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Post by Rugs on Mar 24, 2019 12:08:14 GMT -5
From above, you almost couldn’t see the devastation that crippled Nal Hutta. A few trails of inky black were faint against the world’s terrain. They nearly blended with the clouds as the Glorious Jewel’s ecosystem carried on, mindless to the violence tearing the world apart. The Composer knew differently. From its post aboard the Singing Spire’s command deck, it could hear the anguish, the cries of pain and sorrow that wracked the world below. The Chorus was not blind to such things. It wished not to expand such suffering. “A solemn part of the grave duty we bear,” said one voice. ”We will mourn them, once our work is done,” answered another. ”We will remember those whose songs were cut short.” The heart of the Archeri fleet hovered in stationary orbit above Nal Hutta. A portion had broken off to oversee the continued subjugation of Nar Shadda — the Jewel’s rowdier, more populated moon. For all the Hutts called their capital world a jewel, its moon was the real prize. More than 90 billion souls. A second Spire, slowly rising from the remains of those voices who’d taken the leap of faith into the “Cerbozz Pit,” as the locals called it. This was the prize the Chorus sought since it first learned of the Y’toub system in the strike at Teth. With Nar Shaddaa in hand, the Chorus’ voices would grow innumerable. Nothing in the Galaxy could hope to silence it. But first, Nal Hutta. Bring the Jewel and its billions into the Chorus. Then the true work on Nar Shaddaa could begin. ”It is time.” The Composer stood tall, striding to the broad, curving view panel carved into the command deck. After days of breaking Nal Hutta’s resistance and more days still of preparation, the Spire was ready. ”Bring this world to the Chorus.” The Chorus’ voices rose as one. Nar Shaddaa had probably seen better days. The Smuggler’s Moon was aflame, quite literally, as the Archeri invasion pressed ceaselessly, mercilessly on. Io’an had long since lost track of the time — Nar Shaddaa’s long days and nights, being tidally locked to Nal Hutta, didn’t help — as one fight rolled to another with brief, fitful rest in between. Archeri pressed at the moon from all sides. Skirmishes rocked the city constantly as gangs, bands of civilians and what shambles remained of the Hutts’ security forces mounted desperate defenses. Yet every day, the Archeri footholds grew a little stronger, as resistance grew more and more desperate. The Plague, which threatened to throw the moon into crisis before the fleet showed up over a week ago, was spiraling out of control. It was a futile effort. Everyone knew it. If outside help didn’t arrive, then... What other choice is there? he thought as his speeder zipped around the burning ruins of an old housing tower. We can fight back, or we can die. At least the Eye, so far, was unscathed. Some of the Exchange’s other holdouts scattered across the Smuggler’s Moon hadn’t been so fortunate. He didn’t expect that to last. “You’re comin’ up on the Pit,” Reflex’s voice buzzed in the communicator in Io’an’s ear. “Shouldn’t be hard to miss.” It wasn’t. Thick, acrid smoke blocked the sky. A hellish,orange glow lit the horizon below as Hutt destroyers and cruisers, now a part of the Archeri fleet, bombarded the cityscape around the Pit. They were, best as anyone could guess, clearing land for something. But what? “I see it,” Io’an said. His speeder titled up, as he guided it to one of the few towers left standing in this district. Even “coming up” on the Pit just meant getting within a few miles. The conditions near the bombardment zone were too miserable to stand, and the Archeri had established a ring of protectors that threw up an enormous, impenetrable Force barrier whenever outsiders approached. Io’an pulled up to the side of the tower, parked his speeder and stepped onto a small landing. He pulled small, spherical recon drone, about the size of his head, from the back seat. If it could slip through, they might be able to get a better idea of what the Archeri were up to. After a few moments of setup, the drone was off toward the burning horizon. Io’an leaned against the wall, fighting a wave of fatigue. “Signal’s comin’ through,” Reflex said. “Visual feed is pretty good, actually. Just sit tight.” Io’an laughed, looking at the sky. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I could use the brea-” An ethereal wave of purple and blue raced across Nal Hutta’s surface. The world filled much of the sky from this point on Nar Shaddaa. A sudden inescapable noise filled Io’an’s mind. The weight of billions of souls’ worth of horror arose at once, followed by the force of a terrible, impossible power pressing upon him. He felt as though he were suddenly submerged at the bottom of the sea, with all the ocean above pressing upon his shoulders. He didn’t realize he’d fallen forward onto his hands and knees. “Io’an?! Io’an what the fuck is going on?!” He didn’t realize he’d started screaming. “Why are you yelling?! Io’an what happened?!” The sensation passed, as suddenly as it’d arrived. Io’an felt drained. His breath came in labored heavy breaths. “Io’an!” Reflex sounded panicked “Are you there! Come on, man, answer!” “I’m... I’m here,” he muttered, weakly. He looked to the sky. Nal Hutta was still there, as it had been a few moments before. But something felt strange. The voices in the Force that’d risen up seemed... different. Strangely, disturbingly, frighteningly calm. “I think something really bad just happened, Reflex.” “Well shit man, you can’t just go yelling in my damn ear like that,” Reflex, for all his best intentions, sounded annoyed. “What was it? I’m not seeing any activity near you.” “Not here,” Io’an said, leaning back against the wall. “On Nal Hutta... Just something I felt.” “Look, whatever it was, there ain’t shit we can do about it right now,” Reflex said. “Do you need to come back to the Eye?” Io’an frowned, looking at the horizon. The fires around the Cerbozz pit still burned, against the darkening sky as Nar Shaddaa’s long evening slowly gave way to night. “Not yet,” he said with a sight. “I can hold out here. But what was that?” ”The Chorus grows,” the voice said. Chills rolled down Io’an’s spine. He felt cold sweat prick his brow. “Your world is next.” |