Knights of the Old Republic – Allegiances

Deep in the far reaches of the Outer Rim, the planet Gamorr and its moon reside eerily isolated. Forests and tundra occupy most of the planet’s surface; thus, covering up any evidence of a long forgotten war. Assortment of wildlife hunt in open fields, exotic jubba birds rule the skies, and aquatic gundarks command the open seas. Memories of the Great Sith War have been covered by years of reforestation, and its various inhabitants have enjoyed years of comfort and peace. So it may seem --

Underneath the layers of Gamorr’s forestation, the planet’s prime meridian holds one of Mandalore the Ultimate’s greatest secrets. Reaching twenty stories deep into the earth, the prison facility Dredge houses traitors, criminals, and spies. Elongated corridors separate rows of cells, bars of titanium secure prisoners, and the most violent species to live stands vigilant. Mandalore’s arrival to Gamorr was welcomed by warring factions of Gamorreans; thus, giving the Mandalorians an opportunity to seize control. Gamorreans were too involved with inner fighting to realize their enslavement. Rehabilitation was swift and horrific. Each of the remaining Gamorreans were put through extensive hours of conditioning; thus, creating the most lethal guards ever known. Armed only with a crude axe, the Gamorreans could overtake any opposition.

Walking with a sense of authority, the prison warden and a female guest strolled through the corridors. Prisoners watched quietly as the two passed; however, the occasional hand reached out for a sign of hope. Men, women, and children from around the galaxy were gathered into the iron confinement known as Dredge. Filthy faces of despair ascended from the dark corners of cells. Each one carried the scars of long years in solitary.

Nephthys stood slightly taller than average, she wore a tight leather jacket, black clad jeans, and an occupied gun holster. Her long blonde hair was tied back and swayed at shoulder length. “I was told the prisoners were ready for transport,” she questioned, “why has there been a delay?”

“We were not expecting your arrival,” the warden replied, “Mandalore is very secretive when dealing with bounty hunters.”

Nephthys gave a slight chuckle, “Mandalore agreed to their release for military supplies. The Exchange doesn’t take well in the delay of trials.”

“If I may be so bold,” the warden asked, “What did these men do to tick off the Exchange?”

Stopping in front of a cell, Nephthys responded, “They were born.”

“Ah, here we are,” the warden spoke, “Prisoner 147338, 147339, and 147340.” With a quick nod to the guards, the warden summoned three massive sized Gamorreans. “We leave the shock braces on until they are secured aboard your ship.”

“Very well”, Nephthys responded with a nod of her own.
___________________________________________

Reaching the top level took some time, but the cool fresh air was welcomed. Nephthys waited in the elevator as the warden and guards escorted the prisoners out. Hard lessons were learned over the years while dealing with Mandalorians, and this wasn’t the time to make exceptions. Two more meters until we are outside, Nephthys reminded herself.

“We will reach your ship soon,” the warden broke through the silence, “Do you have any questions?”

Nephthys responded, “Yes, What type of crimes did they do?”

“Prisoner 147338’s ,” the warden replied, “She was arrested for challenging the authority of Mandalore. Prisoner 147339’s was captured defending a group of children.”

Nephthys glanced at the third prisoner, and asked, “What about him?”

“Prisoner 147340,” the warden responded with a personal curiosity, “was responsible for leading an uprising of sorts.”
___________________________________________

All eight party members arrived at the landing pad, and the Gamorrean guards started towards an old 578-R Space Transport. Its exterior design gave a false illusion; thus, projecting the image of a small freighter. Three large engines filled the back, dark brown battle scared paint wrapped the frame, and an entry hatch and ramp opened to the landing pad.

“Secure them down in the cargo hold,” Nephthys commanded, while she stopped at the prison entrance. “I must thank you warden,” she commented with a slight bow. “The Exchange will not forget what you have done today. Mandalore will receive his supplies as requested.”

“It was my pleasure,” the warden replied, “I hope this will continue with strengthening our relationship.”

“Well, I must be going,” Nephthys responded, and then she proceeded to leave. Making her way towards the transport ramp, she spotted the three Gamorrean escorts departing from the ship. Seconds after her entry, she punched a wall control, and the ramp closed behind her.

Nephthys raced to the bridge, climbed into the pilot’s chair, and launched the transport skyward. Each of the three engines exploded with full thrust; thus, launching the ship swiftly through the atmosphere. Within two heartbeats of a moment, they were safely moving through hyperspace.

Gerris Hashthrak sat quietly on the balcony and watched as the ship made a hasty departure. He tired of such a obsolete post. He had to get off this rock . . . Gerris got up from the platform he was seated on and walked over to the edge of the balcony and stared blankly into the forest. Then he whirled on his heel and knelt by the platform, retrieving his rifle and making towards the door. Inputting the codes he hastily sealed the door and jumped down the staircase.

Then he walked to the armory. His armor was heavily customized, akin to perhaps the armor donned by Boba Fett of future generations. Though many of the functions were still obsolete, as he had only begun to make the attunements. If only he could be on Sullust, perching on a cliff and unloading energy concentrations upon the Republic's lines.

