands that tried to hold him back. They were strong, too strong, and he finally calmed himself enough to turn about and look into the face of his friend, Tank.

"Get a hold of yourself!" his friend was shouting at him. The big trooper had him by the shoulders, shaking him with each word to get his attention.

Jester's chest rose and fell quickly with each breath. His hands shook. He looked to the ladder and up to the hatch. His pod was gone. Destroyed. Had it not been for Tank ... "Thanks," he managed to say finally. He took a deep breath and nodded to his friend, who simply smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

A explosion rocked the ship then. Both troopers looked curiously overhead. It wasn't from an impact, that they both knew. No, this was something nearby. The two looked to one another, and then charged down to Tank's pod to take a look outside.

 "What happened?" Jester asked as the two looked off to the port side of the ship.

Several dozen meters away, the sith Fury was dead in space, turning slowly from its previous momentum, but its engines completely destroyed. As the cockpit of the ship came into view, the two troopers noted the transparisteel had shattered. Pilot must've been sucked out, they both surmised. They both looked up and about for the pilot's lifeless body. Nothing. Most curious was what had apparently intervened and put an end to troublesome pursuer - a Remnants ship.

The vessel had collided with the Fury, accidentally or on purpose, they couldn't know. Regardless, this ship, too, was out of commission, sitting dead in space several meters from the Fury. He noted the Remnants insignia on the side of the ship's cockpit, and the designation number ...

"Lari?" Jester said aloud with disbelief. He and Tank strained to see through the cockpit of the distant ship, but they could make out very little. Movement could be seen within, however. Perhaps the crew was still alive. Without a moment's delay, Tank and Jester hurried from the pod, heading down to the bridge of the Hammer to, hopefully, mount a rescue mission to retrieve their heroic friend.

RED TEAM

(Per-Ja, Aloriana, Aidus, East, Mak, Thraxen, Jezabeth)

**Aloriana/Aidus**

Deep in the orbital station's lower levels, Aloriana and Aidus stood amidst fallen catwalks and the bodies of many Imperial troopers. Smoke rose from small electrical fires all around them, and the dull hum of the station's shield generators could be heard resonating off the walls. The massive generators could be seen at the far end of the level, circular engines with blue light that pulsated down through a transparent cylinder that disappeared into the floor, sending power to the station's shield emitter at the bottom of the station.

Power regulators at the top of the system kept the generators safe from surges or possible overloads. Without them, the generators would be susceptible and their mission aboard the station could be achieved.

The distinctive hum of a lightsaber suddenly caught their attention. Looking out from cover, Aloriana spotted only a fleeting glimpse of a cloaked figure, dashing behind machinery. The red haze of a lightsaber trailed behind it as the figure vanished into the room. Things just got interesting.

A flurry of blaster bolts peppered the deck all around Aidus then as well, forcing him to take cover. A small squad of imperial troopers descended upon them.

GREEN TEAM

(Var'el, Aralias, Vanin, *Ben*)

The voice of General Hun came back at Master Aralias on the Remnants' channel. "General Aramis. I must say, we weren't expecting to receive a message from the bridge of one of the Empire's carriers today." The typically gruff fleet commander sounded almost amused. "Surface team is awaiting your arrival. If you and your men are done sightseeing on that imperial air carrier, might I suggest you set the auto-destruct on that big lady and get your butts planetside, asap. Hun, out."

Several of Aralias' Night Squad troopers chuckled from the various seats around the bridge.

"I'll have full access to their security and system controls in moments, sir," Spectre reported as his hands flurried over the control panel before him. An automated voice came from his terminal. Access Granted. "My favorite words," he said aloud with a smile. "I'm in, General."

"Sir, ship's internal sensors are showing two massive parties heading for the main hangar bay," Plague then chimmed in, looking at his terminal. He shook his head. "Rest of the team's going to be caught in a crossfire if we don't get back. They have about five minutes, sir."

**Meanwhile, in the main hangar bay -- Var'el & Vanin**

"Where are the others!?" Boyle shouted over the cacophony of blaster fire and explosions sounded throughout the hangar. The young pilot was used to flying sorties and dropping troops, and so was quite out of his element crouching behind shuttle wreckage and returning fire on enemy troops he could barely see through the smoke and amidst the debris scattered all about the hangar. A grenade bounced off the side of nearby piece of ship's hull and rolled about his feet. He instinctfully snatched the thing up in his hand and quickly lobbed it back overhead to its source. Several shrieks amidst the resulting boom brought a smile to his face and he silently congratulated himself. He hadn't the time to pat himself on the back for long though as a flurry of blaster bolts hit all about him, scorcing the piece of permacrete he had been leaning against. He nearly dropped his blaster as he covered his helmed face, and then dived to one side for cover near the young Jedi padawan.

"They're coming at us from both sides of the hangar!" Boyle shouted, grabbing at the padawan's leg to get his attention. He gestured to the opposite side of the hangar when the jedi looked down at him curiously. Indeed, the imperial troops were flooding into the main hangar from both the east and west entrances, effectively pinning the Remnants in the back of the hangar amidst ship wreckage and pieces of rubble, cover that would not cover them for long. A grenade explosion sent pieces of ship debris flying into the air, and it was then that Boyle saw something that gave him hope.

An imperial shuttle.

There were many fighters and imperial shuttles throughout the hangar, but all were destroyed, smoking and shattered from the countless explosions during the foray in the hangar - all but one, it would seem. It looks intact, flyable, Boyle thought to himself. I can fly it ...

A trooper nearby shrieked with pain and fell dead at Boyle's feet, and then another. With only fifteen troopers left, and with Master Aramis and Night Squad nowhere to be found, Boyle didn't wait for the padawan to acknowledge him. He gritted his teeth, trying to summon his courage, and then charged for the imperial shuttle, running awkwardly as he tried to keep low to avoid criss-crossing blasterfire and doing his best to use the smoke and fires for visual cover.

Moments later, Boyle dived under a large, flat piece of debris leaning against the port side of the imperial shuttle. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then climbed into the small ship and up into the cockpit. The terminals were intact. The ship was operational and ready to launch. He kissed the panel with gratitude and then strapped in as he brought up the ship's comlink.

"General Aramis, this is pilot Boyle. I've secured our exit!" 

**Surface**

A three-fingered hand laid upon Master Ben's forearm brought his attention about, to the diminuitive quarren leader, Swee'la. "You and your men are the saviors of Dac," he congratulated, although his large, bulbous eyes were clearly filled with concern. "I hope your losses are minimal. My people will gladly put up their lives to spare those of yourself and your men for what you are doing here today for Dac. We will not forget this."

A gruff voice then came from one side. "All our battalions are assembled and in full assault, Your Highness," Sergeant Cepha declared, the old, veteran mon calamari trooper coming to stand at the young quarren's side. He nodded to Ben with respect, and then looked back to Swee'la. "Scouts have reported a battle-sub beneath the waves, deploying proximity bomb-buoys." He gestured out over the waves, handing a pair of macrobinders to Swee'la. Sure enough, a buoy bobbed amongst the waves, barely distinguishable with its camoflaged casing. A friendly speeder zipped past, activating the buoy's proximity sensors, and the small craft was disintegrated in a blast that sent a gusher of water into the air. "We must disable that sub!" Cepha finished.

