Author - First chapter of the lord of the rings crack power fic (with harem) is out also RIP to John of Clan Cena, my character got captured by the Khuzaits and executed, so ends my bannerlord campaign RIP. He was a real one.
Anyway I started playing Divide and conquer Med2 mod as Haradrim
And re-downloading Shadow of War (curse WB people for not letting other games have the nemesis system, that thing would make so many games so great and unique.)
Anywho, do you know what time it is? It is long chapter time time. (edit, motherfucker, 13,000 words I am splitting this bitch up)
***
The main command deck of the shipyard rang with drunken laughter and the heavy thump of bass music pumped through every speaker. The vast space, normally a sterile hub of consoles, tactical displays, and docking oversight had been transformed into a debauched celebration hall for the most powerful and influential and closest allies.
Long tables groaned under crates of stolen liquor, spice-laced smoke curled in thick clouds, and bodies moved in a chaotic, sweaty mass.
At the center of it all sat Zorath Kage, leader of the strongest faction and master of the Gladiator-class Star Destroyer Iron Reaver. He was a Kage one of the rare, shadowy humanoids from the planet Kage, with skin like living obsidian that seemed to absorb light and shift subtly with his mood.
Tall and lean, almost serpentine in build, he lounged in a massive throne-like chair dragged from one of the captured cruisers, his face was sharp and angular, with glowing violet eyes that narrowed to slits when he laughed, and a mouth full of needle-like teeth that flashed whenever he grinned. Long, clawed fingers drummed on the armrest as he watched the chaos.
Around him, half-naked alien women danced and writhed Twi'leks with lekku wrapped around his shoulders, a pair of Zeltrons pressing their bare bodies against his chest, a Pantoran girl straddling his lap while another fed him another glass of stolen Corellian brandy mixed with something far stronger.
Their laughter was high and forced, eyes glassy from the drugs he'd pumped into the air vents.
Zorath's free hand roamed openly squeezing, groping, slapping while his other hand held the glass. He took a long pull, the liquor burning down his throat, and let out a guttural laugh that echoed across the deck.
"Victory!" he roared, voice thick with drink. "We crushed those weak willed bastards and now look at us! The strongest faction! The rest of those weaklings bowed or died. The shipyard is ours. The Gladiator is mine. No one touches us now!"
His lieutenants a mix of Weequay, human and other countless species, all pirates. Cheered and raised their own glasses, some already half-naked themselves, pawing at the dancers or passing around spice pipes. A few women were being dragged into side alcoves, their cries muffled by laughter and music.
One Twi'lek tried to pull away from a Rodian who had her pinned against a console; he backhanded her hard enough to split her lip before forcing her down. No one intervened, this was their party, their reward.
Zorath leaned back, one clawed hand sliding up the Pantoran girl's thigh as she ground against him. Internally, the alcohol made his thoughts sluggish but triumphant.
How did we get here? he mused, eyes half-lidded. That little governor on Elyria thought he could fight us. Some of the boys went to teach him a lesson, but instead, he executed them publicly. Broadcast it, made those puny red skinned savages rise up and receive some nominal support from the Moff we paid off to essentially abandon this sector for our use for a small margin of profits from our sales, something about a core higher up forcing his hand.
Whatever or whoever it was made even the Black Sun nervous.
But they are all cowards, we consolidated with the weaker factions bending the knee or dying in the last brawl. Now the strongest rules.
Now I rule.
The shipyard is mine.
The Gladiator is mine.
The Elyria system will be mine.
We'll take that boy governor's head and hang it from the bridge.
He laughed again, the sound wet and cruel, and pulled the Pantoran girl closer, biting her neck hard enough to draw blood. She whimpered but didn't dare pull away.
Around him, the depravity continued a human pirate dragging two Zeltrons into a corner, another group forcing a group of captive slaves to dance while they laughed and groped.
A Rodian had a Twi'lek bent over a console, pants around his ankles, thrusting while his friends cheered and filmed it on datapads.
Copious amounts of Blood, liquor and other fluids stained the deck plates. The air reeked of sex, spice, and sweat.
Zorath took another long drink, thoughts turning hazy but ambitious.
Next? We hit Elyria again, harder. Then expand, the other factions are broken. The shipyard is secure and with the Gladiator and the rest of the fleet, we'll carve out our own empire out in the Rim.
No more Black Sun leashes,n o more weak alliances.
Just us, just power.
