Post by ShockHelix on Apr 8, 2015 13:28:39 GMT -5
Prologue
Smoke and ash swirled down the paved street between buildings, choking and acrid, leaving a haze like an early morning fog. The fires burning so intensely that the rising smog blotted out the sun. Bare shadows zoomed across the sky, cutting through the haze like a knife, leaving an explosive report to mark their passing. The occasional scream of blaster fire and the flash of light helped bring life to the burning city as forces engaged one another, the screams of the dying calling out to the heavens in the chaos. The New Mandalorians had been deposed long past, but the city of Velshok still stood, As Death Watch bombers rained death upon the peaceful city on Mandalore, that was soon to change. Imagined slights were enough for the Death Watch to raze it to the ground, no concern for who might be caught in the blaze.
A transport ship crashed down from the sky, taking three buildings with it across the street from a small group of soldiers and survivors. Warriors all, the cities inhabitants had fought tooth and nail against the Death Watch, but they had been easily overwhelmed. The only course of action that remained to them was to fight their way out and these five – once eight - had pushed over a mile on foot through the battlefield. Dust blew through the window as the burning ball of destruction engulfed the nearby buildings, causing the refugees to shuffle uncomfortably.
Ar'daleth kept watch on the window as one of their companions drew his last breath, eyes steady despite the madness outside while his companions spoke.
“He has passed alor, we must move. Before the aruetiise overwhelm us.” Ar'daleth had never gotten the mans name. He had been with his brother Akar when the attack had came, and they fought together of necessity, not of familiarity. “Beroya, speak some sense into your vod. We must move.”
Ar'daleth turned away from the window, heading over to Akar and putting a hand on his shoulder. He didn't know the fallen man well, but Akar had. No time for introductions. “He's right. Time to eyaytir. Ori'vod.” It was enough. His brother sighed and was up, and just in time it seemed.
“Movement, street.” One of the other three announced. Ar'daleth took him for a lawbringer of some sort, though he couldn't be sure. Akar nodded silently and the group moved up to the windows, readying themselves for an ambush. If the patrol was Death Watch, they would soon find a few of their companions lying in the dirt.
As they neared through the smoke, Ar'daleth made them out for the Death Watch indeed, their armor unmistakable even in the haze. Akar held up his hand, ordering them to hold their fire, and Ar'daleth followed his brother's lead. “Tracyn!” At his brothers command, Ar'daleth opened up on the patrol with his heavy blaster, and the five of them quickly brought them to the ground. Between them they had killed at least forty of the death watch so far, not nearly enough by Ar'daleth's count.
“Time to get out of this oriya.” Akar announced, and they quickly moved out while Akar barked at them. “Only a little chaashya 'til the hangar!” Sprinting from the building, Ar'daleth followed, the five of them moving quickly through the maze of buildings and rubble, the bombers overhead continuing their assault on the city. Blaster fire rang out from the side of a building after a few blocks, followed by audible cursing as Ar'daleth took cover. “Sorry! Sorry! Thought you were with the damn auretiise!” Came out the call, two unarmored men crawling out of the window.
Akar nodded, and the squad got their feet. “No time to chat, we're getting to the Hangar.”
The civilians nodded and quickly grouped with them, bolstering their numbers back to seven with only a short ways left to go. Pushing their way through the haze, they cut through a burning building, a few mandalorians broken and beaten inside, their cover destroyed by the bombers overhead. Ar'daleth scoured over the bodies, picking up one of their rifles while Akar inspected the wreckage. The faint whisper of a man came from the corner, missing a leg with a piece of metal the size of Ar'daleth's fist impaled in his stomach. “Ki. . . kill me. . . .”
Ar'daleth watched as his brother put a round into the mans head, ending his misery. The Death Watch would pay for their atrocities, one way or another. The high pitched sound of blaster fire came from outside, more civilians fleeing toward the hangar, chased by the Death Watch. Without hesitation the squad headed back into the street, opening fire on the pursuers. The angry howl of Strill came from down the street in the chaos, and soon the six legged beasts were in Ar'daleth's vision. For a moment he panicked, the rush of adrenaline and smoke overwhelming his senses, vision blurring. And in another instant, he was calm again, opening fire on the charging hounds with his scavenged blaster. He dropped two before the pack reached them, another four taken down by his companions.
The Strill were merciless, one leaping through the air and tearing at the throat of one of the civilians while the lawbringer fell to blaster fire. Ar'daleth had time to kill the one atop the fresh corpse before another Strill was on him, it's jaws burying themselves in his leg and sending sharp jolts of pain through his body. Striking the dog in the face, he activated the vibroblade on his knuckleplate, bunching the beast in the skull as his blood poured from the torn muscle of his leg. His brother was on him in seconds, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him through the dirt.
