Storm in the Void

[Isaac]

The Marcol Void was, to put it plainly, massive. Travelling at full-speed on a class-1 hyperdrive would take an average of fourteen days, and fourteen days was far too long for the current situation. There was no telling how far the Iskalloni had travelled, or how advanced their equivalent of a hyperdrive was; they may be a day or a week away from hitting GA space. The only way to intercept the oncoming invasion force, and detect those already in the Void, was by routinely dropping out of hyperspace and scanning as far as possible, while sending out patrols. Lengthy, time-consuming, and impractical.
"We're getting some sort of reading, but we can't be sure..."
"Be sure" Admiral Sect ordered the man in charge of the sensor crew. "I don't want to be sending my fighters to investigate another ion storm".
"Yes sir" the officer saluted, hurrying back to the crew pits and reiterating the Admiral's orders.
"Ma'am, the 184th Squadron just docked, they've nothing to report other than unidentifiable debris" a bridge officer called. Sect shook her head, wringing her gloved hands behind her back. Her patience was thinning, and each lack of contact brought crew morale down even further.

At the beginning of this venture, her crew had been positively radiant, bouncing at the opportunity to get out of Coruscant's orbit and see some real action. Even without direct authority from the GA fleet, knowing that their naval statuses may be forfeit or penalised, they'd leaped at the opportunity. Now...
"We're wasting time, Admiral" someone whispered in her ear. It was Rhein, her first officer, his oval black eyes unblinking as he eased her to one side. She didn't mind the Nautolan, but he had a horrible sense of timing.
"What do you suggest I do, Rhein? We're exhausting options here".
"And supplies... the only thing we have in abundance right now is fuel. Last inventory check puts us at 30% potable water. Compare that with our depleted food stores, and we're looking at cutting this journey short for re-supplies in three days".
"Great" Sect sighed, casting an eye over her shoulder to make sure the crew weren't listening in. "So either we find the Iskalloni and annihilate them in three days, or..."
"Or we turn back and head for the Outer Rim, and hope we find a world sympathetic enough to the Empire to resupply us" Rhein said plainly.
"That's not happening" Sect said firmly, moving past the Nautolan to begin issuing orders.
"Elena... don't lose perspective" Rhein advised. The Admiral paused in her tracks for a moment, then nodded, and continued to prep her orders for the crew.

*

The 502nd 'Razor Wing' Squadron had joined with the 329th and the 221st to scout out a dense ion storm ahead of the main fleet, with Andreas Darkcell leading. Long-range comms were prohibited, and all ships were to run with shields down and weapons unpowered, utilising stored solar energy only. Admiral Sect was taking no chances of detection; even so, her orders had generated uproar from the pilots on duty.
"We're flying blind out here" Kayla observed, mostly to break the uncomfortable silence which had descended over the combined squadron since entering the ion storm.
"Copy that" La'Rone affirmed, the tension seeping through in his voice.
"Too much interference from the storm" Farris grunted. "We could be on top of these Iskalloni things, for all we know".
"Anything productive to bring to the table, Razors?" Andreas asked sarcastically. A flash-burst of ion energy streaked through space beside his TIE Predator, but he ignored it; by the time he'd seen it, the event had already occurred, and if it posed a threat he wouldn't be alive to worry about it.
"Yeah, I think we need a new squad leader. Might put my name down, once we get back home" Kayla quipped.
"Riiiiight, coz you could outstrip my piloting skills on any given day" Andreas laughed.

Another voice cut in; Captain Barka, of the 221st.
"Captain Darkcell, is all this comm chatter really necessary?"
"More than you realise, Barka" Andreas replied. "Alright alright, lets maintain comm silence for now. Sensors are useless out here so conserve your power, Mark-One Eyeball people".
"Mark-One Eyeball" La'Rone confirmed; common policy among pilots dictated that if onboard tech wasn't enough, then rely on the gifts you were born with. Mark-One Eyeball.
The Predator squadron continued on, at a wary pace, keeping a tight formation to prevent anyone from losing their way in the dense vapours and gases building in the storm. Suddenly, the eerie mists cleared, and the squadron jettisoned into complete blackness.

"I forgot how dark it is out here in the Void" Farris muttered, seeming to forget about comm silence.
There were no stars to speak of in the Marcol Void, and if there were any planets or other bodies at all, they were uncharted. The only light sources were coming from the TIE Predators themselves, and those pin-pricks were quickly swallowed by the emptiness beyond.
"There's nothing here. Suggest we turn back to the Progenitor and call it" Captain Lyne of the 329th said tersely over the comm. There were general mutterings of agreement from both the 329th and the 221st.
"Okay, okay... wait a sec..." Andreas said, squinting into the darkness. His TIE Pilot helmet lenses were great for reducing flare and strobing, but in the Marcol Void they were proving to be an irritant. But something had caught his eye, perhaps a glint or a far-off flash-burst of laser fire.

Without warning, a hulking vessel loomed into view, her running lights suddenly brilliant in clarity. She was huge, bristling with weapons and machinery that Andreas didn't recognise, and as he stared down the barrel of what he now knew was an Iskalloni invasion ship, a realisation belatedly sunk in; he was about to crash.
"ALL UNITS BREAK! BREAK! BREAK!" he roared into the comm, and the squadron was in chaos, every ship breaking formation to avoid the twisted-looking thing that had just materialised from the void, bringing weapons and shields online in the process. Spiralling into a tight arc that took him parallel with the vessel, Andreas put some distance between himself and the threat and ordered the squadron to activate their sensors and break long-range comm silence. No sooner had he issued the orders than he emerged in the middle of a full-blown battle between an Iskalloni advance force, and the handful of resistance who'd willingly entered the Void to stop them...

*

"Captain Darkcell's squadron just broke long-range silence!" a comms officer shouted, sinking into his chair after realising his excitement.
"Report" Admiral Sect ordered, descending into the crew pits to join the officer.
"Ma'am, they've encountered what appears to be an advance force, a smaller designation of ships to scout out the area..."
"I know what an advance force is" Sect reprimanded.
"Of course Ma'am. Ah... they've been forced to engage, assisting a small force of resistance vessels, requesting immediate back-up".
Elena Sect stood silent for a moment, weighing the options. Now that she knew their approach vector and approximate location, she could very easily pull the Progenitor and her accompanying Star Destroyers out of the Void, report to High Moff Xanven, and bring the Imperial Navy to bear in its entirety. Sure, she'd be sacrificing her best squadron and a few brave souls to do so, but she'd be practically assuring herself of a victory and the glory that follows...
"Perspective, Elena" said that all-too familliar voice in her ear.
"Of course" she replied tersely. "Tell the fleet to form up on us and micro-jump to within a klick of Razor Squadron's last known location. As soon as we're in range, I want the Progenitor's underside presented to the enemy, all deflectors focused to ventral" she instructed.
"The Marg Sabl manoeuvre?" Rhein asked incredulously. "We'll be drawing a lot of fire, and to what end?"
"Our people need time to regroup, as no doubt do those who've been fighting this battle since before we got here. Maybe we'll be able to take a few Iskalloni down in the process. Just do it" Sect snapped, losing her patience for being counselled by her own first-officer. She returned to the observation deck alone, and took her customary place at the expanse of viewport just in time to see the stars streak past the Star Destroyer as she entered hyperspace.

[Trenton Vinh]

Aeolan Kicka had been expecting hell when his small ragtag fleet had exited hyperspace into the Marcol Void. There were times in his life, where in the midst of battle he would be able to toss up a false grin and crack a joke.
But not today. He had watched too many of his allies and friends die, felt the fear of battling a terrifying enemy in his heart, and seen firsthand how much danger the Galactic Alliance was about to be in.
Roth Fenix had warned him, and had given Aeolan the chance to turn his back, but Aeolan had been in the Yuuzhan Vong wars. He knew that when a threat is on the horizon, turning one's back will only get them killed. So he had chosen instead to stride towards his foe, weapon in hand, to see if he could change someone else's fate if he was destined for death.

"You should get on the guns." Roth Fenix said behind him. Roth, despite Aeolan's experience flying, was piloting. He claimed his Force-sensitivity would help in the battle, and Aeolan agreed. He nodded to the third man in the ship, "Sounds good. Kelln, you get the dorsal turret."
Levy Kelln was Aeolan's personal bodyguard. As head of an underworld organization, it was necessary to have someone watching your back.
Levy answered, "Yes sir." and started towards the middle of the ship. Aeolan's Horizon-Class Star Yacht, The Supernova had been heavily modified for smuggling and combat. It had concussion missiles, twin gun turrets, strong shields, and an engine with boosters that enabled it to outrun most ships its size.
As Aeolan climbed the ladder and dropped into the gunner's seat, he thought of the skirmish they were nearing.
His small fleet had spread out upon entering the Void, in an attempt to find the Iskalloni forces before they could slip by into G.A. space.
After several tense hours, one of the light frigate's had reported it was under attack. Contact had been lost within minutes. Aeolan had realized the command error immediately -- it had been foolish to split up. Now his forces were scattered, but orders were to rendezvous at Point Twilight; the location the first attack had been reported.
Roth's voice could be heard over the headset that Aeolan was fumbling with, "We'll be in the battle zone in twenty-three seconds. Get ready."

Aeolan didn't ask how Roth had known that it would be exactly that length of time before contact, but responded with a comm click.
Roth must have sensed it. Aeolan didn't know much about The Force, but he had spent enough time around Jedi and various other Force Users to know that they could sense life forms...and they could also sense when those life forms were suddenly, violently, snuffed out.
Roth knew where they would run into danger, because he could sense the dead.
Aeolan found himself wondering if his life would soon be one of those ones being snuffed out.
Or one of the ones doing the snuffing.

