The sudden resurgence of the Dominator caught Tir Esias slightly off guard. The Coalition commander had decided to press the advantage when Tir Esias had chose to cease fire.

The outburst had badly damaged the Noir Soleil. The captain's rash outburst had left the ship poorly defended, and though the Dominator cruiser was in shambles, its captain had exacted a final revenge. The rest of the Union fleet however, had fared rather well. With the exception of the one MC-90 that had been knocked out of commission earlier in the fight, the Union ships were in relatively good condition. Tir Esias had reinforced the shields of the remaining ships with the power from the weapons, and thus they had withstood the Coalition assault.

However, the Tammar force was acting as an anvil to the hammer of the massive Azuardian fleet. Even heavily reinforced, and protected by the extensive fighter screen, the Union fleet would not last forever.

The only fact about the current situation that slightly annoyed Tir was the fact that the Noir was one of the most vulnerable ships in the fleet. That moron masquerading as a captain could have ruined everything.

"Galactic Coalition Commander, my name is Tir Esias. I am offering you the chance to surrender."

Knowing that the commander was getting ready cut of the connection, Tir Esias let his even tone break into a much quicker delivery.

"Hear me out, or you will regret the consequences of your actions."

It was entirely possible that the GC commander would cut the connection.... but if he did, he would forever rue that decision. Tir Esias returned to his even kilt.

"There is no denying that your numerical superiority will allow you to win this battle. But... at what cost?"

Tir Esias paused, because he knew that whatever he said next would be drowned out by a sudden excited shout from the sensor operator on the GC ship.

The lowering of the GC's interdiction field had happened at crucial time.

"As your have no doubt been informed, a massive contact is preparing to exit hyperspace. This is just a guess... but my money is on a Super Star Destroyer... exiting on the far side of the planet."

And as he spoke, the Midas exited hyperspace on the opposite side of Tammar- directly opposite of where the battle was taking place.

"To save some poor private's valuable time, let me give you the intercept figures on that ship. At 50 MGLT, you're about two hours sublight time from even being in weapons range. Your ships may be fast... but it hardly matters. Unless you know how to hyperspace through a planet.."

Tir Esias allowed a few moments for the GC commander to receive a confirmation he was no doubt asking for from his own crew.

"Now. I hope I don't need to verbalize what a Super Star Destroyer can do to a planet in two hours."

It was no coincidence that the first Union fleet had attacked the side of the planet it had.. the Midas was now sitting over the densest population center on Tammar.

"Stand your forces down, or let the blood of Tammar be on your hands."

Yolem took a minute to curse, thought about it, and finally shared the message with the other Coalition captains. The Union forces had been quashed on their side of the planet, the last few ounces of resistance hammered by salvoes of Projector fire, but it was true - the Midas was too far for them to reach.

"Okay... this is what we're going to do." said Yolem to Orion. "I'm going down to the fighter bay. My second in command will pretend to be the Azguard commander here. You send a message saying that we'll stand down, and are willing to listen to whatever demands or messages they wish to make.

"Also, say that we'll prepare a diplomatic envoy - one shuttle only, ambassadors on board - to meet with the enemy Super Star Destroyer while we stay here. Tell them that opening fire will cause us to turn Old Herbert back on, trapping them in-system. They might be able to cause damage in the time it takes us to catch up, but once we do they would be annihilated - along with this Tir Esias, the instant they open fire.

"I'll go down to the fighter bay, and ensure the shuttle only has ambassadors on board. I will, however, also be preparing... something else. I daren't tell you over comm. Be ready, though."

Orion nodded grimly "Whatever you do, our world is in your hands."

With that, Yolem stormed down towards the fighter bay, leaving his symbols of rank behind for his second-in-command to stand in for him.

Orion lifted his busted comm with a heavy hand - it barely functioned, and had to be rerouted through the Azguard fleet to reach the distant Midas as well as Tir Esias. "We... stand down. We are willing to discuss terms or conditions or... whatever it is you want. Know, however, that if you do open fire, we'll reactivate the interdiction field and trap you. Even if your super star destroyer causes damage, you will both be destroyed. So... in order to discuss terms, we will prepare a single diplomatic shuttle, and send it to the SSD. Our communications are having trouble reaching as it is. If Tir wants off of his damaged vessel or a chance to retrieve wounded, that is his perogative.