He grinned, teeth flashing, and slapped the Pantoran girl's ass hard enough to leave a mark.
She gasped. He laughed louder.
Then the first alarm began to wail, distant at first, then sharper, cutting through the music.
Zorath blinked, still drunk, still grinning.
"What the hell is that?"
***
The alarms screamed across the shipyard like a wounded animal.
Red emergency lights strobed wildly, cutting through the haze of spice smoke and spilled liquor still thick in the air.
Pirates stumbled to their feet, half naked and cursing, grabbing for weapons that had been tossed aside during the celebration.
On the command deck Zorath Kage shoved the Pantoran girl off his lap hard enough that she hit the floor with a cry.
His violet eyes narrowed as the first explosions began to ripple across the outer ring.
High above the station the advanced strike force dropped out of hyperspace in a tight, silent formation.
No capital ships yet, just the fast, lethal vanguard.
Headhunters led the charge, sleek and black against the stars, followed by eight Y-wing bombers loaded with proton torpedoes and ion bombs. A squadron of other assembled fighter aircraft that came with the mandalorians or were bought on the black market.
The TIEs have no hyperspace capability so they will arrive with the rest of the ships.
Behind them came the Kom'rks, Mandalorian assault craft painted in dark gunmetal, engines throttled forward.
Atii sat in a Kom'rk cockpit, hands steady on the controls, brown hair tied back tight under her flight helmet. Her voice crackled over the encrypted channel.
"Targets acquired. Defences first. Ion cannons on the turbolaser batteries. Bombers, follow me in. Mandalorians, prepare for drop on my mark."
The formation dove.
The first wave of fighters opened up with ion misslies. Blue-white bolts slammed into the shipyard's outer turbolaser turrets, shorting power relays and freezing the massive guns in place.
A squadron of Y-wings released proton torpedoes in tight salvos, the warheads streaking toward the hangars and docking arms and other targets.
Fireballs expanded outward, ripping apart plating and venting atmosphere in glittering sprays of debris.
The tapped in pirate comms erupted in panic.
"Enemy fighters! Where the hell did they come from?"
"Turbolasers are down! We're blind out here!"
On the Kom'rks the Mandalorians were already moving.
Jaster's voice came calm over the clan channel."Drop in thirty seconds. Jetpacks hot. Attach to your designated targets. Once primary objectives are achieved move onto secondary objectives, once those are done leave behind a squads to relay information and use the control panels to help our forces advance while the rest flies around hitting heavily fortified positions from the back or provides support to friendly forces."
He pauses for a bit before continuing.
"For those targeting ships you need to lockdown the command controls of the bridges if you feel like you dont have the time either blow up the consoles or the entire bridge, after that move onto other ships, once all major ships are down or disabled you will join the attack on the shipyard. The forces attacking the shipyard you will find and take control of command centres, control rooms and armouries. Turn off every defence you can, or turn them against the pirates, use the cameras and control of the systems to help our forces and reveal the pirate positions, seal the entrances to the armouries or burn them down."
He got a chorus of affirmatives as the Kom'rks peeled off from the fighter screens, their thrusters flared blue as the assault crafts closed onto the biggest ships and the shipyard.
Dozens of beskar-armored figures shot forward like missiles, mag-clamps ready, the star destroyer by itself would tilt the balance of power toward the pirates.
Mandalorians slammed into the hulls of the ships and the yard, magnetic boots locking with a heavy clunk.
This scene played out along the other major ships not only the gladiator.
Other teams attached to the shipyard itself, crawling across the massive structure like insects. One squad locked onto a secondary command hub, another onto a power relay station.
They worked in silence, cutting into access panels, planting override spikes, preparing to shut down turbolasers, cameras, and internal sensors the moment the main fleet arrived to draw attention.
Atii banked hard in her Kom'rk, dodging a desperate spray of point-defense fire from a half-awake frigate who either has its shields destroyed or they forgot to put them up yet.
"Keep them busy," she called. "Mandalorians are in position, main fleet jumps in two minutes."
Below her the bombers made another pass on ships and the yard itself hitting turbolasers and collapsing hangars to prevent fighters from coming out.
Meanwhile fighters who were not busy destroying the enemy fighters were strafing the fighter bays, ion torpedo's disabling launch systems before the pirates could scramble their own birds.
The advanced party had done its job.
Now they waited for the rest of the fleet to arrive and turn the distraction into chaos.