He shook his head to clear his head of those thoughts. He had to focus, or he would be dead.
Roth said, "I'm opening the fleet-wide comm, we may need to know what's going on with the other captains."
Aeolan nodded but didn't reply, there were about a dozen other captains in the ragtag group, and he could hear at least half of their voices on his headset when Roth opened the channel. They were in chaos, yelling orders or offering tactical suggestions.
"Here we go." Roth's voice cut across the others, and in half a second Aeolan's view of pitch-black space outside his turret dome turned into one of the pitched-battle.
Roth had flown right into the center of hell.
A huge Iskalloni dreadnaught was raining fire downwards at the ships beneath it. Dozens of frigates and corvettes of Iskalloni design were flashing by, firing on the pirate-band equivalents. Most of the men in Aeolan's regime were capable pilots and crews, and they were holding their own rather well despite the overwhelming numbers. That being said, one of the corvettes exploded, and the voice of the commanding officer was cut off by sharp static before silence.

The Iskalloni ships were terrifying behemoths. Large, usually ovoid or rounded. They would have looked elegant had they not seemed like they had been skewered dozens of times with bizarrely bent durasteel beams. The beams hung off the ships at various angles, giving a violent appearance to the ships. Some of the Iskalloni ships appeared only partially-completed, with holes in their bellies and chunks missing from their sides.
Aeolan realized that these were not ships still under-construction, but the Iskalloni equivalent of a shipwright's architecture. To an Iskalloni-eye, perhaps their ships were things of beauty.
Aeolan watched as one of the two Nebulon-B frigates in their fleet passed one of the Iskallon ships. The Iskallon ship twisted, and one of the bent beams slammed into the Nebulon-B, tearing a gouge out of the ships back, knocking an engine free. There was an explosion of vented atmosphere and the Nebulon-B tore itself to pieces as the engines twisted the superstructure beyond its limit.
He understood now. The spikes and barbs sticking from the enemy ships were more than disturbing decorations. They were piercing and ramming weapons.

Then the starfighters came. Twisting through the crimson laser blasts and hulks of dead-ships, the X-wings and A-wings traced arcs of fire through space, pursuing the Iskalloni equivalents. The Iskallon fighters swarmed The Supernova, and the ship rocked as its shields were buffeted by lasers.
"Shoot them!" Levy yelled, and Aeolan gripped the turret controls. The weapons warmed and he felt a soft vibration in his palm, then he pulled the triggers and felt his teeth chatter with the recoil.
He let out of a fierce battle cry as one of the Iskalloni fighters exploded- mere meters from Aeolan.
Roth was flying full-tilt through the battle, pushing the ship to its limit and beyond, but avoiding far more damage than any non-Force sensitive could have.
The ship rolled over repeatedly before diving and then ascending, spiraling through dead hulks and past starfighters. The starfighters were sometimes the largest threats in battles like this one. At nearly the speed of light the tiny ships were like huge steel bugs on a windshield if crashed into. Aeolan couldn't see it, but Roth was white-knuckled on the controls, sweat pouring from his face already as he struggled physically and mentally with the controls.For a Force-User, intense battles made using The Force incredibly difficult. And often times, dangerous.
Roth was now piloting them through one of the gaping holes in the huge dreadnaught, while Levy and Aeolan fired full-auto with the turrets.
Roth fired a pair of concussion missiles that penetrated the hull of a light frigate, before diving out of the way of an Iskalloni fighter.
The hull rocked once more with cannonfire, and Aeolan yelled, "Watch your tail, we've got enemy fighters!"
Something exploded right outside Aeolan's turret dome, and he closed his eyes as the blinding light subsided.

"Swivel us around!" Aeolan yelled as he craned his neck to see something that had caught his eye. He could have sworn he had just seen...no way, not a chance. There couldn't be Star Destroyers way out here, right?

[Isaac]

The Imperious-class Star Destroyer 'Progenitor' and her two escorts, the Pellaeon-class Star Destroyers 'Dauntless' and 'Triumphant' burst upon a scene of total chaos. Unfamilliar enemy ships literally tore into desperate allied vessels, their unconventional battering rams gouging vessels apart with little to no effort. Iskalloni fighters exchanged fire with an assortment of snub fighters, including but not limited to Z-95's, X-Wings and A-Wings. The staccato bursts of TIE fire could be seen all around, and yet nothing seemed to be slowing the Iskalloni advance.
"Ma'am, we're in position" came a voice over the comm. It was the navigation officer, down in the crew pits. Elena Sect turned to Colonel Rhein, both exchanging grave looks. Neither had expected the situation to be this bad.
"Divert all available power to the dorsal shields, and intensify our turbolaser fire for that quadrant" Sect ordered, gesturing at a point in the centre of her fleet on the hologram playing before her. "All pilots are to get to their fighters and attack the enemy cruisers head-on".
"Ma'am? That's a risky move..." Rhein began to object.
"They're faster and more agile than anything these... people have to offer, and less at risk of being smashed apart by those rams" Sect reasoned, even though her orders were gospel aboard the Progenitor. "We'll be on the constant look-out for weaknesses in their armour, and as soon as we identify one our squadrons will be able to exploit it".
"As you command" Rhein said solemnly, his black oval eyes devoid of any readable emotion.

*

Andreas Darkcell was being hounded relentlessly by enemy fighters, forcing him to weave in and out of debris and barrell-roll to avoid being torn to pieces. His TIE Predator groaned and shrieked with the stress of being put through so many tight turns, his HUD was unreadable thanks to the constant warning alarms, his weapons capacitor was overloaded to compensate for the stress of having so many targets to shoot at... and he was loving it.
"Incoming Star Destroyers" Kayla shouted over the comm. "Lets get this party started!"
"Orders from Sect, we're to attack the cruisers directly, leave the fighters to the resistance" La'Rone added, even as the orders themselves came streaming over Andreas's flashing red HUD.
"You kidding? Without Imperial training, they won't last a minute" Farris yelled. He was doggedly trying to shake off a pursuing Iskalloni heavy fighter, which Andreas deftly picked off with a burst of fire to its thrust port.
"Stranger things have happened" Andreas said, mostly to himself, as he and his squadron peeled off to attack the nearest Iskalloni cruiser.

Overhead, the three Star Destroyers had fanned out to cover as much of the battle area as possible, and were raining heavy turbolaser fire on the Iskalloni.
"Watch for incoming, I doubt our gunners are checking their targets right now" Kayla warned over the comm, as emerald bursts thumped into the hull of their target close enough to spike her cockpit's temperature gauge.
"I recognise that move... prep for incoming support guys" Andreas said, just as he squeezed the trigger to start peppering the enemy cruisers shields with laserfire.
The Star Destroyers had begun descending belly-first on the enemy, drawing their fire and holding their own - for now. Suddenly a wave of TIE Predators swarmed up and over from above, and in seconds two of the Iskalloni's larger vessels were seemingly covered in smaller fighters, the way insects smother a carcass.
TIE Neutralizers, the most recent evolution of the Imperial bomber, eventually joined the fray, their slow descent guarded by the onslaught of turbolasers. Blue-green ripples crossed what little of the surface Andreas could see of his target, as bombs impacted and exploded. Then, without warning, a sudden rush of energy exploded outward from the cruiser... and all of his systems died as one.

The Iskalloni cruiser had emitted a powerful ion pulse, seemingly using its own shields as a catalyst. Andreas watched helplessly as several TIE's collided, propelled by their own momentum into each other, and their contents emptied into the void.
"This is Darkcell, come in. Anyone, please respond" he said, hitting the comm. He'd hardly expected it to work, but it was worth a shot.
With one eye on his own oxygen reserves, and another on the battle beyond his suddenly-fragile viewport, he had no alternative but to wait for the effects of the ion blast to wear off. Not to worry; soon, the GA fleets would arrive, backed by the might of the Empire and the support of the Mandalorians. They could not lose this day.

*

"What the frack just happened?" Sect snapped, hitting the tactical display as a sudden impact reduced the hologram to static.
"Admiral, one of the targets just emitted some kind of pulse, ion-based we think" one of her officers supplied.
"I can see that. Call the fighters out of close-range, I don't want all my ships down if that other cruiser decides to pull the same stunt" Sect snapped, gesturing at the restored hologram.
"Ma'am, the ion blast forced the cruiser to sacrifice its own shields. Our hits are taking effect, estimated time to destruction two minutes twenty..."
"Restore shields to optimum level and divert the surplus to our turbolasers" Sect interrupted. "I want those ships taken out, then perhaps we can focus on..."
A shocking white light illuminated the bridge, as the Iskalloni cruiser in question exploded violently.
"That was quick..." Rhein murmered, once the flash had cleared. Sect still had it imprinted on her retinas, it seemed.
"That wasn't us" Sect said with a falling stomach, moving toward the viewport with the colour draining from her face. "Prepare to be boarded. All non-essential personnel to the escape pods, relay the message to the fleet" she instructed. This time, Rhein didn't question her orders, and moments later a flurry of self-propelled pods came flying like arrows toward the Progenitor.
The impact sounded and felt like something had dug its claws into the belly of her beast, and Sect tried to shut out her baby's protesting squeals. She'd seen similar boarding devices used in the past, and could only imagine the carnage in the corridors as the hull was sheared through and plugged in an instant, followed by troops dropping in from inside the pod itself. And sure enough, alarms began to blare throughout the ship, and blaster exchange could be heard from the decks below.
Elena Sect did the only thing she knew how; took a seat and continued to strategise, while she still had a ship with which to enforce the way of the larger battle.