"Any attempt on the part of Tir or the forces on this side to run will trigger our interdiction and the deal is off - you'll kill many, but you won't destroy Tammar, wheras we will destroy you. Any sign of firing on the planet will also trigger the interdiction. Any arrival of further forces will also trigger interdiction. Are we clear? We're ready to send our envoy..."

Orion could only hope Yolem had a really, really good idea.

The numerically superior Coalition fleet did not continue firing broadsides at the surrounded, smaller Union fleet that happened not to be returning fire.


As much as Tir Esias loved the video footage the Union would be able to sell to the INS, he was glad the GC had decided to hold their fire. For one, it meant that the Coalition was taking Tir's threat seriously (a wise decision). On a more personal note, it also meant that the chances of the Noir Soleil's shield generator giving out had drastically decreased.

Of course, Tir had never doubted what the Coalition's reaction to his ultimatum would be- the GC's greatest weakness was its inability to make real sacrifices. The Empire would have let Tir Esias slag Tammar and taken out its fury by smashing the Union fleet and then hunting down the Midas and reducing it to sub-atomic particles.

"We... stand down. We are willing to discuss terms or conditions or... whatever it is you want. Know, however, that if you do open fire, we'll reactivate the interdiction field and trap you. Even if your super star destroyer causes damage, you will both be destroyed. So... in order to discuss terms, we will prepare a single diplomatic shuttle, and send it to the SSD. Our communications are having trouble reaching as it is. If Tir wants off of his damaged vessel or a chance to retrieve wounded, that is his prerogative.

Were he prone to express facial emotion, Tir Esias might have smiled. Not only had the Coalition played into his hands, they even offered to let him remove himself from even marginal danger by leaving the [/i]Noir Soleil.[/i]

Of course, he might have chuckled at the suggestion that the Union would try to recover spaced necrotroopers.


"Any attempt on the part of Tir or the forces on this side to run will trigger our interdiction and the deal is off - you'll kill many, but you won't destroy Tammar, whereas we will destroy you. Any sign of firing on the planet will also trigger the interdiction. Any arrival of further forces will also trigger interdiction. Are we clear? We're ready to send our envoy..."

Tir Esias found it amusing that the GC still thought they were in control of the situation, even to the point were they could deliver poorly veiled threats and dictate the terms of the negotiations.

The GC had a fundamental misunderstand of the dynamics of the situation. The Union fleet (not even considering the Midas) was not totally crushed. In a full-fledged melee, the GC would certainly smash Tir's fleet, but not before Tir Esias had ensured that he had accomplished a few critical objectives.

And of course not before the Midas had slagged the surface of Tammar.

He picked up the com-link.

"Patch me through to the Coalition commander."


"Commander, this is Tir Esias. I would be happy to meet with you on the Midas, but perhaps I can save you the trouble. I will accept nothing short of a full surrender of Tammar to my authority. If you're unwilling to consider that possibility, then I can signal the Midas to begin bombarding, and we can settle this matter through force of arms.

However, if you are interested in discussing terms of surrender, I will be happy to send a shuttle to pick up you diplomatic envoy."

And so the gauntlet was thrown. If the GC was serious about discussing terms, then Tir Esias would board one of the Noir Soleil's shuttles and pick up their diplomatic envoy, then take them to the Midas. If not, then the battle would resume. Either way, Tir Esias was prepared to take decisive action.

So it was that the Coalition agreed to the Union's offer, and had their diplomatic envoy taken aboard Tir's shuttle and flown towards the Midas.

Somewhere undiscolsed, Yolem affixed his gauntlet. "Is everything prepared?" he said in hushed tones to a White Knight, who nodded. "Good."

He pulled the other gauntlet on, and adjusted the strap. With practiced calm, he affixed the sealed armour of the Azguardian Shock Trooper. He hooked his scabbard to his belt, and slowly unsheathed the vibrosword that he wielded. A fearsome edge, plain and unadorned, it was a working man's sword, meant for fighting all day long and not tiring.

Lastly, he lowered the helmet in place, and waited for the visor to light up. A tower shod in steel and armed with all manner of deadly weapon, he was an Azguardian Avatar of destruction, with images of the gods carved into his armour and giving him a distinct appearance among his soldiers. Satisfied, he turned, and faced the tightly-huddled mass of the best of Azguardian soldiery. Feeling a surge of pride, he felt it was time for a vintage warlord speech.