He longed for battle but knew such a thing was far off for him. He went to the small makeshift arena outside the compound, designed by some bored Mandalorian soldiers. He seated himself on a fallen log and watched the battle with semi-interest. The warrior in Red was obviously the champion, as he easily batted away the unco-ordinated punches of his opponent. The warrior in Green brought his boot to the champions chest and pushed forward with surprising strength.

Once again the Red proved superior, bringing forward his hand to catch the leg. Then he brought him upwards and swung him in a circle, twice. Upon releasing his grip the Red took a step back whilst the Green hurtled forward, smashing into a tree trunk. His helmet fell to the ground, to reveal fresh wounds running down his face. This warrior obviously was a rookie, but he had Mandalorian courage no doubt. Gerris placed his rifle on the ground and walked onto the small patch of turf marking the arena.

He clicked his knuckles and then bent his knees, going into a defensive stance. The Red took bait and charged, unleashing a flurry of punches upon his foe. Gerris waited for the right moment and then caught both fists at once. Pushing them upward and leaving the Red wide open. He then brought his knee swiftly to the Reds face. If the helmet was meant to afford protection under these circumstances then this must be the craftwork of a fool.

The helmet dented in, straight into the Reds jaw. The Red made a final attempt at salvation and swung for Gerris' legs. Gerris was no master of melee, he was a Mandalorian. The swipe caught him in the left knee and brought him to the floor. The Red slowly rose to his feet and brought his fists down upon Gerris' helmet.

Purely out of self-preservation Gerris fell left, tripping the Red into a nearby tree. Gerris knew most of these guards were straight from boot, the Red probaly earned his colors with little effort. But he knew against any Mandalorian with real skill, he would be in for a tough fight. He was no epic hero of the tales told unto each generation. He was a soldier with purpose and thats all there was to it.

Whilst in his contemplations Gerris gave the Red a opening. Fortunately for him the Red was far too inexperienced to take it, instead opting for a full on charge. Gerris rose and clutched the back of the Mandalorians helmet with his left hand, pulling him back. Then in a blur of motion he brought his fist into the Mandalorians chest, winding him. Then he once again put his knee to his face, grabbed the Reds back and flung him to the floor.

The other warrior, clearly exhausted and battered, conceded to Gerris, earning him the title of Champion.

The crowd roared in approval but Gerris simply helped the Red up, drew his pistol and shot it in the air to get the onlookers to shut up.

He chucked the pistol to the Red who clumsily fumbled in the air for his blaster as it fell to the ground. He reapproached the facility and entered via a side entrance. Then he saw the Warden go past.

He quickly turned and jogged to catch up to him.

"Sir, I request a transfer."

The warden sighed, this wasn't the first time they'd had the conversation. "Denied, Gerris just give it up. Your not going anywhere." Gerris stopped as the Warden proceded down a flight of stairs. He absently kicked the ground and walked back to his quarters.

As soon as he arrived he removed his armor and put it back on its figure-hold. Then, walking over to his training area, he deposited his rifle in the nearby rack and then turned to the holo-computer. "Activate training module 111195."

Suddenly a small disk at the far side of the room whirred to life as the image of a Mandalorian sparring officer appeared. "Input user ID."

Gerris then put his palm on a small pad next to the computer. "Access granted. Initializing training program 111195." The hologram suddenly took on color and features, almost becoming real. Almost . . .

The hologram charged and Gerris raised his fist to deflect the first blow of many. He would endure, he would prevail. He was Mandalorian.

Gerris Hashthrak fought with the hologram for five straight hours, and the world outside seemed to fade away. Right in the middle of his battle, the alarm started to sound at the prison. Something exploded on one of the prison’s landing pads, and a group of Mandalorians and Gamorreans gathered at the site.

Another ship had landed close by, and the access ramp dropped down. Two Mandalorian soldiers and a tall robbed figure exited the craft. All three passengers made their way to the scene, and the robbed figure asked, “Where is the Warden? What happened here?”

“There was a prison escape sir,” one of the Mandalorian’s replied, “The Warden was killed in the explosion.”

“General,” the robbed figure’s voice commanded deeply, “I want you to deal with this mater. Mandalore will not be pleased.”

“Very well sir,” the General replied, and with a quick pivot he strolled away. “I don’t know why Mandalore keeps that Sith around,” the General thought, “We are warriors. We breathe for battle. What does a Sith know about battle?” With a tap on his right wristband, the General activated the prison intercom, “Hashthrak and Gantral report to Landing Pad 118. I have a job for you.”

Hashthrak and Gantral arrived at Landing Pad 118 in time to see the clean up crews at work. Each soldier wore their customized Mandalorian armor, carried their rifles leisurely in one hand, and their helmet in the other. Scorched marks from a small explosive device could be seen streaked across the pad. General Karm noticed the approaching soldiers and acknowledged them, “Hashthrak and Gantral over here please.”