[Trenton Vinh]

Two days ago, if someone had asked Aeolan Kicka if he would ever accept help from the someone in the Empire, he would respond with something similar to, "Only if its to help dig their grave."
But now, in the midst of a harrowing space melee, an Imperial fleet had appeared out of nowhere, and were offering their aid to Aeolan's shoddy fleet.
He had fought against the empire years ago, and had found them to often be a brutal and dangerous enemy; their Military tactics were never in doubt.
As Roth struggled with the controls, he watched from the corner of his eye as an Iskallon frigate flashed with light.
Aeolan and Levy Kelln, in the turrets, craned their necks to see what had happened.
Then the EMP cascaded over The Supernova, and the yacht lost all power.
Crimson lights strobed, and Aeolan unbuckled his crash-webbing.
The artificial gravity had been fried; he floated down the hatch to the cockpit, where Roth was now tapping keys and flipping switches, desperately trying to restore power.
"Everything is fried...we might need to do a full reactor reset!"
Aeolan turned to watch Levy float down the hatch behind him, and said aloud, "We're sitting ducks...anyone outside the range of the EMP can come in and pick everything off one-by-one!"
Levy kicked off and floated over to the viewport, staring out into the space outside. What had been a battle was now akin to a graveyard; it was suddenly incredibly silent.

"We need help..." Levy said softly.

[Trenton Vinh]

The Marcol Void was akin to a pot of hot water, about to reach a boiling point as the flames of war grew.
The machines of war had been stunned, as an EMP burst had stopped all electronic systems from operation. But the men inside their machines had worked quickly to restart their ships, activate shields, and continue killing one another.
The Iskalloni cruisers tore swaths of destruction through the battle once more, their twisted beams destroying all that came into their paths.
The human forces were at their knees, having less numbers and less power than the invading force.

The arrival of a colossal Iskalloni supercruiser appeared to be the killing stroke; a two kilometer long titan of metal and murder shaped like a twisted sword blade, coming to a broad off-center point as sharp as a razor. Numerous gaping holes were built in the infrastructure, the grotesque beauty of an alien cyborg society. These holes and missing chunks also housed hangars and laser-batteries.
The bridge of the ship was built near the stern, above and ahead of the engines. If viewed from above, the ship appeared to look like a large dagger or sword, and the bridge was set on the 'guard' of the sword.
Twisted beams of durasteel stuck out at odd angles, a hundred meters from the ship's hull, black as space and deadly to any enemies who strayed too close.
Scalpel was a product of seven years of building, and was the second largest Iskalloni ship ever built. Its length was on par to a super star destroyer, and had firepower even beyond that.
Its twisted superstructure was strategically built to give the ship a very dense bow, allowing it to ram through other large ships. Its durasteel beams, called Gores, were excellent for defense against slow-reflexed starfighter pilots, and anyone in a gunship or freighter would be torn apart in moments.

Its flat wide design was for orbital bombardment; hundreds of turbolasers sat on the underside of the ship, it could unleash hell in a two-kilometer radius, with the power to obliterate a city in minutes.
The megamaser batteries fired kinetic lasers, causing more damage due to the increased force. This helped destroy buildings and pierce ship hulls more effeciently, designed to gouge deep holes into the beings it fired upon.

Aboard the bridge, the Iskalloni warmaster Spector awaited the arrival of the incoming Galactic Alliance fleet.
The Autarch had foresight beyond comprehension, and had known that reinforcements would arrive shortly to aid the defending fleet of the Marcol Void.
There were only a few ships left, according to the left of the three viewports on the bridge. The left and right viewports had projected views of the belly of the ship, allowing Spector to view the battle beneath his feet.
The center viewport pointed straight down the bow, towards the blade of the ship. A kilometer and a half stretched between him and the tip of the bow, an expanse of grey steel that matched his skin tone.
The right viewport showed a dozen smaller images; the other Iskalloni fleet commanders. Most were issuing orders, making assessments, only Spector was still.
He didn't have to open his mouth for his orders to be given.
Like a telepathic link, his neural network broadcasted orders to his bridge crew's receivers, and they moved to his will without hesitation.

No one had expected the arrival of an Empire fleet, but it would not halt the Iskalloni juggernaut. The Autarch had sent Spector to counter the Imperial ships, along with its accompanying fleet.

Spector watched the left viewport as a small cruiser exploded, and calculated that the skirmish would be over in thirteen minutes, fourteen seconds.
But according to the Autarch's prediction, the G.A. fleet would arrive in roughly five minutes, fifty-six seconds.
The seconds ticked away, and Spector willed more orders to his underlings.
The ship beneath him turned, twisting to point the nose toward one of the Star Destroyers.
Spector shifted his weight to his heels as Scalpel accelerated, its turbolaser batteries opening fire into the space around it.

*****

After a few tense moments, the shuttle reactivated, and Aeolan Kicka heaved a sigh of relief. Power flooded the systems, and he said to Roth, "It looks like some of the other ships are back online now too..."

Outside the viewport, a few starfighters had already sped off, the effects of the EMP removed after a reactor reset.
The larger ships took longer for their larger reactors to lumber back to life, then their shields activated, engines and weapon batteries firing as their capacitors recycled power.

Roth nodded and said darkly, "There's more Iskalloni ships now, too. I sensed them arrive."
He showed Aeolan and Levy what he meant by swivelling the shuttle around and pointing it at a huge supercruiser above them.

"That's the biggest ship I've ever seen!" Levy exclaimed, and Aeolan nodded in agreement.

Roth muttered, "Get back to the turrets, we need to get moving before we get picked off!"

Aeolan eyed a console, and said, "The capacitors and weapons aren't back online yet! They need a bit more time."

Levy cried out, "We're running out of time!" pointing out and up, to where a trio of Iskalloni gunships were picking through the debris field left in the wake of the EMP, shooting any enemy ships they spotted.
"They're headed this way!" Aeolan gasped.
Roth was still in the pilot's seat, hands gripping the controls.
"Get ready, I'm going to blast us out of here."

The shuttle rocked as a pair Iskalloni starfighters strafed by them, coming within meters of the hull.

"Recon fighters..." Aeolan whispered, eyes unblinking on the gunships closing in, "...Do you think they have eyes on us?"
Roth nodded slowly, "They have plenty of targets to pick from. Its only a matter of time until that target is us."

Aeolan swallowed and turned to Levy, "The turrets won't be more than a minute, let's get up there."
The two turned from the viewport to climb the ladder, but Roth was still looking, and saw the pair of Iskalloni starfighters turning around to attack them.
"Out of time!" Roth snarled, his thumbs firing the boosters and twisting the controls to rocket the ship in a sudden dive.
The red flash of lasers made shadows dance in the dim cockpit, Aeolan was thrown to the floor from the ladder, while Levy managed to hang on and get into his turret seat.

"Roth, get us out of here!" He yelled, but his friend was beyond hearing. Lost in the Force, Roth Fenix was acting off instinct, evading the starfighters with precognitive ability. The gunships began to open up as well, and the ship rocked violently.

[Isaac]

The Impenetrable sliced through hyperspace, a blade loaded with the poison that would kill the Galactic Alliance. She was an old ship, older even than the malevolence which controlled her conquests and destruction; a Sith Battlecruiser built around designs more than three-thousand years old, she'd been upgraded constantly to keep in-line with modern technology trends. Most recently, she'd been refitted with the latest Iskalloni developments, deeming her a worthy enough vessel to carry the flag of the Iskalloni naval forces. Though by no means the largest ship in the fleet - the supercruiser commanded by Spector, for example, dwarved the Impenetrable considerably - she was the longest-lived, wherever the Impenetrable was sighted it was known among the Iskalloni that their omnipotent Autarch was controlling the battle.

The Marcol Void could take days to cross with the most advanced hyperdrives available; Kroenen, however, didn't intend to cross the Void in its entirety. He'd opted, instead, to use whatever shortcuts were known to the Iskalloni, so that he may enter the Void at a more opportune location, and drop in on the enemy at a moments notice.
He sat alone, in what had once been an observation deck, now strewn with obscure machines and tangled with hanging cable, an azure pall cast over the entire area by a resonating generator hanging like a bloated crystalline spider at the rear of the deck. Kroenen fed from it, keeping his body powered up so that he may focus his attentions elsewhere. The armoured shell clamped around his wasted body did most of the work, though it too needed regeneration in order to power his withered muscles, to move his immobile limbs.
He could feel the battle now, the death and misery surrounding it and beckoning to him; a wry smile would have formed on his lips, if he still had them beneath the helmet.

******

Power suddenly came back online, lighting up Andreas Darkcell's HUD and startling him. He'd been running life-support from the TIE Predator's stored solar energy, but was beginning to worry he'd be torn apart by passing Iskalloni snub fighters, or that he'd collide with one of his own squadmates as he drifted uselessly. Luck, it seemed, favoured the Empire for a change.
Slamming the reactor plate shut and securing it, Andreas twisted back around in his chair and strapped himself back in. His squad comm crackled to life, first with static, then with reports from his squadmates of power being returned. The EMP burst had done its job well enough, though it had been unexpected; shortly after, the Iskalloni vessel that had emitted the burst exploded, sending out boarding pods which drilled into the hull of the Star Destroyer Progenitor.
"Any word from the Admiral?" someone asked over the comm.
"Negative" Andreas replied, unsure who'd asked due to heavy interference. "She'll have her hands full with those boarding parties though... better stick to orders. Just watch out for more EMP flashes" he warned, but all thought of attack drained from him as his scope registered the arrival of something immense.

"Enemy capital ship!" Kayla shouted down the comm. "Orders?"
"Do not engage!" Andreas replied instantly. "Repeat, do NOT engage!"
The vessel was beyond anything he'd seen; as large as a Super Star Destroyer, if not bigger, and teeming with unfamilliar weapons and hull apertures. The behemoth cast a proverbial shadow over the entire plane of battle, and moments after its arrival, began raining fire down on the ships below it.
"Kark, that thing's got more weapons on its belly than the entire Fighter corps" La'Rone growled, obviously tense at having to weave his fighter in and out of debris, ships, and now lethal laserfire.
"Put yourselves between it and the nearest enemy cruiser" Andreas ordered.
"Are you space-crazy?" La'Rone shot down the comm. "We'll be caught in the cross-fire!"
"There won't be any cross-fire" Andreas said calmly, as a blast rocked his TIE to starboard. He corrected course without even looking at his controls. "They won't fire incase they take out their own ships".
"You are space-crazy" Farris cut in. "They just blew themselves up in order to get troops on our flagship, you think they won't..."
The comm went dead, as a blast smashed down into Farris's TIE and blew it to dust.
"FARRIS!" La'Rone yelled, and his momentary lapse of concentration cost him his life, as he clipped a passing Iskalloni fighter and careened into a piece of debris from the downed cruiser.