"My warriors! My sons and daughters! Our brothers to the East need our protection, and call upon our strength this day. This strange foe we do not know, but we do know they are mortal, and they can die as any other! That they dare to threaten the innocent like this is proof of their darkness, so do not hesitate to strike - it is upon our blades alone that the fate of a planet rests! Once we arrive, follow my directions closely, destroy everything you find, and move with the greatest of haste.

"Together, we shall defy the odds, seize victory from the teeth of defeat, and prove again why the Azguards are the warriors who shall change the galaxy!" Through his vizor, his eyes burned with anger, and he let a wordless scream rise with the roars of his soldiers, punching the air and beating their chests.

Regaining composure, he turned to his small table to leaf through the rapidly scrawled plans once more. The plan was not without its' flaws - in fact, it was full of them, it had been a rushed thing. It relied on luck, skill, but most of all, the will of his soldiers. As the roars echoed around the small room, he smiled, and scratched the last concern off his list.

Tir Esias sat in the cockpit of a Svelte class shuttle allowing his mind to relax and his connection to the Force return to a more normal level. Even though the necrotroopers were amazingly susceptible to the Force, controlling thousands of them for the duration of the battle had been tiring. As the Coalition honored the cease-fire, it gave hi mind time to rest and recuperate.


The Coalition representative sat in the passenger compartment alone. Tir Esias could sense a mixture of emotions emanating from the man's mind, and it was fairly obvious that he was not a diplomat by trade. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, and Tir Esias hadn't even discovered whom the GC had sent.

It seemed fairly obvious that the GC was not planning on serious negotiations... but Tir Esias didn't mind. If they were, why would they send a single representative who wasn't even a diplomat by trade? If the GC didn't think he was serious about turning Tammar into a dead world, they would find themselves seriously mistaken. Plus, the reprieve was allowing the Union's battered fleet some time to repair and regenerate.


The Svelte shuttle was one of the fastest craft the Union owned. Designed by Thrawn as a replacement to the Lambda class, it was faster and more maneuverable... but much less utilized and fairly rare, even in the Empire. Still, in this situation it was a perfect fit, carrying Tir Esias to the Midas with exception haste.

Then we'll see if the GC is serious...

Their little ship came to the Midas, and instantly, Orion's resolve hardnened. In the end, he'd chosen himself to take this mission, and as he saw the dark dagger hanging in the sky over his homeworld, any thought of uncertainty or doubt was driven from his mind. He cast a sideways glance to Tir, who seemed preoccupied looking at the Midas.

I may not have many years left in me, but they'll be enough to watch you die for this.

The shuttle arrived into the expansive hangar of the Midas, with the mysterious Necrotroopers prepared to escort them in with masked faces and dark helmets. Orion didn't say a word. Instead, Tir rose, walked down the boarding ramp, and Orion followed. Together, with a tight column of Necrotroopers on either side, the silent delegation moved deeper into the Midas, the only sound a clatter of boot on metal and the other usual noise of a hangar bay.

It would be several minutes later that anything else interesting happened in the hangar bay.

"The coast is clear." whispered one being to - presumably - another, in the middle of thin air.

To the naked eye, nothing happened - depending on where you were standing. From the control tower, or at most of the doorways, you would see nothing. The cameras saw nothing. In fact, no one saw anything.

What happened, was quite different. A door opened in thin air, and out of it stepped a terrifying figure in black and red. A giant, compared to a man, he was lithe, and shod in sleek armour that didn't gleam yet still bore the metallic sheen of the total warrior. Etched into the chestguard were scenes - some in considerable detail - of beasts and warriors engaged in battle.

With a firm grip on his sword and pistol, Yolem hopped down out of the Stealth Intruder and quickly crossed the short space between there and the door. In his wake, the silent ranks of a couple dozen Azguards in similar head-to-toe gear followed.

Why were they so invisible? Where had they come from? The truth was, that Tir's shuttle had been tailed by a Stealth Intruder, who even now used its' micro-camera technology to project a static image to the casual observer - a static image taken shortly before the soldiers deployed. With its' cargo deployed, the image returned to normal, showing the hangar bay once more 'up-to-date'.

The Azguards were in a hallway.