Both soldiers moved diligently to Karm’s side. “We had a prison break a few moments ago,” the General continued, “Prisoner 147338, 147339, and 147340 were assisted by an unknown female. She introduced herself as a member of the Exchange, and the Warden didn’t think twice to check her credentials.” Karm stopped for a moment, and pointed around the scene. Sitting near the pad’s end was a corpse, and several organs spilled across the ground. “As you can see,” the General commented, “He has paid the price for his ignorance. We need you both to bring them back.”

Hashthrak replied coldly, “Very well sir.”

“Take the Hoersch-Kessel on the east patform and bring them back to Gamorr” the General commanded, “Oh, Hashthrak bring them back alive this time.”

"Yes sir." Gerris stated simply.

At least it was better than sitting around here he thought. Gerris turned and walked into the complex. As soon as he got inside he went around the corner with Gantral trailing behind he stopped. "Kashthrak? What the hell are you--?!" Gerris brought a armored fist to his companions helmet, battering him.

He quickly drew out a fusion cutter from a nearby panel and cut off a small service panel. "Enjoy your stay."

Gerris shoved the younger soldier into the small opening and closed up the panel. He'd survive, but be out cold long enough for Gerris to get out of here. He would complete the hunt solo. All the more fun for him. He quickly sprinted to the east platform and boarded the Hoersch-Kessel, then, initiating the launch sequence, he sat down at the bridge control panel. Within seconds he was outside the atmosphere.

He went over to the sensor relay control panel and pulled the cover off. He quickly altered the detection array and realigned it with the plasma discharger. Using this adapted sensor he would be able to follow the ships plasma signature. It seems the hyperdrive signature was also still visible as he quickly altered his course to mimic the previous journey.

He was glad to finally feel the adrenaline and then put the ship into auto-pilot. He knew so little about this assignment . . .

As far as he was concerned the warden had betrayed Mandalore by his ignorance. He'd paid dearly, but they'd lost the prisoners. Not that it much concerned him, he was just glad to leave that place.

Then a thought came to mind. "Whats stopping me from pointing my ship at the nearest Mandalorian fleet and joining the war . . . ?"

After a few minutes of silent contemplation he dismissed such thoughts. His superiors had saw fit to assign him to such a trivial task and as pathetic as it was he would not cower from his duties, nor fail Mandalore. Suddenly a ship came into view . . .

Largas sat in his Lethisk-class armed freighter, looking out towards space. He was on a mission by the Exchange to kill a few prisoners on the planet Gamorr. He had just exited hyperspace and flew towards the planet.

He landed on a landing pad and opened the boarding ramp. Two Mandalorian soldiers ran towards his ship, and as soon as he got out they aimed their blaster rifles at him.

"Calm down," Largas said, slowly putting his hand on his blaster. "I work for the Exchange, and I'm here to pick up three prisoners."

"He works for the Exchange? But..." one Mandalorian said, but got interrupted by the other one.

"Quiet, you moron! The woman was lying!"

"What woman?" Largas asked, looking a bit confused.

"The other woman," the mandalorian said. "She picked up all three prisoners, and flew off in a 578-R transport."

"Sithspit!" Largas said. He ran back into his ship, closing the boarding ramp on his way to the cockpit. He sat down in the pilots chair and started the engines and flew off.

While the ship was flying he opened a commlink to his exchange friends on the nearest inhabitated planets. He told them to help him stop the 578-R's coming through, and call him when they found one. Then he saw a ship right in front of him. He followed it..

Gantral sat back in her chair and watched her target carefully

I still can't believe he came to Gamorr, he had his choice of any resort planet in the galaxy and he came to Gamorr.

Gantral took a last look at the datapad

This one is a tricky one...He's already killed the last five hunters sent after him

Gantral watched as her target, A twi'lek male, role the dice on the table yet again

It's a shame really, he looks quite at peace with himself, Well, he should have thought about that before he raided that weapons cache.

Gantral watched the Twi'lek through her HUD and smiled to herself as he settled back into the arms of one of his female companions

Awwww...That) girl is gonna hate me for what I'm going to do to her source of income for the night. Still...I can't leave a girl like that with nothing for the night

She watched as he closed his eyes and raised his hands in a gesture of victory as he rolled a perfect score

And in that instant, Gantral whipped out her blaster pistol and blew a hole through his stomach.

The Twi'lek male looked down at the hole in his stomach and then fell over the side of the table.

Well...there's fifteen thousand credits for my bank account.

Gantral slowly got up and walked over to the table where the dead Twi'lek laid on the floor, already, a few people were starting to edge close to the body, hoping to maybe get at any credit chips he had on him.

"Move aside. And you will not be harmed."

Many of the patrons scurried away at the sight of a Mandalorian encased in battle-worn Turquoise armor. the Twi'lek woman however did not.

"I said to move aside. I need proof that he's dead."

"He was my mark for the night. You took away my payment."

Gantral pulled out a thousand credit chip and tossed it to the Twi'lek woman.

"That is much more then you would have gotten if he had stayed alive, now move."

The Twi'lek woman nodded her thanks and walked away from the body rather quickly.

Gantral knelt down and fished around in the Twi'leks pockets until she found what she was looking for.

Excellent...I have his ID, I have his death recorded. Time for the next job

Gantral slowly walked out of the Cantina and into the Cool Gamorr night

((Woah, inactive already?))