***
The stars snapped back into sharp points as the main fleet dropped out of hyperspace in a staggered wave.
I stood on the bridge of the Gozanti, hands clasped behind my back, the reinforced officer battle uniform feeling heavier now that we are in battle.
Through the main viewport the pirate shipyard filled the view like a wounded beast, its outer ring scarred and venting in places, hundreds of ships still docked or drifting in loose clusters, the alarms were now screaming full blast instead of cheer and music.
Reza stood beside me, voice steady as he relayed orders. "All ships report in. Formations holding, Acclamators in position, remaining fighters launching. Mandalorians already on hulls and ready for breach."
The two Acclamators appeared first, massive and scarred, Resolute Dawn and Iron Vanguard sliding into formation on either flank. Their turbolasers began tracking targets immediately. Behind them came the three retrofitted cruisers, hulls still bearing the scars of the original battle but guns hot.
The remaining TIEs and Headhunters poured out of the hangars in tight squadrons, joining the Headhunters and Y-wings already in the fight the retrofitted armed haulers followed, loaded with boarding teams as skiffs zipped forward to establish a beach head on the shipyard, with them are the most elite stormtroopers along with some heavy equipment we managed to make, like a reinforced sled that had a heavy repeater attached to it with the frontal armour being reinforced, sort of BTR.
I watched the chaos unfold.
The advanced party had done its job perfectly. With a lot of Turbolaser batteries on the outer ring were frozen or burning. Hangars were collapsing and the debris fields masked our approach vector.
The pirates were scrambling, half-dressed, half-drunk, ships trying to power up while their crews stumbled to stations.
"Open fire," I said.
The Gozanti's turbolasers joined the chorus.
Green bolts lanced out toward the nearest frigates and corvettes, aiming to disable not kill, they will be useful afterall, the Acclamators opened up now with full broadsides, heavy turbolaser fire hammering the damaged sections of the shipyard and the powering up ships, with the focus on the biggest ones.
Y-wings made another pass, proton torpedoes slamming into fighter bays and power relays. Explosions bloomed across the structure in perfect silence against the vacuum.
Reza's voice cut across the bridge comm. "Fighters, keep their birds grounded. Acclamators, suppress the outer defences. Boarding teams, you have the green light."
Atii's voice came over the fighter channel, bright and fierce."Fighters and bombers, follow me in. We're clearing the sky."
Jaster's calm tone followed from his Kom'rk."Mandalorians, begin breach. Primary objectives first. Lock down the bridges. Take the command centers. Turn their own guns against them if you can."
I watched it all unfold. The initial battle was on, with only a sporadic number of pirate ships begining to return fire, it was all so fucking disorganized and panicked, who was it that said not to celebrate too early in war or whatever the quote was?
Eh who cares, art of war strike your enemy while he is dick deep and drunk as piss and you shall win battles or something like that.
A Lancer-class frigate tried to bring its laser cannons online to shoot down our fighters only to be hammered by a full Acclamator broadside, the poor thing didn't even have its shields up. It's now little more than molten slag.
Fighters scrambled from the remaining bays in ragged waves, only to meet our headhunters and squad of TIEs that hunted in packs along with a few Kom'rks that can now join the fray after dropping off the mandalorians to their destinations like a little space bus filled with a disgusting amount of weapons and armour.
Dogfights erupted in every direction, green and red bolts crisscrossing the void.
I felt the Gozanti shudder as it took a glancing hit from one of the surviving turbolaser turrets. "Status?" I asked.
"Shields holding," Reza replied. "We're in range for full support, Boarding actions commencing now. Skiffs already approaching the main designated beach head."
Through the viewport I saw the first Mandalorian breaching charges detonate. Bright flashes against the Gladiator's hull, figures in beskar poured into the breaches. The same scene played out across the other capital ships and the shipyard ring itself. The pirates were no longer celebrating, they were fighting for their lives.
And we had only just begun.
***
Reza POV
Reza stood at the tactical station on the Gozanti bridge, eyes locked on the holographic display that painted the entire battlefield in real time. The shipyard loomed massive in the viewport ahead, its outer ring scarred and venting atmosphere in glittering plumes.
Hundreds of pirate ships hung docked or drifting, many still half powered down from the celebration.
