Operation Infinite Horizon (Ascension Crew)

[10Tickler]

Eye twitching behind his helmet, Damien nodded to the Female, seemingly out of place. With a hazy look about her, she suddenly appeared to shift form, First to a Bird-like droid, then to a detailed map of the deck they were on.

Pulling his helmet off, Damien spoke directly to Kha, his eyes never leaving the Twi'lek as his voice spoke not on one single level, a command one, but on a lower, deeper one, the level of a man who had seen hell, and survived it. A level of a man who knew what pain was, and how to overcome it, to become better...

Because of the Damage to this Hallway, to this ship and the entire deck, Clearing it of Pirates will be near impossible, but we will do the best we can. My squad will take point, moving through, scouting ahead...Your squad will work with us. Each member of your team will be assigned to one of my Comrades. They don't have to follow orders, but it'd be a Good idea. Our First Priority will be Retrieving Survivors, moving the wounded and the Terrorized to the Hanger bay and off this trashheap Damien began, pointing to Several larger rooms as he spoke, continuing slowly.

Because of how the Ship is laid out, Survivors will have formed Clusters, pockets in the larger rooms, some will be guarded, some won't. There is to be no Quarter Given. This is the only direct command That I will give. These Pirates are Trash, scum, who feed off of the Terror of others, who leech off of the Republic. If you find any of them, Kill them, Fill their bodies with Bolts, and if they still twitch, Put a round in their heads. Do you understand? he said, sighing as he placed his helmet back on his head, reaching out to touch the AER droid, his hand sliding fondly over Ishtar's back before she resumed her normal holographic form.

Looking back to his squad, all of whom, save for Sean, who had started becoming far more Free-minded as of recent, had arrived, Damien nodded. ROLL OUT! he shouted, causing them to Start to move, forming groups and moving down different corridors. They were going to meet in fifteen minutes, back in the hanger to get out of there...that fifteen minutes would be devoted to finding those who had survived.

[Squee]

((I would like to apologize for the... length. I kinda got a little carried away. Hehe. If was fun. And, um, Val, feel free to post them going... anywhere.))

“Manners are only worthy of those who know for themselves what manners are. And respect,” Cersa all but breathed down on the doctor, as Jessica had called herself. “Now, Jessica, I’ll get you out of here. I’ll have you know, though, that I have another man outside awaiting for my return. Disrespect me and insult me all you want, don’t do it to my men. I hope we have an understanding. 'No' isn’t an answer here. Get under the ventilation shaft.”

The large cathar woman allowed the doctor pass by her with her metallic bird. Cersa had a moment where her already narrowed eyes rested on the bird, thinking just how much it appeared an awful lot like the birds she ate for dinner sometimes. Shaking her head and misdirecting her starving thoughts to the back of her conscious thinking, she ignored her complaining stomach and followed after this Jessica Chezz, who had now become a burden to her and the corporal just outside. A good burden, maybe, but Cersa could already smell the waves of nuisance that were radiating and flowing from the human female. She doubted the Doc really cared, though, taking into consideration that she was all but pissing off the huge cat-like sentient. It was slightly vexing, just a little itsy, bitsy, teeny-weeny bit.

Cersa didn’t have many troubles holding the woman’s weight as she climbed into the shaft. The staff sergeant made sure to support the weaker leg a little more to provide a good balance. It took a moment or two (actually, probably a minute or so) for the Doc’s entire body was balanced in the shaft.

Cersa touched her ear, “Corporal, I have a survivor scrambling your way. Try not to shoot her.”

“Copy that.”

That settled, because the ventilation was a little squishy for Cersa if you readers don’t recall, Cersa bunched her thighs and jumped. There was a slight pain in her palm, perhaps where a jagged piece of the ventilation cut her. It was a little pain, a little cut that could be patched later. Every soldier got a little dirty in a combat zone. It didn’t bother Cersa as she forced the muscles in her arms to haul up her weight. Bracing boots against the debris hanging around the hole by the ventilation, Cersa glanced toward the Doc.

“That butt needs to move a little faster, Doc. Watch for the dented spot ahead. If you lean your weight more to one side, you can slid by it just fine.”

Cersa arched her body to avoid the sharp edges of the damaged shaft. Sliding in after Jessica, Cersa took her part to push her palms against the bottom of the Doc’s shoes, sliding Jessica a little faster along the shaft. Cersa made it past the dent herself with minor difficulties. Coming near the opening in the wall, Cersa called before her, telling the corporal to help Jessica out of the vents. Before long, Cersa’s fingers curled over the corner of the wall, and she pulled herself forward, the very top of her sword scraping on the top of the shaft. Cersa let out a mild curse in her own language, flattening her chest more to avoid anymore damage to her precious weapon. Headfirst, she slid down the wall as she had coming out of the ventilation into the med bay. When Cersa stood on her two feet instead of her hands, she glanced down at the palm that was beginning to burn a little. A jagged line ran vertically along her hand, more blood welling to meet and greet the smeared blood that covered nearly her entire palm. Cersa pressed it to her thigh, letting the blood leave residue there as she glanced at the wall. Yep, there was a blood smear halfway down it and a print on the crate.

“All right… Let’s hurry on out of here, per our orders.” Cersa’s ears were forward again, and her eyes open and pupils slightly dilated as she looked up one way of the corridor to the other. “And we’re headed back the way we came. No sense heading further into the enemy territory when we don’t have to.” She didn’t hear or see something in the dimmed and flickering hallways of the ship. “Corporal, go ahead and take point with that pretty rifle of yours.”

“Yes, ma’am.” And the man did just that, starting down the hall with an easy enough pace for the Doc to follow. Cersa began following after them.

And then her ear twitched at a sound that was not metallic ship and rather out of place. The nice sound of a rifle’s safety being kicked off and a whine from the energy weapon drawing energy from their power cells. Her ears had swiveled back, picking up the sound. Her nose wrinkled in a sneer. Bastard pirates. Lying in wait, most likely. They had probably been a little smart when seeing a Republic soldier simply standing around, ready rifle and appearing alert. Now that rifleman was furthest away from them, an unarmed doctor in the center between them and the rifle, and a short range weapon master in the back, closest to them.

“Hostiles, behind us!” Cersa got out, turning sideways as the first two ragtag pirates came around the corner from a different corridor. One of them shouldered a rifle. “Doctor. Protect. Grab, throw into the open corridor.” And Cersa did just that. She whipped back around, snatching Jessica by both arms, close to the shoulders, and backed up one or two steps. Her back was turned to the pirates all the time, placing her body between the threat and Doc. The cathar woman all but tossed Jessica right inside the empty corridor, signaling the corporal to be beside Jessica.

The sound of a bolt leaving a rifle struck Cersa’s ear drum. She went to turn, but almost instantly felt a sharp burn strike a rather lesser armored part of her combat suit. A savage roar of pain wretched itself from the cathar woman’s throat when the bolt struck and began to burn. The noise dragged out, sounding like the angered roar of a hungry lion. The blaster wound (of some kind)burned through the stretched fabric and ate through fur and flesh just under her ribcage. The bolt didn’t stop there, but nestled in a bit further into Cersa’s flesh. Bits of her fur continued to smolder, and the unpleasant smell of burning hair and flesh hit Cersa’s sensitive nostrils. But, the fur burned and singed the flesh underneath, spreading the wound to parts UNDER her armor. Her fangs flashed as her mouth remained parted, her face contorted to that of a royally pissed off animal. A hiss exhaled from her, another lion-like sound rumbling from her throat as she spun, fingers hooking one of her throwing knives. The little fwick whispered as she yanked it free, clasping the edge of her hand around it, readying to throw it. Enraged eyes, pupils in slits so tiny they weren’t distinguishable from the rest of her eye, targeted and locked onto the man with the rifle. But, he went down suddenly as Corporal riddled him with a few bullets. Her prey lock switched onto the pirate who had been just behind the first. Her movements were so sudden, it was hard to determine if it was natural. That arm swung and the pirate didn’t even hear a whoosh of the sharp projectile headed his way, embedding itself through the throat, collapsing every soft tissue and nearly protruding out the back.

The corporal could cover one corner where he was, and Cersa was going to take the other. More live pirate bodies came around the corners. One shot at the corporal, and he ducked back tp avoid being hit. Infuriated by her pain and the fact these idiots were taking shots at her men, no matter how new the team was to her, Cersa was moving. She ducked under the weapon of the corporal, her crouching movement carrying her fast. She paused beside the crate for only a millisecond before jumping upward. Her feet hit the top of the crate and Cersa was launching herself forward, claws drawn, just as the next live body came around the corner.

He was about to be a dead body. Cersa barreled into him, claws sinking themselves into the stomach. There a strangled grasp from her prey. With a sharp jerk, Cersa tore through fabric and flesh. Blood pooled around her fingertips and organs began to pop and protrude from the man’s abdomen. He looked down as Cersa pulled her claws free, screaming as he saw his own intestines bulge from the inflicted wounds. The cathar woman was already scrambling away from him, head tossed and eyes targeting calves.