Pushed into retreat, Ar'daleth fired blindly into the haze as blaster fire tore through the smoke back at them. He sent shot after shot into the attackers, the ground shaking with the explosions of bomb. The very structure he found he had been dragged to threatened to collapse at any moment under the bombs. Looking over his shoulder as they turned the corner, Ar'daleth saw a glimpse of hope at the few ships remaining in the hangar, Mandalorians firing back against death watch soldiers at the far side of the hangar. “Get me up!” he told his brother as the others sprinted for the ships, firing on the Death Watch at the far end of the Hangar, adding their weapons to that of the others.
Quickly pulling him to his feet, Ar'daleth draped his arm over his brother's shoulders and used his other hand to continue firing with his blaster, hopping with one foot while his brother supported most of his weight. The blasters singed the air around them as they made it to a transport, and Akar dropped Ar'daleth on the ramp of a ship, quickly taking aim at the Death Watch now approaching them from all sides. The first of the ships took off, heading for the hangar exit, only to be shot down as an old gunship flew in, it's superior weapons making quick work of the weak ship.
His brother cursed under his breath, and Ar'daleth knew they'd never make it out with that gunship in their way. There was no time to stop shooting, no time to think.
“Partaylir ni ner vod.” Remember me my brother.
Ar'daleth yelled in protest as his brother sprinted away from the transport, heading for some of the fallen soldiers. Unable to chase him with his leg torn open, he could do nothing but continue shooting at the death watch to try and give him cover. As Akar reached the bodies, Ar'daleth saw what his plan was. Coming up with a missile launcher, Akar headed out into the open to give himself a clear shot at the gunship, and his aim was true. The missile collided with the wing, and the gunship skittered out of control, slamming into the ground and sliding as it's engines tried to keep it aloft. Sliding right into Akar.
Ar'daleth watched helplessly as his brother disappeared, swallowed by the flaming wreckage, someone on the ramp began dragging him inside. The ramp closed up behind him as the man screamed for them to go, the starship lifting off and zooming out of the hangar as the Death Watch fired on them. Soon, they were out, and the ships sped into space fleeing the planet of Mandalore and the burning city beneath them.
Ar'daleth barely had room to sit in the cargo bay of the ship, nearly thirty mandalorians crammed inside the small space while someone bandaged his leg. The blood loss had him weak minded, and the room swirled, the familiar jump into hyperspace nearly causing him to pass out.
“Where. . . where are we going?” He asked his medic weakly as the man finished bandaging his leg.
“Concord Dawn. Most every one here wants a shot at the Death Watch now, and the pilot hears there's some clan there recruiting people that want to fight back. Clan Ramikadyc. Says they have a star destroyer and everything. I don't believe it, but they've been keeping the raiders from taking all of Dawn's crops, so they have to be able to fend for their selves at least. Get some rest. Nothing to do but wait and your leg is pretty torn up.”
Ar'daleth nodded, leaning back against the wall and relaxing as his consciousness slowly drifted away.
Chapter One: The Hunt Begins
Concord Dawn, city of Harishone, aboard the Ghost of Solitude. One year later.
Ar’daleth threw his cards down on the table in frustration as Magician took the last of his money, sweeping it in with a grin. It was the fourth game of Sabacc he’d lost that week, and with his usual easy victories against the others he was growing increasingly frustrated. By this point he was nearly convinced that Magician was cheating somehow, but he’d yet to figure out just how. For all Ar’daleth knew, that might be part of his training. His companions were always finding new ways to torment him it seemed.
It had been nearly a year since he’d joined Clan Ramikadyc, and in turn the Ramikad Syndicate. He still found the revelation of his abilities surprising. He had always prided himself on being a skilled fighter, but it never occurred to him a part of that might come from the Force. At first, Ar’daleth had denied it vehemently. Then he had hated it, the thought that his skill came from some ridiculous, miniscule, magical beings living in his body was beyond demeaning. His mentor, Shadow, had showed him the truth though. No matter what the Force came from, it was a tool. The Force was no different than any other weapon in Ar’daleth’s arsenal, so he might as well learn to use it as such.
He’d been among the normal recruits for the Clan when the recruiters had singled him out for his fighting skill. Ar’daleth had been taken onboard the Syndicate’s flagship, the Ghost of Solitude, and led into a line with the rest of the more highly skilled fighters. An Echani named ‘Fist’, the Syndicate’s trainer, had promptly mopped the floor with him in front of a jeering crowd. It had taken him nearly six months of training and healing before he’d finally been able to hold his own against Fist – a time shorter than most members could say. Finally, he’d been deemed worthy for employment by the Syndicate, and it was the very same day that Shadow and Magician had pulled Ar’daleth away and brought him into their team. So, as much as he had once tried to deny it, he was linked to the Force whether he wanted it or not.
