Ask The Million Crowns of Tion - Part IV

[Trini Halrixien]

Katepano Lepratas gave a feral-seeming grin as she was lifted to her feet. The delusion that had clouded her mind was beginning to clear; it had not been mere decades, it had been centuries, possibly millennia. It was possible this human was a descendant of her lord and sovereign Xim, but it was at least equally possible - even likely - that he was not. Blood was thicker than water, but for all Xim's name was apparently still known, she doubted his blood was thicker than time

But then, does it really matter? She thought to herself as the turbolift ascended back toward the bridge. Perhaps he is no true blood of Xim. But he passed the trials... he found the legacy! Did not Xer gain a kingdom by his own ambition and skill, not merely by his privilege?

As the doors opened, the blind Katepano pointed unerringly to the command throne, or rather, to a console a few paces ahead of it. It gleamed in the lights of the nearby instrument panels, a streamlined shape of dark metal, purposeful in its air of command.

"Pigaínete me sto víma tis dioíkisis. To plíroma aftoú tou ploíou koimátai... prépei na tous xypníso, óti tha ypiretoúsan ton vasiliá tous tin óra tis anánkis tou."

Trini assisted as best she could, looking nervously up at the increasingly feeble Katepano. At her words, the Amaran's eyes widened; were there other sleepers aboard the ship? An entire crew preserved in carbonite, ready to be awoken and serve their new king? The Katepano herself had to be a fluke in her survival, surely reviving so many would be impossible without massive casualties!

But then, she took a closer look at the console she and Laeonas were helping the ancient human toward, and her eyes widened in recognition.

"Command podium... wait!"

Abruptly, however, the blind Katepano's fingertips pressed hard on a grid of illuminated buttons, and it was too late.

Jonnir emerged from the turbolift, looking past the imposing command throne to a console where it seemed that the ancient Katepano had been propped up. Being blind did not appear to slow her down; despite the Amaran's increasing agitation, the human's fingertips were flying over the buttons, her actions directed by memory and feel.

And that was when he noticed that the two towering figures flanking the command throne were moving.

"Impossible!"

The titanic forms of the two Crimson Condottieres, for the first time in an aeon, moved under their own power. The Hutt watched in horror, as they briefly scanned for targets, then aimed their arm cannons at Trini and Laeonas. Abruptly, however, the Katepano gave a sharp command, and the massive droids appeared to relent. They turned and took up station at nearby sensor and comm boards.

And then, there was a rumbling throughout the ship, as if that of a thousand heavy, tramping feet...

Katepano Lepratas wished that she could see the magnificent sight of the ancient war droids moving for the first time in uncounted years, but to hear them as they awoke from long standby was nearly as good. They were - had been - Xim's ultimate weapon, killing machines with no equal in the known Galaxy. But killing was not all they were good for, of course; Xim's droidwrights had outdone themselves. Guardian-class war droids could fight as soldiers, but they could also perform all the essential functions of a ship's crew. In corridors below, they marched from cargo holds to their battle-stations, the thunder of their footfalls shaking the entire ship.

"Oi kalýteroi polemistés kai to kalýtero plíroma tou stólou. Tóso epidéxioi kai pistoí óso tin iméra pou chtístikan."

She smiled.

"Vasiliá mou, se parakaló, páre ti thési sou ston thróno tis dioíkisis, an ítheles na eísai tóso evgenikós."

@Tom

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

The manic grin on the Captain's face was a bit disconcerting, but her insistence on being brought up to the deck-- something about a "crew" or "group" or "gang" "napping," and a mention of "her king's time in need" didn't slow him down. From what it sounded like she was just about ready to take the long nap with the rest of her crew, but the tone in her voice didn't betray any feelings of melancholy or regret.

As they began to move back into the the bridge, Laeonas continued to guide the captain to where she wanted to go. He didn't understand her directions, but it didn't take much to figure out where she wanted to go. He didn't doubt that she'd be able to find her way there in spite of her blindness, but she was still struggling to walk after the concussion. It was only after he brought her to the console that he would ease up on the support.

Incredibly, the captain's fingers flew across the keyboard, and Laeonas would watch in fascination. How many times did he practice with his saber to achieve the kind of flow the blind, half corpse of a woman so casually displayed? He'd always had to call on the force as his ally, and suddenly the Brentaalan found himself speculating. "'As she got tha gift?" He thought to himself, aquamarines staring intently at the voids of her eyes. To survive in spite of all that had happened-- it had to have been the work of the force.

His head turned to regard the Hutt as he exited the turbolift, before his eyes flicked back to the two massive droids. The Brentaalan's expression turned pale as the massive droids levied their weapons and was prepared to tackle the captain to the ground to save them both from being shot-- but a gesture from the captain prevented what would've been their immediate deaths.

And than, the ship began to rumble.

"...what 'ave ya done?" He asked, turning to the captain, even though he knew the answer. The machines rumbling below him-- they were footfalls. The titanic droids that had once brought the galaxy to heel had been awoken.

"Warriors," the captain called them. "Crew," she said.

"Loyal."