"Tighten it up people!" Andreas yelled, not believing that two of his friends had just died before his eyes, and unable to let it get the better of him. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he blinked them away; right now, he had to survive. For La'Rone and Farris's sake, he had to keep the squadron alive...

[Trenton Vinh]

The battle would be larger than they had anticipated.
Trenton could feel it in The Force as they hurtled through Hyperspace, growing closer with every passing second.
The deaths of hundreds of life forms tainted the warzone.
Behind him, in his command chair, Lysander Lee asked, "Do you sense it already?"
He must have noticed Trenton's subtle movement, the tilt of his head or the slight tension in his muscles.
Trent only nodded, and was spared having to reply when an ensign announced, "Commander, we will be exiting hyperspace in ten minutes."
Lysander responded, "Good, I want all squadrons in their starfighters ready to scramble as soon as we're clear."
The ensign gave him a polite smile, "All battlestations have been prepared since Coruscant, sir. The pilots are ready and all craft are prepped for battle."
Lysander felt a touch of a smile, his men had been anticipating this as much as he was, "Very good." He said, then dismissed the ensign with a wave.

Trenton looked into the blue depths of Hyperspace, thinking of the battle ahead. He would do what he could to help, but this was Lysander's fleet. As a Vindicator, he could do little but offer suggestions from here. He was fortunate to be allowed on the bridge; the tactical advantage would be far greater with his influence here. From the eye of the storm he would be able to flood his allies with confidence and the will that they would need to achieve victory. His enemies would be weakened, more easily fearful, and begin second-guessing themselves.
He closed his eyes, and reached out for Roth, his friend, to sense if he was still alive; and just as importantly, to let him know that help was on the way.
Sometimes such a small gesture could make all the difference.
Trent could feel Roth now, worried, tired, but alive and strong. Roth's strength was one of his greatest traits, the man had managed to use his passions for good, and if he wasn't so strong, he would have fallen to the darkness long ago.
The touch in The Force was simple contact, akin to a nudge on the shoulder or a wave.
Trent felt Roth's emotions, and knew how urgent it was for the reinforcements to arrive. He lowered himself to his knees, his palms on his lap, inches from the forward viewport.
Lysander eyed him, and said quietly, "I understand that Jedi are capable of inspiring soldiers to fight more valiantly, is this true?"

Trent nodded, his eyes still closed, lost in the depths of The Force.
Its all-encompassing grace filled him, passed through him as it did everything else in the Universe.
When he passed on from this physical realm, he would fully be part of The Force, more alive than he was now.
The physical universe allowed beings with sufficient discipline to interact with, manipulate, even act as the will of The Force, but the physical shell also limits how in tune with the Force one was. Trent believed his body to be the anchor of the mind to the physical realm. Once his body was gone, his mind and all that made him who he was, would be swallowed up by The Force.
It was said that some beings could become One with The Force for a time; when their will and the will of The Force were in perfect harmony.
Trenton had done it himself several times, achieving perfect oneness in times that he needed it most. More than once, he had believed he would die, and that release allowed him to truly dive into The Force.
In death, he would be One with The Force forever.

Lysander's voice once more sounded in the bridge of the ship, where Trenton was in body but wasn't in mind.
Lee said, "Ten seconds until we're out, Vinh. Let's hope we're not too late."
A moment later, the Peaceful Infinity and its fleet blasted out of Hyperspace, and before it had even fully stopped, hundreds of starfighters began to soar out of its hangar bays.
A dozen frigates and corvettes emerged behind the Infinity, surrounded by three Cruisers and a dreadnaught.
More starfighters poured out, and the battle filled the viewscreen.

Hundreds of explosions, small and large dotted space before being snuffed in the vacuum. Debris and flash-frozen bodies floated everywhere, making the carnage that much more deadly to any small shuttle or starfighter.
The Iskalloni Capital vessels were pouring fire into a Star Destroyer, and Lysander called out, "Prioritize the Iskalloni Supercruiser, I want bombers on it, now!"

A dozen large ships turned their turbolaser batteries and began to hammer the shields of the nearest Iskalloni ship. Gunners on corvettes and frigates twisted in their seats to shoot down Iskalloni snubfighters.

Trent could feel it all, the rushes of adrenaline and victory as a squadron destroyed an Iskallon frigate, and the fear and sadness of death as an allied vessel exploded.
The deaths of a dozen people as an Iskallon ship gored through their ships' hull, sucking them into the cold vacuum.
He murmured softly under his breath, as if uttering an incantation as he concentrated on amplifying the positive emotions of his allies while doing the opposite to the Iskalloni.
Then he sensed the powerful darkness nearby, and realized there was much more to this new war than he may have realized.

[Isaac]

Knifing out of hyperspace only to stab into the heart of the wound that the Marcol Void now represented, the Impenetrable sidled into the shadow of the Iskalloni supercruiser Scalpel. While the daunting vessel dominated the plane of battle, the smaller Sith Battlecruiser could remain inconspicuous as long as nobody got an eye on it. Shaped almost like a Star Destroyer and roughly the same size, it was the most decidedly un-Iskalloni ship in the Iskalloni fleet, and arguably the most heavily defended by fighter and frigate escorts.

Onboard, the vessel's crew were frighteningly calm; no rushing about to see orders through, no chaos as comms were relayed back and forth between ships, no commanding officer barking out orders. Other than the barely-audible sound of battle and the Impenetrable's own turbolasers reverberating throughout the ship, it was quiet. No alarms sounded, which meant the vessel hadn't been targeted; no, the Alliance were predictably focusing on the temptingly mighty Scalpel instead, unaware of the greater danger lurking in a smaller ship surrounded by frigates.
Alone on the observation deck, the scraping of metal on metal signalled Kroenen's preparation; he shifted his broken frame down into a kneeling position, inhuman talons sheathed in steel and folded across his lap.
The Dark Lord of the Sith had brought with him many artefacts with which to augment his presence in the Force and help him more efficiently distribute pain and despair among the enemy; encircling him were relics of an age long past, imbued with Sith magic. Some were mere jewels, others were as inconspicuous as brass plates inscribed with symbols from a long-lost language. But set before the Sith Lord, on a brazen plinth, was a Sith Holocron.

Its surface, black and glossy, seemed to suck the light from the room rather than emitting a glow of its own. Only when Kroenen had given himself to the Force did it ignite, flaring to life with scarlet symbols, before reconfiguring and emitting a figure cast in equally scarlet light.
Kroenen didn't need to look upon the visage of his former Master to know he was sneering. He always sneered... even when giving praise.
"You've given yourself to the Force" the gatekeeper said with distaste.
"No" Kroenen rumbled, and the room shook around him briefly. "The Sith do not submit to the will of the Force. The Force is made to suit the will of the Sith".
"Very good" the gatekeeper conceded. Still the sneer remained.
"You have taught me all I know on the art of battle meditation" Kroenen said, leaping right in. "Now I implore you to impart what wisdom you've withheld on the subject".
"You implore?" the gatekeeper laughed. "You are not ready for my secrets, Darth Kroenen. You will never be ready".
"I have earned this!"
"Earned it how? By allowing yourself to be enslaved by your own mortality?" the gatekeeper growled.
"I have lived longer than any..."
"That is not what I meant. Your hunger for immortality has driven you beyond the needs of the Sith" the gatekeeper sighed. "Very well. If it helps destroy the pestillence which has infected our Order, so be it. Listen closely".

And Kroenen did. He listened as the gatekeeper described technique, imparted what little he'd kept from Kroenen during these many years of study.
And then Kroenen crushed the holocron, reducing it to tiny splinters of glass and circuitry, erasing the memory of his former Master once and for all. He was ready to destroy the enemy from within, while his true attack began on the galaxy proper.
And then something intruded on his thoughts; an unwelcome presence, here in the Void. Something powerful, something altogether disturbing in its ambiguity... another Sith? No, that was impossible. But definately not a Jedi...

Somewhere in his brain, he received an automated signal from the bridge crew that they were in position to begin bringing about the end to this entire farce. His forces would be nearing Alliance space by now, and soon the GA would be in chaos.
He began extending his indomitible will, ensnaring the minds of his enemies, and planting the certainty of their doom firmly in their minds...

[Trenton Vinh]

Even in his deep Meditative state, Trenton could feel the despair creeping up his back, a worm of anguish.
He knew the thousands of soldiers fighting the Iskalloni forces would feel the same nagging feeling, and knew its effects on morale could turn the tide of battle against them.
Trent squeezed his eyes shut tightly, ignoring the incredible military battle on the other side of the viewport he knelt in front of.
He forced the coldness of sorrow down, pushed it down as best he could. He pushed back, keeping the darkness at bay the only way he knew how.
By accepting it.
The darkness of the heart is something none can ever truly escape. One could run to the ends of the Galaxy, but depression is a patient predator; it threatens to swallow all that is good in its jaws.
Only by facing it, confronting it, can it be tamed, or at least sated.
Trenton had lived a relatively long life, one filled with war and death, but his inner strength had always carried him through, always allowed him to do what he had to without succumbing to the pain inside.
Once he had learned to accept that both good and evil would always coexist perpetually, he found he was capable of standing strong throughout any trial he was faced with.
He accepted the penetrating Darkness, felt it touch him at his core, and then allowed a smirk to touch his lips.
This would be quite the trial.
He searched deep down for the inner light that guided him through the night, the torch that would illuminate the darkest shadows of the Galaxy, and rooted himself in the center of that radiance.