The training was frustrating, though not entirely bad. Of course, except for when Shadow had Magician pulling ‘tests’ like this. He’d never accuse the man of cheating in front of the others, but it seemed perfectly possible that Ar’daleth was being tested. Shadow seemed to expect him to sense anything and everything with the Force, and still he couldn’t even notice when his mentor would sneak up on him. The whole training regimen was indeed more frustrating than it was difficult. Especially since Magician seemed more skilled in the force than Shadow himself.
“I win again, friend,” the Epicanthix said with a smirk as he finished drawing the money towards his side of the table. The rest of the Mandalorian mercenaries at the table pushed their chairs away and dispersed, already having lost their own investments in today’s game. Ar’daleth sighed and leaned forward on his elbows, watching the others trickle away through the sizeable rec room. The Ramikad Syndicate had spared little expense on keeping their employees happy. The rec room was complete with Sabacc tables, pool tables, sim systems, holonet terminals. They had it all, and Ar’daleth could honestly say he’d never been bored aboard the Syndicate’s flagship.
“Seems so,” Ar’daleth replied with a sigh, pulling off his helmet and setting it on the table. He stared at the visor of Magician’s helmet with a knowing glare, running a hand through his hair as he did. He knew under that helmet Magician was smirking at him, convinced that Ar’daleth was unable to read him and too perplexed to realize what he was up to. And to an extent, he was right. No matter how hard he seemed to try, he could never sense when Magician was using the Force. He focused as hard as he could on what little he knew, and at that moment he felt the privacy of his mind rudely invaded as disembodied words came floating through his mind.
Something you’d like to say, Tower? came Shadow’s ‘voice’ from nowhere, and a quick glance over his shoulder told him the tongueless Miraluka was indeed standing behind him. His mentor highly seemed to enjoy sneaking up behind him and startling him. Ar’daleth mused silently about his new name, ‘Tower,’ still not having fully gotten used to it. In customary fashion, a man named Judge had given him the name after his success in fending off Fist after some advisement from the Echani. ‘Tower’ had grown on him some, but it would take more time for Ar’daleth to fully accept it as his name.
“Magician’s luck seems especially high these last few days is all,” he replied with a grumble, twisting around the empty glass he’d been drinking out of when he’d first sat down. Magician got up, and Ar’daleth followed suit, the two of them turning towards Shadow. It was usually this time of day when their ‘master’ would take them to a more secluded portion of the ship for training, and sure enough without a word Shadow motioned for them to follow. Magician quickly collected his funds and followed along, Ar’daleth grinning as he placed his helmet back atop his head and stayed close on Shadow’s heels while Magician scrambled.
In their own right, Ar’daleth knew that he and Magician weren’t ones to call someone master. Yet, while most of the other mercenaries looked towards Shadow’s team as one of the most elite, he still felt dwarfed by the rogue Sith in a way that only the most senior members of the Syndicate made him feel. A feeling he was only vaguely familiar with. Not even the dark Jedi had made Ar’daleth feel such a way. Before his arrival on the ship, only his father and brother made him feel that way, and the Death Watch had taken them from him. The gray walls of the winding hallways onboard the Ghost of Solitude gave way to the hangar of the ship, a few engineers working on damaged fighters from their last fight, while pilots checked to make sure their ships were in the best condition they could manage.
Shadow led them to a false wall used for smuggling large amounts of contraband, opening up the secret wall that had been added into the ship after the Syndicate had acquisitioned it before closing it behind them and sealing them off from the rest of the hangar. Mandalorians were fickle about the force, and most of the other crew believed that nothing more than lightsaber training went on in the smuggling room. That was the way he and Magician preferred it, as few onboard the ship besides Eso’tal even knew they were sensitive. It was fortunate that the Syndicates leader had a differing opinion on the Force then most, one that Ar’daleth was beginning to share.
Shadow took a seat on one of the crates of illegal armaments, motioning to them as his disembodied telepathy echoed in their heads. ‘Begin.’
Ar’daleth wasted no time in following Shadow’s command, drawing his lightsaber and assuming his training stance as Magician fitted on his helmet and his own saber jumped off his belt and into the Mandalorians hand, springing to life with a glow and a hum. In his mind, Ar’daleth ran through the basics of the form he was meant to be practicing, barely getting his blade up in time as Magician started his relentless assault. He only managed to block the man’s attacks three times before the fourth slipped around his guard, cracking against his armor with a spark as the Beskar plating deflected the blow. Frustrated, Ar’daleth backed away, regaining his focus before nodding at his sparring partner to continue.
With his own nod, Magician flew at him, a bit slower this time. Tower batted and swatted at the man’s incoming attacks, keeping him at bay now that he’d slowed his pace. They weren’t here to hit each other, but merely to get Tower more accustomed to using one of the established forms of lightsaber combat. Part of him feared the day he found himself in combat with an actual opponent. Even with six months of training, Shadow told him that a Jedi child would have no contest with him. It was a weakness he intended to remove.
“Come on, Tower, surely you can go a bit faster than that,” Magician taunted with a laugh as Ar’daleth barely managed to keep blocking his blows. “If you can’t move faster someone is going to lob your head off eventually.”
