Rishi's Open Orbit

Kr'Naan swallowed nervously as she listened to the decision given to her. Her head tilted down to carefully study the two buttons that were hers to choose from before looking up at the display to then analyze the split view of the targets provided. Both targets had their merits as Dragus had pointed out, but only one would please him. Then which one was the correct one? Kr'Naan adjusted herself in the command throne as he began to try and think this through.

The hospital was the obvious choice to her given not only the value of eliminating future combatants, but also the saurian Sith's disposition. It was the easy choice. Kr'Naan's finger drifted over the blue button, but stopped. It couldn't be that simple, could it? Kr'Naan looked up to Dragus questioningly, trying to discern a hint of an answer. But the reptilian reprobate's expression offered no trace of one, Dragus taking on an unusually stoic and emotionless front for the barbaric barabel. The Tusken youngling would receive no help in her decision. Kr'Naan moved her gloved finger away from the blue button and looked back down to think further.

The military base was small, but outsider weapons were very powerful. If they eliminated them now, they would have less resistance in destroying anything else they wanted; including the hospital. If they waited it could become a larger problem down the line, aiding the rest of the population with training and any safeguarded weapons they managed to gather. Kr'Naan's finger then moved to hover over the red button, but stopped short of pushing it. She again looked up at Dragus, again hoping to spot a flinch or twitch that would tell her this was what he wanted. There was nothing. Kr'Naan pulled her finger away from the red button as well to think further.

Kr'Naan's thoughts went back to her homeworld, and the harsh realities that her people endured. The R'Crurak tribe was small, but they had survived as long as they had because of the brutality they showed their enemies. It was rare for them to take prisoners, even children, unless there was a good reason. Kr'Naan personally only knew of two or three survivors from other tribes whose lands had been taken by the R'Crurak Sentry warriors, and even then they had been handed off to a larger clan they were allied with. If there were more, she did not know of them. It would likely be a great shame and they would try to hide their true origins, either blending in or living in exile. Kr'Naan gasped slightly as she realized she had thought of an answer.

When given a choice to eliminate any dangers or opponents, was it not best to do so utterly and completely? Any survivors of such attacks could be dealt with as stragglers, taken as prisoners to be traded or enslaved, but the main objective should be to destroy almost all hope of victory to demoralize and discourage any resistance. Kr'Naan giggled quietly and felt a giddiness swell up within her; so much so that she almost began kicking her booted feet as she sat upon the throne. Kr'Naan looked back up to Dragus once more, radiating pride as bright as the twin suns of her home system at high noon. With great force she pressed down on BOTH buttons, giggling more as she believed this to be the true answer.

Kr'Naan had not noticed the exchange between Dragus and Dirkwood, her attention being fully enraptured by the viewscreens showing the devastation she had wrought upon the denizens of the world. It all seemed so far away, yet she could see it up close here before her. Kr'Naan looked down at her hands in awe. In a moment she had blinked out so many lives that had stood against the glory of her master. She had been the judge of their worth and found them lacking. She was the arbiter of his will in that moment. Kr'Naan tightened her hands into fists as they began to shake as the weight of the action she had just performed began to set it. Somewhere in her mind a switch had flipped. This shock was not horror, sadness or even disbelief; it was excitement. This power was intoxicating, but it also left her with an emptiness; she wanted more. She craved it.

Kr'Naan, fingers still trembling as she unfurled her gloved fingers and began to move them over the buttons once more to press them again. Before she was able to though, she was swept up and swung around by the saurian Sith in congratulations. Kr'Naan wobbled for just a moment as she regained her footing after being sat down on the deck of the bridge, steadying herself as she heard the drooling dragonid address her, giving her praise and another choice. The Tusken youngling was still overtaken by the rush of mass murder, her desire for more muffling the meaning of even the black-scaled barabel's words momentarily.

Kr'Naan made a step towards the throne she had been taken from, but she was cut off by the sneering Lorn Dirkwood who stepped between her and the command apparatus. Despite the wet mark on the man's trousers and the trail of urine he was leaving behind from his pantleg, he still looked down upon the Tusken girl and gave her a wide look of disdain. He cleared his throat and spoke harshly to the youngling with all the superiority of one barely a rung higher on the sinister serpent's list of standing, which may or may not have changed in this interaction. He needed to let the speck who was higher up on the food chain without upsetting his Dragus further.