This Force User he was sensing had to have been the cause of the despairing emotions; a Force User as adept, if not more adept than Trenton was at Battle Meditation.
He followed the path of the feelings, trying to get a feel as to where the enemy was.
He turned his head towards it, and opened his eyes to find himself staring at the Supercruiser overhead, as it rained continuous fire down upon the ships below.
It was taking damage now, explosions marked its hull, blackened chunks of starship armor danced weightlessly away from the dreadnaught.
Trenton frowned, and closed his eyes once more.
Lysander Lee was saying something, to him or one of the bridge crew, he wasn't sure. He didn't care, it would not affect him where he was.
Deep inside the Force's depths, he reached out, grabbing on to a familiar presence.
Roth.

Roth Fenix would have felt his touch, wherever in the battle he was now. Trent could almost see Roth at the controls of a starship, eyes widening as he was signaled by his closest friend through the Force Bond they shared.
Roth, I need your power.
With a reassuring signal of acknowledgement, Roth twisted his shuttle around in the midst of the dogfighting, angling in towards Trenton's location.
It would take him a few minutes to dock with The Peaceful Infinity and get to the bridge, and until then Trent was on his own.
Mind to mind, will to will, he faced down a foe stronger than any other he had ever sensed.
And he opposed the presence with all he could. The Iskalloni were a strange beast, in The Force they felt like only half-sentients. Parts of them appeared missing, like ragged beings torn apart. But he knew that was because of all the robotic enhancements their strange society cultivated.
He focused on the twisted sentient parts of their brains, forcing his way in, subtle as a bludgeon. He planted the seeds of failure in their minds, praying that their mechanical brains would feel it too.
His palms, resting on his thighs, tightened into fists, clenching his robes as he focused.
He forced one hand to let go of his clothing, and raised it, palm raised towards a nearby Iskalloni frigate.
Trenton poured the thought of looking at the frigate into the minds he had penetrated, and when he felt there was enough attention on the large ship, he twisted his palm into a fist. Mentally, he gripped the center of the ship and tore, using the Iskalloni's own architectural designs against them. Sensing a weak spot in the hull, he jerked hard with all his might, and before the eyes of a thousand beings, the ship ruptured and split. He felt the lives of a hundred Iskalloni wink out as the atmosphere within the frigate vented, and felt the morale in his troops rise from the sight.
He was sweating now from the exertion, but knew Roth could not be far. With their combined Force Influence, he hoped they would have sufficient ability to overthrow the dark power that loomed overhead.

But even if they succeeded, the mystery being would still be out there, dangerous and unknown to Trenton and the greater Galaxy.
Who was this being? Was he an Iskalloni Force User?
Trenton knew very little about the race, and was unsure if they were capable of touching the Force at all. With cybernetic enhancements, most beings grew more deadened to The Force. Was it possible that there was an Iskalloni Force User, aiding and possibly even leading their forces?
And even while the battle in the Marcol Void was at its pinnacle, why did Trenton sense that they had already somehow lost?

He opened his eyes and spoke the first words he had in a while,
"Commander Lee...I have the feeling that this battle was a diversion."

Lee, who had been looking over the tac displays and firing orders off as fast as he could, raised his head, and said back, "You sense it?"
Trenton was concentrating too hard on bolstering the morale of his allies to say much more than, "Yes."
Lee sighed heavily, as he watched his forces battle for their lives and the lives of a hundred trillion innocent G.A. beings, and conceded, "I had feared as much. Upon arriving, I thought this was the entire might of the Iskalloni Empire, but if you are correct, than we may be stepping into a larger war than anyone had anticipated."

When Trenton didn't respond, Lee added quietly, "And we may have walked straight into a trap."

[Isaac]

Despite his efforts so far, Lord Kroenen could sense that the battle still wasn't swinging in anybody's favour. The mongrel fleet of GA, Imperial and rogue forces were holding their own, albeit frantically, and the Iskalloni weren't making the headway he'd predicted they would.
They were steadfast beings, these humans and their lesser-races. He should know, for he'd counted himself among their kind - for a time.
A sudden loss of life diverted his attention for the barest of moments, to the ruptured Iskalloni cruiser which was now venting soldiers into space, and the bolstering effect it had on the enemy morale.
It would not do.

The attack had come as a surprise, un-noticed by Kroenen, and lacking in subtlety. The darkness swelled within his opponent, he saw this now... but despite accepting that darkness, despite being able to use it to commit such acts, the other Force user was clearly still anchored to the light. He used it to guide him, to illuminate the path through that darkness. It impeded him, Kroenen decided. But Kroenen had no such handicap, for he'd grasped the darkness by the throat long ago and made it his servant.
He picked his targets; three corvettes en-route to support the cruisers attacking the Iskalloni dreadnought. He didn't need to grip the vessels with the Force, nor did he need to tear them apart; he was going to teach his opponent the lethality of the subtle approach.
Invading the minds of the crew of all three corvettes, he planted the suggestion in their minds that all was lost; hope was to be abandoned, the battle would become a slaughter. No amount of firepower could stop the Iskalloni, no being could survive the coming onslaught...

All three corvettes reversed course, away from the supercruiser. Unaided by the support the corvettes could have provided, the GA cruisers quickly began to succumb to sustained fire from fighters too fast for their heavy weapons to track. Lives started to wink out of existence, slowly at first, then in rapid succession as hulls breached and bodies were ejected into the cold void.
The corvettes, meanwhile, sped for the outskirts of the battle, blind to anything but escape. So blind, infact, that one of them headed straight for the shield generators of an Imperial Star Destroyer, unaware of the blaring proximity alarms and the frantic comm-calls from the rest of the crew.

In a blossom of flame, the corvette collided with the globular structure, smashing both it and itself into fragments, while a second corvette hammered into the bridge. Spewing flame, fed by the sudden rush of oxygen being sucked out into space, the Star Destroyer began to list, jacknifing prow-first into the second Star Destroyer that had arrived as part of Admiral Sect's fleet. Cut in half, the second vessel began to drift apart and fragment, turning the battlefield into a suddenly-dangerous labyrinth of gargantuan debris which floated freely, lacking a gravity well to draw it anywhere.
Kroenen let the third corvette flee, to lose itself in the Marcol Void or return home where its crew could cower. Had the Imperial flagship not already been under attack from within - an attack which his microprocessors informed him was going smoothly - he'd have used the third corvette to bring that down, too.
Even as the two Star Destroyers collided, he'd turned his focus to the Force user who's own battle meditation was keeping the Iskalloni from sweeping the enemy aside.
I feel the darkness within you, he said in his mind; whether or not the other Force user would hear his thoughts, he didn't know, for right now he felt both connected to and distanced from his enemy. In a strange paradox, he was both himself and the enemy, and he was neither, as though viewing the battle from within. He was centred in the Force, and would enforce his will upon it were it not for this 'other' presence, this... non-Jedi.
Your efforts are failing... no shard of light can hold back the dark. Embrace it entirely, or be consumed by it.
He felt the dogfighting which spread throughout this portion of the Void; felt his own forces bolstered one minute, only to be chewed apart the next by bravado-induced Imperials, or inspired Alliance pilots.
Similarly, the cruisers that had been attacking Scalpel were now little more than space dust, the will of their crew completely sapped. Like a thing alive, the effects of battle meditation had spread of their own accord, both efforts attacking and countering the other, until the battle had become a chaotic game of cat and mouse, with the role of the cat reversing every few seconds.
Kroenen had to beat the opponent down and stamp out his will; it was the only way.

And then he felt something else, something he'd overlooked; another Force presence. He knew why he'd not seen it before - while incredibly potent, it had been overshadowed by the sheer enormity of his opponent's power. But now he sensed both presences drawing together, and he realised this second presence was running to the aid of the first; to aid in the battle meditation, no doubt.
The notion brought a twisted smile to Kroenen's torn lips; if the non-Jedi needed assistance, then that meant he was fading.
Wordlessly, he called five Iskalloni from their station outside the observation deck. In they marched, either oblivious to the strange sight they walked in on, or loyal enough not to question their Autarch's methods. Either way, it didn't matter, for the moment they reached Kroenen's vicinity they spasmed as one, the colour draining from their grey faces, electrodes sparking with critical failure, and limbs falling limp at their sides.
The Force, as Kroenen understood it, was all-penetrating and all-life giving. So to cut a being off from the natural ebb and flow as he just had done, would create an unchecked abundance of surplus energy to be absorbed freely by one with the ability to do so...

And it reinvigorated him, for what he predicted would be the final push against his Force-using enemies and the ragtag GA fleet.

[Trenton Vinh]

Trenton was not as skilled in Battle Meditation as his opponent, he could sense that his shadowy adversary was growing in power instead of weakening as he continued to exert his will over the battlefield.
No one could say who would win this battle, thus far it seemed like nearly a stalemate; then the Star Destroyers were destroyed, and Trenton began to doubt himself and his allies chances.
Never before had he been bested in a contest of Force Power, and he wasn't about to merely accept defeat.

For years the young man had focused inwards, keeping his inner darkness at bay, fearing himself, his own power. The evil that he was capable of imposing upon the Galaxy had been the subject of his nightmares for years. He had seen what could happen if he succumbed, his brother had fallen to the darkness and it had cost the lives of an entire civilization. As the last of his near-human species, Trenton knew more than most what could become of those unable to control themselves.
This being, this dark man who whispered in Trenton's ear from hundreds of kilometers away, was tempting him.
Trenton wondered if his foe knew who he was, or if he could sense what was raging inside Vinh's soul.
So many times, he had risked falling over the edge, he had come so close to losing himself in the Dark Side.
And now the Iskalloni threatened to bring the Darkness to the center of the Galaxy, aiming to spread the death and despair outwards.
All would be swallowed up in the pain, no one would be able to live peacefully if the Iskallon juggernaut wasn't stopped.

Was it worth giving himself to the dark? Would he be able to redeem himself once more?
He understood that if he allowed himself to give in to the dark, he could potentially cause more damage than the enemies he faced right now.
His friends, his allies, they may not understand what he would become, but this enemy he was opposing certainly knew.
Perhaps they had more in common than he had previously thought.