There was a heat settling around Cersa. An energy bubbled through her blood, boiling it to high temperatures. Sweet, sweet adrenaline never felt so fine, bringing other energy and mixing it together with the energy that hyper-excited her blood. Her heart rate went up, spewing blood faster along her veins. Words like “death”, “kill”, and “destroy” made up her entire thoughts. Her outside flesh seemed warm, and the invisible air crackled with such dark energies that poured in and out of Cersa.

Calves. Reach claws around and tear out the meaty part behind them. The pirate fell on his ass with a pained howl. Cersa was standing, her boot rising and then bearing down in a planting stomach, crushing his ribs and piercing his heart. And there four pirates charging at her, and Cersa gave some ground. The sound of her sword unsheathing was menacing with the appearance that accompanied it. Her mouth had formed a crazy smile, her eyes dark, mysterious, and full of malevolent intentions.

“Say hello to my little friend,” Cersa chuckled. One hand had the sword, and the other hand had the claws. She struck first, feinting with the sword and instead swung the claws in an uppercut. Her claws caught hold at the breast and rose upward, cutting through the soft throat and the fleshy part just under the chin. Twisting and tearing the claws away, she came from a full spin, kicking another pirate in the head with a motion and putting him out of commission.

Arm, a threat. Swing, arm’s detached. To the right, the right, slip back, feint, step forward… her claws now buried themselves into the solar plexus of one man, her sword hand came around and sliced off the head. Her grip reversed on the handle, sensing the man coming up behind her, and shoved the sword backward. The man impaled himself through the heart.

Cersa gave another feral roar when she felt something cut her shoulder blade, the opposite side from where her attention had been. She turned, sending a back-fist cracking across the man’s face. Her hips pivoted sharply, bring her around so she could kick the man and bring him back to her. Her sword slid easily over his stomach, disemboweling him.

There was a few minutes more as Cersa dealt with six others, who now viewed her as the major threat. She was a mad whirlwind of black and occasional golden as her head swung around and her hands followed not the far behind. Bones crunching, horrified yells, screams, organs squelching as they were stepped on, and those same organs bursting in messes of multicolored goo, painting the floor in a tale of a wondrous battle. The last pirate Cersa finished off had his arms and head lopped off before his body dropped and the fight was over.

The great cat stood in the mess she had created, shoulders heaving as she breathed in deeply. Her aura still smoldered, and her blood raged through her veins, her heart pounded in her ears. Her eyes were black pits as they stared at the carnage of limbs, heads, legs, torsos, and organs. Blood strained her armor now, and there were several more places she was cut at but nothing too deep. Cersa stooped, pulling up a headless body and wiping her sword on its clothing, and then sheathed her weapon and claws. The sword was in much need of polishing. Her boots were simply coated in gore, such as bits of meaty flesh from the organs, and they were attached to the bottoms and dragging across the floor. Again, Cersa bent down and picked something up, and then walked back to the doc and corporal.

“Want to call me kitty now, Doc?” Cersa growled, lifting up her hand to show she held a head by its hair. Blood dripped onto the floor, and then Cersa dropped it. “You can keep it as a souvenir if you’d like. Corporal, are you all right?”

“F-fine, Staff Sergeant. I’m just fine.”

Cersa smiled at the squeamish look on the lad’s face. “Trust me, Corporal, if you’re with me, that won’t be the last time you see dismemberment and decapitations.”

The poor guy looked as if he was going to be sick.

“Let’s go,” Cersa growled, taking lead this time. There was a slight limp to her now, and that blaster wound was really starting to bother her. Cersa was finding it a little hard to breathe - and she was still panting- , and it hurt to, especially in that burned area, but only because it stretched there to allow her lungs to take in the air. The dark rage that had settled over Cersa in the battle was fading now, especially after showing Doc the head. She felt as if a cloud of thick, choking mist was clearing, and she was suddenly drinking in fresh air. On the surface of her body, everything felt suddenly cooler. Cersa was used to these effects after every blood lust filled rage.

And she didn’t know that each time it was a taste of the Force. A little lap of the dark side.

[skaral]

"Alright. Okay, squad on them! Remember no pirates are to be left alive like he said!" ordered Sergeant Bakkara. He followed Damien.

"So, uhhh Staff Sergeant huh? Well I am Kha Bakkara. I guess you will see us alot on this mission..." Kha trailed off into a silence as he and Damien moved down the corridors.

They came across a large room designated "Dining Hall". There were bound to be survivors in there.

"Uhh, first stop I guess," whispered Kha.

The Twi'lek followed his Special Ops teammate into the dining hall. Kha turned on the flashlight on his gun.

"Anyone alive in here?!" called Kha to any hiding survivors.

Sergeant Bakkara flashed the light through the building. Suddenly he heard noise. The infantryman brang his carbine to his shoulder and looked down the sights. Suddenly he heard "Over here!".

The voice was female and Kha followed it. It was then that he stumbled upon a group of ten survivors crouched in the kitchen of the dining hall. They looked to be all medical staff, one of them had a small hold-out blaster.

"Don't worry, we are Republic soldiers," said Kha, "I suggest getting to the hangar, our forces have it secured."

Jarka laid in the medical transport as it filled up. Medical droids and able-bodied staff from the corvette were patching up the wounded, a young Rodian doctor replaced Jarka's bandages with fresh ones and gave him a small shot of pain killing drugs. Jarka laid there completely numb watching the scramble inside the large shuttle. He saw doctors and surgeons attending to those bleeding out. He saw some people die, and some miraculously saved. Droids were constantly mopping up blood, it was chaos like the battlefield had been, pure chaos.

[Val - Warning:Contains Sarcasm]

What had happened between the medical bay and the corridor had happened so fast, and Jessica could hardly tell where she was. She remembered being helped up to the ventilation shaft by the Cathar, with the enclosed space pressing in around her, and probably the Cathar too to a much larger degree. She had emerged to the corridor with soldiers outside waiting for them. The rest of the time from there had been a blur of quick movements and blaster fire. She recalled a roar from the Cathar, who then seconds later emerged from cover and began to rip through the pirates.

Jessica stayed behind cover, watching as the walls were redecorated and the screams of the pirates were echoing down the corridors. They attacked the Cathar, but she seemed to only get more powerful the more they hit her, like some sort of strange exponentialism. She was fascinated, and in a way happy that the pirates were getting what they deserved. As though each scream cancelled out with the screams of the medical personel she had heard through the ship after blasting the doors shut. Each one neutralising the deaths they had caused on the ship. She was happy to see more and didn't really care.

The attacking from the Cathar finally ended after the pirates stopped coming. Stopped rushing towards their deaths at the hands of the lioness. Around the floor she could see all forms of biology. Though covered in blood and random pieces of shattered bone, armour or chunks of meat, she could make out the main parts of each. Livers, scattered around, often with appendices, intestines, omentums and bladders all nearby. Burst veins and arteries surrounded by pools of blood. A voicebox next to a body coincidentally missing one. A corpse which had most of the top of the skull removed somehow, and inside the brain. She quickly identified the frontal, cerebral and occipital lobes, and noted the temporal and parietal ones just underneath in partial sight. An eyeball that had pushed its way out of a socked following pressure inside the skull.

Gruesome. And yet, just what they deserved, scum. She found herself in the middle of the hallway now, far from cover. She felt in secure hands around the Cathar, and she observed the array of cuts and damages around the feline as she approached, a body part in her grip. The Cathar deposited the brain at her feet, offering witty comments to hide the pain. Jessica could tell by the growl of her voice that she was not feeling at top notch. The wounds confirmed this. The Cathar began to move away, and Jessica followed, and Wexon followed her.

"Listen, I can tell you're in pain. There's assumedly a medical bay on your ship. Take me there now, and I'll have a look over you. You're not going to be able to stand much longer. Trust me, I know limps." She tapped the head of the cane with her fingers as if to prove a point.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

The head of the Chiss appeared only moments before the crack of weapon fire and displaced air of slugs blew by her. She didn’t so much as flinch as a few bits of her hair whipped forward and fell away from her as one slug cut dangerously close to her head, felling one of the pirates before her. Another crack and another pirate fell dead…still she didn’t move, bloody gaze never wavering or blinking as she reached through the force, wrapping about their minds and worming her way into them, clouding their judgment and slowing their reactions even as one pulled out a carbine before having it blasted away by another shot from Sean, another yowl of pain and another pirate held the side of his head, his ear presumably missing. There was a tremor in the force and she whipped around to warn Sean, but it was already too late, he’d been attacked and the three remaining pirates were moving, the only uninjured one drawing his own dagger and moving to rend her apart.