The ship grinded to a halt as Gerris climbed out of the chair. Switching to auto-pilot he decided to hone his skills against a hologram. He thought back to his fight in the arena, he remembered how it filled his soul with a lust for violence, a craving for all things painful and deadly. He missed the heart-felt blows he woud swing, the precise shots he would fire. Those were days long past, when he was able to do combat with warriors thrice his skill.

Originally Gerris had come from Clan Ordo, where he and his friend, Canderous, trained alongside the other warriors of the Clan. Canderous had become a skilled fighter and master tactician, whilst Gerris on the other-hand had been neglected due to a incident in the outer-rim.

A few moments later he dropped back into his chair, thoughtfully reliving his memories, examining the past for where he'd gone wrong. Then, another temptation suddenly filled his mind. His hand reached over the navigation panel litterally inches away from Sullust, he withdrew reluctantly, knowing that would do little to aid his current position. Suddenly a Republic cruiser came up on the radar, Gerris jumped at the control panel, already inputting the appropriate combat sequence, but it was too late.

The vessel lurched forward, powered by huge tri-thrusters. Within two minutes his vessel was securely locked to the frigate, unable to escape. Gerris thought about resistance but knew it to be a futile gesture under such circumstances. Now he thought of one final chance at glory, at victory. He immediately sent a encrypted message back to Gamorr, requesting a large boarding party. They could definetly use this ship against the Republic he thought, admiring the huge turbo-laser array.

As the code of combat dictated on Mandalore, he would be made Captain if he could successfully take the ship alone. He immediately overloaded his ion cannon, mounted upon the vessel. The resulting blast caused the docking clamp to release. He immediately ignited the thrusters, fleeing away from the vessel. In a whir of motion he spun around and directed his ship at the life support systems, knowing full well the entire crew would die within seconds should this system fail.

Such was the flaw of a magnificient design as without the life support the generators would cease to release oxygen, leaving victims helpless as they drowned in the corridors of their own vessel. His armor had a two hour supply of oxygen. Not that he'd need it for that long. It would take him two minutes to rewire the backup life support, adapting it to Mandalorian technology. In fact, his people's technology could erase the flaw indefinetly by simply rewiring the back-up generator to the main, whilst removing the main.

To even get close to his target he would need to use cunning. Just in time did he realize the freighters tractor beam charging up. He countered, using a smaller variant of the device to pull a asteroid directly between him and the beam. Within seconds the space debris connected with the vessel, battering the shields and leaving the warship vulnerable to a assault. Quickly he powered the engines and unleashed a volley of energy upon the vessel, disabling vital systems and exploiting its flaws.

A blast from the nearby turbolaser battery nearly sent him straight to his grave as he whirled out of control, smoke erupting from the engines. He couldn't survive this match of wit much longer. He brought his vessel to full speed, redirecting the nose at the enemies bridge. As the left wing collided with the viewport Gerris' ship began to shake. He knew his own vessel wouldn't last much longer under these circumstances. He quickly did a full turn and unleashed a volley of concussion missiles upon the now battered bridge. The Republic commander, in a last attempt at self-preservation smashed the control panel, bringing the shields off the scales, the overloading instantly started a chain reaction, blasting the ship with many blows.

Gerris decided that now was the time for the deathblow, as he dived towards the hangar. The life support rested directly below the hangar, a feature that Gerris would now exploit. As soon as the vessel was level with the hangar floor he threw himself through the viewport, just barely reaching the atmospheric force field, saving himself from being trapped in the infinite passages of space. He listened anxiously, awaiting the signal of his victory . . . or the sound of his defeat. A explosion rocked the ship, throwing them to and fro. Then . . . the air grew thin.

Gerris grinned in anticipation as he ripped up a floor board and activated his oxygen supply. He dropped to the lower deck, directly into the back-up life support. Suddenly the force field above him gave way, throwing many troops to their doom. Gerris swiftly replaced the panel, not wanting to suffer the same fate as those men. He activated his personal scanner and scanned the ship for life forms.

After a third check he was satisfied that he was the only surviving participant of the battle. He began to rewire the back-up generator, thinking of the praise he might recieve, or the scolding for turning from his task. Then again, what else could he do? If he turn and ran he was sure the ship would pursue him to the border of the sector, forever throwing him off the trail of his target. Not that he would of fled anyways . . .

If he had carried on the chase the vessel may well have caught his ship, took him captive and then put him to death. Certainly not the honourable end Gerris thought worthy of a Mandalorian. Now he had to wait for help from Gamorr, or at least further contact. Even one of his kind could not pilot such a vessel alone, certainly not with the damage inflicted. Yet alone with it functional . . .

He turned his comm-link on and slumped back against the wall. It would be a while before anyone came he thought. He removed his helmet and placed his ever-present rifle at his side. Leaning against the wall. He placed the comm-link in his ear, so he could be alerted if need be, then fell into a deep slumber.