Kr'Naan blinked as she snapped back into the present and looked back up to Dragus, confused. The Tusken still felt as if she were not completely in her own body, leaving her feeling detached in the moment. The thrill of the act she had just committed was still sinking in, but she had enough of her faculties to answer. Her tone was cold but firm.


Given new direction and a more immediate purpose, Kr'Naan would follow Dragus quietly. Before leaving however, Kr'Naan stopped and turned back to give Lorn Dirkwood a death glare, memorizing his face so as to remember it for later. The flagship's commander did not take notice, instead retaking his position on the bridge without changing his soiled attire and continuing like nothing had happened and he was not soaking in his own filth. He did jump slightly as the lift doors snapped shut as Dragus and Kr'Naan left, and let out a small sigh of relief, rubbing the scars around his neck.

Kr'Naan remained quiet for a while longer as the turbolift moved, staring once more down at her hands, almost as if in disbelief. There was a disconnect from commanding the warship's weapons, but the feeling was still there. How many lives had she extinguished with two fingers? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Her mind could barely fathom such an amount of death. Kr'Naan turned back to Dragus to ask a question.


It was a very naïve question, but one born out of her endless curiosity. After all, who would expect the Lord of Famine to remember every victim or keep track of that sort of thing? But by the nature of the Tusken child's question it was easy to surmise she was not looking for an exact number. No, she was likely looking for some sort of wisdom from her idol after committing such a deed.

Kr'Naan flinched at the feeling of a sharp cold pain enter her mind as Dragus probed her mind seeking the reasoning behind her question, while leaving open a sampling of the horrific acts perpetrated within the vessel they occupied. Surprisingly the uli-ah did not seem to have a reaction, positive or otherwise. With a combination of the terrors inflicted to her within the last few days, the close proximity to Dragus and his antics, as well as the mass murder she had just committed she was a bit desensitized at the moment to the sights she saw flash in a millisecond across her mind.


It made sense, she concluded. Disembodied souls were thought to be very powerful, only hampered and contained by their physical forms. So to "acquire" many and use them for a purpose such as, say, binding them to a ship would potentially give the starcraft arcane properties. Not being able to sense or interact with the powers of the gods herself this was why the Covenant of Blood appeared to be just a larger ship. There was so much more to this place than she could imagine; at least that was the reason the Tusken youngling's mind came to. When a vacuum of proper explanation was present her adolescent mind filled in information with imagination.

Kr'Naan was quiet for a moment as she thought on the saurian Sith's explanation of his "gift." Her steps were slow as they got off the elevator, until finally the young Tusken believed she understood the "true" meaning and she hurriedly caught back up with the atrocious ophidian.


Kr'Naan thought she heard a small chuckle at her question, but was unsure as she was directed to a table display of assorted weaponry.

Kr'Naan eyed each armament carefully, eventually wrapping her hands around the hilt of a large obsidian bladed broadsword nearly twice her height. With excruciatingly loud scraping by her pulling, the enormous weapon fell to the floor with a loud reverberating thunk as the stone material impacting the metal beneath the filth that coated the surface of the deck. Far too large for the diminutive child, but it was sort of funny to watch her struggle to lift the heavy blade. Kr'Naan did give up after another few tries of trying to lift the impractical edged weapon. With a roll of his eyes Dragus would effortless lift the broadsword with one hand and lay it back on the table, and shifted his gaze back and forth from the Tusken child to the weaponry on the table.

After a moment the barbaric barabel lifted a twin set of curved shortswords of crude metal. They were meant to be used as a pair, but given the Tusken's size it would be a perfect fit. A shriek from a ranat bystander could be heard as Dragus heaved the sword in his left hand without care for where it landed and he turned the blade's hilt over to Kr'Naan, who took of the sword. Kr'Naan's arms fell with the weight of the shortsword, but she was able to hold it upright with both hands.