With a groan, Ar’daleth pushed himself, managing to get himself on the attack for a moment, making Magician laugh from his increased aggression. Unlike Magician, he’d had a different form of blade training as a child, and certainly not from a Jedi. Of the three in the room, Tower was the only one who’d been born into the Mandalorian culture, and it showed. Without the rest of his arsenal, he barely stood a chance against Magician, and against Shadow he was as good as dead. To an extent, Magician was even more skilled then Shadow with the Force, but the Miraluka was so far unmatched as far as Ar’daleth had seen in saber combat. On their last mission they’d run into a Jedi Knight, and the blind man seemed to have dispatched the Jedi with ease, a feat Ar’daleth had never even dreamed of accomplishing before.
Magician tapped him on the helmet with his saber as Ar’daleth’s thoughts wandered, sending him sprawling backwards. ‘Keep focused, Tower. You must not become distracted, if you wish to grow. Control your mind and emotions.’ Ar’daleth nodded to the Miraluka, gathering himself again and this time, assaulting Magician first. His partner easily blocked Tower’s blows, leaving him frustrated.
“I don’t know Shadow,” Magician began, clearly set on teasing Ar’daleth further. “I think he’s still sore about losing all his money. Must’ve forgotten to screw his head back on properly after we left the table.”
“I’ve had about enough of your banter Magician,” Ar’daleth countered, managing to avoid what might be a death blow in a real fight this time. “Maybe I should turn you in for cheating at Sabacc. I hear that’s a criminal offense here on Concord Dawn.”
“Oh? Think you can prove that do you?” Magician countered with a laugh, blocking another of Tower’s more brazen attacks and flipping over the top of his back in a needless display of skill.
“I know you’re using the force somehow, I think that’s all I need to say. We both know you don’t know how to play that well.”
“Maybe you’re right Tower. Maybe I just like taking your money.”
Without warning, Ar’daleth slipped out of the forms he was supposed to be learning, swatting away at Magician aggressively, greatly picking up speed as frustration fueled him. The form wasn’t quite one to be used with a lightsaber, but Ar’daleth easily pushed Magician back on the defensive with it. Often when he wanted some payback for his ‘training,’ Tower would use the skill he employed with his sword to knock Magician down a peg. He might not be nearly as good as the man with a lightsaber, but he was a much better swordsman.
In short order, Tower had batted the lightsaber out of Magician’s hand, putting his blade near the man’s helmet with a grin. “I’ve seen nerfherders fight better than that Magician,” Ar’daleth said, smirking until the deactivated lightsaber shot back into Magician’s hand and Ar’daleth had his blade deflected away, barely managing to avoid Magician’s counterattack. The fight was back on, and the two continued to spar for another hour, collapsing exhausted after the observing Shadow had called them off one another.
Ar’daleth had taken many more hits then he’d given, but at least he knew he was getting better. A month ago, he hadn’t even been able to land a hit with his lightsaber without switching to his own sword training. Today he’d managed twelve, and only twice had he slipped into his old habits.
’ Better today, both of you. I’m impressed with your progress. ‘
“Tell me Shadow,” Ar’daleth started, leaning back against a crate. “You keep saying to clear my mind. I thought the Sith were all about rage and anger. Why am I not trying to harness that?”
’ Sith acolytes are expected to kill each other to gain the favor of a lord. Their early training also consists of torture. Would you prefer I teach you in the same manner I was taught?’ the Miraluka asked, a small grin on his face.
“No, no,” Tower assured him, watching Magician climb to his feet. “I’m just curious why you’re teaching us the way you are.” His training partner extended him a hand, and Ar’daleth grabbed it with a thank-you as Magician pulled him to his feet. The both of them watched Shadow, his silence not all that reassuring.
’ You both are Mandalorian. There isn’t a proper way to teach a Mandalorian the ways of the Force. It is a shame your culture is so adverse to the idea of the Force or perhaps I could find you a better teacher. To be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing.’
“Well, seems to be working at least,” Magician joked, slapping Tower on the shoulder with a smile. “Better than the Jedi’s ridiculous doctrine and the Sith’s insanity.”
Tower nodded, grabbing his discarded saber off the ground and taking off his helmet, preparing for the next hour of their training for the day. Shadow pulled out two of the training droids taken from Jedi technology, and Magician and Ar’daleth went about blindfolding themselves. Tower couldn’t understand why they couldn’t do this part without the blindfolds, but Shadow insisted it needed to be this way.
No sooner had the little floating tools been turned on then one the Ghost of Solitude’s alarms went off, calling everyone to the hangar entrance for briefing. “Well, that’s a relief,” Magician joked, gaining himself a worrisome grin from Shadow as Ar’daleth pulled his blindfold off and put his helmet back on. That alarm meant that an attack was coming, and he wasn’t in too much of a joking mood anymore. There was only one reason they were being paid to be here, and that was because of Death Watch raiders – the group he’d sworn to have his justice and vengeance on. The only problem was he’d not actually been able to fight them head on yet.
