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?"
