A Masterful Escape

[The Kyzer]

Deep Space
Somewhere Along the Corellian Run​

Life aboard the Dauntless was relatively routine most days. Always on the move, the crew of the EC21 Galaxon-A Escort Cruiser worked in designated shift rotations every day and did so with due diligence. The ship's size made the crew's own a bit extensive, and as such there were people who simply didn't know others even though they were crew-mates. There were also areas of the ship that not everyone had visited, like the ship's brig, which was currently occupied with a special guest. Of course, there were still rumors, especially after some had seen the "guest" boarding the ship clad in massive chains and neural dampeners and surrounded by both Jedi and Rebel marines. Whispers of a Sith being imprisoned aboard the Dauntless ran rampant and they grew in size and strength as they went. Some of the crew were absolutely positive that the Dark Lord of the Sith was trapped in their ship's holds.

Needless to say, with the prisoner came a small army of specialized guards. Both Jedi and Imperial Marshalls kept watch over the brig as did the ship's regular security forces. All of them felt a certain degree of tension during the prisoner's active periods when he was interrogated relentlessly by a special team. The interrogators themselves felt a certain degree of tension as their subject didn't speak Basic but rather a strange guttural dialect that even their translation droid couldn't quite interpret. Luckily they'd found someone who could understand it, but the fact that they relied on a translator made the going tough.

The captain of the vessel, however, seemed to be the only one aboard who couldn't care less about the prisoner aboard his ship. His only real thought in regards to the imprisoned Sith was a slight wonder at why they didn't just kill him and get it over with. After all, that Jedi Master woman who had delivered him a week before had already used the information she'd gleaned from her prey to strike a blow against the Imperium.

Naturally, the captain would have been a bit more concerned if he knew that even now, his ship was being followed.

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

Groggily, the Red Sith came to as he slept off the worst of the toxins that flowed through his veins. It seemed his most recent interrogators truly knew of their craft...but they were not Alchemists like him; indeed, the amount of chemicals they had pumped into his veins would've killed others, such was what they had to say on his resistance. Truly, it was a testament to his prowess as a maker of poisons that he had been able to survive thus far. As bones ached as he rose from his bed; his limbs felt as though the bones have been replaced with weights of pure iron and his tendrils were still numb. The drugs have yet to fully dissipate from his bloodstream; had his eyes been functional, he had no doubt that his vision would be hazy...yet it could not obstruct his gaze within the Force. Through it, he could see all the life that walked within the area, dully noting that it was a ship that he was bound within. Given that his prosthetic limb was rendered into a stump, it was seen as fruitless to bind his sole remaining hand. Besides, it would be difficult for a one armed Arcanist such as himself to make an escape...his magic would only be able to get him so far before he was brought down in a storm of blaster bolts and lightsaber blades. Ever the patient soul, Sin'ryk knew that he would need to bide his time; not that such a thing would be difficult for him.

His crimson hair knotted, he sought to fix his hair with the two fingers of his remaining limb. Gently, they unwound his locks; determined not to cause himself any pain from pulling his hair. The Arcanist then proceed to draw upon a sliver of the Force, wrapping it around his crimson tresses; slowly, he manipulated them, weaving three streams around each other. When he was done, he had fashioned a new braid for himself. Sin'ryk knew such a small usage of the Force would be tolerated; its not as if he was planning to make a star go supernova...and he knew the Jedi were watching him, they would've been able to divine some of his intent by the weavings of the Force alone. It was all he could manage at the moment any way. Crossing his legs, the Red Sith decided that meditation would allow the time to pass by quicker...melded with the healing songs of his people that poured forth from his lips.

 

[Cale]

The enterprising young Twi'lek who was serving as a translator had only been with the Rebellion for a few months, six at most, but she had proven to be a diligent, loyal and competent crew member during that time. She never shirked difficult or unpleasant tasks, and if she happened to keep to herself more often than not, well that was really her decision. She'd passed the background checks that had been administered, and above all, her hatred of the Imperium was impressive. She seemed wholly dedicated to personally overthrowing the entire system, with a fury that could be considered frightening.

She called herself Daeshafor'tuna. She was grey skinned with white stripes, and reddish eyes.

She wasn't who she pretended to be.

