Behold The Envoy...
Join Date: Nov 2008
Current Game: TES IV: Oblivion
Chapter XI – Enigmatic Sacrifice
After all the training, all the time I'd spent making myself nigh undefeated, I thought just as anyone did. To put it simply, that I was at a point where no one would want to deal with me, unless they had a death certificate they wanted me to sign. However, it seems that I set myself up for a fall. I didn't know it, and I doubted that it crossed Revan's mind either. While the Mandalorians weren't exactly what you could call bitter at their defeat, it was quite obvious that not all of them would share the sentiment. Though them coming after me specifically, couldn't have been more unexpected.
It was sometime after I'd left Malachor that some traffic on the Holo-net spoke of a single Mandalorian fleet that still existed. I didn't know how many Revan would've went through during her trip to the Outer Rim, but knowing that one still existed was not very pleasant news. While it might not be the worst, no one thought that it was a good thing. Word of them attacking, anything, was absent, which I knew was a bad thing. The reports said that they traded goods on worlds that the Republic didn't have much jurisdiction, along with receiving repairs.
Four months after I'd left Malachor, they found us. My fleet was slightly smaller than theirs, by three ships. The main source of the trouble was the simple fact that they took out my support ships within an hour, and were pounding the Radiance with every damned gun their ship had. Every single weapon that involved projectiles, of any sort, hit the outer hull of my ship. Most of them were deflected by the shields, but they only bought time. Not that I wanted to lose this ship, or anyone aboard it. I can't say I'm that heartless. Even those who are described as 'Black Hearted', still have one.
“What the hell is with these morons? Shield strength is 50%, and the hull is still intact. Though you know it won't be much longer before this ship is going to need some serious repairs. Orders, Admiral Siyn?” It was the ship's captain, Moria Vance, that asked me this question.
“I want to know their motive, but if they had one that was worth it, they would've broadcasted a message before their first volley. Though the reason isn't unclear, as I doubt it is difficult to find out on the Holo-Net who were some of the more famous Higher-ups in the War. Though what this armored casket fool's problem with me is, I can't say.” I turned to Moria. “Launch the fighters. Tell them to take down as many of their ships as possible. And get every damned gun this ship has to blast his flag-ship, and the rest of them, straight to hell!”
This was the first time I had to watch my support ships burning, their stabilization units destroyed. The shields on my own were gone, and the hull was almost blown open to the point that most of the ship was sealed, at least until those were damaged as well. I wanted that schutta's head on a plate, and getting it was next to impossible. Though the obvious course of action was as simple as saying it, but I really didn't want to.
“Do it. Everyone to the escape pods. Now.”
No one had to hear it twice. Victoria kept order, and got them to the pods. It was worse than Malachor. It wasn't even a war, and here I was, standing on the bridge of a crippled ship, with death behind my back. It was something I had fought since I joined the Republic Academy, and here it was, creeping up. All it inspired was rage, and little else. Any who wouldn't feel this, are fools. After all, what was I supposed to think of some Mandalorian with a grudge? If I had the chance, I'd dismember him, and throw him out the airlock to be lost to the ages.
“Mercedes, Come on!” Victoria said to me. I don't know why I was hesitating. Maybe I was stunned, realizing something that no one would ever believe could come to pass, just slapped me in the face.
It was then, that an explosion rocked the bridge, pulling her out of it, and into the hallway. The hole that was blown into the bridge was enormous, and it drew the air out in seconds. If it wasn't for that damned breather, I would’ve been dead sooner. Of course, my options were few. I didn't want to obfuscate the issue. Unlike before, where I didn't know beforehand, this time I knew. I didn't want to, as who wants to know that they are going to die? Only those who think life isn't worth it. Thing is, I didn't want mine to end. Then again, I didn't want to live forever, either.
I was going to die, and I had no way to stop it, or no way to suggest that I would survive it this time. If I did, then I can't say I would complain. If I don't, then I don't think the ages will allow me to fade, but being a record in the Archives of the Jedi Order, the Republic, and various other private data-bases, along with being in the memories of those who survive, didn't bring me peace. Though, possibly, death isn't as bad as they say. I've always thought that dead was better than dying, as dying is the one that hurts. Now, I would find out.
[Memory preserved – Writing To Neocortex...Saved. Memory installation is Complete]
“Damn it. It always knows more than I do.” A tech said, sitting before a terminal. Looking over her last thoughts, he sighed. “And I think I have it bad.”
A single figure entered the semi-dark room. He had silvery hair, and white eyes, though everything else was hidden in shadow. “Tell me, how is the project going?”
“Whatever happened to her after the ship's bridge was blown open was a mystery. We can fix it, and we will. As per your instructions, she will be almost the same, but faster, and stronger.”
The white-haired main smiled. “Very good. She is a phoenix indeed. Many times has she risen from the ashes. Once again she will do so, but for now, she sleeps somewhere that few see. Keep up the work. I don't care if this takes ten years, I want her like she was before. She...means a lot to me.” the man left the room, leaving the tech to look at his screen, along with a covered table that held a broken body, with various areas were much of the skin had been torn out, large chucks of bone missing, and exploded muscles, making no movement whatsoever. Nothing below the neck could suggest the gender of the person The only features that remained, was the characteristic purple hair, the black prosthetic, and most of all, her face. It was sickening, and would’ve been a lost cause, but some believed it was worth the technology, the credits, and the time. As the tech walked over to the body, a slight charge made the single prosthetic move its fingers. The 'clink' of the metal fingers was somewhat creepy.
“The spark of life, which still remains. Any sane man would think it better to just let her die. But I know what my orders are, and she is far more useful alive.”