Alarms wailed across open channels, mixing with panicked voices and the fading echoes of music that no one had bothered to shut off. "Fleet, this is Reza," he said, voice cutting through the comm net like a blade. "All ships, weapons free. Prioritize disabling over destruction. Those cruisers and frigates will be ours when this is done. Acclamators, focus fire on the outer turbolaser rings and the Gladiator's shield generators. Gozanti, maintain command position and support the fighter screen. Headhunters and TIEs, keep their birds grounded. Y-wings, make another pass on the fighter bays and power relays. Skiffs, you have the beachhead. Elite stormtroopers and the reinforced sleds are cleared for immediate deployment. Push hard and fast."
The orders rippled out.
The two Acclamators responded instantly. Resolute Dawn and Iron Vanguard slid forward in perfect formation, their heavy turbolaser batteries lighting up the void. Massive green bolts slammed into the shipyard's outer defenses, vaporizing turrets that were still trying to track targets.
One battery on the far ring simply froze mid rotation as ion cannons from the Headhunters shorted its power relays. Reza's fingers flew across the console, updating target priorities in real time.
"Headhunters, form up on the Y-wings in sector 3, clear those fighter bays before they can scramble anything. TIEs, hunt in packs, priorities the bigger fighters and any stragglers when opportunity presents itself attack any small ship or frigate, try and prevent pirate fighter get spaceborne. Kom'rks, you are to support and attack mid sized ships and break up enemy fighter concentrations and target any of the enemy bombers with priority. Skiffs, beachhead is yours, get those reinforced sleds down and start pushing."
The bridge shook as the Gozanti took another glancing hit from a desperate turret on a nearby frigate. Shields holding, Reza didn't flinch.
Through the viewport the chaos was beautiful in its brutality.
Headhunters and Y-wings screamed past the Gozanti, proton torpedoes streaking toward the shipyard's fighter bays. Explosions ripped open entire sections of the outer ring and ships while TIEs hunted in tight packs, green laser fire stitching across pirate fighters that were only now trying to launch from half-powered decks.
The pirates were scrambling away from the main command centers in the shipyard, half-dressed crews stumbling toward their stations or their ships while the ships around them were still trying to power up by some of the crews that were on the ships.
Many vessels sat completely dark, crews too drunk or hungover to react in time.
He glanced at the main display. The advanced party had done its job. The pirates were disorganized, distracted, and vulnerable. Now the real assault began.
***
Kaelin Torvyn POV
The mag-clamp locked onto the Gladiator's hull with a heavy thunk that vibrated through my boots. I was one of the first out of the Kom'rk, jetpack still hot from the drop. Around me, my warriors hit the same section of the massive Star Destroyer's outer plating, beskar armour gleaming faintly in the reflected light of the shipyard's lights.
We started moving up silently up towards the bridge, but the hull was too thick to blow up so we had to go with plan B and go down a bit lower and then make our way up the hard way through the ship. By the time we got there and in position, charges set the main fleet arrived while alarms were screaming everywhere, a high-pitched wail that cut through the vacuum like a vibroblade.
"Activate and count down the charges," I snapped over the clan channel. My voice was calm, but my blood was already singing. Two of my best a pair of veterans from the old days activated the charges as we all moved away, they started counting down the timer for the breaching charges that were against the hull plating right above the access hatch.
The red lights on the charges blinked once, twice, then went solid. "Fire in the hole."
We kicked off the hull just enough to clear the blast radius while the charges detonated in perfect silence against the void a bright white flash that lit up the entire section of the Gladiator's armour.
Plating peeled away like paper, atmosphere venting in a glittering cloud of ice crystals. The breach was clean, I jetted forward first, rifle up, mag-boots re-locking the moment I hit the inner deck.
The corridor beyond was dimly lit by emergency red strips, the air thick with the smell of spilled liquor, smoke, and fear-sweat. Half-naked pirates were stumbling to their feet some still holding bottles, others fumbling for blasters they'd left on tables during the party.
I didn't hesitate.
The first one a Togruta with his pants around his ankles barely had time to turn before my blaster bolt took him through the chest. He flew backward, and hit his head off the corner of a wall, blood spraying in zero-g droplets that floated like obscene red jewels.
The second a human woman who had been laughing moments earlier while putting out a cigarette on a small trembling boy screamed as I put two rounds through her throat. Her body spun away, still twitching.
"Clear left," I called. "Push forward, the Gladiator bridge is utmost priority for the entire operation. Lock it down or burn it if you think we dont have the time."