The force showed her three options only: move backward and have the blow strike her arm, remain still and have it strike a vital point, or move to the side and risk the woman on the floor. The decision was simple. Drawing on the force, she launched herself backward, the dagger slicing neatly across her upper arm even as she brought her own up to slice length wise along his forearm where the artery lay. Pain didn’t bother her, she was used to pain, and what was another scar in the line of duty anyway? A prickling in her senses and she turned just in time for the earless pirate to come lunging past her allowing her to shove her back handed dagger into his upper spine, severing it with a wet snap and allowing him to fall limply to the floor. The one who had attacked her first came at her again accompanied by the thumbless one and she slammed her mind against theirs making them stagger as she launched herself forward flipping her front facing dagger into a reverse grip and sheathing both in the chests of the men, pulling one around to the side and booting him backward against the bulkhead before switching her footing and slitting the throat of the other before using her elbow to knock him backward away from the woman who lay curled and sobbing on the floor below her.

Even as Sean rid himself of his own attacker and approached them, Rah was calmly wiping the blood off her daggers with a bit of cloth she’d ripped from the shirt of one of the dead pirates. The woman took Sean’s offered hand and all but clung to him to get away from the chiss she’d deemed “animalistic.” Rahja didn’t blame her for her opinions.

Rahja, the heavy gunners are pulling back to the docking bay, and my scans don’t read any more hostiles.

Her com crackled a bit as Sender’s voice echoed through it and reached her ears. A nod of her head and she looked at the two with her.

Copy that Sender, we’re on our way. Sean, we need to get back to the drop ships, no doubt there are more than just that one pirate vessel and…

Red eyes blinked as her head turned in the direction of another, darker, ripple in the force. The chiss visibly tensed and braced herself, ready to throw out a challenge should another wave of darkness be tossed about. None came. Raven hair glinted in the florescent lighting as she turned her head one direction then the other as she tried to pinpoint the source of the dark ripples in the calm surface of the force, but it was gone.

Sender, have you seen anything suspicious? Burn markings that aren’t from blasters? Cut down doors or walls? Anything?

If you’re suggesting saber markings, no. There’s nothing to show that there is another force user on this ship.

Rahja narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin slightly before turning to Sean and the woman.

Copy. Keep an eye out on your way back, notify me immediately if you do. We’re on our way back. Out.

Sean, you guard the girl, I’m taking point…there’s something odd going on and I’m more apt to be a match than you are right now.

With that she started back toward the docking bays, pulling her hood up once more. Luckily there was no sign of any malevolent force users, but she kept her senses sharp for any enemies. It didn’t take them long to reach the docking bay once again, the drop ships already partially loaded with both injured and uninjured. Rahja huffed a sigh. Time to get to work again, she thought as she lowered her hood once more and sheathed her daggers behind her back and under her cloak. Heading to the first drop ship with injured she knelt down beside a particularly badly injured young man, hands hovering over the injury, a deep blue forming between the injury and her hands. Red eyes slid closed as she pulled in on the force like the life-giving waters that it was, twisting it, shaping it into the healing energy she needed and forcing it into the man below her, bringing the skin together, binding it to itself, repairing the veins and muscles that had been damaged, then the glow faded and she moved on.

As she knelt down beside the next man, she blinked red eyes and tilted her head. It was the boy from the meeting. Huffing slightly, she shook her head, raven hair swaying back and forth around her face. Rahja didn’t bother to speak to Jarka, there was no point really, all she was concerned with was saving the boy’s life, not conversation. Crimson eyes slid closed again as her hands hovered over the useless arm, that same blue glow forming around her hands and between them and his arm. Her consciousness probed the injury through the force, something he wouldn’t feel, and once she had assessed the damage she drew in on that light once again, pulling it into herself, molding it, and sending it into the injury as she slipped into his mind, dampening the pain he might feel as she worked so he would only feel warmth and comfort around the damaged area. Of all her training with the academy, and later the med-corps, healing was one of her best abilities, and she enjoyed it….it balanced her, especially now that her job was one of death. A deep breath and another draw from the force and she focused on the injury, starting with the damaged bone as she accelerated it’s healing, forcing it to knit together more swiftly. Veins came next, the red ropes of them pulling together and mending easily under her influence. Cords of muscle intertwined as she followed the pattern of his body that the force was feeding her mind’s eye. Skin bound to itself and she felt herself growing tired even as she finished with his arm and turned to the burn injuries and started to sooth them into submission.

This process was more taxing, she had to speed the growth of new skin below the damage, allow it to firm up, then kill off the injured skin and allow the new to mesh with the old. The process took time, and she had no concept of what was happening around her. It was these times that Rahja was most vulnerable…healing was not a simple art, and it took all of one’s concentration to perform it properly. With all of her mind focused in one place, she was cut off from the world around her. Her hands slowly began to tremble as she worked, soon followed by her arms and body as the energy she expended outweighed the amount she brought in. The last thing the chiss would do was draw the man out of shock, soothing his mind and body with a few touches of her mind against his before she withdrew into herself once more and opened her eyes, sitting back and panting and trembling as if she’d run a marathon.

You need to be more careful boy…Lieutenant Sharkal is it?....I won’t always be around to heal you, and you were very close do death from the shock to your body. You’re lucky.

One trembling hand grabbed hold of one of the officers trying to get past them to the other end of the drop ship where some of the other wounded were laid along the floor and being seen to best as they could.

Water, swiftly.

Her voice was little above a whisper, and the officer nodded, grabbing a small bottle and handing it to her before moving along his way. She sipped at it thankfully and sat back against the bulkhead of the transport waiting for it to return to the Ascension. Chances were Sean was around somewhere, but she was just too exhausted to look for him or the woman they’d found. Either way, she had confidence in Sean’s ability to handle just about anything. The soft whir of repulsors caught her ear, and she looked up just as Sender lowered himself onto the floor in front of her, tucking his wings against his sides and looking up at her through red optics.

Well Miss Kell, it seems you’ve been busy. Been healing again have you?

Rahja simply grunted as an affirmation and rested her head back against the bulkhead. She just wished they’d get back to the Ascension already.

[Dire Wolf]

The Ascension pushed itself through the cold void of space with a special kind of predatory beauty, one that struck fear in the hearts of those who saw it. If they were close enough. Of course, if they were close enough to see the ship that looked like a manta ray as it swam through the ocean it was far too late. The ship lurched towards the closest of the two pirate vessels, hoping to get within point blank range so that it may do some rapid deconstruction before the crew knew what hit them.

Electronic Counter Measures, better known by its acronym “ECM,” was a wondrous thing. Especially when the ship that used it was using an advanced version of the technology, which defeated enemy sensors within its operational area. Without sensors a ship is blind to other vessels around it, and so the only real way to see a ship that had its ECM activated one would have to rely on one thing: Sight. In order to make visual contact with an object in space it would have to be very close, by capitol ship standards of course.

Crassus stood before the observation viewport on the bridge of the steel creature that was the Ascension as it ripped its way through the black. A wicked smile pursed his lips as gave a glance over his shoulder at the weapons officer and gave a slow nod. The bridge was deathly quiet as he shifted his gaze back around to the magnified view of the two pirate ships that hung “peacefully” before him like two little toys in the distance. It wasn't long before his voice broke the silence, it seemed to echo off of the angular walls of the command cabin.

“Fire”

Beautiful florescent lights erupted from the Ascension as it continued to push itself towards its foes. Her architecture was built in a way that allowed for most of her port and starboard mounted weapons could still fire forward, and this coupled with the fact that a pair of Magnetic Accelerator Cannons faced that same way left the Commander with little choice as to which way to face his foes. Forward.

As with before, the enemy pirate ships really had no idea what was going on until the pretty bright lights threw themselves into their shields. Little dots of incredibly bright light puffed against the surface of the corsair's shields as they repelled the light of the turbo lasers. What they could not do, however, was repel the stark white disruptor bolts that slid past the shields and rended hide of each of the ships. Though there was not enough of them to do enough damage.

Then the first salvo of concussion missiles slammed into the brigand ship's shields, causing even more dots of superheated gas and metal that lasted half a second before the cold void took them for its own. Then the Corsair's took notice of just where the Ascension was, and while ECM was incredibly useful... it was not perfect. Especially so when you were firing every single tooth and nail that you have at things, it tended to cause little glitches in the software.

“Damned techies need to get that ECM fixed up a bit more...”

“Fire all torpedo tubes, after that ship's shields are down hit 'em with both MACs.”

With that said the Zeltron shifted his gaze back in time to see five fast moving points of red-orange light streak towards the weaker of the two pirate ships. The first two detonated against the protective energy field of the ship, which responded by flickering slightly. Then the third and fourth mushroomed against the then failing shield, it flared brightly... so bright that it nearly blinded the Zeltron who gazed at the destruction with a slight smirk. But the intensity of the shield in its death throws quickly vanished into nothing as the generator exploded, killing a few pirates and ripping a good sized hole in the ship. A plume of flame shot out of the newly made hole for a split second while it burned up what little oxygen it had left, quckly cooling and disappearing into the black of space.