Padawan Dega Vok suddenly joined them, the blue-ish skinned nautolan waving his hand before him to clear the smoke from his path.

He nodded to the two Dac dignitaries, and then looked to Ben with concern. "Master, we've defended the base and repairs have begun on the east and south walls. Engineers have finished with the ramparts. The base is secure, for now."

GREEN TEAM

(Aralias, Vanin, Va'rel, Ben *below*)

*Surface*

A section of wall exploded inward as the imperial troops broke through and poured into the Remnants flotilla. Their charge was met by a wall of troopers, commandos firing heavy repeater canons and Jedi deflecting imperial blasterfire back upon them. Smoke wafted all around them, waves crashing against the flotilla splashed through the open section of wall and puddled at their feet. Overhead, the massive canon batteries fired upon the imperial speeders and hoverskiffs out on the surrounding waters, taking care not to hit their own Remnants troops as the watercrafts intermingled amongst the waves.

As the smoke cleared and the last of the imperials dead at their feet, Padawan Dega Nok came to the side of Master Ben Corran. The nautolan's large, ink-black eyes blinked and squinted to see the human master through the smoke. "Master Corran," he began, with his thick, earthy accent. "The engineers have reported that the east side of the flotilla is in need of heavy defense. The damage their is significant. The imperials are using their speeders as missiles, crashing them into our walls.

"Any word on our reinforcements? Or on the orbital station? So long as the imperial hover-fortress is shielded, there's little we can do but try to hold our heads above water. Quite literally."

An alarm went off then, at the far side of the flotilla. A voice called out over the open comlink - another breach on the east side.

Dega sighed with resignation. "I'll see to it, Master." He ignited his green lightsaber, gestured to a young Jedi cadet, Theron Tiib, as well as to a handful of troops, to follow him, and charged off to the far side of the base to repel the invaders.

GOLD TEAM

(Zeki, Mait, Colt)

The Hope's Hammer soared in low as it came upon the great battle of fighters surrounding the Remnants' troop carrier. Dozens of aliied fighters and imperial mark VIs were entrenched in heavy dog fights, with red and green blaster fire criss-crossing every angle of sight. Within seconds of their arrival, the Hammer attracted multiple targets, like moths to a flame.

"Ay! We've got incoming!" Tank yelled from his swivelling belly turret as he spun about. "Three marks coming in! High right! No shot!"

Jester spun his dorsal turret, quickly finding the targets as they soared in from above, their twin cannons already firing. Shots scorched the hull and a flash from his canopy's shield temporarily blinded him. Jester's turret fired, sending a flurry of bolts into the marks' midst. One of the small fighters was hit. It bucked to one side, clipping another fighter, and the two spun out of formation. The third continued past, peppering the Hammer's hull with blasterfire as it passed. Jester cursed as he attempted to spin about and follow it with fire, but then cursed again as another trio of fighters was already upon them.

"Dammit, c'mon! Let's see some of that fancy flying!" he shouted over his shoulder to the cockpit. He fired his turret again, constantly spinning about looking to meet optimal targets. A total of six fighters were upon them now, and more could be seen in the distance about to join the fray. Meanwhile, the troop carrier itself was faring much better.

"Thank you, Hammer," came the call of the troop carrier commander of the comm. "Your presence was a fitting distraction. Our fighters are turning the tide for us. How fares the Hammer?"

"Just peachy!" Jester shot back into the comm before the ship's commander could give a more approrpriate response. A flash hit Jester's canopy behind him. He spun himself about and met the source, a fighter passing overhead, and managed to hit the vessel square in the belly with a bluster of turret fire. The fighter exploded, much to close to the Hammer, sending a mild shockwave into the ship and rocking everyone in the seats.

Tank then chimmed in on the ship comm. "Uh, Cap? We've ... got a problem here." He could only stare for a moment, wide eyed, as he watched a sith fury ship suddenly de-cloack and take up pursuit behind them. It fired with powerful cannons upon the Hammer's aft section, taking out one of its own imperial fighters that was in the line of fire. The Hammer rocked and the system's shields automatically shifted to double aft. "Do something!" Tank shouted as he finally lifted his turret controls and fired upon the Fury. He could scarcely believe it when the nimble ship deftly evaded his fire. At this range, how could a pilot possibly have good enough reflexes?

ALL TEAMS

*rp sit rep*

"... I repeat, this is Remnant 1, come in Green Team." The helmsman shook his head. "No word, Sir," he said to General Hun, who sat on the edge of his command chair on the bridge of their fleet's capital ship.

"What is the status of our carriers?" the general asked, looking to another bridge officer.

"Our troops carrier is under heavy fire from enemy fighters and our air carrier is as well," the crewman replied. He pressed his earpiece closer as new reports came in. "Gold Team has dispatched their squadrons to defend the air carrier, including their personal escort fighters. The Hope's Hammer is en route to the troops carrier."

The general's expression darkened. The Hammer's personal escort, not good. The lieutenant better know what he's doing. "Status report on Red team?"

"Red Team is aboard the orbital station, sir," a crewman replied as he strained to listen to incoming reports. "They're reportedly on schedule with destroying the shield generators; but how they'll be extracted with the terminus ships and fighters around the station, I'm not sure."

Clearly frustrated, General Hun slammed a fist down on the arm of his char. He then activated a comlink on the arm panel. "Fleet command to Ground Forces Commander, this is General Hun. Your reinforcements have been dispatched. Any sign of Green Team, Master Coran?"

GOLD TEAM

"Gold 3! You've got one on your tail!"

"Roger that, I can't shake him!"

"Bank right and I'll drop in behind 'em!"

The four escort fighters, tasked with providing the Hammer with support, had their own problems to worry about. Arriving only moments ago to defend one of the Remnants' carriers, which was under heavy fire from mark VIs, the Hammer and her escort were immediately targetted. In less than a minute, she had dispatched more than a dozen enemy fighters, but was still marked and receiving lots of attention. The Hammer was taking care of herself for the moment, with its gunners Tank and Jester making quick work of the fighters with their swivelling turret domes; but her escorts were struggling to keep at her side as they desperately tried to evade the more manoeuvreable mark VIs in pursuit.

One of the fighters locked onto Gold 3, its fighter smiling within its black helmet as it prepared to deal a killing blow. It suddenly exploded as Jester's keen aim found the small craft and sent heavy turret fire its way. Gold 3 expressed his gratitude through the ship's comlink.

"Hammer this is Remnant Carrier, thank you for joining us," came a message from the carrier's command bridge. "We're showing two dozen enemy fighters incoming on our position. We have two squadrons down and only two up, but we have a dozen fighters prepping for launch as we speak.

"The troops carrier is under heavy fire as well, but we have no support to lend them. What do you have for squadron support, over."