The elite of the elite of mandalorian warriors poured in behind me. Beskar figures moving like shadows, rifles barking in short, disciplined bursts. A Rodian pirate lunged out of a side alcove with a vibroblade, still reeking of spice. One of the warriors caught him mid-swing, slammed him against the bulkhead, and drove a knife through his eye, and stabbed him in the neck for good measure ripping his throat almost in half as he pulled the blade out violently.
The Rodian convulsed and choked but quickly went limp as he slid down the wall, leaving a traill of blood as he went.
The pirates were disorganized, drunk, some still half-dressed from whatever depravity they'd been engaged in when the alarms hit.
We found a group of them in a side lounge 3 humans and a Twi'lek, one of the men was being electrocuted for their sick amusement as they laughed and filmed it totally drunk and spiced out of their minds.
They barely had time to react before we opened fire, blaster bolts ripped through flesh and bone. The Twi'lek screamed as she was cut down mid-act of swinging the electric baton, blood spraying across the table.
One of the humans tried to run, the word being tried as he could not even walk straigh. I put a bolt through his spine before he made it three steps.
The smell of charred meat and spilled blood filled the corridors.
We reached the main bridge access lift. The doors were sealed, but the emergency override panel was still active, one of the techs slapped a spike into it and a second later with a beep the doors hissed open.
Inside the lift car were four more pirates, 2 of them still trying to pull their pants up while the 3rd one looked and smelled as if he just puked and the 4th one was not here but in some lala land with the spice still stuck to his nose.
They all died before they could raise their weapons.
"Bridge level," I ordered.
The lift rose and when the doors opened again, we stepped into hell.
The Gladiator's bridge was a wide, multi-level chamber consoles flashing red, officers stumbling to stations, the main viewport showing the chaos outside as our fighters and the arriving fleet tore into the shipyard. The captain, a massive trandoshan, the second in command to the Kage was roaring orders, still half-drunk from the party as his jaw was still crimson and smelt of iron.
He saw us and his eyes widened as he hissed. "Intruders! Kill them!"
Blaster fire erupted from every direction and we answered in kind.
I dropped down behind a console smashing some small and short species to bits with my armoured knees, bits of his brain matter flying up to my visor. I wiped it away with my gauntlet as bolts stitched the air above me.
The warriors returned fire precise and lethal. A human officer took three rounds to the chest and collapsed over his station. While another trandoshan gunner tried to swing a heavy repeater toward us while one of the bigger mandalorians simply took out a vibro sword that in his hands looked like a knife and drove it into his neck and all the way down almost to his pelvis, his guts and blood fell out right in front of him as he collapsed, dead in agony.
I rose, blaster up, and put two bolts through the second in commands throat. The blood stained mouth moved silently for a second before he gurgled, dropped to his knees clutching his throat and collapsed down.
I stepped over his body and slammed my beskar clad gauntlet into a cowering pirate that was behind the console, I missed and hit his jaw. It, and his throat and jaw caved in. He looked almost in disbelief as he looked down at his crushed jaw and throat before he started gurgling and choking on his own blood.
"Bridge secured," I reported over the clan channel. "Controls locked, we own this ship now, no need to blow up the bridge and then have it repaired at least." I chuckled a bit at the end as the rest the warriors moved to the secondary stations overriding systems, sealing blast doors, turning the Gladiator's own point-defense turrets against the scrambling pirate fleet outside.
Through the viewport I could see the rest of the battle raging. The main fleet had arrived in full force, Acclamators hammering the outer defenses, fighters swarming, Mandalorians already breaching other capital ships. The shipyard was burning in a dozen places. We had done what we came for.
The biggest ships were falling silent one by one.
Now the real slaughter could begin, and once we set everything up nicely and secure the bridge for good we can have some more fun on the yard.
The sound of gurgling and what sounds as an attempt at sobs takes me out of my musing as I look at the pirate I though dead. So to put an end to his pathetic and rather grating on the nerves existence I put a single bolt through his head.
***
Torv POV
The skiff slammed down into the shipyard's main hangar with a bone-rattling crash. My blaster up instantly as the ramp dropped and I surged forward, heavy repeater already raised, my newest toy, capable of sustaining heavy fire and if I concentrate enough fire power in one spot I am able to damage even armoured units.
The reinforced sleds came right behind me three of them, ugly bastards we'd welded additional armour on, thick frontal armour plating, heavy repeaters mounted on swivel turrets. They rolled out on repulsors like angry metal beasts, their gunners already laying down suppressing fire.