The final photon torpedo detonated against the bare hull of the ship, mushrooming against the surface and ripping a hole in the already crippled ship's side. Secondary explosions began to rupture the side of the ship as its reactor went began to go critical. It was at this point that Crass decided to turn away... nuclear explosions tended to be very, very bright after all.

The very moment Crassus turned away the ship began to shudder and shake, he was nearly rocked off of his feet. The pirates were getting their knocks in. The man shifted his emerald gaze to the damage control officer, who gave a quick shield status report as if on instinct.

Shields are down to 80 percent, sir.

The ship shuddered again not long after.

75, sir.

“Well for Force sake, shoot back!”

A blinding light flooded the bridge via the transpari-steel observation port as the corsair ship's reactor finally lost control of its raw power. A new sun appeared where the pirate ship once was, vaporizing everything within a few miles of the epicenter of the nuclear-fission blast. The light that he saw tore at his brain, it made his eyes feel as if someone brought a lightsaber to them both... he could not even think during those few meager seconds that the light tore at his mind. But, it left his sight just as quickly as it came... though its effects were burned into his retinas for minutes afterward. He thought that he could hear the faint voice of his damage control officer.

The EMP knocked out our shields, sir. The generator is fried.

It took him a few moments to be able to think... but once his mind recovered from the pain he managed to stand and look back at the source of the voice. Grim news. This meant that the Ascension was going into enemy controlled territory minus its shields. Not good. Not only was there the slight probability of a Sith fleet orbiting the planet... but there was most certainly a pirate armada sitting above Subterrel.

Hopefully the ship's ECM worked like a charm.

Crass turned his attention back to the remaining pirate ship, it had also lost it's shields in the blast. “Poor folks... you go bye bye now,” he thought as the man turned around and ordered a MAC strike on the remaining ship. The power flickered slightly as the electromagnets charged up to critical, the loading mechanism put a ferro-tungsten round into the tube, and the ship slowly positioned itself to unleash hell. The Commander slowly counted down in his mind.

1...


2...


3...

He was nearly at four when the internal lighting power switched off for a brief second as the electromagnets drew on herculean amounts of power in a final preparation to lob its payload. The fifty-five millimeter slug was traversed the entire length of the ship in less than a millisecond as it was drawn in by a long series of electromagnets, by the time that it left the tube it was travelling at just over thirteen thousand feet per second. The first shell smashed into and through the unshielded corsair with relative ease, ripping and rending at the ship as it passed. The second impaled and essentially gutted the small capitol ship as it passed, leaving destruction in its wake. After all was said and done the pirate corsair was nothing more than a broken mass of durasteel, wiring, and a chassis.

“Well ain't that shiny... get all of our guys and gals back. NOW! We can't afford to have any other ships jump us.”

The infantry coordinater relayed Crass' order to all of the folks aboard the medical frigate. He waited until all of his dropships were aboard before ordering the jump to hyperspace. The commander turned to his XO, LtCdr Rakani, and gave a brief nod.

“Call a second briefing at 2300 hours. We need to give our folks some time to rest.”

Roger that, Commander.

Danni gave Crass a little look that he did not notice before turning to the comm and relaying his orders. She sighed. That man was either stupid, awful oblivious, or simply had no interest in her. She hoped knew that it wasn't the former, and prayed that it wasn't the latter.

[Squee]

“I would hope you can tell I’m in pain,” Cersa grunted, chancing a glance back at the doctor. Her steps were heavy, favoring one leg to lessen the startle in the side each time she stepped. She kept her paws away from the wound at her side. Her hands were splattered with the blood of different species. Just who knew what nasty germs those bloods could carry. The most that blood was kept out of her wounds, the better the cathar felt, and the less sick and the less bile that formed in her throat.

When she had shot the doctor that glance, just enough of her head was turned to show the rather awkwardly turned grin that was on her face. “I’m not trying to hide it very well. My pride isn’t that large. And we’re headed back to the ship, of course, And if it’s the medical detention cell you want, I’ll take you there.” Where it’s full of people who’s faces are half covered and there’s blinding lights flashing all across your face. There are these cooky gadgets lying about the place, and needles full of fluids that make the tender skin hyper-sensitive for a while.

Cersa had been to the med bay plenty of times. Every time, she never liked it any more than the previous visit. Nothing really good came out of going into the med bay. There always had to be something wrong with someone. The best news that ever escaped a doc’s mouth was “you’re good to go”. And there was hardly one that said it with such enthusiasm, like they were really eager and happy you were leaving them. Oh, no, the docs seemed to want to hold the bodies hostage and play around with them. Cersa didn’t like med bays. They were places of horror. The only thing worse was a hygiene inspector. Cersa could swear the guys were germ phobic to the highest possible degree.

The trip through the dying ships bowels went pretty smoothly to the mercy of Cersa and her man. They had even countered the third and last member of Cersa’s boarding party. The feline-like woman had chuckled at the twi’lek’s reaction to his blood covered leader. He had seemed genuinely surprised to see her in such a state, and possibly curious on how she was still walking.

To be honest, Cersa was a little puzzled about that herself. Her side lanced up with pain even when she stepped as light and as quickly as she could with her right leg. Her jaws could be heard snapping from time to time, and violent hiss of air would sometimes sound from her. Everything was tingly around the wound when there wasn’t pressure on her leg. That worried Cersa a little, but she never did quite understand blaster bolts, the guns they belonged to, and her medical expertise on burns was far below average. There was only one thing on Cersa’s mind: Get out with the doc. It could be simply sheer willpower Cersa was operating on, to complete her mission, which was high priority. Or it could be another force at work, Cersa didn’t know. Or had she become accustomed to enduring pain that it really didn’t bother her? Whatever the reason, Cersa was still gritting and gnashing her teeth together, now and again scraping her leading fangs together uncomfortably. That was how she would carry through until sitting in the dropship.

It was delightful to see the dropship still there when Cersa made it back to the hangar. And still in one shape. There were living, breathing, moving bodies all around it, mostly ones sporting republic armor or something of a medically styled clothing. The cathar could tell on site they weren’t returning with as many men as they had come with. The regulars would suffer those losses, and Cersa was slightly saddened at the fact as well. She had sobered up to that fact as she had downing three drinks without going tipsy. Men and women died. That’s what fighting did to good people. It killed them. At least she was returning with her two men, however, who seemed to have undergone much less than she had. Which was good, though Cersa. No one needed to feel pain. No one here deserved it unless they were jerks. And Cersa didn’t recognize any jerks here.

Once boarded and the rescued medical staff were accounted for, the dropship lifted from the hangar and spun off, heading back toward the Ascension. Cersa, sitting down with her head against the bulkhead, breathed deeply with deep brown eyes closed. There were many curious looks from the Republic soldiers and many rather frightened glances from the rescued staff. The smell of gutted sentient beings (if pirates were at all thinking animals) wasn’t exactly very pleasant either. The ride wasn’t as smooth as Cersa had wished, and she did her best to, once again, favor her wounds. I hate riding ships. Nothing to do but give your soul up to the guy piloting it and say your prayers. Hope for the best.

Cersa’s fears learned to calm themselves. The ride soothed over and the whir of its working engines purred down as the dropship landed and powered down. There was a loud sigh from the cathar woman as she drew herself up. The corporal came to her side, supporting her arm with his (avoiding touching the blood with his hands) to help her stand. Cersa didn’t wave him off. It made getting to her feet much easier and disturbed her major wound less. Half stumbling off the dropship, the corporal who had already seemed to taking a liking to her not far behind, Cersa brought out her datapad and drew up schematics of the ship she had downloaded before she had left to crack a few pirate skulls.

“I’m sorry that I don’t know my way around the ship very well yet,” Cersa said, studying her datapad. “But my friend here,” she waggled the datapad some, “surely know the way. Onward.” And Cersa was moving forward again. The first few steps were hard, having rested on a lurching ship, and leaving the wound settled. There was a low growl deep in Cersa’s throat as she willed herself to ignore the throbbing and lead Jessica to the med bay.

It certainly made a difference with a bloody coating with the glances the others shot her way. No longer was she a cathar, but she was a cathar with a cover that radiated a certain intimidation. Cersa found it all too funny, but kept laughs aside for now. Any movement of her abdomen was bothering her by now. And because of that, the trip to the med bay seemed to take far too long. The datapad didn’t fail her, as usual, and Cersa was soon walking into the medical detention center, grimacing at some of the wounded and eyeballing the equipment that was swirling, whirring, purring, or making less than pleasing sounds. It was enough to scare the living to death and startle the dead from death.

Cersa, leaning a good part of her weight on the corporal by now, twisted her neck and gestured Jessica forward. “All right, Doc, here’s your field of battle. What’re your commands?”

And then her datapad gave a cute bleeping sound. Cersa lifted it up and thumbed a button. Second briefing. Great. At least it was later on. Maybe after this patching up she could choke down some food and crash into dreamland for a while.

[skaral]

"A...Are you a Jedi Knight?" asked the very woozy and confused Lieutenant Sharkal.