Meanwhile on the Hammer, Padawan Brega rose from his seat, satisfied with the automated defenses he had put in place for the ship. Though he possessed a keen knowledge of the ways of the Force, even for one so young, even the lowliest acolyte could've sensed the trepidation emanating from his comrade, Anlai, standing at the back of the ship's bridge. She felt the loss of life all around them. So strong was her empathy that she in fact seemed painstricken by them. Brega moved to her side and turned to look forward as she was. His brow furrowed as he absorbed her sorrow-filled aura. A look of sympathy appeared on his face then. He could sense that she was in need of a distraction, in fact was begging for one. Brega, as quizzical as always, cleared his throat and decided upon a not-unrelated topic.

"Can you sense all of our living friends as well?" He knew as well as he did that both of them could sense every living soul here among them. He, not so strongly, while her all too well. And in that lay the problem, Brega observed. Her attunement was both a gift and a curse. While she could feel and appreciate the happiness and joy of all those around her far better than he, she could also feel their pain and suffering with equal clarity it would seem. Brega both pitied and envied her for this. He knew now, however, that it was support she in fact needed, not understanding. "Perhaps, together, we can bolster their resolve and sway the battle in our favor?" he suggested plainly.

RED TEAM

The carnage in the station hangar abated as the last of the imperial guards fell dead to the floor, a body among many others, and the Remnants team scattered to complete their objectives. Station alarms were screeching, red lights whirled overhead, and an autonomous voice sounded over every speaker demanding battle positions. With everyone's attention elsewhere, the arrival of the sith fury-class ship went unnoticed. It decloaked as it rotated within the hangar and set down upon the deck., its ramp extending immediately.

The two figures that emerged were not your typical-looking sith. Each of them wore neutral color robes, much like those of a Jedi, and armor to match. Their hoods were back, and their faces were identical; though they had different colored hair, one raven black and the other stark white. They each wore theirs long and adorned with a single braid. Their expressions were calm and peaceful. Sith lightsabers hung at their waists, however. 

As the twins walked among the dead, the  dark one paused to inspect one of the bodies, going to one knee. He turned it over and ran his hand over what appeared to be a lightsaber impalement. His eyes closed as he put his hand to the dead man's head, positiioning his fingers alongside each temple. A moment later, he rose to his feet and regarded the other.

"It's them," he stated coldly. They each looked about then, closing their eyes and delving their senses into the Force. A moment later, they each turned and looked down the same corridor.

"We knew they'd start here."

"They are bold, as always."

"Predictably so."

"Do we thwart their efforts?" the stark one asked, with a tone that suggested it was perfectly within their power to do so.

The dark one shook his head, dismissing the thought, and then delved into his senses, searching the Force for ... something. A moment later he looked up to the ceiling. His eyes still closed, he moved his head along as if following the path of an unseen target, until finally he stopped. The stark one, standing beside him, suddenly looked to the same spot, as if something too had perked his attention.

The dark one smiled. "Hello, my friend," he said softly.

"He's here."

"As we predicted."

"He senses a sith presence," the stark one said. They could both feel the presence of the one intensely. "He's luring, to keep his friends safe."

"Indeed. How noble."

They then nodded to each other and then activated the stealth generators on their belts, vanishing, and stalked out of the hangar, heading down a corridor deeper into the station. The twins moved quickly, unseen, and with driven motivation it seemed. As they left the hangar, the two continued to converse telepathically.

"Same rule as always if we encounter the sith ourselves."

"Kill them all."

GOLD TEAM

(Maitrayen, Colt, Zeki)

"Gold Squad, this is Gold 1, everyone check in," the co-pilot of The Hope's Hammer said into the squad-open channel. The pinkish-skinned zabrak was so busy putting all of the ship's sensors, shields, and emergency systems online that she barely noticed the ship's commanding officer enter the cockpit. She looked to the big trooper and gave a respectful nod. "All systems powered up, Lieutenant Maitrayen. We're clear of Rem 1 and heading for our carrier 2 as instructed. She's under heavy fire already. Mark VIs swarming all over her."

Meanwhile, in the ship's belly turret pod, one of the Hammer's gunners was struggling to get his swivel-chair to function. He heaved on the manual release handle that would let him spin 280 degrees for optimal firing angles, but the mechanism was jammed. "C'mon you stupid thing!" he shouted angrily. He dropped his helmet to the floor and reached down with both hands. Finally, the handle was freed and his seat spun about suddenly.

"You get it, big fella?" a voice said from above him. Jester, looking down through the pod hatch, was shaking his head as the big man tried to stop his rotation.

Cursing, Tank managed to grab hold of his turret handles to steady himself. "Yeh, I got it, little man," he began the warm-up cycle for his weapon, shooting the much smaller trooper a patronizing smile. "Don't you have something better to do? Saaaay like manning your own pod?"

Jester shook his head again, mumbling something inaudible as he shut the hatch and spun the seal wheel.

"Let me know if you need a boost up to yours, little man! Tank called after him. He then plopped a chunk of chewing goo into his mouth and began spinning about with his turret, ensuring all his attack angles were ok.

Jester, reaching up to pull down the extendible ladder of his pod, gave a rude gesture to his trooper friend, but smiled all the same as he climbed up and into the small pod on the top of the ship. He sat back in his seat and strapped himself in. He never truly could get used to this pod, with the seat so far back he was practially belly up. It was a snug fit, but even he had to admit the position gave the turret gunner quite an extensive view of everything above and beside the ship. Between the two pods and the ship's auto guns on the port and starboard sides, The Hammer was well protected.

Moments later in the cockpit, Jester and Tank's voices confirmed readiness over the ship's comlink. Crisp nodded with approval. "We are go for full assault, Colt. You've got the stick and I'm prepped and ready over here."

"Well, that didn't take long!" Tank then said over the comlink, a grunt in his voice as he spun his turret about. "Ten o'clock high!"

Crisp gestured through the forward view shield, up and to the left. Sure enough, a small squadron of Mark VIs came soaring down beneath the belly of a bulk cruiser, attack formation, and was heading their way.

"Full dorsal shields and we're at full thrusters, Colt! Let's show 'em what this baby can do!" Crisp said with enthusiasm. Green turbo-lasers suddenly shot out at the approaching fighters from Tank's turret on the topside of the ship.

"Ay! Spin us around, I want some action, too!" Jester whined over the comlink.

RED TEAM

"You have any idea what this is about, Floyd?" one of the station's hangar sentries asked as another came to his side in the hangar to regard the freighter that had just landed. The two glanced around to see more than a dozen other troopers quickly rushing into the hangar and taking up strategic positions behind various obstructions. The station's commander soon arrived as well, with a half-dozen more troopers on his heels.

"I don't know, Hoyt; but the commander seems rather concerned about it," Floyd chuckled. The commander gave him a glare as he passed by. The two sentries immediately stiffened with eyes forward. Their giggled returned when he was out of ear shot. "Probably some half-wit smuggler on his way to Dac and didn't know there was a frakin war going on," Hoyt whispered with amusement. "Hey, maybe they'll confiscate some goodies."

"Like that time on Belsavis when we captured that spice smuggler?" Floyd was bobbing his eyebrows, while Larry went wide-eyed as he recalled that oh-so-fond memory. "Pierson broke into the confiscated goods room, remember? Man, that was the best day off I ever had."