Traveling through hyperspace can sometimes be dreary, but Nephthys enjoyed the sporadic moments of peace. Conditions on Gamorr reminded her of why this trip was important, and the long term struggles she had fought through. Living among Mandalorians has a hardening affect on one’s psyche; thus, causing the most open hearted person to closedown. Knowing full well of what was hidden on Gamorr, Nephthys forced her emotions to shutdown. It gave her the patience and edge to carry out any task. Some of Nephthys’s assignments were tougher than others; however, she didn’t allow her emotions to take over.

Three hours have passed since takeoff, and she still hasn’t gone down to the cargo bay. Connecting with others was not in the job description, nor was it anything that would be considered desirable. Nephthys always smuggled prisoners without interaction; thus, allowing her to effectively deliver the merchandise. Smuggling spice, weapons, and equipment was always an easier task. Breaking into a Mandalorian prison was not the job she had in mind; however, the profit alone sold her on taking up such an assignment.

Lines of text started to scroll across her computer display. “Right on time,” Nephthys commented. With a flip of a few controls, the comlink snapped on, and she spoke, “I have the merchandise.”

“Welcome home Nephthys,” the voice of an older female replied. “We will be waiting for you on platform two.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice Mistress Keto,” Nephthys replied. “I will meet you soon.” She clicked off the comlink, tapped a few more controls, and dropped out of hyperspace. Streaks of lines turned to stars instantly, the engines soothed to a hum, and the appearance of a jungle filled planet occupied the window.

Most of the Yavin system was filled with dead planets. Life in the sector was practically obliterated by The Great Sith War. Two decades have passed since the invasion, and the sector still looked like a graveyard. Orbiting Yavin IV was a massive space station under repair, several small equipment transports, and two refurbished Interdictor-Class warships.

“Mistress Keto was always worried about security,” Nephthys thought. With the click of a few controls, she brought her ship into orbit and began descending. Thick tropical jungle opened up to a large clearing. Spread across the planet’s surface, the remains of an ancient Massassi temple lays at rest. Each of its layers consists of overlapping sandstone creating a triangle formation. Years of weather and moss has slowly degraded the structure’s powerful presence; thus, removing the temple’s intimidating scale from history.

Nephthys swung the transport around the temple’s east side, powered down the thrusters, and landed softly on platform two. With a few more adjustments to the controls, the transport’s hatch burst open allowing fresh air to enter. Four large men in black armor, carrying long stun staffs, marched onto the ship. Pushing forward from behind the entourage, one of Mistress Keto’s assistants confidently walked through. She wore dark blue armor, a black cape reaching to the floor, and a black military pistol holster. “Mistress Keto is happy to see you have made it without injury,” she welcomed while raising her chin, “Did you have any trouble on Gamorr?”

“Still looking out for me Anglia,” Nephthys questioned.

With a quick snap of her fingers, the four men in armor proceeded to the cargo hold, and then she replied, “I only look out for your best interest.” Anglia turned towards the doors, and commanded, “Come, Mistress Keto is waiting for your report. She also has another job for you.”


Text started to scroll across Gerris’s computer display, and his com-link filled violently with noise. “Lieutenant Garris,” the clutter was replaced by a deep base and low toned voice, “Our agents have intercepted a transmission. We are patching it through to you now.”

“I have the merchandise,” an unknown female voice filled the com.

“Welcome home Nephthys,” another unknown female replied. “We will be waiting for you on platform two.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice Mistress Keto,” Nephthys replied. “I will meet you soon.”

“We have a slight change in plans for you,” the deep voice returned, “You will head to the Yavin system. Once you arrived to the sector, you will infiltrate the base on the fourth planet. Do not engage the enemy directly. Mistress Keto is a very powerful opponent, and she will be guarded heavily. You will enter the based to gather intelligence of her plans, and then assassinate Prisoner 147340. Do your best to stay out of sight.” A quick pause lingered in the com-link, and he continued, “Casualties are an option.”

Everyone else intercepted the transmission in red.

Gerris knew how long it took for transmissions to be recieved but this was ridiculous. After a few moments of silent contemplation he rose from his slumped position and made a casual effort towards the bridge. About seven minutes later he arrived and opened the door. As he went over to the main control panel he was amazed at the amount of bodies in the bridge. As he sat down he quickly shoved a body off the console and accessed the navigation controls.

Immediately he started tapping the buttons in a almost rhythmitcal sense. Within moments a small map of the sector whirred into view. He quickly dismissed Gamorr, for obvious reasoning. Even after checking the map four times he saw no suitable Mandalorian spaceport. He slumped back into his chair, trying to think of a course of action. Suddenly the map begun to spin, brining his view into a new perspective, revealing a different system . . .

"Dantooine . . . of course." In a small space station above Dantooine there seemed to be a small reading of lifeforms, he couldn't distinguish much from this distance, all save the faintest hum of life, far from his position. After restabilizing the engines he quickly turned the ship towards Dantooine, preparing the Hyperdrive.

Just as he was about to launch the ship into hyperspace disaster struck. A huge Republic warship, three times the size of his current vessel, pulled out of Hyperspace and unloaded a volley of turbolaser fire upon his ship. He had made a grave tactical error waiting for aid, as the Republic was surely going to miss such a vessel. In a futile gesture he activated the comm-link memory systems, revealing that the Republic had in fact tried to contact the vessel, three times before. Obviously aware that something had transpired they sent a ship to investigate. One round of lasers hit the hyperdrive stabilizers, initiating the procedure in a orderly fashion.