He knew that what she had done had been with the Force. No one could have done that with any sort of medical tools. The warming sensation as his arm was miraculously healed was something from beyond physical abilities. The Second Lieutenant did not even feel the wet blood ooze from the wound anymore, for there was no wounds left. He did not expect a sniper of all things to be a Jedi Knight or to be trained in any of those Jedi Arts. Jarka let the fluid drip and his painkillers slowly put him to sleep, a well needed one at that.

The medical shuttle's comm beeped, he got his orders to load the last few patients he could hold and pack up and leave. As the last patients filled up the beds, the shuttle's landing ramp slid back into place. He commed into the Ascension's medical bay and requested the medical bay be readied for incoming arrival of the patients. He had them put an emergency receiving team in the hangar to await the vessel's arrival and had the medical staff on board prep the patients for transport as the ship warmed up its engines.

Jarka drifted off into a dream as the medical ship's repulsors fired up and the landing gear folded back into place. His dream was of his childhood, events that had brought him happiness in his early days.

[Jace]

(I made this in like 10 minutes before class so its rushed and phail, don't judge me T_T)

It was a little too quiet for Shen's taste, it tended to make her uneasy. Space of course was a quiet place but in her experience, there should be molten debris and loud beeps and a whole plethora of other sensations. Just as soon as things got quiet, two larger anomalies arrived in the area. They seemed to be holding a moderate crew which led her to the conclusion that they were probably corvettes. She was of course proven correct by the loud beeping of Arthas.

"Oh calm down Arthas, its barely worth mentioning"

She hit the throttle and accelerated towards the corvettes where more fighters were approaching. She quickly engaged a fighter and after a few quick manouvers she got behind him and shot the fighter down. She was just about to go for more when she realized the Ascension was about to lay down some heavy fire. She rather not get caught up in all that.

"We will let Crassus do the work" she said to Arthas and received a few quiet beeps in response.

She watched as the corvettes were mauled by the Ascensions superior firepower, very impressed. At least she knew that Crassus could handle himself, or at least he had a damn good crew. She received the call to return to the Ascension.

"This is Viper, cover the dropships, and then return to base" she stated calmly into her comm unit.

All in All not a bad start, though she was of course unaware of the current state of the Ascension. Not to mention what they might face at Subterrel. Those were things she would deal with later, now all she wanted was a good nap.

[10Tickler]

Clearing the decks, room after room, the pirates seemed to have scattered for the most part. That made Damien's job easier, and as they cleared the last assigned room, Several nurses from it accompanied them back to the hanger, through smoke-filled hallways. Damien moved in silence, the rest of his Squad that was with him speaking to the Nurses, those people they had come to get, trying to Glean as much information about what had happened as was possible. It didn't sound good to him, and looking at Ishtar, Damien nodded to the Droid, well-disguised as a Female Human.

Taking his Nod for what she knew it would be, the AER droid, Designation 09, moved ahead of them, her sensors didn't detect anymore lifeforms, nothing that would attack or Damage her systems. She understood Damien's need for silence, as did the Deveronian behind him.

It took a short while to get back to the hanger, and when they reached it, the Dropship that had brought them over was waiting, the pilot looking Harried. The others were there, including the Command Sergeant. Sighing, Damien took his Helmet off and Looked at Rah for a moment, then glared at Sean, his eyes boring holes into the Sniper's head. Damien was not happy with how Sean had been acting recently, and it showed. Still silent, he made a note to himself to Give Sean a Good Talking to later on, and to Maybe Ask the Other Sergeant what the HELL she thought she was doing.

[skaral]

Sergeant Bakkara gathered the staff and such out of the dining hall and told all of them to be on the look for more pirates. He could see now the damage of the corvette taking its tole. Kha knew it was time to get the frell out of there. He commed to the rest of his men that were scattered on the ship. In a few short minutes, the team grouped back together all three of them rushed to the hangar. The dropships and medical shuttle were beginning to take off. He noticed that one was left that could fit many more passengers was awaiting stragglers.

"Get to that dropship!" shouted the Sergeant.

The medical staff and other survivors with the soldiers ran onboard the dropship. It was a tight pack fitting the three soldiers and the twelve survivors onto the dropship, but they all fit nonetheless. The dropship's repulsorlifts fired up and the ship's engines growled as they began to roar to life. The dropship took off with the others.

Jarka felt the medical shuttle lift off. Its engines fired up and it joined in the middle of the dropship formation. The Second Lieutenant slowly drifted to sleep as the ship moved forward. The pain medication droned out the pain of a medical droid taking the pieces of shrapnel from his side that had pierced his body armor.

[Val - Warning:Contains Sarcasm]

Jessica remained silent on the dropship back to the starship, and also from the dropship through the corridors to the med bay. She wasn't shy, she just couldn't be bothered talking at the moment. These people weren't particularly interesting, and the Cathar had went silent by now. The Cathar was interesting though, not like the typical proud ones that were haughty and above other sentients. At least that's the impression given off in her experience. They arrived at the med bay, and Chezz was quite happy that Wexon had decided to keep quiet and not quiz her about random facts of little importance.

The med bay was not quite how she remembered it being on her old ship. This one was almost full, and the noise inside could be heard from down the hallway. The doors slid open, and a hot, sweaty, desparate atmosphere assailed them. There were dozens of men here, with varying levels of injuries being attended to by a single medical droid. One that wasn't even particularly effecient either. It was hovering between two beds at the moment, presumably trying to attend to two similar patients but struggling with recording only the relevant data. She presumed this because the exact same thing happened with her old medical droid.

"Well isn't this the perfect holiday spot? Wexon, go make yourself useful. get me a patient history of everyone here injured."
"But the other medical droid appears to be making good progress with that, Chezz." The AER model fluttered in front of her, as though she wasn't giving it her full attention.
"Do you think I turned you on to contradict everything I tell you to do? Medical histories, now." She moved past the droid, heading towards a vacant bed in the corner of the medical bay. She motioned for the Cathar to take a seat before opening a nearby medical cabinet to see what was available for use.

"OK I can either knock you out or I can give you something to numb most of your body if you'd rather stay awake. Some of the shots you took might require some... penetration." She grinned, enjoying her own bit of immaturity.

[Mara]

Pak had just blown apart a fighter that had been on his wingman's tail, when his comm crackled, a moment later hearing Shenhua's voice coming across the frequency. A moment after they had all received the call to return to the Ascension. Boy, that woman was quick, thought the Balosar. Hopefully only in battle, however...

He shoved those thoughts away and focused on his duty. Pak didn't know why he his mind had drifted like that. He was always so businesslike when he was flying, or on active duty. His job always came first. Something had to be done about those thoughts. Perhaps being in the same squadron as Shen again wasn't such a good thing after all. But he couldn't do anything about that now. He needed to get back to the ship, and make sure the dropships got back safely as well.

Taking his Venom fighter in a slow roll to the port side, he called the rest of his half of the squadron to form up behind him, in their respective pairs. "Let's go finish up this thing up, guys." Pak followed behind Shenhua and her five fighters with his own group as they headed closer to the Ascension and looked out for the Republic dropships and any remaining pirate fighters who were willing to challenge the odds of survival against 12 of the hottest fighter pilots the Republic had ever seen.

A smile came across the Balosar's face as he thought about it. A smile that quickly faded as they got closer to the action and Pak and his wingmate split off from the squadron formation, just as the others were as well, to cover the dropships. The duo raced forward, Pak heading straight for a suicidal pirate trying to shoot down one of the ships. Instead, he exploded in a million pieces just before Pak flew through the debris field left by the fighter. He took his fighter back around, keeping an eye on the action through his viewscreen and on his console. So far. So good.

[skaral]

Jarka Sharkal did not see much as he was rushed with the other casualties to the med bay of the Ascension. It was all a blur through pain medication and exhaustion. He had an IV drip still and he could hear the chatter of doctors. As soon as he opened his eyes again he had no clothes on and an anesthesia mask over his mouth and nose. The doctors were muttering about a piece of deeply lodged shrapnel in his side. As he drifted off to sleep the doctors began the surgery to take it out.

Sergeant Kha Bakkara lead the rest of the fire team to the armory to place their weapons back. He then ordered for them to take off their gear and get something to eat or take a break. Kha himself sat in the break room and lit up a cigarra. He puffed it to light it and then inhaled the harsh smoke. He breathed the smoke out and began thinking. It had been a rough day for him and the men he had to lead in place of their injured C.O. and the other two sergeants with them. Taking another drag and slowly exhaling, he looked at his hands, they were shaking. He figured it was probably from adrenaline still pulsing in him, but in the back of his mind he knew it was from something else.

Jarka awoke a few hours later in a kolto tank. He looked around disoriented and confused. He began to struggle as he breathed in the air through his breather. He watched the medical droids floating and repairing his healing side. He looked around wildly, Jarka had never been in a kolto tank before. It was a confusing and disorienting experience that he hoped never to have to experience again. He began to panic as he noticed the confined and seemingly trapped space he was in. The young Lieutenant began to bang wildly on the inside of the transparisteel.