Hoyt was nodding his head, smiling; but a curious expression then crossed his face as he ponderd that last comment. "Imperial troops get days off?!"

The freighter's cannons suddenly opened fire! 

"Sweet mother of ... !" The two mirthful troopers hit the deck as an explosion erupted a barrel of fueld nearby, sending body parts flying in every direction.

The station guards scatttered for covered, others trying to pick themselves back up. The station commander shouted orders, calling for portable turrets to be deployed. Those carrying them fumbled to set them in place as they simultaneously struggled to find cover from the heavy cannons. The door of the ship opened and a nightmare of Remnants troops dropped into the hangar.

"Remnants!" the station commander shouted into his comlink. "They're hear to destroy the station! Send troops to the power generators! Send reinforcements to the hangar! "He silently wished he had insisted on more troopers here on the station, but fleet command was certain that it would not be necessary unless the station's escort terminus destroyers were compromised. Such a daring move as this was not anticipated. "Alert Darth Nano!" he then added into his comlink. He knew the sith had probably already sensed the deception from ... where ever he was, out in his stealthed ship near the station, but the commander couldn't be negligent in assuming as much. Get here soon, my sith friend, he prayed.

GREEN TEAM

The shuttle carrying Green Team launched from Remnant 1 and deftly soared under and between the bulky cruisers, looking to keep cover as long as possible before entering open space to begin its descent down to Dac. A trio of liberator fighters joined them then, much to the relief of the shuttle's pilots.

"Green 2, checking in," followed by, "Green 3, checking in," and "Green 4, checing in." Green 2's voice came once again. "Boyle, Crasher, that you guys in there? How'd you get get stuck with this suicide mission? Ha!"

"Just lucky, I guess," Crasher, the pilot of the shuttle, returned. Boyle, his co-pilot, was nodding his head sarcastically.

Green 4 suddenly exploded, showering the shuttle with metal fragments. Alarms went off in the hold, where green team's personnel were bracing themselves. "We're hit! Starboard side inertia dampeners are down!" Crasher cried out as he attempted to compensate for the ship's veering. An enemy craft then passed by the view port.

"Sith starfighter!" Boyle cursed aloud.

The personnel in the hold could do nothing as the shuttle careened through space amidst the battle. Green 4 was gone, while green 2 and 3 peeled off to engage the sith ship and give the shuttle time to escape. The shuttle pilots could see through the view port though that, despite their 2-to-1 advantage, the sith fighter was the superior and it was only a matter of time.

"What do we do?" Boyle asked his comrade fearfully.

Crasher hushed him as he tried to think. He looked blankly at the ship's controls, trying to think. The port-side inertia dampeners were overheating as a result of compensating for the starboard side dampeners, and their engines were damaged as well. Soon they'd be dead in space. The shuttle continued on its course, bucking and veering as it went with barely any attitude or pitch control. "I can't bring her through the atmosphere like this," Crasher reasoned aloud, more so to himself. "We'll light up like fireworks if the heat shields have been hit as well." He thought hard, working out the possibilities in his head as he was trained in Remnants flight school. He stared ahead, and then it hit him. "Look!" He pointed ahead, to the nearing imperial troops carrier.

Boyle cocked an eyebrow as he turned to regard his comrade. "Troops carrier, a huh. What about .... you're not thinking of doing what I think you are!?"

Crasher merely smiled as his hands scrambled over the panel. He hit the ship's comlink. "Change of plans, Master Aramis. We can't get you to Dac, but I think I might have a plan B for you!" He deactivated the comlink and activated the ship's manual control sticks, grabbing on with both hands and gripping them hard. He looked to comrade, "just like they told us in Remnants flight school, Boyle. Always be ready to improvise!" He managed a nervous smile before looking back to their destination.

"You're going to dock with the imperial troops carrier?" Boyle asked, exasperated. He put his face in his hands.

Crasher laughed. "No, not dock. More like crash."

"Remind me how you got your call-sign again!" Boyle returned, trying to sound amused but clearly uneasy with their new trajectory. He grabbed at his safety harness, ensuring he was well-strapped into his seat.

"It wasn't for all my safe landings, I can tell you that! Haha!"

The shuttle shot at the carrier like a bumblebee, veering suddenly, bucking and turning without warning thanks to its damaged engines and dampeners, until finally she shot through the hangar entrance. Imperial troops and pilots scattered in every direction looking for cover, yelling "Incoming!" and "Take cover!" as hangar alarms went off. The shuttle clipped a troops transport craft as it entered, sending it careening into the side of the hangar where it impacted and exploded, setting off a series of other explosions as fuel barrels and unmanned ships exploded as well. The shuttle hit the deck hard, crushing several fighter ships and dozens of troops as it skidded along. Transports and fighter craft exploded everywhere as each blast caused a chain reacton of others. Bodies were thrown or pulverized. Most of the troops still alive were fleeing the hangar entirely to wait for it all to be over.

Finally, the shuttle came to rest on the far side of the hangar. Smoke wisped from every panel, electric sparks fizzled and spat. Cables hung from overhead. Boyle sat bat in his chair, groaning. Blood trickled down his forehead from having face-planted the dash, but he was otherwise alright. He looked about the cockpit, admiring the damage. "Well," he began with a smile. "You kept us alive and managed to reinforce your call-sign all at once, Crasher." He managed a chuckle as he turned to regard his friend.

Crasher was dead. Leaning to one side of the cockpit, still strapped in, his head was against the viewport. Blood splatter on the view port transparisteel, along with his friend's unnatural position, assured Boyle of his friend's condition. Still, he unstrapped himself and checking Crasher's vitals. Nothing. "Thank you for flying with Crasher Airlines," he said softly with a smile, the same line Crasher himself had always used after a successful transport. Boyle closed the man's lifeless eyes and moved to the back of the shuttle to check on Green Team. Finding Master Aramis, he made a quick salute. "Master Aramis. Sorry for the rough landing. I believe what Crasher had in mind was using an imperial troop transport to get us down to Dac. Bold, but it could work."

RED TEAM

“Strap in, boys ‘n girls!†the voice of Captain Ruus came over the cargo bay speaker, where Red Team were doing just that. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride!â€

No sooner had The Betty left the hangar when it was suddenly rocked by an explosion. The departing vessel ahead of it was struck by a careening enemy fighter and was obliterated. Debris showered against the freighter’s hull, along with several bodies. The Betty banked hard to starboard as she cleared the hangar and beneath the bellies of the Remnants massive cruisers.

A pair of Remnants starfighters suddenly appeared at her flanks, one on either side. “Red 2, checking in,†followed by, “Red 3, checking in. We got your back, Captain.†Ruus was glad to have escorts for this one. He waved to one of the pilots within view through the view port.