His eyes opened, and the fire burning within could be seen in his dark eyes. He took a slow breath, and forced himself to stride through the flames, let them consume him, the conflagration taking him in its warm embrace.
The Darkness he had fought to defy for the better part of fifteen years, he would grasp and accept and make his own weapon.
Perhaps there was beauty in his acceptance, perhaps he knew that he must sacrifice all he believed in to win this battle.
To win this war, would he have to turn into that which he was fighting against?

Roth was suddenly close by, and Trent knew his friend could sense the anger, the dark power seething within his soul.

"Trenton..." his closest friend said slowly, before dropping to his knees at his side and closing his eyes; to lend his power to Trenton.
But suddenly, Trenton didn't feel like he needed it. He accepted it all the same, grateful for the aid.
But part of him wanted to taste the victory all on his own, to take the breath from his opponent's lungs and savor the feelings coming from the ascendant triumph.
The Dark Side was a deadly beast, one that could be as deadly to its Master as to the enemies he slew it with.
He knew that it wouldn't take more than a single slip to start a long tumble into eternal damnation.
But he would not lose his soul, he could give himself and withdraw when he was done, and he would be better for it.
As he had before, when he was young and impulsive, eager to explore the realms of The Force, Trenton Vinh let the light inside himself be swallowed up by the dark tides of emotion.
His passions were burning within him; the need to survive, the longing to destroy the opposition he was faced with.
Sometimes it was necessary to enjoy and accept the rush of battle and just say, 'to hell with it all, let's fight.'

So with renewed vigor he pressed onwards, letting his Darkness consume him. His eyes scorched red, the way they had when he had dabbled in Sith teachings during the reign of the Empire.
Roth's power amplified his own, adding strength to Trenton's spirit.

He whispered back to his unknown enemy, and part of him severely hoped he would meet his enemy in the physical realm, to engage in a duel of blades to match the spiritual war they had embarked upon.

Keep pushing with all your might, but this one will not break.

Roth turned his head to look at Trenton, his steamy ice blue eyes asking an unspoken question. But Trenton did not offer an answer or explanation, for his mind was far from the bridge of the Peaceful Infinity. He was deep inside himself, simultaneously inside the minds of every being in the sector, locked in a twisted battle for domination against an opponent as tainted as anything he had ever felt.
He did not know if he could win, but he didn't have to. He just had to fight.
And he would keep fighting until the bitter end, until he proved himself worthy of victory, or until he fell upon the blade of his nemesis. Or until he lost himself to the Dark Side, and became that very same evil he sought to slay.

*****

Spector registered the shaking of the hull of his Supercruiser, ignoring the rattling and turbulence and focusing his attention on the ship that was nearing the bridge of his dreadnaught.
The scanners claimed the ship was called the Peaceful Infinity, a backwards name for a warship.
These humans disturbed him, their weapons of war always claimed to be searching for peace.
Never could there be peace so long as war machines such as that existed.
His twisted face split into a dark smile, an outward show of emotion that he often hid. He willed his ships weapons to open fire on the ship, and watched in pleasure as a dozen turrets turned to obey.

Then an enemy starfighter penetrated his supercruiser's defenses and ripped through its shields, disabling them as it slammed into the hull.
He nearly fell over from the impact, it had been too close to the bridge.
Far too close.
The Autarch had proclaimed this battle would be a grand victory, but victory for the Autarch did not necessarily mean survival for Spector.
He tilted his head, his processors whirring to make sense of the tactical displays.
Spector willed his underlings to prepare his stealth shuttle; he would not be aboard his cruiser when it fell to enemy fire.
He would be in a much better spot, hidden against the hull of the Peaceful Infinity, awaiting the end of the battle. When the G.A. forces were at their weakest, he and his soldiers would enter the Infinity and he would rip out the throat of the commander.
According to the TacMaps, the Infinity was the flagship of the G.A.'s reinforcements. From the bridge of their own ships, he would return to their capital, to rain fire upon their home.

Nowhere would be safe after today; The Iskalloni Mechanicus would reign supreme, unbeatable and unconquerable as ever.
Turning his back on the viewports, Spector left the bridge, leaving a single order to his bridge crew; Destroy every enemy ship in sight.

[Isaac]

Kroenen almost laughed, so filled was he with power, the turmoil of the battle feeding him. The hatred he felt for the weak enfleshed souls that fought to stop him only amplified his rage; even as his own Iskalloni died, their final moments played out in agonising glory somewhere in the back of his mind, and he positively revelled in it.
And then, when he thought he could not possibly leech anything else from the battle, he felt a swift change overcome his opponent; a sudden darkness, unlike anything Kroenen had felt in a long time, engulfed the GA flagship. Kroenen saw it through the Force, like a black hole amidst the ebb and flow, swallowing everything in an effort to beat him down.
Darkness begets Darkness, he whispered into the mind of his enemy. It was all he had hoped for, another black presence with which to slake his thirst for victory. His enemy was powerful, yes, but also a slave to his emotions it seemed. He didn't want to break the other Force user. No, he wanted much more - he wanted the other Force user to give in to his inner darkness, so that Kroenen could feed from it and enhance his own strength in the Force, to bring the battle to a decisive close.
Bolstered to a point where even he began to doubt his ability to rein in such power, Kroenen once more crawled into the mind of his enemy, seeking out memories, emotions, anything with which to drag the non-Jedi through the thin veil with which he anchored himself, break his will and bring him completely to the Dark Side of the Force. Perhaps, then, he would have a new apprentice...
You have experienced the full spectum of the Force, child. Even the Dark Side. But you shy away from such things, and they control you more than you know... but if you were to be taught to harness your power, you could be unstoppable...

And then, like a speeder coming to a crashing halt, Kroenen was dragged out of his meditative state by an immense explosion which rocked the Impenetrable off course. His head exploded with pain, and he doubled over, no longer kneeling but crawling like a wounded animal. Alarms now sounded within the confines of his vessel, and a pained glance out of the viewport showed why; the Iskalloni supercruiser, Scalpel, had just exploded magnificently and swept the smaller Sith Battlecruiser aside in its wake.
"What happened..." he began, but even as he spoke, the final memories of the Scalpel's crew came flooding into his brain.
Commanding unit has departed. Continue course. Carry out final order: Destroy All Enemy Vessels...
Hull integrity down to forty-seven percent...
Warning: Incoming vessels. Designation: Mandalorian Battlefleet. Awaiting instruction...
Error. Error. Hull integrity down to twelve percent. Incoming ordnance. Awaiting instruction...

Mandalorians. Kroenen seethed at the thought, further angered by his own lack of vision. He'd sent his fleets to wipe out the Mandalorians, and had so blindly believed the mission a complete success. He hadn't factored vengeful survivors into this ruse, for his arrogance hadn't allowed him to make room for their presence.
He ordered his vessel into hyperspace, away from this farce. He so desperately desired to exchange further spiritual blows with his intriguing new enemy, but survival was paramount. He wouldn't be denied his achievement, not now, not by Mandalorians, not after spending months annihilating them so he could come closer to his dream...

The Impenetrable disappeared from the battlefield. Damn them all, Iskalloni and GA alike. The entire purpose of the Marcol Void was to lure out the cream of the GA crop, so that he could root his forces in their territory irrevocably.

[Ghev Dralin]

When the Mandalorian Battleship 'Iron Fist' lurched out of hyperspace on her own, Ghev Dralin knew they'd come across the site of the battle; there was nothing in the Marcol Void, so the only thing capable of generating a gravity well with which to pull a ship from lightspeed was another ship.
And here, there were lots of them, from Z-95 Headhunters to TIE Predators, Nebulon-B Frigates to Imperial Tartan Patrol corvettes. And, of course, the larger forms of the Peaceful Infinity and the barely-operative Star Destroyer Progenitor.
And then Ghev took a moment to take in the sight of the vessels he'd become so familliar with these last few months; the war machines of the Iskalloni, swatting fighters from the air with their gores, lighting up Alliance cruisers even as they were themselves torn apart.

"Mand'alor... I think we found 'em" Tarn Kane said from his station on Iron Fist's bridge.
"Nayc osik" Ghev murmered. He picked up the comm receiver, patched through to the vessels which remained in his fleet. "This is Ghev. Give 'em hell!"
The Mando'ade were enraged beyond all fury; they'd left Coruscant and returned to their temporary base at Acherin, only to find the entire planet purged of life. Those that did survive were malformed, already showing signs of the Iskalloni mutagen. They'd managed to salvage a pair of abandoned cruisers and many more smaller frigates, and Ghev had split his people accordingly; Devyn Atmo, one of the war council who'd accompanied Ghev to Coruscant, had taken one cruiser, while Mren Shendo had opted to take the other. Mren's son, Aidan, was sitting tight at a gunnery station onboard Iron Fist, though Ghev suspected he'd soon be dispatching him along with Tarn and the rest of Bronze Squad to mop up the Iskalloni mess.

"That supercruiser..." someone said to Ghev's left. "It's massive!"
"It's also vulnerable" Tarn said, scanning the vessel. "Looks like a snub-fighter went into the hull".
"Bring it down" Ghev ordered, and the fleet was all-too-happy to comply. Converging on the crippled cruiser, the three Mandalorian warships unleashed a barrage of missiles which spiralled through the debris of battle, hammering at the supercruiser's various weak spots, until it began haemorraging atmosphere and then bodies into space. Finally, a chain reaction blew the vessel into pieces from the inside, the shockwave blasting aside all the vessels in the vicinity.
"Oya Manda!" the bridge crew cried, and Ghev suspected the mood was much the same on the other two warships.