It seemed so long ago that Arane'zhan had been tasked with this mission. As one of the few Force Sensitives amongst the ranks of the Diplomatic Corps, and more specifically, an acolyte who was thus expendable, she had been assigned to infiltrate the Rebellion. She was to gather information, and if possible, sabotage any major strikes by the fledgling revolution that might have actual impact on the Imperium. So she had been stuck in this hellhole with practically no support, and no way out if her cover was blown. She loved it. There was a thrill in knowing things that no-one else did, in having to live her life by her wits. The only thing she missed about her previous life as an acolyte was access to the secrets of the Force. Secrets she had learned at the feet of the former Darth Umbra, Raide Vakri. But she knew that her efforts here were vital. Another Reckoning scenario could not be allowed, and she was finally working her way into a position where she could prevent such from ever occurring.

That didn't mean she didn't make additional plans, and tamper with the ship for her own amusement. During her stay on the Dauntless she had co-opted a large number of the mouse droids that skittered along the passageways, and had established herself a back-door into the systems. She could, for a short time, if nothing else, shut down the entire ship, leaving it defenseless. She had dreams of doing so during an attack. Not that she was suicidal. The trigger for the shutdown could be remotely operated, allowing her to escape on a stolen shuttle or fighter. But her dreams of fiery catastrophe had been simply that. Dreams. And then the prisoner arrived.

A high-ranking Sith who had already broken once under interrogation, according to the rumours. A sith that now only spoke in a guttural language that the protocol droids could not accurately translate. That had thrown everything into disarray for the secret acolyte. She had to find a way to get close to whoever it was, and either find a way to kill him. Or if that wasn't possible, get him off the ship and back into the loving embrace of the Order. So she had thrown caution to the wind, and volunteered that she could speak the barbaric language of the Purebloods. It still fit somewhat with her cover, but the holes were starting to show. Things were coming to a head.

Her first session with the drugged Sith had brought revelation. It was Sin'ryk. Apparently he had advanced far in the time she'd been away. It was clear that he had reached at least the rank of Master. And as much as she would dearly love to murder the pure-blood and advance that way, it was an even better plan if he was in her debt for freeing him. So plan B became plan A, and she covertly transmitted a coded message to the relevant people, informing them of her plan, and her requirements. That being some method of getting the hell away from the Dauntless once she'd snatched the moron from his cell.

Now, the time was upon her.

She made her way to the brig for another interrogation session. Except that this one wasn't going to go as planned. Hidden in the astromech that followed her were her two lightsabers, hidden from detection by the best shileding she could arrange. She also had the Force as her tool and slave, and wouldn't that surprise the Imperial Marshalls and Jedi that congregated around Sin'ryk's little domicile.

Things were definitely going to get ugly, very very fast.

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

The Red Sith continued his meditations as the 'day' pressed on. His mind wandered the halls of the Ship, gazing upon every individual. Oh, the rebels and the Jedi could confine his flesh...but they could not confine his spirit just as they could not break it; were it not for the fact he had the codes in his possession, the enemy would have spent decades trying to decipher his poor technological knowledge. It seemed technophobia has its boons after all. As his mind continued to literally wander, his sight picked up on a peculiar sensation within the Force. Focussing, the Arcanist was able to divine a presence that was touched by the Dark Side; masterfully concealed from those are focussing on his greater presence within the Force. It seems he was about to be rescued...though he would've preferred to make his own escape. The essence shaped itself around a Twi'lek...he could easily feel the contempt oozing from her, such was the power of his senses. She will soon learn enough why he got to where he was...and that his current predicament was a fluke.

In his mind's eye, Sin'ryk watched as his fellow Sith eased herself into position; it seemed he had a small signal in mind for her which would provide a helpful distraction. Reaching out to the Force, the Red Sith's meditation grew more concentrated; drawing the Dark Side into himself, the Force began to sing alongside a chant from the Arcanist's own throat. Only the nearest Jedi would sense it, such was his control over his own energies; no sooner had they turned to investigate him, the infiltrator would spring her trap.

 

[Cale]

It was almost as though destiny or fate had aligned. As she stepped into the room, the two Jedi turned from her in alarm, facing the prisoner. Arane was not one for fair fights, if she could possibly avoid them, and even the slightest distraction was a useful tool for her arsenal. With a quick flick of her wrist, she gave the coded hand-signal to the droid and moved forward towards the jedi. As she lunged forward, two sabers shot through the air into her hands, igniting with that ominous snap-hiss. The blades, one violet, one indigo swept forward to stab into the back of the closer Jedi.