The navigation systems scrambled, the hyperdrive preparing to launch. Things turned from bad to worst as a volley of proton missiles were unleashed from a Marauder Frigate. This newcomer had snuck behind Gerris' vessel, hoping to hit his target whilst he was in dissaray. The missiles struck home as they sent Gerris sailing through the air, into a nearby console. The shields collapsed and the hull integrity rapidly fell to critical levels. As Gerris blacked out, he smashed a nearby console.

In a twist of fate the hyperdrive burst to life, sending Gerris to a system far away. The fact that the launch was not guided by navigation made the ship untrackable. Gerris blacked out, just as the ship fell to pieces. The trip through hyperspace had literally ripped the hull to pieces, leaving the bridge as a floating mass. The debris containing Gerris flew around for hours, before finally being caught in the gravity field of a nearby planet. The debris burst into flames and whatever sense of stability on board that flying sphere of junk metal quickly evaporated.

Gerris barely clung onto life as the oxygen slowly refilled his lungs. Two hours ago his oxygen supply in the armor had run out and his brain had been starved of air up until this point. His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light. He awoke to a hellish sight, as fire engulfed the surrounding debris. His armor had been torn to pieces by the atmospheric pressure and he swore silently. He crawled over to his rifle slowly, clutching it for comfort. Then a piece of the roof tore free and slammed down onto his leg, causing him to grasp it in agony. His leg had broken in several places, making it impossible to stand, let alone walk.

As he twisted his head to the viewport he saw the surface of a planet only a couple of hundred metres below him and the debris still dropped. Gerris twisted his mouth into a cry of terror, but one that would never emerge. The ship smashed into the ground leaving a trail of smoke and broken parts behind it.

One part of the bridge remained operational, a small little navigation panel. It burst to life as vibrant colors erupted into being upon the small window. Even as Gerris groaned silently in his nightmares the computer spoke. "Current Location: Fourth planet of the Yavin System. . ."

Outer Rim territories
Planet 337, or Suvoquo
20 parsects from Gamorr


Korvik "Atin Beskar" Derekil sat in briefing, twiddling his thumbs.

"Main Republic forces are here..."The boring Mission Briefer was saying.

Korvik spoke up,"Wouldn't it just be easier if you let us out and destroy every Republic scum out there. This briefing is making my armor chafe."

A couple of Mandalorians near Korvik chuckled.

The Mission Briefer shrugged,"Well, Commander Derekil, if that is what you wish. Mission briefing is over."

Korvik smiled,"That was quick."

Everyone laughed, even the Mission Briefer, maybe even he was aware of the boringness of his speaking.

Korvik stood,"Alright, prepare your Basilisks, we are going to bomb this planet to shabuir. ETA is five minutes. Get your minds into gear, today, Republic forces will know MANDALORE!!"

The Mandalorian commanders in the room all cheered at the sound of their glorious leader.

Korvik smiled and went to the orbital scanners that were nearby.

The Mandalorian manning the station saluted and handed Korvik the readouts.

"Seven heavy-cruisers, nine fighter carriers, three capital ships, and twenty fighter squadrons. All this against Mandalore's fleet, behhhh, I wish they had more. Send in the all-clear for Admiral Serevick."

The Mandalorian nodded and went about his orders.

Korvik checked his weapons and shrugged,"Another planet, another battle, I think I need a promotion...."

He then went off towards the Basalisk hangars.

Gerris stirred from his slumber and blinked his eyes several times, adjusting to the moonlight. Fire raged on all around him and debris littered the crash sight. He rolled over from his chest, onto his back and breathed easy. He could barely feel his own body, so immense was the pain. He stared at the sky blankly, wondering if this was how his life would end. Dying for such a trivial cause was not within his interests, much better to die upon the field of battle. He had achieved only a single victory and that was not enough.

Suddenly a huge shadow blotted out the moonlight, leaving total darkness. The last he saw was a shuttle, baring the colors of the Republic.

Gerris awoke to find himself within a Kolto tank. He immediately plotted a plan of action, noting that most of his limbs were now functional. It seemed he had underestimate the Republic medics, as their techniques proved most effective in restoring him.

He then saw his armor, deposited next to a nearby terminal and knew full well he would need it. However when he looked for his rifle, he found no luck. Gerris, suddenly aware that he was recieving curious looks feigned a blackout, hoping to buy himself a few more precious minutes. Opening the corner of his eye cautiously he noticed two soldiers leaving, followed closely by a medical officer. He repeated the action with his other eye, noticing only three companions that remained. One was a soldier, no doubt keeping watch on Gerris. The other two were droids and Gerris noticed that ones movements were noticably sluggish in comparison to the other. After a few minutes passed he noticed the slower droid exit the room, likely going to recharge its power cell.