[Squee]

Doc was a take charge person. Cersa liked that. She had called the medical bay exactly what it would be to Jessica: her battlefield. Where she could go off her rocket about how someone did die or didn’t die, why the bandages were in the wrong cabinet and simply go bat crazy on someone for coming in with a flimsy cut. Yep, Doc was going to have fun times. While Cersa could deal with the guts of her enemies pouring over her hands, stabbing needles into someone’s arm was just… well, didn’t fit her character. Stab to kill, was what Cersa had learned. Stab to save? Was it just her or did that seem a little too much like an oxymoron as she thought about it?

The cathar woman chuckled at Jessica’s comment to the place being a “holiday spot”, almost instantly hissing as her side throbbed with pain. The best holiday spot before someone died, maybe. Cersa didn’t plan on spending a long vacation here. She really wanted food… and sleep. Sleep would be nice. And if someone wanted her attention, they had better bring her a cup of coffee because she was going to stay up any longer than she had to.

She was being random. Random was bad. Her focus needed to return, spite the wooziness and fluttering feeling in her head, a blissful lightheadedness. Somewhat. Half of Cersa believed she was going to be sick at the swirl of colors and shapes before her. Her eyes closed for a moment, hardly understanding Jessica’s next words of order issued to her robotic pet bird. She took a shuddering breath and readjusted her grip on the corporal’s shoulder, feeling as his hand also grasped better on her wrist and shifted on her side. She had opened her eyes in time to see Doc wander on ahead, leaning on that cane of hers, to the back of the med bay. The effects of Cersa’s wounds were beginning to get a hold of her, making her step wobbly and the cathar was suddenly very grateful she had the corporal supporting her. And she limped forward with his help and sat down when Jessica motioned so, Cersa became acutely aware of the stings and pulsing throbs now.

Her palm was beating out pain, making a funny feeling in her wrist where the pulse of her heart could be found. The shallow cut on her cheek was stinging. Her shoulder blade felt wet, probably from blood. Cersa saw a red smudge on her forearm now, her light armor punctured through and torn from something. And the uncomfortable pain radiating out from her side and tearing at her gut was terribly excruciating.

“Enough. Stop coddling the damned headache and walk it off. You have been through far worse than this to simply sit around and whine silently to yourself. Maybe the new promotion has already gotten to you?”[/b]

Wait, WHAT? Who was talking? How had they known something was spinning around in her head? And what the hell was up with a promotion?

“… Did either of you two say something?” Cersa asked, before Jessica spoke and after she had say down. She blinked at them in turn, earning a shaking of the head from the corporal. “Oh, whatever. Corporal, you’re dismissed. Mind pulling the swinging curtain thingy around?” “I doubt I’ll be staying in the torn suit for long, and cathar or not, I don’t wish for prying eyes.” “Go sleep, eat, amuse yourself, I suppose.” And the man responded with a muted nod, swinging the curtain as he went away.


“Take my love, take my land
I don't care, I'm still free,
Take me where I cannot stand,
You can't take the sky from me”

“A pilot without his wings...” [/b]

There is WAS again. Cersa looked left and right, slightly twisting with a hand hovering over her side wound, as if looking for something. Was someone speaking to her? No one was here but Jessica, and she hadn’t yet said much of anything. “Doc, do you hear something? Like, a male voice of some kind…” Cersa blinked at the human woman’s face. “And I swear to the gods I’m not insane, I can promise you that along with that swear.”

And by then Jessica had turned with an choice, adding a bit of immature flare to it. Cersa rolled her slit eyes, not thoroughly amused with the sexually related word that seemed to be passing through the Doc’s mind. Seriously now? At a time like this when Cersa had a mini crater burned into her side and she thought she was losing her mind, hearing things the way she did. “Thanks Doc for the image. Just numb me. I don’t feel like sleeping just yet.” Cersa would much rather fall asleep willingly than being drugged to. It was more natural and proper, she thought. Cersa fumbled for a moment with her suit, finding the clasp and zipper and undoing them. She wore little beneath, and therefore leaving little to the imagination, as she pulled arms out of the suit and pushed it down to her hips, hissing slightly as it peeled away from the wound. It exposed clearly the singed edges of fur and blackened and/or pink flesh, along with the rather slightly shaded area where the hole in her side was, oozing fluids already and looking funny every time the giant feline breathed. “That… looks… problematic.”

“... but that is not the case...”[/b]

Bloody voices.

“Wow, Crass, she's gonna be laughing at how pathetic you are by the end of the day.”

Now Crass was someone she believed she knew, right? Wasn’t that the Commander’s first name? Cersa would check her datapad to make sure, but she believed so. Who was the Commander talking about? Was she just imagining things? Her head was starting to hurt… Where were these voices coming from? … And it sounded awful like the Commander now that she actually thought about it.

“Thank the For-... damnit. Stop thinking. NO. STOP. THINKING.”

Yes, please, maybe then Cersa would stop hearing sounds, right? If these were thoughts, someone needed to shut the hell up. She was getting tired of hearing thoughts too. Thoughts that weren’t hers. How was she even hearing them in the first place? That was a rather freaky thought of her own to be thinking.

“Bah. Never happen. She wouldn't want to be with a guy like you anyways, Crass. Not if she was sane anyhow.” [/b]

Wait, wait… Commander was crushing on someone? Cersa was beginning to think her mind was playing tricks on her. But, what if this was real? Cersa suppressed a snicker, for the sake of maintaining her composure of outward sanity and to prevent anymore pain. Rich stuff. Maybe she would seek out the Commander and ask him about something. If he seemed puzzled, then she’d seem like an idiot. But, looking like an idiot might be worth it if she got a reaction out of him. Cersa decided to meditate on that as the Doc began her… doctoring things.

[Val - Warning:Contains Sarcasm]

Jessica looked with concern at the Cathar as she winced and clenched and contorted with the pain of the battle. She was delusional too, and she would have immediately knocked her out if she hadn't chosen the sedative. She nodded, respecting her patient's wishes, despite preferring to not have to subject the Cathar to what could be terrible mental images of the treatment. She already had a list of things she'd need to do, and exploritory surgery was something she liked to avoid having her patients awake for. She'd avoid that if possible. How exactly do you tell someone you're cutting them up to see what's wrong with them?

She observed the hole in the side first. The liquids on it had already begun seeping to the floor. She told one of the waiting soldiers to get her a bucket from it, and he complied with her request, provoking the interest of a few doctors whom she had apparently either not noticed or mistook for other soldiers... what, in their white lab coats and all. She rolled her eyes to herself, not liking the whole 'power uniform' thing as they strolled over to her.
"Excuse me miss, I'd appreciate it if you put that needle down." One of them said to her, apparently worried that a 'civilian' was administering care to a patient. Jessica ignored him, exhaling and delivering the sedative to the Cathar. The doctors moved immediately to grasp her wrist.

"You will unhand me, doctor, or there will be serious repercussions on your behalf." She threw him a vile stare.
"We can't allow unauthorised and untrained personelle to deliver treatment. For all we know she could be a drug addict." Jessica wrested her wrist back from his grasp and pushed him back, causing her hair to scruff a little and fall out of place.
"She has kidney damage and blaster marks, and probably shrapnel lying close to some system orgens. Her skin is damaged and I've only just given her the pain numbing she probably needed half an hour ago. I think it's a safe bet to say she's not doing it for drugs. And probably not Munchausen's either. Or Munchausen's by proxy. Or heavy metal poisoning... well may- no, not heavy metal poining. Or Zabrak cranial horn dysfunction, or Ithorian spinal rickets, or any other problem you've ever heard of in your limited training."

She paused. Maybe for dramatic effect, maybe to catch her breath. Maybe because she found that soldier in the corner was kind of attractive. Maybe she delayed the pause because she noticed it was a woman, but she was still attractive. Maybe she needed sleep.
"I'm Doctor Chezz. I own more degrees and diplomas then you have showers in a week. And judging by your gleaming skin and fruity smell, I'm guessing you're pretty anal about your tri-daily showering. Now either be professional and attend to your patients... or get out of my med bay." She finalised this by lifting up a scalpel and raising it threateningly, directed at the exit. They paused, then returned to their patients, giving her the much needed space to work.

"Sorry about that. Hopefully I can work properly now." She apoligised, not comfortable around having to argue around doctors in front of patients. Especially when there was such an obvious skill difference. She noticed the bucket was half full by now. Or half empty. Either way it wasn't good, and she directed her attention to this. The fluid was a sick reddish colour, which was her clue to kidney damage in the first place. Probably something that pierced the skin enough, but not all the way. It was at the back of her body, and and struggled to lift her up enough to be able to rest her on the side of her arm. She only needed this for a few seconds, so it would be fine. She picked up a cloth, quickly wiping away until the cloth was stained beyond use, before picking up another, then another, until she could finally see through the hole to what was the major problem.