Yolem guestured with his fist, and a black-clad warrior nodded, quickly accessing a wall-panel computer. After a moment of work, he gestured for his commander to look, and he did so. Yolem made a quick mental calculation, and nodded back.

He spoke only in hand-gestures. Half the squad one way. Half the squad the other. Lethal force. Security disabling. Power. Comms. Weapons. Bridge.

Tir.

With his gaundleted fist, Yolem smashed through the wall-panel, and tore out the memory core, instantly quieting any alert system. He smiled, satisfied - having learnt that neat trick from Steve Rooni.

All around, the Azguardian warriors checked a terrifying assortment of weapons, rifles and pistols built to exact specifications, swords built smooth but for the notches of past accomplishments. Without a word, without a doubt, they awaited his final order to move out into what could have been the most foolhardy and dangerous mission the Azguards had ever engaged in.

He wanted to say something to his soldiers as they moved out, but knew that he couldn't - that anything that wasn't about the mission was now to be forced from his mind, but as they moved with a purpose, unquestioningly, for the greater good, he wanted to say that he was proud of them.

In silent columns (single file, to hid their numbers!), the Azguardians moved out.

OOC- I apologize for the tremendously long wait.

As Tir Esias walked out of the shuttle he re-opened his mind to the great expanse of the Force. His meditation aboard the shuttle had left him feeling reenergized, and he lapped up the power as waves of Force energy washed over him. At 8 kilometers long, packed with life and surrounded by vacuum, the Midas felt alive with life energy. While the sensation was nothing if compared to the sheer presence of life on an arboreal world, such as Kashyyk, compared relatively it could be quite overwhelming. Tir reigned his aura in, focusing on the matter a hand. As he did so, he noticed a wellspring of emotion emanating from the Coalition representative. He had not noticed it before, while on the shuttle, and it had been drowned out by the sheer expansiveness of the Midas's presence, but as he allowed his sense to become more narrowed, he became aware of the Tammarian's vivid presence.

Tir focused his mind on Orion's. trying to gauge his emotions and thoughts. Even highly trained Jedi could struggle getting a read of a person's mind, and though he had made progress (especially since his training session with Vodo Baas) Tir Esias sometimes struggled to control the finesse aspects of the more delicate applications of the Force. He usually overcame his shortcomings with sheer willpower and brute strength, but neither could help him in this situation, unless he wished to simply bend Orion's mind to his will, which would do little for the negotiation process. Tir gauged the powerful emotions that Orion was harboring as something less hateful then vengeance, yet more complicated that simple anger. For some reason, Tir wanted to use the word "vindicated" to describe his impression of Orion's thoughts, but it didn't quite seem to fit.

On any account, it put Tir on alert. How could the GC envoy (who by the looks of it wasn't even a diplomat) feel anything but awe or fear as he marched into the heart of the Midas? A tingling sensation at the back of Tir's neck, a classic Jedi reflex often called the "danger sense", disturbed him even more, as the entourage marched out of the hangar. Tir could sense no palatable threat, but he felt himself growing uneasy.

Better alert Qive....





The first azguard emerged from the cloaked stealth intruder unnoticed, in spite of the fact that the Midas's hangar bay was swarming with Union personnel being prepared for the battle that would inevitably follow any breakdown in the negotiations. The Azguards moved with grace and speed, covering the space between the hangar and the adjoining hallway with surprising ease. Despite such a stealthy entry, it is nearly impossible for 36 well armed commandos, even azguards, from remaining undetected for long.

A technician, tool kit in hand, rounded a corner and ran directly into the Azguardian formation. He was disposed with singular ease but the next sentient that rounded the corner, one of the Union's mercenary soldiers, reacted with slightly more efficiency. Caught off guard he had no chance, but as an Azguardian claw slit his throat the man reflexively pulled the trigger of his blaster rifle, sending a stream of bolts fly from the barrel of the repeater.

The shot drew the attention of a pair of pilots who had happened to be standing near the entrance to the corridor which the Azguards had slipped into. One of them had seen a few of the odd aliens file into the hallway, but though nothing off it- amid the confusion lots of strange things were going on- but the blaster shot sent off alarum bells. The pilot and several of his compatriots ran toward the corridor. One of the pilots rammed the stealth intruder by accident, damaging one of the tiny imaging cameras and revealing a portion of the ship to the naked eye.