"Okay, get your birds in the skies" Ghev said down the comm to the other two commanders. "Bring down their support ships first, it'll allow the GA to get their snubfighters in closer to those cruisers".
"What about that Imperial Star Destroyer?" Devyn asked over the comm from the bridge of his ship. "She looks like she's been penetrated, she may be overrun. Should we proceed to take her out?"
"Nayc, nayc!" Ghev laughed, hefting his bes'kad from its sheath and propping it on its shoulder. "I'm going hunting!"
He was in the hangar before Bronze Squadron had even fully departed, and the deck beneath him throbbed with the aftershock of firing turrets, pouring flak and plasma into the enemy vessels. Others joined him in the hangar, including Aidan Shendo.
"Aid'ika, you're supposed to be in the air" Ghev said sternly.
"I know, I just..."
"You better know how to use that spear of yours" Ghev said with a crooked grin, then turned on his heel and slapped his helmet down over his head.
With Tarn at the helm, Iron Fist cut a swath through the battle, heading straight for the Imperial Star Destroyer Progenitor, closing the gap between them in minutes and bringing their hangar bays within proximity of each other.
"For Mandalore!" Ghev roared, holding his weapon in the air, rallying his men in a viscious battlecry which lasted even as the group fired their jetpacks and ejected themselves into the void. The cold of space enveloped Ghev, and he thought for a moment he might flash-freeze and bounce like a pebble from the Star Destroyer's hull. Then, his suits temperature controls kicked in, and he barely felt the cold at all.

Coasting along with their jetpacks acting as propellors, Ghev and his team closed in on the shielded hangar opening of the Progenitor. Even from outside, Ghev could see the destruction wrought by the Iskalloni boarding party. He was the first to slip through the defensive shield, his body tingling slightly. He'd expected to be dragged to the ground, even moved to fire his jetpack to slow his fall, but the fall didn't come.
"Artificial grav's gone offline" Aidan observed, floating up next to Ghev, his hunting furs floating around him. A mountaineer, Aidan was decked in the woven pelts of a dozen creatures, his weapons more suited to melee combat than ranged. Ghev imagined he itched for the chance to meet an Iskalloni up-close and personal.
"The ship is still operating, and she was firing on the Iskalloni when we entered, so she hasn't fallen yet" Ghev said, turning in the air to regard his men.
"Maybe the officer in charge ordered all non-essential systems be rerouted to crew areas and shields?" someone suggested.
"Maybe" Ghev said, though he had a strange feeling that the failing systems weren't due to any command decision. "Lets get to the bridge, see what we can find out".
Jetting downward toward the nearest open blast doors, Ghev and his men angled themselves into a utilitarian-grey corridor. It was lined with the broken bodies of Stormtroopers, all bouncing steadily around the ceiling and walls. Some were missing their helmets and stared out with bloodshot, frozen eyes. Others simply hung like puppets cut from their strings. They formed a dense obstacle course through which the Mandalorians had no choice but which to navigate. When they got closer to the turbolifts, the Imperial dead became mixed with inactive Iskalloni, who too hung like discarded toys, their metal limbs dragging and snagged on wall and ceiling fixtures.
Silently, incase any of the Iskalloni were still alive, Ghev gestured his people toward the turbolift tubes ahead.

The doors were easy to prise open, and a quick check confirmed that the lift was below them, not impeding their journey to the bridge. Ghev, as always, was the first in. He propelled himself upward by kicking off the wall at intervals, keeping his upward momentum going, though with the lack of gravity it was impossible to tell if up was, infact, up.
The lift shaft creaked around them; it occurred to Ghev that the forced entry of the Iskalloni boarding craft may have weakened the hull. The thought made him quicken his pace, and soon he reached the door that he believed would take him to the bridge. Once again, he and his team set about prising open the doors... and the ship lurched, struck by a beam from an enemy cruiser. The doors opened, and Ghev found himself dumped outside in the corridor along with his men, as gravity once again took effect.
"I hate tech..." Aidan grumbled, holding his helmet as he got to his feet.
"It hates you" someone else chuckled, cuffing the young lad on the shoulder.
"Quiet" Ghev hissed, and they listened. Audio enhanced helmets picked up the sound of a distant fight, the distinct sound of Iskalloni weapons fire accompanied by the Imperial's BlasTech E-11. "Lets move!"
The teams demolition expert made short work of the closed blast-doors ahead, and the Mandalorians poured into the scene of a massacre; evidently, the battle had already moved on, but evidence of it was all around. Freshly killed Stormtroopers lay crushed beneath Iskalloni corpses. Some still gurgled on their own blood.
An Iskalloni twitched, turning its head tenderly to face Ghev. Half of its jaw was missing, blasted off judging by the carbonised flesh around it. Ghev roared in anger, months of built-up anguish and self-doubt exploding out of him, and he took his bes'kad to the Iskalloni, hacking him limb from limb, tossing his metal-laden innards across the walls with each swing, smashing bone and steel into a black pulp on the corridor floor.

His men understood, and watched serenely as he took out his feelings on the defenseless Iskalloni.
Then, they drew their sidearms, and put the dying Imperials out of their misery, too.
As one, the group marched to the next corridor and into the fray of battle. Approaching the Iskalloni from behind, they didn't hesitate, showing no mercy or compassion as blades, blasters, and spear were brought to bear on the enemy.
No warning shots, no negotiations.
"Do it" Ghev said into his helmet comm. They opened fire, blaster shots and gouts of flame belching on the unsuspecting enemy. Ghev's bes'kad lodged in the collar bone of the nearest Iskalloni, and he wrenched it free, swinging it again at the same spot, and again, until he cleft head from spine.
Aidan forced his beskar spear through bone and armour alike, hoising the Iskalloni from its feet with strength that his wiry frame ought not to possess. A hail of anti-infantry missiles clustered over to the group advancing on the Imperials, and blew them metal-studded smears on the corridor walls.

Slowly, the Imperials came out from cover... and opened fire on the Mandalorians.
"What the..."
"It's a trap!" someone yelled, but whoever it was Ghev couldn't tell. Suddenly he was behind the stacked crated the Imperials had been using for cover earlier, fumbling with the strap on his holster, trying to get his slugthrower free.
"We're here to help you!" Aidan shouted over the noise, collapsing his spear and hooking it to his belt, drawing a blaster instead.
"Help us?" a woman asked emotionlessly, and the shooting stopped. "We are Iskalloni. We do not need help from the enfleshed".
Ghev peered over the top of his cover, spying a woman in an Admiral's uniform. Her skin was pale, her eyes dead in their sockets. Rudimentary cybernetics sprouted from her face and throat, and her left arm looked like it had been torn clean off and fused to a double-barrelled blaster cannon.
Realisation dawning, Ghev checked his HUD's filter readings; they were flashing red. Something was in the air, an Iskalloni mutagen. Already the crew of the Progenitor were eschewing their flesh for sturdier metal. Soon, the mutagen would take them over completely, and they'd join the ranks of the Iskalloni. Not knowing how much longer his helmet filter could keep the mutagen at bay, Ghev had to make a decision; retreat, or finish this.

It didn't take more than a second to decide. He was sick of running.
"Mando'ade do not run" he said to himself. Slapping a cartridge into his slugthrower, he threw caution to the wind, and emerged from cover with death on his mind...

[Trenton Vinh]

Darkness Begets Darkness.

The incredible Dark Force power whispered to Trenton from afar, his influence so great, Trenton almost felt like he was being summoned by an old friend. To embrace it, and let it cast away all fears and worries. The blessed release of raw power, coupled by the will to use it.

His head had been throbbing before, it was doubly so now. His body felt like it was burning up, pressure building inside him. This enemy could only be Sith. It had the raw terrible power that came from ultimate supremacy in the ways of the Dark Side.
Trenton realized his mistake now, his possibly fatal error:
He had given in to the Darkness, in the belief that he could overpower his foe.
He had been wrong, for Trent's own dark power, while being wielded against his enemy, was also a source of energy for the being he was trying to overwhelm.
This Dark Sider was not just incredibly potent in power, he had the wisdom that came from deep understanding of the Force.

And this incredible power was now reaching out to him, offering to teach him this power. Trenton could have taken the offer so easily, and he was certainly tempted; use of the Dark Side fueled his passion for power. He had not exerted this much Force Power in years, and he reveled in it, as this Dark Power echoed promises of power into his mind.
The promises echoing to him were not empty; Trenton's power was great. He had spent the past six years learning the nature of the Force, having turned away from the Dark Side after murdering his own Master. The Sith training he received before the fall of the Emperor was not proper -- the Emperor had known that Trenton was plotting to kill him all along, but that was the way of the Sith, Trent had merely manipulated the Rule of Two, to defeat the Empire. The Dark Side had been a means to an end for him, not a fact of life.

In the heart of the Iskalloni fleet, this Dark Force User was thundering his will upon the subservient soldiers beneath him, and as Trenton fought to negate his influence, he knew that the Dark Side was more than just a tool to him; he had made it his weapon and his lifeblood. He had made the Dark Side bow to his will. This being dominated the Dark Side in a way that Trenton could not.

His Power is ancient.

He was struggling to hold on, he was going to fail, but he held on, and in The Force he called out,
"You are wise in the Dark Side, and your power surpasses my own. I gave in because of you eroded my discipline with your power, and I may be consumed by the Darkness once more. If so, perhaps next time I will desire the wisdom from one such as you. You command the Dark Side in ways I have not felt before, but now I know you're out there. And I know that we will cross paths in the future -- I also know you can feel it too."

Instead of a response heard a voice, somewhere in the Marcol Void, while Trenton was blind in the depths of the Dark Side.
The voice said,
"The shields are down! Take evasive action!"
The Peaceful Infinity bucked, his concentration thinning as a voice shouted into his ear,
"Trenton!"
He wasn't sure if the voice screaming his name was his own or someone nearby him; he wasn't even sure if the voice was yelling his name right now, or if it was some distant memory from the past that he dredged up during his dive into the Dark Side.
"Trenton!"