"Wexon, get over here." She called to the bird, wherever it was. It arrived surprisingly quickly, but then again it could fly and she had to hobble.
"Yes doctor?" She motioned for him to join her in observing the wound.
"I'm going to be getting several pieces of shrapnel out of here. I need you to do two things. Check her blood type and bring me two pints of the equivelant, and then prepare to seal the internal damage with me. We'll use that Jestomoud stuff they invented on Kuat." The droid seemingly doubted her for a second, before quickly pinching the skin of the Cathar and registering with a few blips.
"R-delta, AB positive doctor." The droid flew off as Jessica cursed the typicality of a rare blood type. Of all the chances. She pulled out a set of delicate foreceps and began to remove the small pieces of shrapnel from the kidney area. Wexon could do a scan later to check she'd gotten it all.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

((people try to hard. ~_~))

"A...Are you a Jedi Knight?"

Red eyes flickered open again at the words and she gave a short, bark like, laugh.

Oh if only.

If only she was, if only they had allowed her to train, if only the pup of a soldier knew how his words had wounded and would haunt her. She didn't let this injury show, however, not through the force and not in her body language. Shaking her head, the Chiss woman sighed.

No, I am not a knight...I am simply a soldier for the Republic, now go to sleep.

She didn't even need a mind trick to convince the man's already tired mind and body to relax and send him to sleep. As he did, she stood and found a 'normal' place to sit, dragging herself to it and flopping into it, Sender perching on her knee as she did so. The little droid eyed the injury to her arm with mild interest and gave an audible sigh of what seemed to be frustration.

Do you ever NOT get injured, Rahja? I mean other than when I'm around? I seem to be your keeper more than your partner sometimes.

Rah opened her eyes again and blinked at the bird in mild curiosity and more than a bit of irritation. Looking back at her arm, she rolled her eyes and flicked the little AER between the photoreceptors with her finger.

Hush bird. I've had worse and you know it. It'll be seen to, not to worry, now stop your complaining and let me rest up a bit or I'll not be able to walk properly. I really don't feel like staggering all over the place, thanks.

Finally she rested her head back and sighed, closing her eyes again just as Damien and party returned. She didn't even pay his foul mood any attention. It didn't take long for the transport to reach the Ascension once more, and once there, she headed for the sick bay, had her arm patched up (it didn't need much), then headed straight back to the briefing room as per instructions. Nodding with an exhausted grunt to Crass, she took her previous seat, shooed Sender away from her shoulder, sat, and folded her arms across the table and settled her head down on them not even bothering to stifle her yawn.

[A®heim]

Rahja moved faster than Sean could have ever imagined. In the time it took him to fend off his single surprise attacker, she was already moving to end the remaining pirates' lives. The image it left was frightening at best; the arterial blood now spattered across the armor and skin of the Chiss accented her crimson eyes eerily, contrasting sharply with the deep blue skin. The result was something of beauty. Not of sexually attractive beauty so much as the awe inspired by a predatory cat or some other great predator. It was the fearfulness of it that takes one's breath away.

The woman apparently shared a similar opinion and had it multiplied times ten by the traumatic experience she had just gone through. Funny thing about those in the medical profession: they spend their entire career working amongst and within the suffering of others, and yet when it comes to themselves they're suddenly that same frightened little child they had worked with from the other end of the scalpel. Emotional damages were no different.

As such his hand was grasped with a firmer grip than Sean would have imagined possible in her weakened state, and practically clung to his side. The strength of fear...one eye she kept on Rahja, never wavering. When Sean stepped forward, she followed with cautious, yet brisk strides. Thank god for that; it was never fun to drag a shell-shocked comrade around a battlefield, and though this woman was certainly a considerable bit lighter, it would still be awkward and near impossible to do any effective combat.

Sean did his best to comfort the lady, but remained alert and attentive (for once) once Rahja spoke. He felt a little guilty though; he had never been very good at following orders given to him by Damien, and now here he was drinking in every syllable from the Chiss. Perhaps it was just refreshing to get orders from a more versatile and equal mind, maybe he was starting to tire of Damien, or maybe it was just because she was a woman. Yeah, probably that last one. Whatever the case, he nodded, if somewhat reluctantly, and began to lead the lady down the hall in the direction they had come from. He didn't like being told something was out of his league, but what annoyed him most was that she was probably right: he was definitely not the greatest marksman in the Republic, he was just really, really good.

But sometimes being good just isn't enough...

Unable to fully repress his rebellious nature, Sean reopened comlines and remained silent. He was just in time to catch the last snippet to Sender. Oh god, please don't be... His muttering was noted by the lady whose eyes widened again in fear. Sean did his best to assure him it was nothing to be worried about, but his eyes must have given it away. The pair spent the remainder of the journey flashing their gazes around warily.

Although it was a relief not to have to carry her, walking still seemed more difficult than usual. It was odd, really; sure he was tired, but he hadn't lost THAT much sleep. Then there was the fact that this was more of a physical discomfort than simple weariness. Had he been shot? Sean's mind flipped back through recent events...

Blood ran down his shoulder along his forearm.

Oh yeeeaahhh...

He eyed the large red gash in his souvenir T-shirt with more of a look of annoyance than pain. Wampa wheat! This thing was collector's edition, too. If covered in blood, keep a humorous attitude. Chicks dig it. I swear. The chick clasping Sean's arm only turned a slight shade of green and smiled weakly. Hmm...maybe that rule of thumb becomes void when you bleed on said chick. Ah well, can't win everyday. As it was, the injury was messy, but not deep, which was a small mercy. All the same, it was starting to hurt like a vornskr!

Stumbling at last into the landing bay, another small mercy presented itself in the form of several more-or-less intact transports still remaining. As much fun as puttin' plasma into pirate pancreata, there is no more welcoming sight than that of the ride home....except for home maybe....unless you still live in your grandmother's basement. The first thing he did was get to the make-shift infirmary. The lady would have to be checked up to make sure those scurvy dogs (arrrr!) didn't hurt her more than he could tell at first glance. Oh yeah, and deal with the hole in his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Rahja had beaten them there and was already tending to the wounded.

Wait...she shoots people, she's a doctor too?

Sean was standing behind Rahja with a sparkling new bandage along his left arm and a webweaver blanket draped over a shirtless torso when she finished working on Jarka. He was already fairly sure what she was and what she had been doing, and Sender's statement confirmed it. Well now, that was interesting. Sean fixed her with a sly smile while he leaned half for support and half for dramatic effect against a collapsed hanger support beam. Regaining his stature with a slight grunt of effort, he continued. Then again, it would explain a lot I suppose. Your natural talent, super-natural reflexes, and seemingly unspoken communication with our ever-loved commander. Don't be humble, the bird standing in front of you is testament to that... He paused to look off into the distance, half for dramatic effect, and half to note that his own Sergeant arrived with the rest of the squad. Not a single man down. Thank the stars for the large mercy thrown in now and then. Of course with the mighty men and women of H.A.L.O., it would have been surprising to see one go down. Compared to the Sith military and a Dark Jedi or two, these pirates were as nunas to scyks.

When she moved to sit down, Sean first noted the similar injury she had endured. He may not know much about the Force sensitive, but from what he had seen (and what he was seeing), healing was no walk in the park. To put oneself through so much physical exertion, get injured, and THEN put oneself though so much mental and spiritual exertion... Now he just felt like a wimp. He couldn't help but snort a laugh at Sender's appraisal to his position. Sender, you have no idea how correct you are. You AERs are more than tools I'm sure you've realized. You're there to augment her actions, and she to augment yours. True, you're partners, but should it not fall to our eyes in the skies to watch out for the soldier, oh keeper of the mighty marksman? Sean winked at Rah and patted Sender lightly on the head.

Sean swept his gaze over the ward. It was ghastly. Injuries of every sort met his eyes. Fortunately, they were onboard a medical frigate so there was surplus of medical supplies, not to mention the few survivors that were found mostly had at least some medicinal expertise. But there were so many more wounded...some he recognized, others unknown to him but allies nonetheless. Even Cersa, the Cathar he had mocked hardly an hour ago, lay wounded on a make-shift bunk, one of the ship doctors hovering over her with a needle that could skewer a bantha. Sean froze. I-i-impossible! Or at least horrendously unlikely. He whispered to himself as he blinked in utter disbelief. AER-06 hovered around nearby the woman treating Cersa, apparently talking to her. But then that would mean she was...but she wasn't in the military. Familiar never fails to perplex. He had just put together what he would say to inquire further into this mystery when Damien and the squad started towards the transports.

At Damien's approach, Sean stiffened a little. Tensions were high between the two Sergeants, but Rahja seemed too exhausted to even argue at the moment, so he went out himself to bear the brunt. It was only fair, after all, he was one of Damien's men and only he could fight his own battles. He and Ayer that is, but...well...yeah...