Sensor runes illuminated on Ugqot Broadchewer's display, drawing the attention of the ranats two beady black eyes. He ran his gnarled paws over the controls and focused the Terentatek's sensor array like a laser as he attempted to determine the cause of the blip. Magnified lenses zoomed in on the dust cloud of the nearby Cloak of the Sith, where something emerged from the raging meteoric storm crackling in space. The verminous officer flipped a toggle on his console and placed the camera view on the main screen dominating the Tagge Battlecruiser's bridge. From his command throne at the center of the bridge, Vermin Lord Skeer Grimspine rose from his seat, setting his nimble naked feet on the cold deck. He wringed his paws together beneath the folds of his shadow silk robe, whiskers twitching as his gleaming red eyes looked ahead at the display, not quite believing what he saw. From out of the dust cloud emerged a giant creature, with four long fins and a thick tail that propelled it through the cold void of space. It had glowing orange eyes, a massive mouth full of sharpened teeth that looked like they could have torn a hole in the hull of a star destroyer. Based on the displayed sensor readings, it was as large as the Red Witch, at least in length. It was covered in a brown leathery layer of dense hide that appeared as though it could shrug off a turbolaser blast. Well, only one way to confirm that for sure. Skeer lashed his wiry tail on the deck like a whip, eliciting a sharp crack that drew the twitching ears and beady eyes of the space rats on the bridge.

"Scurry-hurry to intercept that beast." Squeaked Skeer in fast paced rat-speech. "The master will most certainly reward us if we bring him such a trophy. Launch Skyre and Grikk squadrons to harry and herd it towards Rakghoul Station."

Silicon particulate wept from the space barnacle encrusted hull of the dreadnought as its engines began to blaze intensely into the vacuum of space, flash boiling mynocks slumbering around the massive ion cones at the rear. Slowly but surely the lumbering battlecruiser increased its pace, taking a round looping arc towards the flank of the emerging space whale. Two squadrons of TIE Avengers screeched out of its dimly lit hangar, shrieking out of the particulate cloud as verminous pilots maneuvered their fearsome starfighters into a hunters formation. They formed two spear-tips, led at the front by those space rats that had the most recorded kills. Xexkrit Craglasher nibbled on the tip of his slender tail as his squadron raced across the system, gaining ground on the gigantic space whale. His paws trembled as he got a good look at the monstrous creature's giant mouth.



Xexkrit Link laser cannons and ready to strafe. He squeaked in a rare display of bravado. Fire-quick, now!

Emerald green energized bolts of blaster gas sizzled through the airless void, bursting from the laser cannons on the Avengers wing tips and peppering the thickened armour like skin of the giant space creature. The whale let out an irritated groan that caused the starfighters to rumble and shake as they flew past, scattering as a long fin swatted in their direction. They reformed again and kept up the assault, blast searing divots in the whale's long tail as they tried to herd it towards the Golan NovaGun of Rakghoul Station. At first it seemed like it was working, with the creature sailing through the solar system towards the planet of Rishi. However, as it got close and the orbital station over Draggle Rock came in to view, the space whale attempted to veer away and change direction. It was met by a broadside volley from the Terentatek's booming quad heavy turbolaser cannons, striking it across the scalp with several brilliant lances of concentrated plasma, hammering it back towards the looming defensive platform.

Skeer Grimspine's scarred snout twisted upwards in a knowing sneer. Now, hit it. Squeaked the Vermin Lord over the open communication channel to Rakghoul Station. Aboard the NovaGun, overseer rats whipped the slave gangs operating the defensive platform's turbolaser batteries. A shower of blistering bright coherent crimson energy beams streaked across the distance and struck the space whale dead center, striking the creature with incredible kinetic force, stunning the unnatural behemoth. Its orange eyes rolled up into its head and it listed to the side, back turning over to expose its belly. Aboard the Terentatek, the Vermin Lord licked his cracked lips, his furry brow narrowing as he watched the sensor display. According to the sensor-suit, they were still reading life signs coming from the whale.

Good, still alive then. Despite the vast array of weaponry turned on it, Skeer hadn't expected the heavy cannons to slay the beast out of hand. It was too large and too frankly far too absurd a thing to expire so easily. The master would be most pleased.