’ Don’t worry, we’ll pick up where we left off when we get back,’ Shadow assured them as he opened the false wall door to let them out. The three of them hurried into the quickly filling hangar, a few hundred Mandalorians already gathered inside the entrance. Tower worked his way through the throng closer to the front, noticing a woman in black and gold armor standing atop the raised platform. Definitely an attack from the Death Watch then, if she was the one giving the briefing. To the Syndicate, she was known as Hierophant – a call-sign just like everyone else’s. But to the rest of the clan, she was their Chieftain, Eso’tal Ramikadyc, and every soul in the room would follow her into hell and back.
She waited almost fifteen minutes, giving as many people time to get into the hangar as she could, her voice amplified over the Venator’s sound systems. Even if they hadn’t made it inside yet, those outside the ship would still be able to hear her if they had heard the alarm, and at her command the hangar fell silent.
“Everyone listen up!” she began, turning every eye towards her. “As you all know, we’ve shed our blood keeping the Death Watch off this planet. Their false Mand’alor claims that the harvests of this planet belong to her and her men. And we have shown them that Concord Dawn will not lay down easily. Finally, it seems that they respect us enough to give us a real fight!” there were a few cheers from the crowd, but most – and Ar’daleth – kept quiet to see what exactly that meant.
“We’ve been a thorn in their side for a long time, and ‘Mand’alor the Resurgent’ has finally grown irked enough to test our mettle. According to Infiltrator, she’s sending a small fleet our way, and plans to wipe us and the rest of the Concord Dawn defense fleet out for good. Rather than face us herself, she’s sending one of her lap dogs to do the job. Syndicate teams report to your coordinators for instructions and pilots get to your ships. We’re going to send his head back to her in a bag.”
The collective Mandalorians let out a cheer, one Ar’daleth did not participate in. A full on fleet could be dangerous for them, even if they did have a star destroyer. That wasn’t what truly bothered him though. In the last defenses, Hierophant hadn’t made use of the elite mercenary teams, just using Clan pilots to take out the Death Watch forces and recover their fighters. If she was having the teams go in as well. . . It was possible this fight wouldn’t go as well as Eso’tal made it sound.
‘It seems we won’t be continuing your training today after all. Let’s go. The rest of our squad should meet us in the briefing room.’
“Every cloud has a silver lining,” Magician said with a grin, slipping his helmet back on as Tower sighed and tried to shake the feeling of dread. Perhaps this was that ‘disturbance in the Force’ Shadow said he’d come to be able to sense in time. Whether it was the fight to come, or something further off, Tower couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was coming. A looming storm that bore down on his shoulders like the crushing weight of a boulder.
As he followed Shadow and Magician to their sections briefing room in the command tower, he told himself there was nothing to be worried about. Clan Ramikadyc was a veritable army, if small, and the Death Watch were little more than unorganized raiders in his eyes. He had wanted revenge on them for so long, it was high time his desires became fulfilled. His vengeance was long past due, and his doubts wouldn’t take that from him now. Not today.
Chapter Two: Lambs to the Slaughter
Tower sat with his arms resting on his knees, sat in the back of the Syndicate's LAAT/i gunships. The briefing had been fairly straightforward, and to no surprise he would be going to where the fighting would likely be the most dangerous. Shadow had not originally known of the plans, but once he had his message from Hierophant he'd given them the rundown. What Tower had not expected was that they would be going in with another team. 'Jurkad Traat'aliit Solus,' more commonly called Assault Team One, would be going in with them. Tower's team was only one of eighteen teams to be participating in this fight. He had no doubt that Eso'tal would have preferred more, though eighteen was all the team transports they had at the moment.
Still, it was a relatively straightforward plan. Let Concord Dawns own defense forces engage first, then the Ghost of Solitude's own compliment would engage right behind them, with their fighters splitting half and half for the ARC-170's and the other half for the LAAT transports. They'd head right through the crossfire, and with the main guns distracted by Concord Dawns own ships, the transports would have free reign to board the Death Watch ships. Most of them would be taking a corvette a piece, with some of the larger ones reported warranting two teams. F.O.R.C.E. Team One and Assault Team One however, would be going straight for the Death Watch's flagship in this attack – a re-purposed Munificent-class frigate.
Their goal was just as simple of course. Sweep the ship, eliminate any Death Watch on board. Tower shook his head at that thought, remembering what Shadow had told them to expect. There were to be eleven of them all together, the six members of the assault team, and then the five of Tower's own team. And the highest estimate for the ships crew was three hundred. A more realistic estimate settled around one hundred and fifty. Each of them would have to take ten times their own number down, and Tower wasn't keen on dying with his first engagement in the Death Watch just so they could capture a ship. The odds were definitely stacked against them, and worse yet they only had so long to secure the ship. If they took too long, Concord Dawn's forces might decide that possibility of adding to their building fleet wasn't worth it. Never mind that it had been Clan Ramikadyc's strategies that had supplied them with enough ships to defend themselves now. For every ship they destroyed, two had been taken in the small skirmishes so far.