Sir. Sean gave the man that had bore him through years of training and dragged his sorry behind through miles of mud a small, but polite salute. All the team is accounted for then? Finally some good news... Sean suddenly became very interested in the floor mesh and kept his gaze pinned there. He resisted every urge to drag his foot. Look sir, I apologize for separating from the group, but I felt I could have served a much greater use on my own than amongst the team. You know us snipers; we work best far away...so...um... His hand started to move involuntarily towards one of the wildfire grenades in his belt. He managed to disguise it as scratching an itch at the last second, but that was getting ridiculous. Good grief, get a hold of yourself, man. Damien is your friend and ally, not an enemy ambush to be escaped by any and all means! He remained silent for another moment before sighing and turning towards the transport. I cannot atone for my actions, but they are my actions to take. If I were any different, I wouldn't be under your command. Sean stepped onto the transport as he said this and took his seat. He respected that man, but he would not succumb to being a mere tool. Damien was his comrade, his friend, and he would like to think his equal. It had been a rough time for all of them, that much he understood and hoped his lieutenant would as well.


The trip back to the Ascension was in total silence, everyone on board being either lost in thought or simply too exhausted. Back on board, the first thing Sean did was take a much needed 30-second military shower and change clothes. Mourning the loss of his shirt, he donned his white button-up and combat trousers (though he still kept the finely woven blanket around his shoulders) as he mulled over the appearance of the med...ical...bird...duh. Brrrzzzzzz. Before that train of thought had arrived at the station, a single sheet of white paper slid from a tiny slit in the wall. A fax? When was this ship built? When the republic was first founded? [/i] Then again, it did make a little sense. With electronic and commline communication being much easier to hack and tap than more archaic measures. Of course, then there was another question: why was HE getting a fax?

He drew the slip from the wall and glanced over it fervently. He was disappointed; a request to all agents to meet back in the briefing room for details on the next move. Sean crumpled up the paper and collapsed with his head in his hands on his bunk. What "next bloody step" was there? They haven't had a FIRST bloody step! Resigning himself to his sleepless fate, Sean rose from the bed and started for the door. Brrrzzzzzz. Sean stopped in the doorway and turned his head in one part disgust, one part curiosity at the new piece of paper that was so white it almost seemed to glow. Or maybe he was just starting to feel the effects of the antibiotics. Whatever the case, he yanked the second paper from the slit and read it over.

Of concern to Agent "Reaper"

Greetings Reaper, I first want to make something absolutely clear: you never got this message. That's not to say it's going to self-destruct or anything, but just keep this quiet. All others this may concern will be informed at their proper time. We have received some rather unexpected funding from an anonymous donor and we wish to continue to strive ahead. As I'm sure your partner had taught you, our "gifts" are no mere tools for use in the war effort. We only incorporate the best in what we create and as such we're always looking to improve. I have received knowledge that the Starship Ascension will likely be docking at the Kuat Drive Yards in the near future. This is rather advantageous as you may remember that our Head Quarters is located on the planet below. We thus request that you and several other representatives who will receive a similar invitation pay a visit to discuss future actions to be taken here. I trust you recall where and how to get in as I cannot risk that information to be intercepted, by friend or foe alike. On a more personal note, I wish to give my full condolences for the loss of Ayer. Trust my word when I say I understand fully how much of a friend he was to you. That said, I feel I should inform you that your grief for his "loss" may have reason to be. Your partner is perfectly intact and operational. I wish to tell you more, but I cannot at this time. It will be discussed when we meet, Reaper.

Wizard
PF


Without a word or second glance, Sean folded the paper neatly and placed it in his pants pocket. He had to fight to keep back the tears; the subject of his lost friend was a touchy thing, but if what this letter said was true...hope can be a beautiful thing. The news seemed to fill him with a new energy, and Sean harnessed it to carry himself grudgingly out the door and back to the briefing room. Still not to his surprise, Rahja had beaten him there. A new question suddenly entered his mind: had she gotten it too? She had possession of an AER- and then...that would mean that doctor from before might receive similar news. This "wizard" had said that everyone this concerned would be informed in due time, but when was that in relation to his own acquisition of the letter? For all he knew, Rahja might've gotten the same slip days ago!

Sean sat without a word several seats from Rahja. It would not due to take an early side in a likely conflict between her and Damien, they would have to bear it upon themselves. Rahja herself still looked like a freshly risen corpse and her unconcealed yawn only served to remind Sean how exhausted he was as well. Poof goes the good news coffee! He had just compiled a mental note to speak to the doctor about her AER as soon as he got the chance, when the warm arms of much-needed sleep pulled his mind into blissful oblivion. Good thing he had brought a blanket!

((OOC: Feel free to receive a similar letter anyone who has an AER/has arranged to get one.))
((P.S.OOC: lolrus = big funny. So there!))

[skaral]

With the bacta treatment complete, Jarka headed to his quarters on the officer's level. He went into his wardrobe and retrieved a sealed up dress uniform. It was firmly pressed and had been washed and pressed just before the departure to the ship. He unzipped the cover and took the black uniform out. He then went to a case set on his night stand and retrieved his rank insignia, Infantry pin, name pin, and the marksman medal he had obtained during training. He dressed in the uniform and zipped the jacket up to the neck as required by military standards. He put on the black pants and zipped them up. They were very tight around the legs so that they would fit nicely inside his dress boots.

Jarka got out the shiny, black dress boots from under his bed and put them on. He buttoned the flaps to their fasteners on the sides and got out his dress belt and leather holster for his side arm. Fastening the belt, Jarka clipped the holster to the left side of his belt and neatly tucked in his sidearm. He reached down and put it on safety, almost forgetting. Jarka got out his dress cap and fit it snugly to his head. He then pinned the blue balls that signified Second Lieutenant to either side of his collar and then attached the the Infantry pin to the lower part of it.

Jarka took a quick moment to look in the mirror, he saw his tall, lean body dressed in the immaculate dress uniform and smiled. He had seen a holo of his father in the same uniform fifty years ago. Jarka walked to the briefing room where he was needed and sat down in the seat he had taken before they had left.

"Excuse me for my tardiness, Commander Vossk." said Jarka.

[10Tickler]

Indeed, the ride had been awkward, Listening to Sean stammer out half-apologies and excuses had been almost as hard too, to see a man that he knew was one of the Toughest people that Damien knew, and seeing him so abashed was a difficult sight to watch. Placing his hand on Sean's shoulder, Damien had nothing to say, but merely nodded at him, a wane smile crossing his face. He had never been able to hold a Grudge against a Friend for long.

In the silence, he had been able to think, to consider, and Looking over his shoulder at Ellemaiare, he spared a smile for her as the Dropship landed, people going in all directions. Some went to the medbay of their own accord, some were carried by others. Some went down corridors, to Bunks or to Mess, some even went to the Weight rooms.

Staying seated in their Transport until the Hangers started to clear out, Damien's team was joking amongst one another, they hadn't lost anyone, no one had been wounded among the people that had remained with the groups. So, it was with much laughing and joking around that the Soldiers in the H.A.L.O.A.T.W. Moved back to their Barracks aboard ship, their commander hoping the entire time that Someone, somewhere, had learned something about Deployment strategies.

It didn't take Long for Damien to reach his own Quarters, Pausing at the door to exchange a Quick kiss with Ellemaiare as Ishtar moved behind him, into the room on her own. However, the Kiss ended quickly, their fingers holding on to one another for a few more moments before finally parting, the Deveronian female moving to her own Quarters, shared with the other Females in the Unit. Watching her form as she departed, Damien sighed in a rather contented way, moving into his own quarters and Sitting on the bed. He had already received the report of the Debriefing time and Place, and the Slip of paper that Exited the Fax Machine in the wall went unnoticed. Laying back, he simply sighed, letting his eyes close and Falling asleep, the blackness of a Dreamless unconsciousness taking him as it's own.

It felt as though no time had passed, but the incessant pecking at his forehead told Damien that it was time to awaken, and as his eyes opened, he stared at the Seagull-sized Droid on his chest. Having fun? he asked Ishtar, the AER model 009, who chirped and warbled a little as though affronted by his mocking tone. You and I both know that you don't have time to relax...you're liable to be getting chewed out by the Captain already for that fit you threw in the hanger, you don't need to add being late to Debriefing to the list of offenses she chided, hopping off of him, taking flight in the air as he sat up, and then stood.

A quick shave and shower, and Damien felt better, though still dreaded the Response from the captain. In a way, though, it was the Command's own fault. If they had established a Contingency plan for such a thing, there wouldn't have been the Mix-up to start with. Dressed in his BDU's, tight and Crisp seams, Damien Stood and moved into the hallway. His unit wasn't supposed to be there, not even Sean, it was his duty to Go, and relay information back to the Unit's own Debriefing, scheduled for shortly after the Main one. It took the Soldier only a few short minutes to reach the room, and pushing the door open, he entered, sharp eyes passing over the room's occupants as he moved to his chair and sat in it, closing his eyes and waiting.