Join Date: Feb 2009
Current Game: Empire at War: FoC
((Woah, inactive already?))
The ship grinded to a halt as Gerris climbed out of the chair. Switching to auto-pilot he decided to hone his skills against a hologram. He thought back to his fight in the arena, he remembered how it filled his soul with a lust for violence, a craving for all things painful and deadly. He missed the heart-felt blows he woud swing, the precise shots he would fire. Those were days long past, when he was able to do combat with warriors thrice his skill.
Originally Gerris had come from Clan Ordo, where he and his friend, Canderous, trained alongside the other warriors of the Clan. Canderous had become a skilled fighter and master tactician, whilst Gerris on the other-hand had been neglected due to a incident in the outer-rim.
A few moments later he dropped back into his chair, thoughtfully reliving his memories, examining the past for where he'd gone wrong. Then, another temptation suddenly filled his mind. His hand reached over the navigation panel litterally inches away from Sullust, he withdrew reluctantly, knowing that would do little to aid his current position. Suddenly a Republic cruiser came up on the radar, Gerris jumped at the control panel, already inputting the appropriate combat sequence, but it was too late.
The vessel lurched forward, powered by huge tri-thrusters. Within two minutes his vessel was securely locked to the frigate, unable to escape. Gerris thought about resistance but knew it to be a futile gesture under such circumstances. Now he thought of one final chance at glory, at victory. He immediately sent a encrypted message back to Gamorr, requesting a large boarding party. They could definetly use this ship against the Republic he thought, admiring the huge turbo-laser array.
As the code of combat dictated on Mandalore, he would be made Captain if he could successfully take the ship alone. He immediately overloaded his ion cannon, mounted upon the vessel. The resulting blast caused the docking clamp to release. He immediately ignited the thrusters, fleeing away from the vessel. In a whir of motion he spun around and directed his ship at the life support systems, knowing full well the entire crew would die within seconds should this system fail.
Such was the flaw of a magnificient design as without the life support the generators would cease to release oxygen, leaving victims helpless as they drowned in the corridors of their own vessel. His armor had a two hour supply of oxygen. Not that he'd need it for that long. It would take him two minutes to rewire the backup life support, adapting it to Mandalorian technology. In fact, his people's technology could erase the flaw indefinetly by simply rewiring the back-up generator to the main, whilst removing the main.
To even get close to his target he would need to use cunning. Just in time did he realize the freighters tractor beam charging up. He countered, using a smaller variant of the device to pull a asteroid directly between him and the beam. Within seconds the space debris connected with the vessel, battering the shields and leaving the warship vulnerable to a assault. Quickly he powered the engines and unleashed a volley of energy upon the vessel, disabling vital systems and exploiting its flaws.
A blast from the nearby turbolaser battery nearly sent him straight to his grave as he whirled out of control, smoke erupting from the engines. He couldn't survive this match of wit much longer. He brought his vessel to full speed, redirecting the nose at the enemies bridge. As the left wing collided with the viewport Gerris' ship began to shake. He knew his own vessel wouldn't last much longer under these circumstances. He quickly did a full turn and unleashed a volley of concussion missiles upon the now battered bridge. The Republic commander, in a last attempt at self-preservation smashed the control panel, bringing the shields off the scales, the overloading instantly started a chain reaction, blasting the ship with many blows.
Gerris decided that now was the time for the deathblow, as he dived towards the hangar. The life support rested directly below the hangar, a feature that Gerris would now exploit. As soon as the vessel was level with the hangar floor he threw himself through the viewport, just barely reaching the atmospheric force field, saving himself from being trapped in the infinite passages of space. He listened anxiously, awaiting the signal of his victory . . . or the sound of his defeat. A explosion rocked the ship, throwing them to and fro. Then . . . the air grew thin.
Gerris grinned in anticipation as he ripped up a floor board and activated his oxygen supply. He dropped to the lower deck, directly into the back-up life support. Suddenly the force field above him gave way, throwing many troops to their doom. Gerris swiftly replaced the panel, not wanting to suffer the same fate as those men. He activated his personal scanner and scanned the ship for life forms.
After a third check he was satisfied that he was the only surviving participant of the battle. He began to rewire the back-up generator, thinking of the praise he might recieve, or the scolding for turning from his task. Then again, what else could he do? If he turn and ran he was sure the ship would pursue him to the border of the sector, forever throwing him off the trail of his target. Not that he would of fled anyways . . .
If he had carried on the chase the vessel may well have caught his ship, took him captive and then put him to death. Certainly not the honourable end Gerris thought worthy of a Mandalorian. Now he had to wait for help from Gamorr, or at least further contact. Even one of his kind could not pilot such a vessel alone, certainly not with the damage inflicted. Yet alone with it functional . . .
He turned his comm-link on and slumped back against the wall. It would be a while before anyone came he thought. He removed his helmet and placed his ever-present rifle at his side. Leaning against the wall. He placed the comm-link in his ear, so he could be alerted if need be, then fell into a deep slumber.
Grand Admiral of the Imperial Remnant.
"This one is constantly thinking, analyzing, strategizing. He showed no fear, but was curious, studying me in turn."
"All thoughts are worth listening to, whether later judged to be of value or not."
"I have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn't my own."
"But… it was so artistically done."
―Thrawn's last words