With a pirouette that tore the blades out through his side, she snarled at the Sith Master "Move, Sin'ryk. We're leaving." She then shifted her attention to the droid and said two words before she locked eyes with the remaining Jedi. Her main blade was at waist height, pointed forward, whilst the shoto was at a slight angle, closer to her body ready to parry, or slice as the need arose.

There was a short delay. And then everything went dark.

The ship shut down.

 

[The Kyzer]

You've an assignment, fledgling.

Why should I care?

You'll learn some respect, slut!

The pain had come and gone quickly. A punch. Physical. Foolish. That one had been sent to the infirmary. His stupidity defined him. She hadn't even been reprimanded for it. One such as her had to appreciate the Sith Order. Hurt a jackass? Get a pat on the back.

Now, the woman was flying a recently "liberated" starfighter that had been drenched in sensor-baffling paint and chasing an ion signature up and down the Corellian Run. What some had deemed her pride had spoken before, but even that colossal monument in her psyche had bowed before an official order that had been passed down from the Dark Council. Track a marked Rebel ship and render aid to the Imperial agent aboard it should the need arise. And so, she'd been flying...for the past week...and waiting patiently for some signal. Luckily for her, the Rebel vessel had engaged in a rather set routine of jump, drift, cruise, jump, drift, cruise, etc that cycled through every few hours.

Adrasteia had begun to wonder if the agent would ever give her some signal other than the initial tracking signal...until her long-range sensors went blank. Sighing, the pilot ran a quick diagnostic of the sensors, thinking that maybe they'd failed after several days of continuous use. The diagnostic report came back clean. The Acolyte looked at the control panel perplexed and cursed. The ship was new, and apparently a piece of junk. Then she caught a blip. Then another. The Rebel ship's escorts. Her visual scanners finally picked up the stricken Rebel ship as it lazily drifted in space.

That's quite a signal.

Turning up the J-15B's fusion reactor, Adra quickly acquired the sweet singing of a target-lock before firing twice. The R-25 Rogue-class starfighter exploded violently; its pilot having been focused on the stricken cruiser rather than his surroundings. The second, however, was already turning and accelerating to attack speed. The pilot apparently thought that he would present a greater challenge to this new threat than his wing-man had.

The Sith Acolyte just cruised along and waited. The enemy pilot's trajectory put him head-on with the Aethersprite. Adra's grip on her yoke was light yet firm, her breathing slow and controlled. Then came the flash of warning through the Force. She quickly nudged the control-stick to her right and pressed the rudder control with her left foot. The snaproll to port caused the Rebel pilot's shots to miss by a meter, but Adrasteia's reply did not. The first twin bolts from the heavy cannons battered down his shields, while the ensuing three-shot burst from the light cannon burned through his cockpit canopy, the pilot himself, and the armor-plating behind the pilot's seat.

"This is Mr. Black calling Mr. White," Adra said through a voice scrambler, thus making her voice sound more like a Hutt than any humanoid, "Come in, Mr. White. Your dinner's here."

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

Watching the Jedi turn to him, Sin'ryk waited for his rescuer to make her move; within seconds, his guards were dead and his rescuer had told him to move. Swiftly, he allowed the Dark Side energies he had radiated to purge his blood of the toxins within. Raising his eyebrow stalk, whilst secretly feeling relief and retrieving a lightsaber from one of his fallen guards, the Red Sith gave his own response.

"Soon, but first...a little something to aid our endeavour."

Drawing deep draughts from the power of the Dark Side, the Arcanist's single arm began weaving the magics of the Sith Order. After a single word of power, the Spell of Concealment had been woven; thus masking the Force Essences of Sin'ryk and his rescuer. With the spell cast, he turned his mind to another matter; one that required immediate attention.

"We must retrieve my equipment; concealed within the inner layers of my saberstaff is a map of the tombs on Korriban. Though masked by my Alchemical weavings, the Jidai will find it eventually; Force only knows the havoc they could wreak if they found it."