Then all at once, he was jolted back to consciousness as the Force Connection cut off abruptly, while the world beneath his body bucked wildly.
Trenton's eyes flew open as the hull bounced downwards, as a loud booming noise filled his startled ears.
He didn't have time to brace himself, he landed on his feet hard enough for his knees to buckle and slam painfully into the deck.
The bridge around him was in chaos -- those still seated after the ship rocked were frantically working their control stations, relaying tactical data, issuing commands, viewing damage reports.
Roth Fenix had gripped Trenton's arm, and said, "Trenton, are you alright? I felt you...," His voice trailed off uncertainly, his eyes asking the unspoken question.
Trenton looked down, during the chaos, the Force User was now gone, "I don't know...I've never felt anything like that before. You felt it too."


The lights were flickering, half of them were out. The dim bridge was filled with a flashing red light and shadows. Lysander Lee was calmly in his commander seat, issuing orders briskly and sternly, but he was still under control. Sparks shot down from three spots in the ceiling, and from one computer terminal. Medics frantically worked on a burnt technician; his head oozing blood.
Trent and Roth stood above it, the backdrop an incredible but terrible sight as a cruiser ahead of the Infinity blossomed into flame and split apart.
"I'm not talking about him right now."
Roth was grim-faced. He was tired from the exertion of giving Trenton his power; the aid of his powerful friend was something he'd needed more than ever. And he would still need him, Roth was his friend.
As his eyes dropped down to the floor, Trent realized he couldn't hold eye contact with the man who knew all too well the power of the Dark Side.
"I trust you, Trenton." Roth asserted carefully, "But remember what is truly important."

The Peaceful Infinity unleashed a volley of turbolaser fire at a strafing Iskalloni frigate, overloading its shields and breaking it apart with the barrage.
"EV masks on! We're in a hot zone and deflector shields are failing!"

A trio of soldiers ran about distributing the air masks to everyone, Roth was wearing his flightsuit, Trenton had merely his robes.
Roth summoned two masks to his hands, offered one to Trenton, saying, "Thank you for arriving in time."

Trent donned the clear face-mask, and his reply was slightly muffled through it, "I trusted in The Force when I gave you my word, and it did not fail us. But I only wish I could have arrived sooner."
Roth nodded slowly, a lot of good people had died in this bloodbath.
"Their deaths shall not be in vain."


The floor shook, and an alarm went off, and someone nearby yelled,
"Proximity alert! Incoming! Incoming!"
Outside the viewport, the dying frigate had rolled over in its death throes, bringing the Gores to bear.
"Run!" The bridge crew scrambled towards the airlocked doors at the back of the bridge, and Roth and Trent sprinted to them as well, and as soon as the steel doors slammed shut at their ankles did the Gores tear into the ship.
Everything shook and the hallway turned sideways, as the sound of tearing metal deafened everyone in it.
Lysander Lee called out, "This way! We need to get to the engineering level! From there we can control many of the ship's systems -- enough to get us to safety!"
The crew and Force Users sprinted down the corridor, sparks flying and lights flashing.
The breach shields came online, hundreds of bluish translucent barriers between hallways and doors of the ship; a safety feature to help save lives during multiple hull breaches. The small fields would keep people safe, and the breached areas quarantined. The closest one was meters away, two meters wide in the doorway to the Engineering bay.
Lee and his crew made it through. Roth was a dozen steps ahead of Trenton, and turned his head to look at his friend as his danger sense suddenly spiked,
Roth had time to yell, "Move!", and as he bellowed, the gore tore through the durasteel armor and transparisteel of a nearby viewport, deadly steel fingers clawing through the ship to grasp the occupants and pull them into the black.
Roth managed to dive bodily through the breach shield's barrier; Trent only managed to grip the doorway before the pull of space gripped him.
His legs were lifted from under him, and he struggled to hold on, while simultaneously gathering The Force and what remaining oxygen there was around him.
Roth twisted to his feet, leaping back to reach for Trenton's hand, to pull him to safety, but there was another explosion, a gore tore through the deck meters away from Trenton, and then he was gone. The deck just beyond the breach shield was torn open, outside all that could be seen was debris and death.
Somewhere in it all, cocooning himself against the icy grip of vacuum, tumbling through a deadly minefield, was Trenton Vinh.

[Ghev Dralin]

When the smoke cleared, Ghev did a quick headcount. More than half of the boarding party lay dead or dying, and their open wounds left them susceptible to the Iskalloni mutagen in the air. Ghev had no choice.
"Ease their suffering" he said over his shoulder, looking away from the devastation. He approached the closed bridge doors, where the female Admiral was propped up, bleeding heavily from the abdomen. He'd made her his first target, pumping her unarmoured body with rounds from his slugthrower, cutting off the Imperial-turning-Iskalloni chain of command at the head.
The battle after that had been far easier than Ghev or any of them had anticipated. Still partially bound to their human consciousness, the Imperials had fallen into disarray, and the Mandalorians had been able to finish things quickly. Unfortunately, however, not without casualties.
As he approached the dying Admiral, Ghev tried his best to drown out the sounds of blasterfire, putting his fallen comrades to eternal rest.
"Who are you?" he asked the Admiral. She regarded him with glassy eyes, then turned her head away from him. Already her hair was falling from her skull, and her veins protruded from her neck, thick and blue. Her skin was ashen; soon, no doubt, she'd take on the same grey-blue complexion of the monsters that had done this to her.
"I can ease your passing" Ghev offered, unholstering his side-arm. "But I need to know if you've learned anything of the Iskalloni's plan".
"Fool" she laughed, her head lolling slightly when she turned to look at him again. "It is far too late for the Galactic Alliance. And it is far too late for you!"
The Admiral raised her arm, still bearing the rushed fusion of double-barrelled blaster, and fired at him. The shot missed, dissipating in the ceiling. Ghev fired on instinct, hitting her between the eyes with a slug round, killing her instantly.

"We should still check out the bridge" Aidan Shendo suggested, coming to Ghev's side. "There may be more of them, but we can handle that".
"No, there'll be no more of them" Ghev sighed, crouching to tear the Admiral's keycard from her belt. "The Iskalloni don't think like we do. Their first objective was to disable life support and spread their mutagen. After that, there was no need to hold the bridge".
He stood, and swiped the keycard. The bridge doors creaked open onto a display of carnage not unlike the rest of the ship, but now Ghev understood the ripped-open panels and loose wiring had been caused by the crew in an attempt to begin their metal symbiosis.
A single figure lay near the forward viewport, a Nautolan. A huge crater in his chest where his heart should have been made Ghev wonder how much of a fight the Iskalloni had been willing to tolerate before their mutagen kicked in. No doubt the Nautolan had caused enough trouble for them to deem him a threat, and not worth converting.

"Come look at this" Aidan said, hunched over a display. Ghev moved over, and looked at what Aidan was seeing.
"That's funny... those systems should be disabled" he murmered. Puzzled, he activated the Star Destroyer's communications grid, and contacted the Iron Fist.
"Kane, it's Dralin. We've secured the ship, but there's nothing here worth saving now. Prep to blow her out of the sky as soon as we're back with you" he said solemnly.
"Ghev? We're picking up readings from that vessels hyperdrive, are you sure there's no survivors?" Kane asked from the other end.
"What?" Ghev asked, motioning for Aidan to verify it on the ships computer. "The hyperdrive was disabled when we scanned"
"Well it's not now, and weapons seem to be coming online too" Kane said. Aidan nodded to show Kane's readings were accurate.
"Well if the hyperdrive is spooling up, where the hell is she jumping to?" Ghev asked.

"Coruscant!" someone shouted in reply. "Hyperdrive's hot and the nav computer's programmed to take us to Coruscant. I'm locked out here, I can't change or cancel the jump!"
"Everybody get back to the hangar, now!" Ghev roared, but before anyone moved, the bridge lurched and the ship's sublight drives rumbled unhealthily as they shut down. The hyperdrive whined throughout the ship, and through the viewport, Ghev saw the empty void outside give way to the blue vortex of hyperspace.
And then they came, marching into the bridge in unison, their optical targeting lights casting beams through the smoke before their metal carcasses filled the bridge doorway.
"We are Iskalloni. Surrender or die".

******

"Where the hell did they go?" Kayla asked over the comm, the minute the Progenitor blasted into hyperspace. The Mandalorian battleship that had been coasting alongside it soon followed, disappearing from the fray aswell.
"Maybe the Mandalorians aren't here to help at all" Andreas frowned, rolling his TIE to avoid a spinning piece of fighter-sized debris. "Maybe they're hijacking whatever salvage they can from this mess"
"They look like they're helping to me" Kayla said. It was true; amongst the mixed array of fighters and cruisers now slugging it out with what remained of the Iskalloni forces were Mandalorian fighters. Two other battleships remained, doing what they could to slow the Iskalloni advance. Still, Andreas didn't trust them.
"Well where are we supposed to dock now?" Andreas asked, changing the conversation to something more important. "I'm running low on power here"
"Same" Kayla confirmed. "That ion blast really took a chunk out of my reserves. We could try putting down on one of those pirate vessels?"
"Not a chance" Andreas snapped. "They'll pick our ships apart and throw us in a brig just for being Imperial. There's no GA laws out here, remember".
"Oh, do you honestly believe that? Look around you, Andy... we're all on the same page here!"
"I don't care" Andreas said through gritted teeth.
"I agree with Kayla" said Captain Barka over the comm. They'd done away with callsigns since most of the squad had succumbed to enemy fire.
"Agree all you like, it's not happening" Andreas retorted, pumping laserfire into an Iskalloni fighter which strayed into his line of fire.
"Captain Andreas Darkcell, I am hereby relieving you of your duties as squadron leader under Imperial Flight Protocol Section 11, Directive 38" Barka said, as though he'd been waiting for the chance to seize leadership from the younger pilot since entering the Void.
"What..."
"He's right, Andy. You're letting personal issues get in the way" Kayla cut in, regretfully.
"Razor Squadron, this is Razor Leader. Cut a path to the nearest friendly cruiser and contact for landing permissions" Barka said over the comm. Andreas fumed silently in the cockpit, falling into line with what remained of the squadron as it headed to a nearby Nebulon-B Frigate.