If they could pull this off, Concord Dawn would undoubtedly pay them for the ships. A frigate, possibly ten corvettes, and not to mention all the fighters that would be recovered. Some they would keep for themselves no doubt, but the fighters had all been equipped with ion weaponry to subdue the enemy fighters. Aside from that though, they wouldn't be able to fly under the Death Watch radar any longer. Until now, from what Tower understood, the Death Watch didn't have time to pay them much mind. But then again, Tower wasn't sure that would worry him at all. The Death Watch were little more then raiders, in truth. They rarely ventured beyond Mandalorian space, only having limited skirmishes with Republic and Imperial forces. Most of their time was spent raiding other Mandalorians. Tower had seen that first hand, and anger rose in him at the thought.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by Magician's gauntleted hand on his shoulder, sensing his unease. He looked up, letting out a small sigh as his companion gave him a grin. The view out of the gunship showed the rest of the Ghost of Solitude's hangar, with hundreds of armor clad Mandalorians preparing purposefully for the battle to come. Inside the gunship, Magician sat beside him, all black armor and grins. The man picked up his helmet, slipping it over his head, black visor meeting Tower's own. His words came through the helmets filter, a distortion that Tower barely even noticed anymore. “Quit your worrying, Tower. I'd bet today's winnings Shadow could take the ship by himself.”
Tower couldn't help but grin at that, looking up to his new mentor. The man was clad in his usual black armor and robe, the strange, visorless helmet clung tightly to his head. He stood with his back to the rest of them, likely 'talking' with the pilot, as much as telepathy could be talking. The lightsabers hung on either side of the man's robe, and Magician's joke wasn't entirely inaccurate. In the year he'd fought alongside the ex-sith, Ar'daleth had never seen anyone touch the man. He couldn't image how anyone might've bested the expert saberman to begin with, though Shadow had lost his arm and tongue somehow. Magician himself was strong in the force, and a lightsaber hung at his belt. Tower's own saber was slipped into a loop next to one of his blasters. There was a reason they were considered the best team in the Syndicate. Few could boast that they had not only fought against a Jedi, but killed or captured them.
Tower's gaze shifted from Magician and Shadow, looking over the other two on the team. Raxxim Telth was not Mandalorian, rare enough in the Syndicate. Yet the man was also a Dashade, able to resist the effects of the Force that so many fell prey to. Usually, the man carried a round shield and vibrosword both made from phrik. He was surprisingly fast for his size, and Tower had seen him match blow for blow with a rogue Jedi before Tower himself had subdued the Jedi. Now, his shield was much larger, a solid block of beskar that he utilized when not fighting those of the Force. It was far too unwieldy to use in hand to hand, but it's bulk was enough to stop most any blaster fire dead in their tracks. The AXM-50 slung over his shoulder would make quick work of any of the Death Watch that didn't have beskar armor themselves. His own attire was plated durasteel armor, a metal helmet with a fullface clear visor. Unlike most in the Syndicate, Raxxim's armor shone like chrome, and Ar'daleth could see his own reflection in the Dashade's breastplate. More often then not, the mercenary did not wear armor, as he was not Mandalorian and fighting a Jedi with anything less then Phrik or Beskar plating served little purpose.
The other member of the team, Gladiator, was leaning against the interior wall of the LAAT/i, interfacing with a control pad on her wrist. Her black and red armor was littered with scuffs and scrapes from her plethora of fights. The woman had grown up a Rattaki gladiator, hence her namesake. Most of that combat had been limited to close quarters. Now, she used a vibrostave of beskar, which rested behind her back. Still, the twin wrist blasters and rockets were likely to be her choice of weapon today. She was good with the stave, but unlike the lightsabers it wasn't as ideal for deflecting blaster shots. Most likely she would stay close behind Raxxim, to watch his back. Tower would likely do the same. He wasn't nearly as consistent as Magician just yet at stopping the shots.
Ar'daleth grimaced beneath his helmet as the alarm came over the loudspeaker. The last of the scurrying pilots in the hangar reached their ships, and the exterior flaps on the gunship closed. He went to one of the small slits used as windows, watching as the ship raised off the ground. Well, no time to be worried about it now, Tower thought, watching as the ventral hangar's doors opened up. His eyes widened in surprise as the hangar's turbolaser opened. If that was firing, then some of the Death Watch's ships had already reached the Star Destroyer. Fighters began pouring out of the doors, lasers of green and red and blue and purple streaking across the black confines of space. The LAAT lurched forward, and soon the weight and pull of the Ghost of Solitude's artificial gravity was gone. The rest of the gunships were alongside them as they departed the hangar, then all but one departed off in different directions, and Ar'daleth soon lost sight of them in the haze of laserfire.