The incident began to draw attention and added to the organized chaos of the hangar. The Azguards might have managed to sneak in, but the element of surprise was about to be irrevocably lost...

The Stealth Intruder seemed entirely undisturbed by the chance of its' destruction. Indeed, it only needed to serve one more purpose.

The Azguards had entirely abandoned ship. Who then, was in charge? Technically no one, unless you counted loud sirens and flashing lights. Inside the ship, red warning screens appeared on monitors, safties that should have engaged instead lay broken, and the mineature reactor responsible for powering the ship shrieked and hissed. Something strange, invisible and yet somehow very present existed even now, hanging over and around the one ramp and way into the ship. The blip of a countdown was just barely audible from inside, and yet, nothing happened.

Azguards aren't suicidal - although they do tend to have trouble seeing the connection between their own actions and their continued survival. With complete confidence, Yolem had set up the Intruder to self destruct, even though if you had asked him he probably couldn't have told you how he intended to get off the ship later. If he had to, he would have answered "The Gods will provide", and he would have really meant it.

At this moment, his team was moving down a corridor. At an intersection, he gestured with his fist, and immediately four soldiers broke off down a smaller maintenance route while the rest of his team continued towards the turbolifts.

He watched as those four moved away, and noted the white, silvery armour of the one in the lead - her stance, even more than her armour, giving away her rank as a White Knight. A shard of memory from the old soldier's life leapt up at him.



It had been during the training of the very first White Knights, on Leritor, with Regrad. This had been the rebirth of the Coaliton as a fighting force, and Yolem firmly believed it had also been the rebirth of good people's ability to resist evil head-on. The White Knights had been Regrad's disciples, specially chosen and trained to go forth and spread the Coalition's ideals and combat skill to the masses.

As such, their training had been harsh, and they had faced all the terrors that lurked in the single brain of Regrad. Yolem remembered one particular incident well, which truly underlined a lesson on battle - one Yolem had learned the entire galaxy turned on.

He could still remember standing atop the observation room that looked down on the large training room. There, thousands of White Knight recruits - clad in plain, white robes - had stood around Regrad, who was totally alone save his own presence.

Even so, the recruits were unwilling to rush him. Yolem shifted in his chair, looking at the Knights, who were of all different races, sizes, and appearances. Some had gone pale, others had backed away, and still others could not even raise their fists. Regrad was but a few meters away, his own stance patiently waiting for whoever would make the first move.

Finally, a Quarren leapt forwards from behind to deliver a back-handed strike. Eagerly, the other recruits surged in after him. With terrible speed Regrad struck the Quarren on the head, grabbed his tentacled mouth, and swung him into a crowd of advancing Knights. Wading forwards, Regrad delivered all manner of kicks, punches, elbows, and head-butts, like an ice-breaker moving through the arctic.

Yolem sat at the edge of his seat, awed by the spectacle, as Regrad stood alone in a quickly expanding circle. Not one would approach him again. Yolem couldn't hear his speech, but soon a Mon Calamari named Ruuvan would step forwards to fight Regrad one-on-one.

The fight didn't last long - before he knew it, the Mon Calamari ducked one of Regrad's strikes and used the momentum to trip Regrad and pin him to the floor. Yolem leapt from his chair, shocked, and dashed down to ground level. Just a moment ago, Regrad had dispatched Ruuvan along with two other students with a single kick, and yet now he was defeated! Yolem arrived just in time to hear the end of Regrad's explination.

"...it is the individual who matters on the battlefield, not because the individual itself can tilt the scales, but because we still believe it can. Belief is the greatest weapon in a warrior's arsenal, it is one the Knights will have to master."



Though meant as a lesson for the Knights, it had also been an eye-opener for Yolem. A small group can batter past a legion, if the enemy doesn't truly believe he can win. He would need that sort of belief today, to save the world below. He doubled his pace.

Yolem's unit soon came across an unsuspecting patrol of mercenaries in the hallway. For a split-second, they were slack-jawed with surprise, which was a fraction of a second too long. An Azguard warrior sprung forwards like a jungle-cat, and plunged a spear into the first mercenary, pole-vaulting on the thrust to land on a second - crushing him against the floor. A third lifted the barrel of his high-powered and likely quite expensive laser rifle, only to be tackled to the ground and recieve three serrated bone claws through his head. The fourth tried to run, but in a smooth movement Yolem hurled a knife from his belt straight into the man's back, bringing him down.