The smile that spread across her lips didn't receive a reaction from the Brentaalan... at first. But as she mentioned the throne-- his throne, the full scope of the inheritance he had received began to dawn on him. He wasn't just receiving a fortune that'd make even the wealthiest aristocrats of his homeworld green with envy-- he was receiving an army. An army, hundreds-- thousands strong, each with the strength and power of ten men. A vast fortune, a powerful army, and a ship that could carry them across an ocean of stars.

And more than any of that, he was being given a throne. The weight of the diadem in his jacket weighed heavily all of a sudden-- heavy enough that he felt he needed to sit down, on a chair that the captain had waited a quarter of a hundred thousand years to give him. He looked down at her again, before leaning forward, whispering, "T'ha tibi t'a matias meas."

With that, Laeonas pulled back, slowly making his way to the throne. He took a long, deep breath, and sat down... unsure of what would happen next.

​

@AutoFox

 

[Trini Halrixien]

Trini looked around in shock as banks of turbolifts opened along the walls. Lumbering onto the bridge came dozens of hulking, ancient war droids, their kiirium armor glinting in the light of screens and control boards; they filed with silent, mechanical precision to the various crew stations, extending computer probes into waiting sockets, manipulators hovering poised above buttons, dials and switches. Deep within the ship, a new rumble sounded; this time, Trini recognized the deep thrum of an archaic fission cycle engine, powering up for perhaps the first time in 20,000 years.

Turning, she watched as Laeonas made his way to the command throne. The huge seat dominated the bridge, and the Amaran saw the human's hesitation; nevertheless, when he sat down, she had to admit that he seemed to fill it well.

As the heir took his rightful place in the ship's command throne, the dozens of war droids came to attention. With a clatter, they all turned to face the throne, their left arms crossing over their breastplates in an ancient salute. After a moment, they all sank to one knee.

The Katepano could not see, but she knew what had happened just the same. She grinned proudly, and turned back toward the throne herself, making the salute with one arm as the other held the command podium for support.

"Chaíre ston klironómo tou Xim! Emeís pou eímaste mazí tou se aftí ti néa epochí, pou metaféroume tin klironomiá tou palioú! Ópos ton ypiretísame, étsi tha ypiretísoume kai esás! Eíthe i grothiá sou na perikleísei ta astéria kai to ónomá sou na xeperásei ton chróno!"

With surprising precision, the Katepano clicked her heels, then turned back to her controls. With another simultaneous clatter, the droids did the same.

"Tóra akoúste aftó! Óloi oi stathmoí, katástasi máchis 1! Ólo to plíroma etoimázetai na sikósei to ploío! Oi kinitíres apóthisis varýtitas sto foul! Atomikós sorós sto éna tétarto! Óla ta ópla, oplíste kai anamoní gia na parakoloutheíte stóchous! Óla ta tmímata thorákisis, proetoimasteíte gia prosarmogí gia véltisti ektropí! Ektélesi!"

Meanwhile, in the sky above, a Cronese Battlebird cruised over the ruins of the ancient shipyard, two other ships of the same class flying in formation to either side. On the bridge, a shadowed figure peered out at the landscape; occasionally, a bolt of incandescent turbolaser fire would lance down, causing explosions among the tumbled blocks and boulders.

The figure smirked.

"Well, when a hammer and brush don't get results, one has to take a more direct approach. Don't you agree, captain?"

The ship's captain, an old human with the weathered features of a native Argaian, pursed his lips. He looked uncomfortably down at the ruins; his employer was desperate to get at whatever they concealed, desperate enough to waste good men in the attempt. Further, it seemed to him that bombarding the ruins seemed like a good way to destroy whatever was buried.

"As... you say, sir. We've not hit anything important so far, however."

The shadowed figure nodded.

"Understood. Maintain sensor scan, let me know as soon as..."

Suddenly, the figure leaned forward.

"What is that?!"

Abruptly, a part of the craggy landscape below had opened up in a long, widening fissure. Within the rising clouds of dust and flying rubble were mirror-bright flashes, the glint of polished metal as something huge rose up from the ground, parting the rock and soil before it like the bow of some archaic ocean-going vessel. Even from inside the Battlebird, the crew could hear the steady roar of ancient fuel slug rockets, smoke and fire becoming visible at one end of the rising object.

"Impossible! Is that...?!"

With a roar, the rising object broke free of the dirt and rock, lifting up to gleam in the sun. A long cylinder, a cluster of engines at one end, sheathed in mirror-polished flexible panels that angled and adjusted even as the incredulous Captain watched.

And then...

Jonnir briefly shielded his eyes as, from somewhere below the level of the bridge, rods of bright yellow light stabbed out at one of the nearby Battlebirds. The staccato report of heatbeam cannons blazing away accompanied the flash.

"Minimal oamage! These oom-lics evidentlee doo oeflector screens!"