I was not on the ship boarding teams, that was for the others. My job was here ground assault on the shipyard itself. Elite vanguard. The first wave that would carve a beachhead so the rest could pour in.
The deck was chaos, pirates spilled out of side corridors and half-open blast doors half-naked, half-drunk, some still holding bottles or spice pipes. They were slow, very slow. Confused, still laughing from taking too many drugs from the party, that was until the first bolts started flying.
I opened fire and the repeater roared in my hands, heavy bolts stitching across the first group. A towering Zebrak took three rounds to the stomach, ripping him almost in half. A Neimodian next to him tried to raise a blaster but I blasted his head off his shoulders, with only a bit of the left jaw left attached to the neck.
"Push!" I bellowed over the channel. "Sleds forward! Clear the landing zone!"
The reinforced sleds rolled ahead, their heavy repeaters thundering. One gunner swept an entire corridor, bolts ripping through a group of pirates who were still trying to grasp the situation, from the corner one of the pirates threw a thermal detonator and the sled's frontal armour took the blast with nothing more than a dent.
The gunner swivelled and the returned fire turned the pirate into nothing more than red mist and chunks of meat.
I and the others advanced right behind them, boots clanging on hangar floor. My armour was reinforced too, extra plating on the chest and shoulders, heavier than standard kit I usually wear. It was built for this exact kind of brutal, close-quarters push required from the vanguards.
A pirate lunged at a trooper beside me from under a bunch of crates with a vibroblade, still high off his mind and screaming. I pulled the trooper to the side, and backhanded the scum to the floor before I slammed the butt of the repeater into his face multiple times, caving in his face completely.
The beachhead expanded fast my troopers poured out of the other skiffs, white gleaming figures moving like a tidal wave. We cleared the first hangar section in under a 5 minutes, bodies piled up against the walls some still twitching, some missing limbs, some with their guts hanging out where the vibroblades had done their work.
The smell of charred meat and blood filled the air, mixing with the lingering spice and alcohol from the party.
A group of pirates tried to make a stand at the next to a partially closed blast door maybe twenty of them in mismatched armour. They opened fire wildly, bolts pinged off the plating of the sleds mostly though one caught a clan warrior beside me in the armoured shoulder forcing him to his knees, he grunted but was not really phased by it as he stood up and continued advancing.
I raised the repeater and held the trigger down as the sleds joined in.
The entire group disappeared in a storm of heavy bolts, when the fire stopped there was nothing left but smoking meat and shattered bone.
"Beachhead secure," I reported. "Moving deeper, keep the sleds here along with 2 squads, for the rest of the forces to arrive." The reinforced sleds rolled into defensive positions as, their turrets were sweeping the entrances for any pirate.
Me and the other squads started advancing slowly into the corridors, pirates who tried to run were cut down from behind. Those who tried to fight died where they stood. One toydarian tried to surrender hands up, bleeding from a graze.
I did not spare him more than a glance before I put a single bolt through his forehead without slowing down.
We pushed deeper through the corridors, clearing any room we come across the air thick with smoke and the screams of the dying. The beachhead was ours, and any minute the rest of the forces will arrive. After that, its butchers work.
***
Kaelin TorvynI hit the yard deck running the moment the breaching charge blew a hole open.
The corridor beyond was a mess of red emergency lighting and distant sounds, boots slammed onto the plating with a solid clunk as I surged forward, rifle up, warriors right on my heels.
The big ships had been easy, barely anyone on them. Most of the pirates had been celebrating on the shipyard itself, leaving the cruisers and the Gladiator along with other ships big and small almost empty. We'd taken the bridges fast, disabled the controls, damaged the consoles where we couldn't lock them down, then pulled out.
The ships were as good as ours now, parked in the yard or dead in space, their guns silent.
Now it was time for the real work, the shipyard.
I moved toward the nearest secondary command centre on one of the upper middle decks a reinforced hub that controlled power relays and internal sensors for this section of the ring. My HUD painted the route in glowing green, the map updating in real time from the scouts already inside and data provided from other command centres captured.
"Keep it tight," I ordered over the channel. "We take it lock it down, leave a squad. The rest of us hit them from behind while they're busy fighting the main force." Affirmatives came back sharp and fast.
We reached the blast door. It was sealed or we thought it was at first but it was just jammed, so with some gentle persuasion courtesy of a few torches, a small explosive and a hacking spike the doors hissed open slowly with a groan of stressed metal.