“Red 1 here. Thanks, guys. Just watch my backside, if you please, and we’ll take care of the rest up front.â€

“Shouldn’t be too hard,†Red 3 quipped, regarding the aft end of the bulky freighter. “She’s got enough backside for all of us.â€

“Ay!†Ruus protested, albeit with a smile. “She may not be pretty, but she’s got it where it counts!â€

Their mirth was short lived though as the trio of ships soared along beneath the giant cruisers. The Betty swooped between the ships’ features, rotating on its axis, and kept a low profile as it worked its way through the intermingling ships. With the much larger vessels and fighter squadrons focused on each other, the diminutive freighter and its escorts went largely unnoticed. The occasional enemy fighter engaged them, only to be quickly dispatched by the freighters heavy cannons. As they neared the front lines of the battle however, where the massive cruisers of both fleets were exchanging heavy fire and the space between vessels was much wider, Captain Ruus activated the ship’s comm to bring up Red Team’s leader.

“Mr. Per-ja to the cockpit, if you please. Mr. Per-ja, to the cockpit, thank you.†A moment later, Ruus did a double-take over his shoulder as the young, shady Jedi appeared as requested. Ruus gave him a curious expression. You’d think a Jedi that young would look a bit more rattled by all this … “So, we’re just about at the front lines. Any great ideas for how exactly I’m supposed to get you aboard the Orbital Station this early on? She’s in the atmosphere with heavy squadron support, and between that and us are the enemy’s destroyers AND a personnel carrier.â€

Imperial Fleet

The Ragnarok

*Capital Ship – Admiral Gregarin

Harrower-Class Dreadnaught

Damage Output: Heavy

Armor Rating: Heavy

Shield/Absorb Rating: Heavy

Bothan Intelligence Report:

“There’s a reason she’s one of the most feared dreadnaughts in the imperial navy. She's a beast enough as it is without the highly decorated war veteran at the con. He’s one of the empire’s most prized admirals. Defeating him will deal a heavy blow to the empire and end this invasion outright. Go at the Ragnarok with small fighters if anything. Otherwise, give her a wall to focus on (a heavy armored ship) and hope you can defeat the fleet before she destroys us all.â€

Terminus-Class Destroyer (2)

Damage Output: Medium

Armor Rating: Medium

Shield/Absorb Rating: Medium

Hangars: 2 (4) – bomber squadrons

Bothan Intelligence Report:

“They’re a lot smaller than their capital ship, but they’re still a big threat, especially in pairs. Target their shield generators and hangars from within. Be careful boarding, as they keep a heavy droid compliment."

Craft Carrier

Damage Output: *Light

Armor Rating: Medium

Shield/Absorb Rating: Heavy

Hangars: 4 – starfighter squadrons

Bothan Intelligence Report:

“Their Mark VI starfighters will wreak havoc against our cruisers, and they’re faster than our own fighters. You’ll need to take out their two destroyers before you’ll ever gear near their carrier, and even then destroying her will have to be done from within with The Ragnarok watching her back. She should have a minimal compliment of infantry aboard at least.â€

Personnel Frigate

Damage Output: Light

Armor Rating: Heavy

Shield/Absorb Rating: Medium

Personnel Transport Shuttles: 10 (carry 20 troops each)

Bothan Intelligence Report:

“She’s the backbone of the surface invasion. Troops, crafts, equipment – it’s all coming from her. Surface efforts won’t last long with her still in the game. Destroying the frigate might be tricky though – our scans are showing she has a hefty escort in the form of several fighter squadrons and an unknown.â€

Orbital Shield Station

Damage Output: None

Armor Rating: Heavy

Shield/Absorb Rating: Heavy

Bothan Intelligence Report:

“A small station with a massive power system that’s providing the surface fortress with its impregnable shield. Green team’s chances are slim with this station in operation, but her own shields are virtually impregnable as well. You’ll need to dock and destroy it from within.â€

Hover Fortress (surface target)

Defenses:

*Perimeter Shield (invulnerable to craft fire)

*Anti-Personnel Turret – 6

*Speeder Hangar – 4

*Sith Warriors – Lords Soren and Priam and their apprentices.

*Imperial Sniper – Agent Tsetse (fond of officers and high profile targets)

Bothan Intelligence Report:

“Above the water, the fortress is impregnable until you disable the orbiting shield generator. You may be able to find a way inside though if you take an underwater approach in the meantime, but take care. We’ve confirmed a sith presence and they’re not novices.â€

REMNANTS FLEET

Remnant 1

*Capital Ship - General Francis Hun

Valor-Class Cruiser

Damage Output: Medium

Armor Rating: Extra Heavy

Shield/Absorb Rating: Heavy

Hangars: 2 (2 squadrons of 10)

General Hun Advises:

"She's not just our flagship, she's the backbone of our fleet. She goes down, we all do. She can't dish out the damage like some of those imperial cruisers, but she can take more than all of theirs combined. That'll buy you time, so use her to that advantage."

Remnants Carrier (2)

Intrepid-Class Cruisers (half size of valor-class)

Damage Output: Medium

Armor Rating: Medium

Shield/Absorb Rating: Heavy

Personnel Transports: 10 (20 troops each)

Hangars: 4 (2 squadrons of 5 each, per carrier)

General Hun Advises:

"The only other two cruisers we have with us, they're still more than a match for those terminus destroyers. They transport our troops down to the surface as well as provide squadron support up here, so take care of them. They're vulnerable to boarding parties."

The Hope's Hammer

Remnants-Class BT-7 Thunderclap (approx 3x size of republic model)

Damage Output: Medium

Armor Rating: Heavy

Shield/Absorb Rating: Heavy

Escort Squadron: 4 Liberator-Class Starfighters

General Hun Advises:

"All our squadrons are following her lead as the point ship of Gold Team. She can swat their fighters like flies, but she's still small enough to be a nuisance herself to those imperial cruisers."

Liberator-Class Starfighter /Squadron (4)

Damage Output: Light / Medium

Armor Rating: Light

Shield/Absorb Rating: Light

General Hun stood in the hangar of the Remnants' flagship with his arms folded across his chest and a grim expression upon his face. All around him, troops and pilots rushed about the hangar boarding their crafts while officers shouted orders over the roar of engines as dozens of starfighters shot out of the hangar without delay and formed into squadrons. Tensions were high. The expected losses were as well. But this is what they trained for, they all reminded themselves as they carried out their duties. Still, the Remnants had endured hard times as of late. The call for help had come to their ears numerous times in the past months, and they had answered them all, suffering extensive losses in some cases, but prevailing in each. They deserved a rest, the general knew; but now wasn't the time.

He sighed with resignation as the Dac drop-ship carrying a small group of his troops entered the hangar, nimbly avoiding the other crafts zipping past as it entered, and quickly set down upon the deck. A ramp extended to the general's feet and down came its personnel. The Deep and Dark Waters teams he had sent were successful in their missions, he had heard; but had suffered painful losses. Bodakh, Crisp, Wick, Boomer ... They would be missed by the crew.

"I know you're tired," he began as the group came to stand before him. They were clearly weary from their trials on the planet below, but nonetheless ready for whatever the general needed of them. So was the Remnants way. "What you ran into was just the beginning, and we need you back out there. Follow me."

The general led them through to the center of the hangar, weaving through the throng of personnel rushing about, where a make-shift briefing area had been hastily constructed.