The Hutt shielded his eyes again as another broadside was loosed against the unfortunate warship. The IXS Continuence was beyond antique, its weapons obsolete many times over, but it had a lot of them; the yellow-white beams splashed against the modern energy shields of the Battlebird, which was already beginning to turn in order to bring its fixed heavy weapons to bear. Abruptly, however, the shear volume of fire punched through; Jonnir pumped a fist in the air as the beams drilled remorselessly into the enemy hull, splatters of molten armor material raining from the impacts. The ship turned away, smoking, chased by another broadside.

"'Z oone lo! Lo'z withdrawing! Katepano, jee suggest nocusing nire nop bu othah dopa!"

Katepano Lepratas gave another feral grin at the news of one of her targets withdrawing; according to the droids, they were mere Battlebirds, ships even she knew of old, and among the least of those which had served in Xim's grand fleet at that. Evidently, however, technology marched on; the little warships were equipped with "deflector screens", a technology - if she understood its function - which had been the domain of science fiction when she had gone to sleep.

An advantage to her enemies, then, but evidently not an insurmountable one.

"O vasiliás mou! To Hutt léei sofía, allá tha eícha tis entolés sas!"

@Tom

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

As Laeonas sat in the chair, his expression twisted as he looked around the room at those around him. The Hutt, the Captain, Trini-- Zeezee's head, still on the floor where she'd left it-- what did it mean for him to sit here? What was about to happen?

The answers came as the doors behind him opened and war droids filled the room, taking a salute and a kneel. Strangely enough, the human found himself blushing, embarrassed by the display of supplication. The diadem in his pocket, with it's seven massive gemstones and ring of electrum and gold, felt especially heavy. Laeonas would listen to the captain's appraisal of him. "May your fist enclose the stars, and name outlive time!" He heard through her words, most of which were unintelligible.

Than, she moved into action, bellowing commands which the droids immediately worked to follow, arriving at their stations. He felt the ship lurch as the engines roared to life, and his eyes widened as they began to rise into the sky.

For the first time in over 20,000 years, the ancient ship spread it's proverbial wings, and soared.

At once, the ship began to fire at one of the ships above them. Primitive as it was, the sheer amount of firepower was to much for the ships to bear-- just as the hardiest AT-ST's would fall from the slings and arrows of a hundred ewoks. The shields were struggling, and immediately, the ship turned around, trying to withdraw. Laeonas stared at the scene intently, the various other ships scrambling to defend themselves. He heard the Hutt's suggestion, than he heard his captain, apparently trying to voice support for his suggestion.

He had assumed she would remain in command, but as she "looked" to him, it struck the Brentaalan that the throne he sat in wasn't ceremonial. He was in command-- and whatever came next, it would be his decision to make.

He considered that fact and it's implications for a few seconds-- but than he turned his attention to the Hutt-- the one fluent enough in the captain's language to translate for him.

"<Concentrate all yer fire on tha closest ship!>" He commanded, speaking in fluent Huttese as he could muster. "<Scan their ship's defenses-- find tha deflector shield generators and blow 'em ta 'ell!>" The Brentaalan finished, before nodding to the Hutt to tell what he'd just said to the captain.

​

@AutoFox

 

[Trini Halrixien]

Trini watched in amazement as one of the pacing Battlebirds withdrew in flames, the other two maneuvering to finally bring their weapons to bear. Incandescent beams gouged at the enemy shields, and they were beginning to wear down their opponents; at Laeonas' order, the beams instantly converged on one ship, and there was a mighty explosion aft. This ship began a rapid descent, smoke billowing, before carving a furrow in the rocky terrain below.

Katepano Lepratas gave a feral grin as she heard the report of an enemy ship forced to the ground. She wondered, briefly, if this new Daritha of hers had ever commanded a ship before; nevertheless, she hoped in the time she had left that she would be able to teach him more of what she knew.

"Brávo Vasiliá mou! Móno énas echthrós ménei pléon! Prépei na ton katastrépsoume kai metá na eímaste makriá apó-"

Abruptly, there was a crackle from the comm station. Over the bridge's internal speakers came a dry chuckle, a voice Trini and Laeonas recognized.

"So... you thought you would take it all for yourself, did you? I'll admit, I'm impressed!"

The IXS Continuence did not have hologram projectors in the way Trini and Laeonas were used to. Instead, an enormous cube-shaped block of mytag crystal began to glow, and within its depths appeared the aged face of Professor Rasmassan. The vaguely absent expression the old academic had worn on their previous encounter was gone, replaced by cold amusement.

"I don't know how you managed to get that ancient hulk flying, but rest assured, what it carries in its holds is mine, and I will have it!"

The face twisted in a sneer.

"Will you deliver it quietly, or shall I have to take it?"

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

Laeonas had flown ships before, but... well, he'd never brought another down. He eagerly watched as the blasts from their vessel-- his vessel-- collided. He watched as the ship rapidly descended, seeing the hull crumple as it slammed into the ground. It was utterly fascinating. He tried not to imagine the people inside-- instead of focusing on the dead, his chief priority was, as always, to prevent himself from joining them.

The captain's congratulations were a reassuring message that helped distract from the defeated enemies onto the ones he'd yet to destroy. He was about to bark out another order when, without warning, one of the primitive screen-things crackled to life... and all thoughts of the battle disappeared.