Inside was a slaughterhouse in the making, a dozen pirates were at the consoles.
They turned as we came in.
I didn't give them time to react my rifle barked and the first two went down instantly a pair of Mirialans both cut down. Others behind me poured in, blasters flashing, and vibroblades out. A Rodian tried to swing what appeared as a heavy blaster pistol but he got turned into a crisp by a wrist mounted flamethrower.
His greenish blue skin melting before our very eyes as his big wide blue eyes popped from the fire, he did not even have the time to scream.
A human officer lunged at another one with a vibroaxe, he was caught by his wrist, twisted, and got a vibroknife into his guts multiple times, before he was shoved away and shot right in the head from a powerful blaster, leaving most of his face scorched.
The room was ours in under thirty seconds. "Secure the consoles," I snapped. "Lock down the power relays. Turn the cameras against them and gather any schematics and walkways that might not have been on other command consoles, feed everything to the main force."
Three of my warriors stayed behind, the best techs we had. They were already spiking the systems, overriding controls, turning the shipyard's own internal sensors against the pirates where they could.
"Rest of you, with me. We got a signal from one of the forces that there are currently fighting a large force of pirates not that far from us, we will hit them from the back while they are focused on our allies."
We moved out fast, boots pounding down the corridor, killing swiftly any pirate on our way.
My HUD showed the main fight ahead, a large group of pirates had pinned down a mixed force of militia and clan warriors at a choke point near one of the storage halls.
They were laughing, still half-drunk, thinking they had the upper hand. That did not last however as we took the side access tunnel, my warriors right behind me. We came out right behind the pirate line, perfect angle, no cover for them.
I raised my rifle. "Open fire." The first burst took a massive brown haired wookie pirate in the back who had been in the middle of reloading a massive bowcaster, he dropped with a wail and a massive thud.
The others beside me took to the air with jetpacks and strafed their lines with flamethrowers or shot them from up high.
A group of pirates who had been pushing forward against the militia suddenly found themselves caught in a crossfire. One tried to run and he got a special make mandalorian thermal detonator, it sailed toward him and exploded mid-chest level. What was left of him clung to a nearby crate in a bloody, visceral mess. Some started dropping to their knees, begging and surrendering, one clan warrior came to one of them, a leader looking from his fancy armour and slit his throat, not fully but enough so he will bleed out slowly and in agony.
The pirates broke, the deck was littered red with corpses, with only a few militia and clan warriors dead. "We're moving to the next target. Keep pushing." The fight was far from over but with the state that these pirates are, it was only a matter of time.
***
Pirate POV – Rukko Varn (Rodian pirate lieutenant, 34)
The 7-B intersection of corridors was wide enough for three men to walk abreast, and it ended with one huge unloading area where one could park 2 dozen heavy cargo trucks, and the ceiling was high enough that you could almost forget you were inside a metal box. Almost.
Right now it looked like a barricade yard. Crates, overturned tables, pieces of broken bulkhead, even a few dead bodies we hadn't bothered to drag away yet all piled into makeshift firing positions.
My crew was still reeling from the party with quite a few missing their armour and clothing, a few were still wearing the glitter-paint from the dancers. Weapons were everywhere: blasters, vibroblades, a couple of heavy repeaters like E-Webs being dragged into place, power packs scattered like spilled coins.
I dropped onto an ammunition crate with a groan.
My head felt like someone had parked a landspeeder on it. Every heartbeat sent fresh spikes of pain through my skull. The spice was wearing off fast and the liquor wasn't helping anymore it just made the nausea worse.
One of the Zeltron girls was still alive, curled up against a console maybe ten meters away. Her makeup was smeared, one of her arms bent at a bad angle. She wasn't crying, just staring at nothing.
I remembered the way she'd screamed hours past during the party, how the others had laughed and taken turns. The way I'd joined in after the third round of drinks.
I rubbed my temples with a groan.
They ruined everything.
The thought kept circling like a bad smell. We'd won, we'd beaten the other factions and the shipyard was ours. We were supposed to be celebrating for days, instead some offworld fucking brat governor's fleet had shown up and started shooting blasting.
I looked at the barricade line. A human pirate was trying and failing to load an E-Web with shaking hands. Another one, a Whiphid with lipstick smeared across his face, was laughing about how he'd gutted a Twi'lek guy when he tried to run away during the party thinking no one would notice.