 

[Cale]

The communication from 'Mr White' came through Arane's comms unit and she smiled a little ferally. It was all fangs and menace, not rising up to crinkle her eyes in the slightest. She held up her hand to the Sith Master, in the universal gesture for "hold" and then tapped the transmit button, saying clearly "Mr. White to Mr. Black. Acknowledged. On route to extraction. ETA 8 minutes."

She turned her attention back to Sin'ryk and sighed. These notes of his were not part of the plan, but she knew how the masters thought. There would be no arguing, and no persuading him to just run for it, leaving the equipment behind. So it was time for a very brief detour on their way to the hangar bay. Sometimes she really, really hated this job. "Fine. I know where your weapons and equipment are being kept. But we move fast, we hit hard and we get out of this ship in 8 minutes time. I also want it on record that I think this is a foolhardy proposition, but I suppose in the end, there is no gain without risk."

She deactivated her sabers, and grabbed the weapon of the other Jedi. Spare sabers were always useful. Even if it wasn't hers. Then she opened the door and peered out. The coast seemed clear, and at high speeds, the pair could get to the equipment lock-up within 2 1/2 minutes. She beckoned with her left hand and moved out, accelerating as she went so that she was practically a blur amidst the darkened emergency-lit corridors.

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

Sin'ryk promptly raised his eyebrow stalk, it seemed his rescuer knew not of the convenience.

"It will mean that our enemies will not find themselves an opportunity to sabotage the Academy and the tombs where Acolytes do their trials. Let us move before the Spell of Concealment wears off."

Soon enough, after snatching up and putting on a Jedi robe, the two Sith were moving; his Force Sight making a mockery of the darkness within. Through the walls, he could see the enemy scrambling about the in the low-light; the Jedi were just as blind as their mundane counterparts, unable to sense the movements of either Sith. Further, he expended his sensorium; ever wary of the movements of the enemy. Soon enough, two auras manifested in the distance; Sin'ryk grasped the Twi'lek by the shoulder with his single hand.

"Be wary, our mundane foes are close; I've no need to explain what we need to do, I know this sort of thing is your playground."

 

[The Kyzer]

The sleek starfighter entered the cruiser's unprotected hangar without any problems. The Sith pilot set her craft down next to some fuel canisters that had been strewn about by the hangar's sudden depressurization after slagging the hangar's defense turrets. Her weapons-training officer from childhood had drilled her relentlessly on thoroughness and her adopted-parents had only instilled it further. It simply wouldn't do leaving some large weaponry pointed at her new starfighter that could possibly be restored before her departure.

"I hope your dinner guest is aware that our safety window only lasts three minutes," Adrasteia declared over the encrypted comlink, "and one hundred and sixty-three seconds of which has already expired."

She checked her armor's seals once again before depressurizing the starfighter's interior and exiting the craft. Armed with her regular arsenal, Adr'ia, as her dead comrades had called her, was ready to rock and roll this insurgent vessel. She had just reached one of the hangar access doors when the ship's lighting turned on. It only took a slight amount of slicing to get the door open now that power had returned. There was a bit of a deafening roar as the pressure differential tried to equalize as she entered the ship properly. Of course, things wouldn't be too simple. For instance, things like a ship security team armed with large blaster rifles might make things a bit difficult, especially if one was stuck in a hallway with zero cover.

"Freeze!" one of the marines ordered as he and his team turned to fire at the newcomer.

"Yeeaaah, that's not happening," the armored woman replied, pulling her Mandalorian HCR out from behind her lower back in one swift move and squeezing the trigger. Naturally, the security team was forced to move back into an intersecting hallway for cover. They didn't realize that an already-primed thermal detonator had been gently tossed via a supernatural power known by most as the Force. The security team leader looked down upon the tiny silvery object and felt true fear for the last second of his life before he and several of his comrades were vaporized. The remaining security officers were relatively unscathed, though horrified, due to the thermal detonator's unique blast format, but they were quickly cut down by a HCR and a XM1020 Heavy Pistol.

"So just a friendly alert in case you hadn't noticed the lights being on or the doors opening properly," the Sith warrior announced over her comlink, "power has been restored. I would guess that we have maybe three minutes before the ship's internal security reboots and locks us in. I sincerely hope you two are on your way to the hangar, or I may deeply regret reporting both of you as KIA to our employers."