Space tugs launched from the Terentatek, dragging a long coil of barbed chain across the stretch of space, the very same coiled length of cable that the battlecruiser had used to deliver the defensive platform. The lengths of chain were secured to the creature's thick hide, then used to drag it in towards the battlecruiser and station. The crew of the Red Witch was evacuated from the vessel, along with any valuable equipment and data. Efforts were then made by teams of toiling space rats in vacuum suits that scoured across the victory-class star destroyer's havod plated hull, stripping the warship for materials and parts. These materials were then plasma welded together to form a harness, control device, armour plates, and atmospherically sealed compartments that were mounted on the space whale. Sith Acolytes destined to serve as Drexl or Uvak mounted knights operating out of Draggle Rock were sent to help tame the captured creature's massive brain, dominating its will with the malevolent fey.

"Respectfully, Colonel, This isn't going to work." Captain Gritzel wore a tough wearing jumpsuit, with an unstructured and dirty naval officer's jacket with soft insignia sewn on the chest. His uniform was wrinkled and dirty. 
"Yes it will." Agent Quasar of the First Order Special Forces (AKA Havok) stood on the cramped bridge of the Beowulf. In front of him, Havok's personal pilot, Virgil Faust, sat in the helmsman's chair with his hands on the controls.
The navigator of the heavily modified Raider class corvette began a hyperspace countdown. "30 seconds to drop from hyperspace!"
Outside the ship, the blue twists of the hyperspace dimensional field swirled and rocketed past.
Captain Gritzel shook his head. "This is insane to try and navigate without taking positional readings."
"You have brought that to my attention. Multiple times." The covert Sith Lord did not hide his irritation.
"That's because I have a duty to the safety of this ship and the crew. Your plan presents an unreasonable risk, even during a military operation while at war." He was stating the obvious. "And we are not at war."
"Note your protest in the log. Pray our secret weapon functions as designed and your crew performs as trained." Havok rested his hands on Faust's shoulders.
"15 seconds!"
The captain glared at the special operator before calling out. "Final status. All stations, report."
 Various stations on the ship sounded off on the bridge intercom. "Cloaking field capacitors standing by to engage."
"Engine room standing by for silent run."
"Weapons, powered down. Shields... offline." The weapons and shield controls were on the bridge.
"Powergrid ready to reset circuit breakers."
"Collision and Damage Control teams standing by." The last voice sounded particularly tense.
"5...4...3..." The executive officer, Amlia, counted down the last 5 seconds.
"Drop us." Captain Gritzel gave the order. The ship's hyperspace engines brought the ship back to real space.
"1"
"CRASH CLOAK!" The captain ordered his crew to drop all systems and dump capacitor charges into the stygium cloaking crystals. It had the effect of a hard reboot on nearly everything in order to quickly shift power consumption from everything to the all-important cloaking device.
"Cloaking field engaged." 

"How long was that Amlia?" Gritzel turned to his XO, who was holding a chronograph.
"2 seconds. Our best yet." She smiled.  The Executive Officer was dressed no better than the captain, wearing the same tough jumpsuit but with her officer's insignia on on her collar. She, like everyone else on the cramped ship, shaved their heads to stay cleaner and keep it from getting caught in machinery.
"Very good." The captain turned back to the special ops colonel. "Well the ship is cloaked. We had an exposure of 2 seconds on enemy scopes. We are dead in space until our impulse engine systems reboot," he peered at the ship's chronometer. "Which should be back online in about 45 seconds." In a cloaked ship, everything depended on time, distance, direction, and position. If spotted, the clock was running on how quickly they could change their vector to thwart anyone attempting to track or shoot them. "I hope your secret weapon doesn't kill us all." Ordinarily, now would be the time that Gritzel deployed the monoscope to take a star chart positional reading before approaching a star system. Without the positional readings they couldn't plot a course and couldn't navigate to avoid the most obvious of charted hazards- such as planets.

"Impulse engines back online."
"Excellent Captain. Lieutenant Faust and I will take it from here." Havok closed his eyes, with his hands still on Faust's shoulders. 

The cloaked ship, now blind, moved from the hyperspace lanes into a decaying orbit around Rishi. Along the way, they skillfully avoided and maneuvered past other ships in the system via some unascertained unnatural means.