The other was immersed within its work, taking care of the other charges whilst his companion recharged. Fortunately for him, the guard had lost interest in his quarry and was instead busy pacing the room. Gerris slowly brought his foot up behind his back, reaching his hand down into his boot. After fumbling through the empty space for a couple of seconds he gripped a small, metal cylinder. Immediately he drew it and concealed it under his wrist band.

He then repeated the action with the other foot, this time drawing a small hilt. He pushed a small button on the hilt, causing a small blade to emerge from the small device. He then held his hand to his waist, carefully poising himself in between the spectators line of sight and the blade. By now the soldier had returned his attention to Gerris and was watching him cautiously.

Now was his chance. Gerris brought foward the blade, smashing into the glass case. The strike was not enough to cause a large dent, but it was enough for his objective. He quickly drew the cylinder from his wristband and pushed it into the gap, twisting the end. Thankfully the hole disallowed whatever foul gasses the container released to enter the Kolto Tank, instead flooding into the med-bay.

Immediately the soldiers status detoriated, as he fell to his knees and began to cough feverently. Gerris smashed his fist into the glass, his leather handwraps shielding him from the fractured glass. He withdrew his fist, wary of further extending the damage to his body. The Kolto flooded out and the oxygen mask became defunct. Quickly drawing off the mask he leapt forward and siezed his armor quickly going into a nearby maintenance hatch. It seemed the ship he was on was of mercenary origin, as the hatch led to a small smugglers compartment.

He resealed the panel behind him, hoping the Republic would not notice the crude placement of his hasty stow-away. He quickly drew on his armor, wanting to taste battle again as soon as possible. About ten minutes later he re-emerged from the panel. The ships alarm had gone off, but as far as he knew of Republic protocol, his was signalling a battle. As he emerged from the panel, he noticed the decapacitated soldier drop something.

It seemed to be the combination for a storage locker. Immediately he looked up, his eyes greeted by so convenient a sight. He input the codes and the door flew open, revealing his rifle, along with his other possessions. Gerris siezed the rifle, drew it over his shoulder and sprinted out of the Med bay. Within seconds he had come across a pair of unarmed Republic soldiers. One of them reached for his comm-link, but it was too late. In a whir of motion Gerris was upon them, siezing one of the soldiers by the wrist and launching him down the corridor into a incoming droid.

He then drew his rifle and put it to the face of the remaining soldier, demanding directions to the hangar. The soldier quickly obliged, obviously fear-struck by the encounter. He broke this ones neck, one less coward for the galaxy to bare. He sprinted along the instructed route, overcoming any Republic patrols.

He burst into the hangar and was shocked to find a Jedi, who was just as surprised as Gerris was. Gerris immediately swung a kick at the Jedi's chest, followed by a uppercut to the head. His tactic worked, bringing the Jedi to the floor. He grabbed the Jedi's lightsaber as a trophy and ignited it through his chest.

Perhaps Jedi were not as skilled as he anticipated. Either way two whole strike squads began emerging from the west-eastern doors, blasters already aimed at him. He dived into a nearby Republic fighter, launching it from the hangar. He looked at the navigation screen. The planet he was in orbit above was designated as Suvoquo and a Mandalorian fleet was dead ahead. As soon as he was out of range of the Republic fleet he input Mandalorian comm-codes into the computer and requested audience with the commander, designation; "Commander Derekil".

(Sorry about the whole twist of fate thing, but I need someone to RP with :))

Korvik gazed at the rows and rows of Basalisk war droids, each one, armed to the teeth and ready for battle. He was about to continue to his personal attack craft, when his second-in-command, Drishhu Het, tapped him on the shoulder.

He looked at his right hand man,"What is it Drishhu?

The soldier handed him a holo-recorder,"Sir, someone has requested your audience via hologram. We've tracked the source to Republic ship, Liberty."

Korvik raised an eyebrow and took the recorder.

"The Republic? What do they want, some warning that we're going to kill them? They should already know that."

"Well, sir, I don't know, check it out."

Korvik nodded and pressed the activication button.

He adjusted his stance and tried to look as tall and proud as his Mandalorian heritage would allow.

"Su'cuy, I am Commander Derekil of My Mandalore's Third Fleet. You ahve requested an audience, what is it that you wish?"

"Gerris Kashthrak, requesting permission to join the fight . . . I'll relay the details later, for now I also request the use of a Basalisk War Droid."

Suddenly he took note of two pursuing Republic corvettes, charging their weapons. Within seconds his fighter was under a constrant stream of crimson projectiles. After a chain of evasive maneuvers he found himself outmatched under these conditions. The Mandalorian fleet was too far, he wouldn't make it in time. He immediately turned to the corvettes, unloading the vessels payload of concussion missiles upon the nearest ship. Within seconds the corvette began to slow, followed by a immense explosion. Unfortunately Gerris was caught in the oncoming blast and his vessel damaged considerably. Sheer luck had won his previous battles, which greatly attributed to his chances.

But now he had no chance. As his ship slowed and the corvette charged its laser banks for another volley Gerris wondered how his luck had held up even this long. He'd done all he had done to escape and survive, for naught. All to die in this moment. Even as the enemies turrets began to glow crimson, he wondered how long he'd had this coming, he wondered why he wouldn't get the chance to have tales of honour sung about him . . .