A StarViper fighter looked to be heading straight for them, before a purple blast enveloped the ship, the ion blast shutting down the ships systems. It crept out of view as a V-wing came up alongside the transport, and Ar'daleth knew they must be getting close to the frigate. Sure enough, the V-wing peeled away, engaging a heavy fighter below them, though Tower couldn't tell what model. The exterior hatch of the gunship was opening again, before they had even reached the Frigate's hangar, but Tower could see it clearly now. The other team was already inside the Hangar, taking on nearly twenty Death Watch fighters trying to keep them from advancing from their gunship.
They were lost from view as the gunship turned, and the familiar sound of laser fire came from the front, likely tearing through the Deathwatch ranks. He braced himself, and once they were over solid ground, he saw Shadow jumping from the ship, quickly followed by Magician. Tower was left to follow suit, sprinting out of the back of the gunship as it's blaster fire continued to mow down the Deathwatch. He fell quickly in the artifical gravity, rolling as his metal boots collided with the hard surface of the hangar. He was back up in one smooth motion, blaster drawn from his holster and eyes searching for targets. He found none, the assault team already moving towards them. Shadow was on his feet, waiting for everyone to reach him, and a look to his left showed Gladiator rolling to a stand beside him.
A quick jog through the mostly empty hangar had him reaching Shadow, the bodies of at least ten Death Watch strewn about where the gunship had ended their lives. The rest of the teams members were reaching him now as well, and Shadow gave them their orders quickly, not there was truly any need to repeat them. 'Remember, Assault Team One will do a sweep from the hangar to systems, then up to the main bay. Force Team One makes a push to the bridge, then a full sweep back to the main bay. If we do this right, we'll clear the whole ship by the time we're done. And if we don't report in,' the telepathic command came, more for the leader of Assault Team Solus then anyone else, 'Then you shut down the power. We can't have them firing any longer then necessary'.
Tower eyed the teams leader, and she nodded. The woman was a S'kytri whose given name was Angel, though he'd never had time to meet her personally. She had wings folded behind her back with a blaster in each hand, and her reply was almost cocky. “Of course. We'll get it done.” The reply was all they were going to get, as the far door to the hangar opened, a few more Death Watch coming out of the doors. The laser fire came in a flash, though Shadow's movement was lightning fast. Before Tower even had time to raise his blaster and fire, the Sith had his lightsaber out, a red blur in the air as the lasers streaked towards them.
The other team didn't wait for the threat to be dealt with, already turning to go while Shadow danced with death. The lasers collided with the man's saber, reflected directly back at the shooters who had no time to react beyond their surprise. The first fell, then the second, and within moments all five were down. Whatever they had expected to face, this was much more then they had banked on. With the hangar clear of Death Watch once more, Shadow turned back to them, helmet tilting in a nod for them to follow. Magician's own saber flared to life, moving to join his 'master, and Tower sighed as Raxxim fell in behind them, shield up and ready. With a single glance at Gladiator, the two of them flanked Raxxim, eager to be behind something.
They strode through the halls of the frigate with purpose, Shadow leading them to the bridge to take the ship out of the fight. It rocked with slight reverberations as something impacted with the outer hull, and he hoped their allies had not already decided to destroy the craft. The next group of Death Watch they engaged were higher in number, and smarter then the last. No sooner had they reached the end of one hallway then they were surrounded, both lanes blocked with kneeling Death Watch. Their lasers came from both directions, and Shadow and Magician rushed down one hall, already deflecting the attacks back towards their enemy. Raxxim had turned and Gladiator was crouching behind him, while Tower quickly moved to do the same.
The Beskar crafted shield did well to hold up against the attacks, and Raxxim pushed forward while Tower and Gladiator fired over his back. Another Death Watch fighter came out of a room to their right, tackling Tower and taking him out of the fight. He skidded across the metal floor, grabbing the man's hand as he tried to bury a vibroknife inbetween Ar'daleth's ribs. The knife bounced off one of the Beskar plates, and Tower scrambled quickly, dropping his blaster and reaching for his saber. He remembered it now, how the Death Watch had killed his brother, destroyed his home. He raged with fury now, and he could feel it, the Force. He knew what it was now, and as his hand struggled for the saber it slipped from the loop on his belt, as though of it's own accord. Once in his hand he thrust it upward, the blade coming alight and burning through the Death Watch fighters chestplate and skull. He cut the body away, and Tower pulled himself to his feet as he pushed the dead man away.