Suddenly, the events of the past few hours made sense. He'd assumed the Hutt was the one who'd sent their attackers. Now he realized the truth of all that had happened. He understood that the old, condescending academic had hired mercenaries. He realized that he'd tracked down their progress, and he was here to take the treasure-- take his treasure.

Laeonas would not allow that.

"You," he hissed, venom laced in his words as he turned in his chair. His jaw tightened as he sat there, listening to the professor prattle on, about how the treasure in the vault was his. Like he had climbed inside, woken the captain and been granted the stash. Like he had slaughtered half a dozen men a little over an hour prior. Like he needed it, sitting in his studies, reading dusty old books he'd wasted his life on and had to justify that time spent by stealing from a man who he had thoroughly underestimated.

Of all the people Laeonas had come to hate, he held very, very few in greater contempt than this old, megalomaniacal windbag. But hate like that wasn't like the kin that usually disoriented, made him stupid, caused him to act rashly. Where that anger and hate was like a raging inferno, this was like the fires of a kiln, forging a blade to kill his enemies.

He thought hard, focused on that hate. He let it burn, let it sing until the stone of the kiln was red hot. The flames were strong, and it gave him power. He looked at the screen, at the old man-- at his neck. He imagined his hand wrapped around his windpipe. How frail that neck had to be, old arthritic bones, dry flaking flesh, sinewy muscle that wouldn't be able to stop what he was doing.

Hatred radiated off of him, and everything that lived within the ship could feel it. It radiated off of him like heat from a bonfire, and for Trini, it was worse. It was as if his thoughts were screaming into her ears.

The Hutt might notice it as well, as would the captain-- but it wasn't heat she felt. It was cold, and there was something about it that would feel utterly familiar. It wasn't of a familiar person, per se-- for it had been something else.

When Laeonas spoke again, his voice was calm.

"If ya value yer life," he called, his voice sharp as a razor, "You'll turn yer ships around." He declared. "If ya don't, Ai know yer crew does-- and they'll do fer me what Ai'm doin' t'ya, right now." He went on, cocking his head slightly. He sat on his command throne, wearing his crown, raven hair kissing his shoulders. The aquamarine of his eyes had retreated to his pupils, engulfed in a sea of shining amber.

"Otherwise, ya can join tha rest of yer men on tha ground."

​

@AutoFox

 

[Trini Halrixien]

Trini stared first in shock, then in increasing anger at the holographic countenance of her professor. She came forward, standing beside Laeonas' command throne with a look of rage twisting her features. She seemed not to notice her companion's transformation...

"Professor, what in the name of Indrexu is this?!"

Professor Rasmassan raised his eyebrows in surprise as Trini Halrixien came into frame, her features rendered in green monochrome in the feed from the archaic battleship. He shook his head, settling back in his chair.

"You disappoint me, Trini! I had thought you a better student than to abandon me at the first opportunity. Granted, it would have been necessary to deal with you at some point, so I suppose this is convenient, hm?"

The Professor returned his attention to Laeonas. He did not have the presence of the Brentaalian, but he nevertheless had a dignity of his own; if he'd had a crown, he might have worn it well. With regal scorn, he glared at the Brentaali; however, when he tried to speak, he coughed, his breath short. He reached up to rub at his neck; it felt constricted! Something in the environmental system, perhaps?

"Mind your betters, cur!" The Professor wheezed, anger overcoming his shortness of breath. "You know not to whom you speak, so I shall forgive your insolence once! I am Arnati Rasmassan, last of my line! I am a descendant of the High Lineages of Tion! My ancestor was Ferece, last true King of Cron!"

He leaned forward in his seat, still massaging his neck.

"Xim the Despot stole what is rightfully mine, and I would have it back! If you shall not yield, then I shall remove you from my path."

The Professor turned to someone out of from.

"Call in the fighters! We shall clip their wings!"

The transmission cut abruptly. Nearby, Katepano Lepratas spoke up.

"Theé mou! Mikrá skáfi plisiázoun apó megálo ypsómetro! Ísos misí ntouzína? faínontai na eínai machités í karfítses kápoiou eídous!"

Trini cursed at the announcement, the news of approaching fighters dispelling her shock at the revelation her old Professor had just given. She shook her head; the Continuence had been a veritable fortress against small craft in its day, but she doubted the ship's ancient anti-air heatbeams would be at all effective against shielded modern fighters, especially if they kept their distance.

"Kriff... I'll handle this! Laeonas, Katepano, focus your attention on the capital ship!"

Before either had the chance to reply, Trini was off running through the ship toward an area speculative reconstructions had designated as the hangar bay...

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

On his peripherals, he could hear Trini swearing at her former colleague, anger boiling over and lashing out. The anger in her didn’t compare to the seething, burning cauldron of hate that roiled within him. It was white hot, all consuming– and yet, it remained subdued. His features remained even, never rising beyond the initial anger and disgust he’d displayed at the sight of the old man.

And so, while the professor blustered about his glorious heritage, recounting his lineage from some long dead and forgotten royal line, boasting that he hailed from a family reduced to nothing but worm food, Laeonas’ only visible reaction was a deepening of his frown.