He mimed the knife thrust and made a wet sound with his mouth. The others laughed. I remembered that one. He'd been young. Maybe 16, we'd dragged him out of the slave pens to serve drink and be used as a target practice with low powered blaster. I'd stepped over his body on my way to get another drink.
The memory made my stomach lurch, not from guilt.
From the hangover.
I spat on the deck. I'll make them pay for ruining my fun.
The thought came slow and thick, like syrup. They'd interrupted the best party we'd had in years, they'd killed my men, they'd disabled my ships and they'd taken my victory.I
In return I'll make them bleed for it, I stood up slowly on unsteady legs as my head was pounding, and walked to the barricade line. "Get those repeaters online," I snarled. "They're coming through here. We hold this intersection or we die."
The crew moved sluggishly, still drunk, some still laughing on spice while seeing things no one else is seeing.
I gripped my blaster tighter, let them come i'd make every single one of them scream before I die, and if we win I will go to their little, insignificant planet and burn it all down to ash.
***
Atii POV
The corridor smelled like blood, burnt plastoid, and the sour stink of spilled liquor that had soaked into the deck plates. My boots stuck slightly with every step. Disgusting.
My squad moved behind me, 8 Mandalorians in full beskar, blasters up, jetpacks still hot from the last breach. We'd come through a maintenance crawlspace that the pirates hadn't bothered to guard. They were too busy dying, too busy screaming.
Ahead of us, at the far end of the wide intersection, a knot of pirates had dug in behind a barricade of overturned crates and dead bodies. They were holding a choke point with heavy repeaters chattering, blaster bolts slamming into the far wall where Varn's mixed group of stormtroopers and militia were pinned down.
I could see flashes of white armour and red and black armour of the militia taking cover, returning fire, but they weren't advancing. The pirates had numbers and better position.
I raised a fist and the squad stopped instantly. I keyed the encrypted channel. "Varn, this is Atii. We're behind them. Roughly 30 meters back, maintenance access. Give us 10 seconds to hit them from the rear then push."
Varn's voice came back rough, breathing hard. "Copy. 10 seconds. We'll be ready."
I switched to squad comm. "Silent until we're on top of them. Jetpacks on low burn. We close, we flank, we cut them down. No survivors."A ffirmatives came back in quick succession.
I took point, we moved, and the jetpacks hissed on minimal thrust just enough to glide silently across the deck without beskar boots clanging. The pirates didn't see us, they were too focused on the fight ahead, too drunk, too hungover, too stupid.
We closed the distance, 20 meters, 15, 10.
I could see them clearly now around 20 to 30 pirates behind the barricade. One was laughing as he fired bursts from a repeater, another was reloading with shaking hands with a nosebleed. A Twi'lek female pirate half naked was firing while also crawling one of her hands up a nearby Twi'lek pirate thigh and going higher.
I raised my rifle. "Mark."
We opened fire, the first volley took them completely by surprise, my blaster bolt caught the laughing repeater gunner through the chest he jerked back, armour smoking, and collapsed over the barricade. The Twi'lek spun toward us, eyes wide as I put two rounds into her face before she could scream and used the wrist mounted flamethrower to burn her supposed lover.
The rest of my squad poured fire into the line. With pirates dropping like sacks of meat some cut down mid-turn, others trying to run and taking bolts in the back. One human tried to crawl away a warrior beside me stepped forward and crushed his skull with a single stomp of a beskar boot spilling his brain matter all over the deck.
The barricade collapsed in seconds and Varn's group surged forward from the other side, stormtroopers and militia rushing the gap, blasters blazing. The remaining pirates were caught between two fires.
They died fast, a few surrender hands up, blasters dropped.
The intersection fell silent except for the crackle of dying fires and the low groan of damaged bulkheads.
I stepped over a body a Rodian whose chest had been caved in by repeater fire and keyed the channel. "7-B Intersection clear. Pushing deeper."
My mind drifted just for a second to Kael. He was on the Gozanti, coordinating from orbit. Wtching safely and directing. Part of me wished he was down here with us, part of me was glad he wasn't.
I remembered the way he'd looked at me during the briefing, that crooked half-smile when I'd teased him about the clones. The way he'd fallen out of the chair when I hit him. The way he'd looked up at me from the floor, grinning despite the bruise that was definitely forming under that uniform.
I shook my head, focus.
We had more corridors to clear, more pirates to kill. I raised my rifle and moved forward.