Regrouping in the room beyond, Yolem gestured his commands. Two go left controls. Two go right, security. Rest of team to turbolift. He could only hope the rest of his team were following their own objectives.



It takes a while to get around on a Super Star Destroyer, which is why you aren't expected to walk everywhere. As the second group which had split away from Yolem at the beginning marched towards the necessary turbolift, there was the sudden crackling sound of enemy fire.

Immediately the unit ducked for cover around the corners of an intersection, as all sorts of projectiles wracked the walls. One short corridor stood between them and the door to this section's turbolifts, but a squad of high-strung enemy soldiers kept up constant heavy weapons fire.

The Knight in charge of this group knew they didn't have long to wait - to be pinned for more than a few seconds was death onboard an enemy ship, it gave the enemy time to gather together and surround you. Only by constant advances, faster than they move, can you expect to stay ahead. There must be no delays.

Reaching on to his belt, he removed a dark grey cylinder. Spotting his move, an Azguardian soldier across the intersection did likewise. With a nod, they each twisted the top, and hurled the cylinders into the corridor - which instantly filled with smoke.

The corridor was instantly filled with both heavy-weapons fire, the clatter of boots on corridor, and the silken sound of drawn blades. Then, quite suddenly, screams and horror. As the smoke cleared, the Azguardian Knight stood bloodied over the bodies of the gunners, a stained blade in one hand. The other soldiers moved back from scenes of similar carnage to regroup, and the Knight gave his commands.

Two over to the control panel. Three on left lift. Three on right lift. Everyone else, central lift.

Each team split up, and waited as the two sent to take over the control panel. Grunting with the effort, one of them tore a panel off the wall just below the panel, while the other input commands. It took a minute of wire adjustment, but eventually the turbolift controls dimmed, before relighting.

"Bridge connection disabled, the turbolifts are ours, sir." said one of the soldiers, the first spoken words of the engagement.

"Good." said the Knight, his voice calmly neutral. "Hold this position, send us on our way."

"Godspeed, sir." said the other soldier, as he input the command. Each turbolift shot off, carrying their teams with them. With that handled, the two soldiers left behind prepared to set up a stalling position. Hoisting the heavy weapons of their dispatched enemies into place behind a large, covering panel, they waited with itchy trigger fingers.

"Death comes for us." whispered the first soldier, her axe resting gently in one hand.

"So shall we await it." replied the other, finishing a quotation from the Azguard civil war. "We will hold, by the Gods, for as long as we are required to."



Orion kept his hands in his pocket, trailing Tir with a scowl. What was this pompous windbag waiting for? Probably wanted to keep showing off the wonders and might of his ship, but they were lost on Orion, he'd seen it all before.

The Coalition had a warship by the same name, The Coalition that - although currently undergoing major refits - was still every bit the equal in might of any ship in the galaxy. It didn't matter to Orion if this man had brought a single cruiser or the entire Black Fleet, all that he cared about was the immediate removal of hostiles from Tammar's orbit, and the sooner they sat down to talk, the faster that'd happen.

"It's a hard thing to hide, Super Star Destroyers." began Orion "They need a whole whack of crew, tonnes of repairs, even more supplies - there isn't a single being in the galaxy with enough money to fund one by himself. Tell me, where do you fit in with this thing? Just who are you, anyways?"

"Men of much higher standing than yourself have asked me that question and failed to receive an answer."

Tir Esias stood up.

"My..."

He paused for a moment, his body becoming unnaturally still. After a moment, he continued, as if there had been no interruption.

"... terms are simple. All Coalition forces will stand down. Any planetary defenses forces will move to their home bases and remain there. Your defense fleets will be allowed to hyperspace away. The Coalition will renounce its control of Tammar."

Tir took a step toward the door.

"My presence is required elsewhere. When you are ready to acquiesce to the terms, please alert the door guards."

Tir walked to the conference room's double doors. As he approached the doors slid apart, and a pair of necrotroopers entered the room. Tir passed between them and disappeared as the doors converged once again.