Sam'kil ran towards his position at the blaster turrets, the Mandalorians were getting a little close for the captains comfort, he was there in case a fight broke out.

Suddenly Gerris noted that the hull integrity of the corvette was not so much as it should of been, the assault was a bluff. He feigned a retreat, lulling the enemy into a false sense of security. The corvette grew weary of such a pursuit and retired. Before retreating to Republic lines, the ship unloaded a salvo of homing missiles at Gerris' small ship.

He flipped his craft left, hoping to eliminate some of the missiles. Fortunately, a pair of the missiles collided, eliminating a portion of the salvo. Another wave approached just as Gerris dove into the debris of the first corvette. A couple of the torps' were detonated by the power cell radiation inside the debris, which destroyed all that remained of the salvo. Gerris relaxed as he was satisfied that the threat had been exstinguished. The ordeal had exhausted him and he took comfort in the short rest. Unfortunately such a occassion was short lived. Another explosion behind him immediately jogged his senses, as to the incoming threat of a new salvo.

When he looked up however, he saw not the corvette but instead a Marauder Cruiser. Such vessels were not just armed with concussion missiles . . . nor just proton missiles . . . these were diamond-barons . . .

Immediately he slammed the control panel, pushing the engines far beyond the limits. The thrusters began to overheat and the vessel began to lose integrity. Even as he struggled to pilot the ship, panels began to fly off. Suddenly the engines exploded, rendering his vessel imobile and in a critical state. Even as the torpedo's drew nearer he could do little. There was one thing he could do, but it was desperate. He activated the back-up thrusters, aligning his ship with the Marauder. He unloaded a salvo of his own missiles upon the torpedo launchers, hoping that his enemy would be foolishly unaware of his intent until it was too late.

The position of his ship made it seem that the missiles were in fact aimed at the hull, until they were about to impact. As a feigned distraction, he unleashed a volley of laser fire upon the heavily-shielded bridge. The enemy realized his plan and immediately took to evasive maneuvers. Though they could not escape it, their maneuver made it possible for the turrets to decimate the missile. Gerris' options were fast becoming exhausted and the back-up engines wouldn't hold up much longer.

He activated the reverse thrusters and diverted power to the weapons. The missiles overtook him and were positioned directly above the Marauder. Before they knew what hit him he had blasted the missiles, causing critical damage to the ships weapon systems and life support. The cruiser broke off, knowing full well it could not risk itself any longer. Before departing, the vessel deployed a seismic charge, then sped out of the danger. Gerris could afford no such speed, as doing so would rip his vessel to pieces. The charge detonated, unleashing a bluish-violet shockwave that shook Gerris to the core.

How the ship had held up this long Gerris did not know, but he knew that the end of the shockwave meant the end of his vessels life. Even as the mid-center of the shockwave coursed through his body Gerris wondered yet again what death woudl be like. Then he told himself that he wouldn't find out today. Amazingly the hyperdrive was still active and offered his only means of escape. But he knew it would only be enough to carry him to the nearest Mandalorian ship and that if he missed the hangar, then he would be a dead-man.

He through his wait against the wall of the fighter, tilting it towards the nearest Mandalorian ship. He smashed the hyperdrive, launching him into hyperspace. He emerged literally inches from the hangar forcefield and the final surge of energy from the engines carried him through. The repulsor-lifts had been damaged in the corvette-skirmish, meaning that gravity would apply. His vessel flew forwards, smashing into the hangar floor and skidding all the way to the wall. He smashed open the cockpit and pulled himself out.

As he rolled onto the floor he saw blood trickle from his helmet. Upon removing his helmet the blood flow increased, smothering his chestplate with a crimson atire. He did not much care for what weakness he showed his companions, as he had fought a worthy battle this day. "Much better than jailer duty on Gamorr . . ." He whispered to himself as he pushed himself to his feet. He was forced to lean on the derelict vessel for support however, as his body had been strained by the battle.

"Commander Derekil, transmission lost."

Korvik nodded,"Keep searching, Drishhu. The man was obviously Mando'a. He's a brother, and hauling his sheb out of space is probably the least we can do. Track the transmission location from start to finish."

Drishhu saluted and began scanning, but a loud alram began to ring. Drishhu pressed a button.

"Commander Derekil, this is Captain Kagi of Mand'alor's ship, Warrior Spirit. We have just pulled in an unidentified vessel. Does it's transponder code match that of the Mandalorian we made contact with?"

The code flashed in front of Korvik, who studied it quickly.

"Yes, that's it. You found him. Good job, Captain."

The transmission was shut off and Korvik sighed.

Drishhu spoke first,"Well, that was fast."

Gerris tried to stand, still dazed from his ordeal. He succeeded in part, then staggered to a nearby holo-communicator. He input the transmittor codes of the nearby vessel and the Commanders image flashed up upon the screen. "Commander Derekil . . . Gerris Hashthrak of the Gamorr Prison Guards." He attempted a salute but failed, finding his wrist to be broken. With a sigh he lowered his wrist and nodded at the image.