Intelligence techs minded terminals, accumulating data on the enemy fleet and setting up communications, Bothan agents analyzed the battle already underway on holo-projectors and discussed points of interest with tactical officers, and those summoned Remnants troops gathered around. Some of them were hardened veterans, others barely more than cadets; but they had been hand selected for their assignments. When all those called appeared to be present, General Hun stood before them all and looked for their attention.

"We don't have a lot of time, so I'll make this quick," he began, never one for long, dramatic speeches. "Our fighter squadrons have already been launched to engage the imperials and slow their invasion efforts, and to buy us enough time to formulate a proper counter-offensive; but they don't have all day.

"Based on the empire's invasion approach, tactics has discerned that our best option is a three-pronged assault." Many of those gathered looked to one another. A bold strategy. "We've already dispatched the other teams, but for you late arrivals - Master Aramis. Green Team. You'll be leading the surface defenders. We've already got a battle flotilla in place. Link up with Master Corran and support the Dac forces. Hold back the imperials until the others can defeat the fleet in orbit.

"Cpt Maitrayen, you'll be commanding Gold Team aboard The Hope's Hammer." Several troopers hooted at news of that, making an explosion between their fists. The Hammer was a stout ship, but was as tough as a coffin nail and could pack a punch. "You'll have 6 squadrons at your disposal. Coordinate attack efforts against the enemy fleet while ensuring you protect our own assets.

"Knight Per-ja. Red Team. You and yours have the fun task of boarding the enemy vessels and disabling them from within. Get in and get out. Captain Ruus will drop your team initially, but you'll have to find your own jumps after that."

With that, the general sent the details of the two fleets to the team leaders' datapads and then deactivated the holo-screens. Turning to those gathered, he took one last opportunity to address them before they carried out their assignments. Many of them would likely not return, he knew.

"Don't forget, work together out there. Remember, you've all spilled blood in the same mud. Watch each other's backs, take care of business, and we'll see you back here on the deck. May the Force be with you. Dismissed!"

All those gathered hurried off to their ships. Green Team's drop-ship pilots waved to them, urging them to hurry aboard. Their descent to Dac's surface wouuld not be an easy one as the pilots would need to slalom their way through the battle-entrenched warships while simultaneously avoiding their cross-fire.

The Hope's Hammer sat upon the deck at the rear of the hangar.

The largest of the Remnants' fighter craft, The Hammer, as it was often called, was modelled after the Republic's BT-7 Thunderclap. However, with twice the amount of firepower, advanced defensive systems, and redesigned to be more than three-times the size of the standard thunderclap model, The Hope's Hammer was a formiddable warship with much greater speed and manoeuvrability in combat. Gold Team clamored aboard, with a pair of troopers more than excited to be aboard the infamous vessel.

Off to one side of the hangar, Red Team boarded an unremarkable XS-Freighter ship. Captain Ruus stood at the loading ramp, urging them aboard quickly, while an anatomically feminine droid within the cargo bay welcomed them aboard with great enthusiasm and exuberance.

The three ships lifted off the deck moments later and soared out of the hangar. General Hun watched their departure, the same grim expression upon his face as before. So many Remnants charging off to defend those that couldn't defend themselves, so many of them thinking only of the safety of others and not themselves. Many of them would fall on this day, the general knew and lamented; but they would leave a footprint of their legacy here today.

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With the Remnants' support and encouragement, it was then that Swee'la's voice came to their ears. Fleeing troops turned to see the diminuitive mon cal floating in the water between their factions, his face confident and hopeful.

"My Dac brothers and sisters! Listen to me!" It was the first time any of the two races had heard of such a collective referral to the two races. It was reassuring somehow. "Do not flee! Please, listen!" The troops gathered around, still keeping to their own faction's side, but their attention was his. "We have fought each other needlessly for longer than any of us can remember! It has long been my wish, and the wish of others, that we put aside our differences and live in peace and harmony together. We are more alike than we are different, and now we have something in common now that none of us can deny - our home is under siege!" He thrust his weapon upward then, pointing to the accumulating fleet on the ocean's surface. All eyes followed the gesture, and many then closed them as they could only imagine what would happen next.

"We have fought over rule of our home for too long," Swee'la continued. He smiled then as the old veteran guard, Cepha, came to his side. The veteran mon cal put a supportive hand on the young quarren’s shoulder. "It is time we fight for our home now! Together, we can turn back the armies of the Empire! Today we fight not for ourselves, not for some throne, but for Dac itself!"

Nearly every head was nodding in agreement then, quarren and mon cal alike. At his beckoning, Captain Adad and Eelo moved to join Swee’la. The young quarren looked to each of them with hopeful eyes as he spoke low so that only they could hear him. “You both have the trust of your people, but it’s time for a change.â€

Captain Eelo looked to Cepha, and then Adad. He hesitated at first, but then nodded as well. “It is indeed. You will have the trust of the mon cal. Of that I’m sure. It’s time I step aside for someone else to speak for the mon cal.†He looked to Sergeant Cepha then, nodding with approval.
Adad was nodding as well, mostly with proud for his wonderful son Swee’la. “Together, yes. We will make a better future for Dac.â€

“You will be my council,†Swee’la then said, looking to Cepha and his father. “Together we will plan for our home’s future, for the good of all people.â€

"Sir," Jester said at Major Matix's side. The group of Remnants stood on the sea floor at the side of the crowd, listening intently to this new, encouraging turn of events. Jester produced a pad displaying Dac's orbit once again. It showed the massive imperial frigates, continuing to offload fighters and personnel ships that descended into the planet's atmosphere.

The major was about to ask what he was looking at, for he had already seen the fleet in orbit; but then ... a smile crossed his face. Remnants warships dropped out of hyperspace, one after another, right amidst the imperial fleet, and began firing immediately. And then, one ship's arrival put a great smile on his face - Remnant 1, their biggest and most formidable warship, entered the fray.

There was chatter in the group's comlink then, a voice barely audible amongst static. Jester tuned their channel on his helmet. The voice then came through clearly.

"Repeat. This is Master Vaat onboard Remnant 1. The fleet has arrived. If any of you are alive down there, get yourselves topside immediately for extraction. We've got an invasion to repel."

The Remnants group was in high spirits then, with the arrival of their fleet balancing the scales of the battle to come. Jester swam over to join Swee'la and announce the good news. They could see the relief on the young mon cal's face as the trooper whispered in his ear. Overwhelmed with the news, Sergeant Cepha spoke for him, swimming forward and throwing his arms high with cheer.

"The Remnants fleet is here!"

Cheers rose from all those gathered, from quarren and mon cal alike.

"Look!" someone cried out. Heads turned upward to see the first of the imperial aquatic troops entering the water, dropping from the bellies of the surface ships on speeder fighters and propelling their way down. The quarren and mon cal troops looked to each other with uncertainty, hesitation.

Swee'la then summoned his own courage, steeled his nerves, and thrust his weapon upward as he cried out for all to hear, "For Dac!" He swam upwards as fast as he could, hoping others would follow, and follow him they did. Thousands of quarren and mon cal troops rose from the depths of Dac, an army nearly equal in size to the oncoming imperials. Their weapons ready and firing at will, it was a truly awe-inspiring sight to see the once feuding factions charging together, ready to fight and die for their home, which they loved far more than any throne. They were one people in this moment. One race.