“Bia’vermis– tuus oidhreach’ta.” When Laeonas had first heard those words, he’d been laying in a gutter, seven ribs shattered and bleeding out of three separate blaster shots. He could still remember the looks of disgust and hatred painted across the faces of the two gangsters who’d nearly ended his life. He’d bragged to anyone who might listen about his heritage– how Andronikas Tannaras was his natural father, how his heritage stretched back thousands of years.

He didn’t know jack shit about his heritage. They didn’t either, and when it came to the professor’s lineage, he was just as ignorant as they were.

It didn’t stop him from calling his heritage worm food.

He didn’t know if the old man knew his language– there was no point in making sure he understood. He’d decided to fight, and so, he’d die.

When the transmission cut, he heard the woman speak up– reiterating the professor’s last command. On the primitive viewscreens he would watch as a number of smaller craft began speedily heading towards their position.

“Hutt!” He called, turning to Jonnir. “<Ask 'er about this ship’s point defense– ion cannons, turbolasers! Whatever we 'ave, tell 'er ta get'em online and get'em ta fire!>” He barked in the most fluent Huttese he could manage. It was only after speaking up that he realized that, even if the ship’s point defenses were operational, they had no men to operate them.

Not men, at least…

“<Ask 'er about tha targeting capabilities of tha warbots– can they operate this ship’s point defense system?>” He asked, his nails digging into his palms. These were a lot of questions to ask– ifs and buts and variables galore. He hadn’t the slightest clue how this ship functioned, what it’s defensive capabilities were. The captain could compensate with her intimate, millennia old knowledge, but until he fully understood he couldn’t develop a clear strategy.

That was when Trini bolted off the bridge. Amber eyes followed as she ran. Where was she going, what was she doing? She must have a better knowledge of the ship than he did, so where–

And that was when it clicked.

“Fighters!” He hissed, a manic grin spreading across his lips. “<Ask about fighters– can tha droids pilot them? Ai want 'em scrambled!>” He barked again, cringing at the thickness of his accent as it bled into his Huttese.

Trini had suggested that they focus on the enemy capital ship, and this was where Laeonas could give clear, precise orders.

“<I want tha enemy ship scanned– hyperdrive, weapons systems, shields!>” He snapped. “<Concentrate fire on their 'eavy weaponry– cannons, turbolasers– cripple their long range offense and keep our distance.>”

​

@AutoFox

 

[Trini Halrixien]

" Akoúo kai ypakoúo, vasiliá mou! Ópla pou stochévoun echthriká ópla kai magnitikés sfragídes! Ektóxefsi amyntikís moíras!"

Along the length of the Continuence, beam-tube artillery began swinging up to target the smaller vessel. As they let loose a withering volley, however, the enemy ship turned in toward them; the Cronese Battlebird's weapons being mostly fixed forward, it had little choice if its commander wished to engage his opponent. Rolling to avoid the Continuence's broadside, it fired off a powerful barrage of its own, laser and turbolaser bolts shearing off one of the glittering kiirium armor segments with a spectacular spray of multicolored sparks. The battleship rocked, but held course...

Meanwhile, several decks below, Trini stumbled as the entire ship shuddered, nearly thrown off her feet. Steadying herself, she kept running, pounding along a corridor she very much hoped would lead where she wanted to go.

"Tóra akoúste aftó! Tóra akoúste aftó! Prosopikó tis Moíras 1, anaforá stous machités sas! Epanalávete, prosopikó tis Moíras 1, anaforá stous machités sas! Anakatépste amésos gia epicheiríseis katadíoxis enantíon eiserchómenon echthrikón skafón! Epanalamváno-"

From a series of niches in the corridor wall ahead, the hulking shapes of war-robots emerged. They appeared almost identical to the others Trini had seen, although they lacked the arm cannons others of their kind had, and were painted with rank insignia the archaeologist recognized as having been used by Xim's air crews. Ignoring her, the robots began marching quick-step in the same direction, the corridor eventually emerging into a vast open space which Trini was relieved to see.

The hangar was not as large as it might have been on a modern warship, but it nevertheless contained a collection that brought Trini up short. Ranks of Barancese Asterines sat in their launch cradles, ready for transfer to a catapult system which would assist in their takeoff. Trini had seen a few of the majestic craft before, but never so many in one place, and never in a fully armed state, ready to take off and do battle...

Hesitantly, she stepped up to one of the craft, running a hand over its smooth, anti-flash white enameled hull; looking up, she watched as cranes lowered war-robot pilots into the open cockpit of each one...

And then, abruptly, there was an explosion.

Trini was knocked to the floor, cursing aloud as something heavy and metallic fell just next to her. Looking up, she saw the hulk of a robot, broken and sparking from the fall after being dislodged from its crane by the blast. The rest of the robots continued launch preparations...

The damaged robot swiveled its head to look at Trini. The Amaran hesitated, but then she stood, nodding wordlessly. Swarming up a nearby ladder, she dropped into the cockpit, which closed over her automatically. Gulping, she surveyed the archaic controls, then began flicking switches; she spotted an ancient synthleather flying cap and put it on, adjusting the audio pickup.