The rear guard at the turbolift hub peered down the corridor, steeling themselves for the inevitable assault. The bodies of the dispatched mercenary patrol could be seen as vague outlines in the slowly dissipating smoke, the throws of rigor mortis freezing their bodies in contorted, unnatural positions. Except for the whine of the Midas's ventilation system struggling to disperse the thick fog that had descended upon the hallway, all was silent.

Seconds ticked by. The murmurs of a prayer, nearly inaudible, urged the Gods to end the tedious wait, and allow destiny to run its course.

The Gods were more than happy to oblige.

The corridor was suddenly filled with numerous silhouettes, and an eerie red glow. The hallway was suddenly filled with the sounds of boots striking the metallic floor in perfect rhythm. Soon it was no longer the smoke that obscured the view of the hallway, it was the sheer mass of bodies, pressed nearly from wall to wall.

The Azguards steeled themselves with a battle cry, an intimidating yell that could strike fear into the hearts of even the most hardened warrior. The phalanx of black clad soldiers however did not miss a beat. This was not the result of extreme training, nor a religious fervor similar to that of their opponents. Quite simply, the necrotroopers had no outlet for fear, no conduit of emotion. They had been given a task, and nothing... not pain, not terror, no nothing short of death could prevent them from reaching that objective.

Then the battle was joined.

Blaster bolts flew down the corridor, arrows of death that shimmered with an enhanced brilliance in the remaining smoke, slamming into the mass of necrotroopers. Several fell to the floor, others visibly injured, continued marching forward. Then as the Azguards prepared another volley, the necrotroopers began plying their deadly trade.

The front line, including the injured, broke from their formation and rushed forward, large vibroblades extended. Behind them, the necrotroopers raised their weapons, primitive but deadly slugthrowers, and let loose a torrent of fire.




The Midas' security control center was only a short turbolift ride from the conference room, which made it even more frustrating to Tir that he had to use an auxiliary tube that was several minutes out of the way to reach the heavily fortified room. The primary turbolift tubes had been disabled, and Tir had needed a security override code to get the auxiliary tube to run.

When he entered the room (and heard the reassuring thud of the blast doors closing over the normal doors) he found himself a washed in emotion and energy. There was tension... anxiety.... confusion... apprehension... but also determination and resolve. A cacophony of sounds had filled the room, but as it became apparent that Tir had entered, the din quickly died.

"Would someone please appraise me of the current situation.... and explain to me why I was unable to use the primary turbolift tube?"

Tir had sensed via the Force that something was wrong- but he had been able to glean no concrete details. The fact that the turbolift had been disabled had only served to confirm his Force premonition.

A senior officer stood up.

"There are intruders aboard the Midas. We have reason to believe that they are Azguards."

Tir raised an eyebrow... and expression he rarely used but signaled he was somewhat surprised but also intrigued.

"There was an explosion in the primary hangar bay. We believe the GC snuck a stealth ship behind your shuttle sir."

Tir stood silently.

"The intruders progressed to the aft turbolift nexus and have managed to cut off our control of the aft tubes.

We've..."

Tir Esias held up his hand.

"Thank you commander."

Tir Esias opened his mind, letting the Force flow through him as it had during his battle meld earlier. He felt his mind touch the dim presence of the necrotroopers fighting at the nexus, and he "saw" the odd dual fire of life that welled up from their Azguard targets. Expanding his sense, he could detect more of that odd duality, streaking toward targets at high speed.

"Commander, I would like you to release all the necros in cold storage. Do not worry about programming. Dispatch the Centurion teams to their predetermined response areas."

The commander nodded, a pointless gesture to perform to a blind man, but Tir Esias could sense that the man understood his orders. He turned back toward the door.

"One more thing commander. I'm off to my quarters... I need peace and quiet. If the turbolift system is not restored to our control within five minutes I will be forced to walk to my quarters."

The doors opened and Tir Esias stepped out into the hallway.

"And I am not in the mood to walk."

The blast doors shut, and the security control center was secure once more.

For those who might be wondering where the Azguards are now, a refresher:

The primary team, including Yolem, advanced towards the ship's command and control centers. Seizing control of local control and weapons systems, they were trying to reclaim the turbolift up to the bridge.

A secondary team, lead by a male White Knight, headed towards the rear of the ship, and split up down various turbolifts while a rearguard held their position.

The third team, lead by a female White Knight, is much smaller (numbering only four) and is hoofing it down a maintenance corridor.