They were Dac.

Moments later, a Remnants extraction team arrived at their position with speeders. The commanding officer saluted them, looking to the charging Dac army with wide eyes. "I think your mission was a success, Major!" he congratulated. "C'mon! Council wants you all topside asap to help with planning our efforts to repel the imps!"

They were quickly whisked away, up to the ocean's surface where a drop-ship hovered just above the waves with lines extended down into the water. Familiar hands reached down to help them aboard.

"Was your mission as 'fun' as ours?" Crisp asked with a playful smile as she reached down and clasped Jester’s wrist, helping him into the ship. The two chuckled, knowing full well that both missions were anything but uneventful. Jester looked to the others present, the Deep team. They seemed none the worse for wear, although a few faces were noticeably missing.

"Boomer?" Jester asked, looking to Crisp with worry. She wore a sad smile, shaking her head in response. Jester sighed, lifting his helmet off of his head and looking to his friend with sorrow. "We lost Liira and Wick as well." Crisp's eyes went wide. She looked down to the water, where the rest of the team was still being extracted, hoping to see the two crewmates – her friends - despite Jester's words. Sadly, she watched as the last of them climbed aboard and the ship soared off over the water.

"They died well," Jester reassured her, putting a hand to the side of her face. Tank joined them then, as did padawan Brega. The four Remnants had gone through the Remnants academy together, along with Liira, Wick and Boomer. They had been inseparable throughout their tenure at the training camps, helping each other through each step and sharing their leave time together. They had actually been excited when they learned all seven of them had been assigned to the missions on Dac, thinking them to be a great opportunity for field experience, but relatively easy in nature. Things had not turned out so simple in the end.

"They live on in our memories," Brega said for all of them. He gestured for them all to put their arms across each other's shoulders, and they did so, in a small circle at the back of the ship, away from the veteran Remnants who had no doubt seen more days like this than they could remember.

"Remnants forever," Crisp then said quietly, thinking of their fallen friends, and also of those standing there with her. They each nodded their heads, repeating her words. After a moment of silence and reflection, the four rookies lifted their heads and smiled at one another, even managing a chuckle as they remembered a similar moment back at the academy, where this very four sat around a table in the Drop Zone cantina sharing utini drinks and having a night filled with laughter. Their mirth was short however, as their thoughts returned to their fallen friends. They stood at each other’s side then, looking through the drop-ship’s open side panel to the seas of Dac as they fell away.

Meanwhile, the other Remnants, the veterans, were quiet as the drop-ship lifted into the air and headed for orbit. They had indeed seen more days like this than they could remember, many of which they tried not to. Major Matix Lexu leaned against the fuselage of the ship, a half smile crossing his face as he heard the banter and quiet laughter of the rookies at the back of the ship. He looked to Aralias, who was also quiet with reflection.

"Remember when we used to be like that?"

The drop-ship soared into the sky, leaving the turbulent waters of Dac behind, and joined up with one of the Remnants' fleet carriers. As their craft put down in the hangar, other drop-ships were on their way out, carrying seacraft and personnel down to the planet's surface for the war that had just begun. Troops ran throughout the hangar, gathering up arms and supplies and boarding ships. A commander's voice shouted instructions over an intercom. Fighters, both Remnant and Imperial, zipped by outside the hangar bays in furious dogfights.

They had won the day, each group successful in their mission - The Deep team having quelled the great evil brewing in Dac's depths, and The Dark Waters team having mediated between the Quarren and Mon Cal, resulting with their eventual alliance. But their work was not done. Far from it.

The BATTLE OF DAC had begun ...

THE END

Follow the Story in RoH's next big RP

"The Battle of Dac"

The trio of Remnants shook the haze from their minds as they regained consciousness. Their speeder had crashed, they realized. The panel was spitting electrical sparks and smoke was wisping from under the dash. Through the craft's front shield, they could see the whole front end of the craft was buckled in on itself. A rap on the canopy above drew their attention, and they saw a familiar face.

"You sure now how to make an exit, fellas," Major Lexu said through their helm comm. He hit the controls to flood the inside of the craft after he confirmed each of them had their helmets secure. A moment later, the canopy popped and Matix reached down, offered a hand to Wick. The zabrak didn't move however. It was then that Matix realized ... Wick's faceshield was cracked. The zabrak was sitting still in the pilot's seat, and his chest was not rising. Matix climbed into the speeder and wiped a hand across his own faceshield, cleaning the dust away to better see. He could see the blood streaming down Wick's face within his helmet, and the imprint on the dashboard where his head had slammed. There was nothing they could do for him now, Matix knew. He placed a hand on the zabrak's shoulder, and then turned to help the others out of the speeder.

"The facility exploded," Jester explained as Eliian and Per-ja were helped out of the wreck. He nodded in the direction of the imperial factory, which had finally succumbed to it's geothermal generators' meltdown and imploded on itself. Even still, a giant cloud of bubbles was rising to the distant surface from where the facility had once been. The outer structure, the imperial base, was obliterated. Pieces of scrap metal littered all over the sea floor, some of them still descending from the blast. The inside of the rockbed in which the factory was hidden had blown out as well, raining rock, corral and debris over several kilometers. Combatants throughout the battlefield were thrown dozens of meters away by the blast, spinning head over feet in every direction. Imperials too close to the facility were killed instantly, their insides crushed by the massive concussive wave. The Remnants' speeder had barely reached minimum safe distance and managed to avoid the full impact of the blast, but not entirely. It's pilot having lost consciousness, the speeder careened through the battlefield on its originally trajectory and crashed into a corral outcropping only a few dozen meters away from the major and his troops.

"Lucky to be alive," Jester added. He patted the Eliian on the shoulder, checking quickly for any injuries, and then hopped into the speeder to help Wick. He was clearly distraught to see his comrade had been killed, but his sense of duty prevailed. Steeling himself, he carefully helped Matix lift their friend out of the speeder. As they climbed out of the wreck, they paused, looking out to where the quarren and mon cal were entrenched in battle. "What's going on?" Jester asked aloud.

Hundreds of meters above, dozens of shadows of seagoing vessels were touching down on the ocean's surface. Carried down through the atmosphere, the various ships and floating platforms carried underwater crafts, manned speeders, and likely thousands of imperial aquatic troops. Rays of sunlight filtered down between the vessels ominously.

The quarren might've thought that the imperials' arrival was reinforcement for their cause, but even they new the implications of numbers of this size. Suddenly Consul Haan's betrayal was evident to them as they looked to one another with fear, and to their mon cal enemy, who looked equally fearful. Panic began to spread among the ranks of both factions, many of the troops beginning to flee for distant safety, while others did nothing, frozen with fear.

The invasion of Dac had begun.

"We must do something! Now is the time to unite us!" Swee'la said at Per-ja's side. Captain Eelo, was at his side. The mon cal leader shook his head, knowing that such an idea was a dream and would never be possible. He looked across the battlefield to his distant rival, Captain Adad of the quarren, who was also looking upward to the doom of his people.