"This is Trini Halrixien, now taking off to engage bandits!"

The Amaran's words would be relayed to the bridge. Around her, the robot-crewed fighters were already taking off; Trini prepared to do so.

"We'll keep those fighters off your back!"

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

Laeonas sat on the command throne pensively, amber eyes widening as he felt the ship– his ship– rock back and forth. “Kriff,” He seethed, teeth clenched as he looked at the enemy ship through one of the view screens.

He decided at that moment that he wouldn’t be taking any prisoners.

“CAPTAIN!” He roared, hatred curdling his words; an emotion Jonnir didn’t need to translate, though he would do so all the same. “Their weapons are fixed forward– sweep above 'em ta get out of their range!” He commanded. There would be a vulnerable moment in such a move, but if they succeeded it would give them time to avoid any further damage.

If pulled off successfully, he would shout another order; “Roll 90 degrees clockwise so our broadside turns down above tha enemy cruiser; shift fire on tha way between tha bridge and ship's body! Don’t stop firin' until tha bridge is disabled, tha ship is slag, and lifesigns CEASE.”

It was a bold, brash move, but it wasn’t based off aggression alone. Laeonas had been involved in a number of shootouts over the years; the two most important advantages were height, and finding an angle where your opponent couldn’t shoot back. Obviously this wasn’t a blaster-fight, but the principal was the same; if they got out of the opponent’s range, and had an angle where they could fire on the enemy freely, they would win.

It only helped that Laeonas’ direct targeting of the bridge with all of the ship’s weapons systems would be the equivalent of a headshot– provided it got through.

His quiet seething was interrupted as a familiar voice came over the intercom, and a smile spread across his lips. Bookish and occasionally annoying as the Amaran was, she made up for it with a bravery and resolve that hardly anyone Laeo had met could match. That she was about to risk being blown out of the sky to protect what they’d won only intensified the growing respect he felt for her.

“Careful t'not get blown ta smithereens; if ya can, bait tha fighters away from our ship.” Laeonas ordered, before he turned his attention back to the captain. “Send some fighters ta loop a'round tha cruiser. Keep 'em out'f range 'til we’re atta good position, and then command 'em ta attack tha enemy cruiser from all angles.”

​

@AutoFox

 

[Trini Halrixien]

It was odd, Trini thought to herself as the catapult spooled up below her, how similar the Asterine's controls were to modern fighters. She supposed the combination of stick and throttle was fairly elementary; cultures which had not even discovered gas turbines used it, let alone one which had spread out to conquer multiple sectors of the Galaxy in its heyday. She wondered, briefly, if any humanoid culture had ever settled on a different-

The catapult was like a kick in the gut, tuned for near-infinite G tolerance of robotic pilots; in a flash, Trini's appropriated fighter cleared the hangar, and the Amaran found herself surrounded by open sky...

After the initial shock, her head was immediately on a swivel. Zeezee had trained her well.

And look, there they are!

" This is Lance Leader, we are on track to target. We'll make our run and you'll be home free to do as much damage as you like, King Rasmassan."

The fighters, like seemingly everything else in the would-be King's arsenal, were old, but surprisingly effective. They were old Sienar Fleet Systems Daggers, their triple-bladed hulls slicing through the atmosphere, sonic booms propagating behind them. As they lined up on the massive bulk of the Xim-era battleship, they had no fear; in this fight, they were the biggest, baddest things flying, especially next to any ancient, string-and-canvas relics the battleship might launch.

"Alright, Lancers! Mark those cannon emplacements and make your runs. No shielding on this hulk, so even our popguns should do it!"

There was a chorus of "yes sir!" from the other pilots in the squadron, and then they set to work. Lance Leader checked his targeting computer, adjusting the reticle as he dove straight down on a cannon, even as the King's corvette turned to set up its own run. The pilot's finger began to tighten on the firing stud...

It was the last thing he ever did.

Several of the enemy ships blossomed in fireballs as they made runs on the battleship, including the one directly in front of Trini. Sloppy, she thought; the enemy didn't even seem to have activated their shields, doubtless because they didn't think much of the Continuence's ancient weapons. As it turned out, however, heatbeams were still plenty effective, especially when you got up close.

The Amaran banked away from the spreading cloud of debris that had been her target.

"Splash one!" Trini called. Over the comm, the robotic voices of the other Asterine pilots sounded similar successes; meanwhile, the enemy fighters which had not yet committed to targets began to mill around, their pilots trying to discern what was happening. As they did, Trini fell in behind one, the primitive proximity fuse linked to her targeting system buzzing low, then high as she reached effective range...

Another Dagger disassembled itself in mid air, and Trini swooped by, a feral grin on her muzzle.

"Two!"

Aboard the Battlebird, Professor Rasmassan stared in disbelief as, one by one, the contrails of his fighters terminated in bright explosions against the backdrop of the massive battleship. His ship was turning into its own attack run, but much more slowly than any fighter; meanwhile, with the fighters gone, the enemy ship would still have...