Let's catch up with the rearguard, however, and their action.



Bursts of slugthrower rounds tore up the air and the walls all around, sending sparks flying. A wave of blade-wielding Necrotroopers advanced in its' wake, undaunted by heavy weapons fire thinning their numbers.

"They're too close!" exclaimed one of the two soldiers, as he hurled his cannon away. Indeed, the wave of black-clad infantry seemed never-ending, as they fell upon the two Azguardians.

Driving swords and claws through ranks of the enemy served only to entangle them, and did little to blunt the horrible tide. The slugthrowers kept heads bowed but the wicked blades kept them at bay, forcing the Azguards back against the turbolifts.

Finally, unable to repulse them any longer, Necrotroopers climbed over the bodies of their dead and brought down the two mighty soldiers. They crawled like ants, stabbing and hacking and burying with their numbers.

One soldier rammed his clawed fist free, struggling and bellowing with a deep voice of fury as he surfaced from the sea of Necrotroopers. Instantly, Slugthrower rounds rattled around his head, piercing his hands and turning his bellow into a howl of agony. He grabbed the side of the turbolift door, and tore it open as pain screamed through his injured arm.

Battered and bleeding, he managed to roll out of the mess of battle and roll into the turbolift. Already they pursued, but a mighty kick sent the Necrotroopers sprawling back for a time. The surviving soldier scanned the battle for his companion.

Another hand thrust out of the twisted melee, but this one held a thermal detonator. The survivor cursed.

Immediately, he sent his turbolift after his fellows, and in an instant was away from that terrible sight. The explosion came as a distant rumble, but he knew that it would do little to stem the enemy's advance.

Using his uninjured hand, the survivor took his comm, and murmured towards the Knight in command of his group "Sir, they've retaken the Turbolift controls..."



"Sir, they've retaken the Turbolift controls..."

The Knight nodded, and said "Copy that, soldier." He replaced the comm on his belt and turned to the two soldiers still with him. "When these doors open, get out as soon as you can - the enemy might try to redirect us. Clear?"

The two soldiers nodded. Their situation was clear.

A few tense moments passed before the turbolift reached its' destination, and the three of them poured quickly into the corridor. They found no immediate enemy resistance, suggesting the ship had yet to fully respond to the intrusion. Deciding that their presence was already known, the Knight picked up his comm again and contacted the two other groups under his command. "Status?"

"Left wing here, we've arrived. We'll commence our attack as soon as possible, sir."

"This is the right wing, we're also in position. Will begin our attack shortly."

"Right," said the Knight, who nodded to himself. "Something flashy, if you can manage it." Something distracting, ideally. "Command out."

With their brief conference over, the Knight stepped up towards a directions board and quickly appraised himself of their position. "This way," he said, and marched his soldiers towards the thrust-end side of the ship.



Two soldiers worked avidly at the control panel, trying to bring the main turbolift back online. Two more, with great gusto, were severing everything to do with security they could find in the room or behind wall panels - security overrides, cameras, door controls, anything that was easily broken by long, jagged claws.

The rest of the team, which numbered about four, as well as Yolem himself, stood on-guard as a tight group around the turbolift. Yolem was on-edge, what was their enemy planning? When would the enemy attack come? And how?

Suddenly, the two soldiers struggling at the control panel seemed surprised. "Sir, it looks like someone's restoring power."

"What? Who?"

"I don't know, sir - it could be their main security center has an override system."

Yolem paused, before saying "What does that mean, again?"

"Er... they've turned it back on themselves, sir. And they could be coming this way."

Visions of bombs being carried towards his position filled the commander's mind, as he said "Get away from the door! Wait for it to go past us, we'll pick the lift up on its' way back."

The Azguards pulled back from the turbolift door, reforming their perimeter in the halls beyond. Suspiscion of attack was one thing, but they had unknowingly just let the leader of their enemy ride by in relative safety.



The four Azguards that split off from the main group, lead by the unit's second White Knight, trudged through the dirty and disused maintenance corridor. Meant for nothing more than giving repair crews easy access to some of the machinery, it was not very asthetically impressive or even that big, as the behemoth soldiers squeezed through narrow confines.

Where they were to end up, however, was a mystery. In every boarding operation, a few wild-cards promise to add a bit of variety to the event.