"Adad will never let us unite," Eelo sneered, shaking his head.

"He must!" Swee'la protested, wishing he could reach across the battlefield and grab his quarren father by the shoulders. Tears welled in Swee'la's eyes. "For your wife! Do it for her! She would not want to see our people like this, fighting over a throne when so much more is at stake!"

Eelo turned his head, his eyes closed, trying to block out the memory of his kind departed wife. The love of his life that was killed by the quarren armies in the past, by Swee'la's people. But Sweel'a was right, he knew. She would not want them fighting like this. She long dreamed of a united Dac, but .. it all seemed so impossible.

"He's right, Eelo," Sergeant Cepha said, the old mon cal veteran coming to his friend's side and placing a sympathetic hand on the captain's shoulder. "It's time to put our differences aside." The two mon cal looked to the young quarren, who's people were sided with the imperials and at war with the mon cal. He was different, this young one. He dreamed of peace and unity.

Swee'la turned to Per-ja. "Please, you must speak again. They listened to you the last time. Perhaps they will listen to you again."

"They'll want one of us with you," Sergeant Cepha added. "If we are to join our forces, the mon cal must have a leader to follow."

"The quarren will never trust in me," Captain Eelo admitted. "I've warred with them for far too long. But Swee'la, you have always had a kind heart, and both of our people know it. Perhaps you should go."

"I'm too young to lead, father," Swee'la countered. "Sergeant Cepha has experience. He was once a king's aid to countless kings before us - mon cal and quarren kings alike. They'd follow him."

"I'm too old for this," Cepha chuckled, the old mon cal guard shaking his head. "I'm just an old vet now."

The top of the tower creaked and then receded into the structure's walls as the transparisteel column expanded to emcompass the entire chamber and the Remnants within a great dome. The chamber's air remained, much to their relief. Only a thin partition of transparisteel stood between them and the dark waters of the ocean deep. The waters revealed nothing beyond the few yards the dim glow of the tower's interior lights illuminated. But within that area of light, the Octi were gathered. They floated into view like ominous apparitions, appearing as little more than phantoms in robes with their yellow eyes bright and unblinking. They were everywhere, looking down upon the Remnants.

The Octi prince, whom had lead the Remnants into the tower, floated down to the transparisteel dome and hovered adjacent to the Remnants. It cast back the hood of its smoke-like robes, revealing the face of an Octi to the Remnants for the first time.

"You have ended the enslavement of Us," a booming voice resounded in their heads. It was different than what they had heard before. This one was far more resonating and intense. Looking out at the creatures, they could feel that the voice they heard was not that of the prince, but of them all. One communal voice, created by a unity of all of their thoughts. How they were able to collaborate their minds and speak as one so succinctly was beyond them. Truly, an impressive race the Octi were.

"You Remnants are capable of such violence," the voice continued. The prince's head tilted to one side, as if examining them each individually. "Your path is oft laden with death and destruction, but you leave hope in your wake. It is the way of all great peace-makers. Do not lament this path that you walk." It regarded Aralias with sympathetic, yet understanding eyes; a nightmare offering consolation. "You will end the suffering of others by treading it, but instead of abolishing their pains you will absorb it into yourselves instead. Such is the destiny of you Remnants, as it always will be."

Brega joined the group then, coming up to them from behind within the domed chamber. He carefully laid the body of Boomer down at their feet and then sat beside him. "He wouldn't leave my side as I struggled," Brega explained, half smiling. He moved wet strands of hair out of the trooper's lifeless eyes, sniffed away his grief.

Crisp kneeled down beside them, the female zabrak's eyes immediately filling with tears as she took the trooper's cold hand in hers and caressed it, somehow hoping the warmth of her touch would return life to the big man.

"It will sometimes be too much for one to bear," the octi put in. It looked down at Crisp, tilting its head once more. It lifted a finger in the air, as if catching something with it. Crisp looked up as a tear streaming down her face suddenly lifted from her cheek and floated before her. It then turned to mist and was gone. "The path continues, Remnants. You have won this day for us. The evil that haunted this place has been lifted, but another approaches ..."

The prince extended a three-fingered hand and placed it against the glass between them. To their astonishment, the glass suddenly shimmered and then displayed an image like a terminal monitor. It showed Dac from space, with an Imperial fleet now in orbit with countless invasion craft descending into the atmosphere. And then the surface of Dac; it's turbulent seas and crashing waves, with scores of warships soaring down from above, dropping seige craft, manned speeders and other aquatic war vessels. Finally, the image delved into the dark waters and down into the deeps of the planet, where a full-scale battle ensued between the Quarren and Mon Calamari.

They saw their friends, their fellow Remnants - Major Matix commanding troops, bodies of their comrades floating lifelessy on the ocean floor, Eliian and Per-Ja fighting sith with buildings crashing down around them.

"Maker help them ..." was all Crisp could say as she stared at the flashing images. "What do we do?"

The Octi lifted its hand from the glass and the images discontinued. It hovered there silently, and then the countless sea of yellow eyes receded into the darkness. One by one, quickly they vanished into the darkness of the waters. "You do what you always do," the Octi voice came into their heads once more. "You go, and bring hope to those whom need it."

"Can't you help us?" Brega then asked, looking to the departing octi and then to the prince. His eyes pleaded. "You have such power. You could assist us!"

The octi prince nodded, expecting this line of reasoning. "Our power and the crystals are symbiotic," it explained. "And we can not allow the crystals to come into their posession ... or yours.

"We shall take the crystals and go further into the planet, into the planet's greatest deep waters. And there we shall stay. Until recently, the world knew nothing of our existence, or the crystals. It must be that way again."

With that, the prince bowed with thanks, remained a moment longer, looking upon them with those haunting, yellow eyes, and then receded into the darkness. The Remnants strained to see through the glass, but the creatures were gone.

"We ... we should get going," Crisp offered, looking to the others. She begun checking her suit's gauges and prepared for the water once again, moving off to the chamber hallway from which they had came. Brega followed, patting her on the shoulder for comfort as he too donned his helm once more and ventured out of the tower. As the Remnants departed the city, they were awed to see that the octi had already vanished. Not a one could be seen within the city, and, more interestingly, the crystal monument was also gone.

The faintest pink glow could be see in the distance, descending into even darker waters. The octi don't waste time, they each thought with slight amusment. Their journey back to the tunnels, and from their back to the caves they first entered, was uneventful. Of particular interest however was the noticable absense of crystal formations, which were vastly aplenty on their first passing. The octi had removed every trace of the crystals, it would seem.

"Remnants Deep Team to aerial, we need a pick-up at these coordinates. Over," Crisp said into her comlink as the group ascended the giant, vertical cave back to the surface of Dac's ocean.

The drop-ship confirmed their location over the comm. "Roger that, Remnants Deep Team. Drop-ship en route to your position." The group sighed with relief, and then half smiled as the pilot continued, "hope you had an easy trip, because you're in for quite an event when you get topside!"

(This effectively Concludes the RP! Congratulations and Thank you for sticking with it. It was a long one, albeit fun from my perspective. Feel free to post in response to this last fp post. The RP will be archived by Wed Jan 16th)