"Oh nine hells, shields! ALL POWER TO-"

They were the last words the would-be New King of Cron ever uttered. By Laeonas' command, fire from an entire broadside of heatbeam artillery lanced out from the Continuence, converging on first the bridge, and then walking back along the hull of the unfortunate Battlebird...

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

On the Bridge, Laeonas would watch the battle with nervous anticipation as it unfolded around him. He watched as his orders were obeyed without question or delay, and, much to his satisfaction, executed flawlessly.

One by one, the fighters accosting his ship were blown to slag, their smouldering remains harmlessly bouncing off the hull of his ship or tumbling to the ground far below. The fighters that were left flying hovered around like flies swarming around rotting fruit– which were quickly dispatched as Trini and his robotic servants blew them to hell.

“YES!” He roared, a triumphant grin spreading across his lips. The so called “king”’s corvette was all that was left to oppose them. The ancient vessel would slowly pivot, preparing to carry out Laeonas’ commands. “Hold steady! Don’t fire until we’re in position!” He barked, raising a closed fist. Firing early would certainly cause damage to the ship, but if he wanted to end this now, it had to be done right.

Almost…

Almost…

“FIRE!” He yelled, and amber eyes would light up as the battlebird carrying the old crow was systematically disabled and blown to smithereens. He could feel the life force of the professor snuffed out instantaneously as the bridge was hit, the death’s of the crew radiating in the force as the battlebird was reduced to slag by the nonstop firing of the continuance’s heat beams.

“...we did it.” he whispered, a grin spreading across his lips. “We DID IT!” He yelled in triumph.

“Still confident ya can take what’s yers, YER MAJESTY?!” He asked in a mocking tone, spitting the venom laced words with disgust. “It’s to bad yer a smolderin’ pile of dust right now– I was looking forward of nailin’ ya to a cross and feedin’ ya yer own balls, you old FUCK!” He shouted, laughing cruelly as he stood, before sitting back down on the command throne in a heap.

He’d probably cringe looking back at this in the years to come. No doubt he’d be disgusted by his callous disregard of sentient life, his revelry in pointless destruction where conflict could have been avoided under different circumstances.

That was for later though. For now, he would revel in his triumph. The treasure was his. This ship was his. A battalion of formidable battle droids sat, waiting at his command.

He just needed to figure out what to do with all of it– but he was already getting ideas.

“Trini, get back t’tha ship. We ‘ave spoils to divide.”

​

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[Trini Halrixien]

Meanwhile, at the command podium, Katepano Lepratas gave a long sigh, her hands trembling slightly as they fell from the controls to her sides. The satisfaction of a hard-fought victory caused a smile to curl her lips; her first in an aeon, some remote part of her mind remarked. Turning, she came to attention facing Laeonas, giving the hand-over-heart salute which had been her service's gesture of respect.

A service which would die with her, that bitter corner of her mind again interjected, but she silenced it ruthlessly.

"Vasiliá mou, o echthrós sou skotóthike! Anamfívola, den ítan pará énas apó tous polloús. Anexártita, i níki eínai dikí sas aftí ti méra, ópos kai na eínai."

Abruptly, as the Katepano continued to salute, she felt something. The fist over her hear became a clutching claw, and she sank to one knee, teeth briefly gritted.

"Kai chaíromai, stin ypiresía se spoudaíous ándres, pou o chrónos mou teleiónei échontas mia tétoia níki."

The edges of Katepano Lepratas' vision darkened. Her carbonite prison had deflected the march of years, but after so long, the march of time demanded its due. Like an ancient tomb exposed to outside air, the Katepano felt like she was tarnishing in real time. In a way, it was sad; this future age was unknown, and she would have liked to see it.

"An ítan epilogí mou, tha parédida pollá perissótera. Ostóso, pistévo óti i moíra échei orísei óti o chrónos mou échei teleiósei. Ísos tairiázei."

The Katepano shivered, then grinned.

"O vasiliás mou! Den eísai o ánthropos pou ypirétisa prin apó ton makrý ýpno mou. Allá se séna vlépo káti apó aftón. Kai ísos kai ston mikró exogíino sýntrofó sas, an kai ypothéto óti óloi oi megáloi ántres prépei na échoun ton Oziáf tous."

She turned her gaze up to meet Laeonas'. For a wonder, she realized her blindness had cleared; a strange man, she remarked, not a son of Tion, but then even they had come from elsewhere. Wherever he hailed from, she saw in him something that reminded her of that ancient sneer of command.

"Eíthe i grothiá sou na perikleísei ta astéria, Vasiliá mou! Kai makári to ónomá sou na xeperásei ton chróno."

With that, the light left the Katepano's eyes, and she toppled forward, expiring at last. The last captain of Xim the Despot's navy, at last, had gone from the Galaxy...

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

Triumphant. That was what he felt right now. It burned through his veins, it filled his lungs. It swallowed him in it’s warm and empowering embrace. He would bathe in the waters of victory as long as he was able. It felt like he’d stepped into the myths of his world past, playing the role of the conquering hero, the favor of Deus at his back. He even had a trusted subordinate, singing his praises so the audience could know of his greatness.