Around him was chaos. Raxxim and Gladiator were gunning down the enemy in the hallway, Shadow and Magician having disappeared around a corner in the hallway, likely pursuing the ones that had been shooting at them before. Another man rounded the corner, blaster up, and a quick flick of Tower's wrist was enough to deflect the bolt aimed at him directly back at the man's head. A slight smolder of smoke erupted from where the laser had hit, and the man crumpled in a heap to the ground. Ar'daleth turned then, sprinting to his friends. As he ran, he scooped up his blaster in his other hand, firing at the Death Watch. He could feel the adrenaline surging through him, the Force quickening his movement and sharpening his senses. Lasers shot forth from his blaster, taking one of the Death Watch down before he reached Raxxim. He didn't stop though, vaulting over the Dashade's shield, deflecting a blaster bolt as he did. A spinning motion had him deflecting two more, and then he was in among his enemy. He longed to kill the aruetiise. A swing of his saber took one's arm off at the elbow, flowing through and taking off a second man's head. The third was already clutching at where a blaster bolt reflected off Tower's saber had taken him in the shoulder, and Ar'daleth's flowing attack sliced him from that shoulder down to torso, ending the man. In his flurry, he spun back to the first man whose arm he'd taken, still in fluid motion, and taking his head as well.
'Well done.' The comment in his mind, yet not, shocked him, and with the hallway now quiet he turned to see Magician and Shadow approaching once more. They had finished their own fight, and they reached Gladiator and Raxxim at a jog, saber's still extended and burning with light. 'Come. Now we fight.' no one spoke a word, but they moved as one now, sprinting down corridor after corridor. The fights came to them, and they came to the fights. Shadow took the lead, slicing down anyone in his pat. Those that moved away Magician quickly caught in his attacks, and Tower sliced at any on the other side, the three of them leaving little work for Gladiator and Raxxim. More then once, they were attacked from behind as well, but Raxxim's shield did well to stop those attacks in their tracks while the Death Watch were dealt with.
Ar'daleth quickly realized he had lost track of time. At some point he had taken a shot to his right shoulder, and he could feel blood inside his armor, trickling down his left arm. He was not sure how that had happened, but there was no time to reflect on that. Sweat covered every inch of his body, despite the cool interior of his armor. But they had done it. Somehow, they had reached the bridge. The hardest part was over. Shadow wasted no time in slicing down the door with his lightsaber, and the few inside turned to face them weapons raised. There were only six of them now, an easy match for himself, he thought, after the number he'd killed today. How many had it been? Surely he'd never killed so many men in his life. But they were Death Watch, and they deserved it.
'Kill the rest, I will take the Captain.' There was no uncertainty in Shadow's telepathic command, Tower noticed. And still there were no words exchanged. Time seemed to slow as the fight began, and as Shadow stepped forward, all seemed to raise their blaster's in unison. The man in the center's shots were deflected by the Sith as he sprinted towards him, while Magician slid behind a console, lightsaber leaving his hand in a swinging arc. Raxxim's shield blocked a laser as he returned fire, sending smoke spewing from one of the consoles as his shots ended one of the Deathwatch. Gladiator's shots were precise and steady, a blaster in each hand. The laser's streaked from her guns, taking one in the visor, another in the chest, then head. Both dropped, while Magician's lightsaber found it's mark as it spun through the air, taking the soldier through the chest before spinning in an arc.
Tower's opponent was the last to fall, as blast after blast was deflected by his lightsaber. Tower knew a single slip could mean his death, but he pressed on, until finally a single vertical parry sent the laser streaking back towards his enemies neck. The man clutched in as he began to slump, and Tower relaxed slightly, letting the lightsaber come down to his side and flicker out. With his blaster, he put a few shots into the man's head to end his suffering. Even one of the Death Watch deserved a clean death. Shadow was still dueling with the captain when Ar'daleth looked back to the two. He was surprised to see the man parrying attacks with a vibrosword, but the fight wasn't long lived. A quick glance told Shadow had barely been putting forth an effort, after Tower had seen him training. An elegant maneuver had the Sith parrying the Captain's attack, then slipping the saber between the man's breastplate and directly into his heart, showcasing he'd not been wearing beskar.
Tower let himself breathe, taking deep breaths. He was definitely tired now, sweat weighing him down. But they had done it, and that was what was important. He smiled to himself as Shadow pushed the dead Captain aside, interfacing with the control console. With the weapons offline and engine halted, the ship was as good as theirs. Gladiator let out a battlecry, filled with jubilation and triumph, and Magician laughed once she was done. Raxxim grunted, and Tower could not help but laugh as well. The view outside the frigate was beautiful. There were few fights still taking place. Every corvette in their vision was halted and devoid of any signs of combat, and at least a hundred fighters and bombers with their systems disabled floated aimlessly in the space between the ships. The black painted metal of the Ghost of Solitude stood proudly against the horizon of Concord Dawn. The Death Watch had come, thinking themselves wolves to hunt the lambs, but they themselves had proved to be the true lambs, come to the slaughter. Tower sighed again, the smile widening on his face. He had made the right decision coming to the Syndicate after all.