Most of her words were unintelligible, but the captain’s exaltations drove the grin on his face to widen further and further. His enemies were dead or gone, and he felt good. He felt strong. He felt invincible.

He’d beamed at the captain’s praises, until she began clutching at her chest, and fell to her knees. All thoughts of victory faded as amber receded to aquamarine, and the Brentaalan rose from his throne to close the distance with the collapsing, ancient woman.

He could understand some of her words, and his lips would curl into a frown, his eyes widening slightly. “Wh– no, don’t be–” he began, before clearing his throat. “Afto den enai, kapetania mea.” He whispered, genuinely meaning it. Their victory had been flawless. Not one casualty, total annihilation of their enemy. He’d delivered orders, sure, but she had been the one to carry them out. She had been the one to grant him the riches in the ship’s hold.

This woman, this relic from a bygone age– she’d been a truer ally to him than nearly anyone he’d met. A marvel of a civilization that had changed so much that the one she knew was all but extinct. One who against all odds had lived to see a new age– and who had managed to win one final victory before the universe finally stole her.

He held her as she spoke, defiant to the last. His eyes widened as she spoke of him as if he weren’t Xim’s progeny for the first time. Had she known from the beginning? Had she chosen to serve him all the same? “A’le magna aaloi’oi tha einiai… adh chun agat tetoias ena fide ea forte kapetania.” he reassured her, the Broken Brentaalan the best and most comprehensible comfort he could provide her with.

He held her, and for the first time, it looked as if she saw him. Not the image he projected, but him; a boy, far from his home who’d stumbled into a legend.

And she still saluted him.

He held her closer as she collapsed. He felt her lungs rattle, and as had happened so many times before, his ally died in his arms.

No tears flowed from his eyes as he felt her essence become one with the force. He stood slowly, cracking his neck as he stepped back and sighed.

He would have to drink tonight.

​

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[Trini Halrixien]

As Laeonas finally lay the ancient Katepano to rest, settling her to the deck of her aeon-old command, the soft click and whir of a door opening came from behind. As the Brentaalan straightened, there was silence, and then a hesitant word.

"I-I was... afraid of that."

Trini, archaic flight helmet under her arm, walked onto the bridge of the Continuence, ears flagged in sadness as she beheld the still form upon the gleaming metal floor. She hugged the helmet to her chest.

"The old carbon techs knew a lot, but to keep someone alive that long... there are always costs." Trini said, walking slowly forward. "Gods, there was so much I wanted to ask her, so much she could have-!"

A heavy hand came down in Trini's shoulder, and she looked up. The Amaran had never seen the expression of grief on a Hutt's face, but she saw it now; Jonnir shook his great head sadly.

"She died as she would have desired." The slug intoned in resonant, heavily accented Basic. "As a warrior, in service to a man whose ambition, I think, may match that of one she knew of old..."

The Hutt looked to Laeonas, his expression becoming curious.

"Victory is yours, young despot! This ship, the wonders it carries; what shall you do with it, I wonder?"

Trini, looking nervous, cleared her throat after a beat and spoke.

"I... may have some ideas there..."

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

The cacophonous silence broke when he heard the door open. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The Amaran’s presence stirred in the force, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted her grieving at his side, or if he should slam the door in her face. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but his lips remained still, aquamarines fixed on the floor next to his fallen comrade, his sharp features a mask of stoicism.

He heard her words, going in one ear and out the other like white noise. He registered the sounds of her feet against the floor better than her speech.

It was the hutt’s rumbling tones that stirred him from his waking slumber. His eyes darted around and he spun on his heels, his expression one of panic, before quickly settling. Laeo had always looked young for his age, but Trini would see a mix of a frightened boy and a senile man who had briefly forgotten where he was.

Part of him had left with the captain, and the man before the Amaran and the Hutt was something new.

“Victory.” He repeated the Hutt’s words, lips moving alongside his voice before he let out a rattled sigh.

“What… what to do. What to do with it.” He went on, and now it seemed his mind finally began to work. His eyes looked over the bridge again, his mind wandering back to the treasure room. The diadem on his brow, or any one of those artifacts would leave him set. The professor had been willing to murder them all to get his hands on them, out of some misplaced delusions of ancestral rights, so finding a buyer willing to pay… anything… would be easy.

“Ai’m goin’ ‘ome.” He declared, the words escaping his mouth before he knew they were coming. He didn’t know exactly what that meant, but the words came anyway. “Ai’ll sell what Ai can. Ai’ll be rich, and Ai’ll ‘ave this.” he declared, gesturing at the ship around him. He would have riches, and he would have power. Power anyone at the end of the barrel of a blaster was familiar with. Power that equalized centuries of privilege and washed away oppression. Power that could bring a world to its knees.

At least until a lucky turbolaser tore the old cruiser in half and he was sent to an early, fiery grave.

Whatever thoughts he had, they were swept aside by the meek suggestion of his partner. He turned, staring at her, before blinking once or twice and leaning down so they were on eye level.

“Go on.”

​

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