[[Nec!]]
----------
<!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Cappy might take it... or Rolanor. Yes, I could get quite a good price from him. These systems...<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->
Oman looked around him, taking in the visible modifications as the Interceptor flew on, not deviating from it’s course.
<!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
They’re extensive... and what’s this? A hyperdrive? This guy must’ve been rich. Either that, or he was very influential, and had some powerful friends... better ditch this quickly then, get the money and get out.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->
Oman turned back forward again, and was surveying some of the finer system modifications, when a device he had taken care not to destroy lit up, diverting his attention immediately.
Proximity alarm.
The flashing and noise got annoying quickly, so he reached over and shut it off, scanning the sensors with his eyes, trying to determine where the potential threat lay.
The scanners, he found, showed it coming in hot on his tail. He couldn’t scan for a visual, due to the TIE’s limited viewport, but knew by the readings what it was.
Lambda shuttle, broadcasting codes identifying it as the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Klakkon.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->
<!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Alright, time to lose myself...<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->
Oman reached out to the controls, placing his hand on the yoke and making a hard turn to the right. The TIE gave a slight whine of protest and...
Stayed exactly on course.
<!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
What the frell?!<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->
And then the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Klakkon<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> was on him. All attempts at evasive manoeuvring proved futile, as the TIE seemed to be actually <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
slowing down<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->. Too late, Oman realised what was going on.
He hastily reached out, pulling his slicing gear into position. The <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Klakkon<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> was closing fast. In fifteen seconds it would be within firing range.
He had to be faster than that.
The slice took five seconds. Finding the correct codes, four and a half. So far so good. His hands raced over the controls, trying to bring them back under his power. Altering codes, three seconds.
<!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Come on.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->
<!--EZCODE BOLD START-->
WARNING: Two seconds to intercept!<!--EZCODE BOLD END-->
...And it was his!
Pulling out just in time, Oman was able to see the first shot speed off to his side, harmlessly missing the stolen Interceptor by a half a metre.
<!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Yes!<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->
The TIE was now rising, rising, headed out for space.
<!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
If I can make the jump, I might be able to get away...<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->
No such luck, though. The <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Klakkon<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> still had a data feed on the TIE, and was able to start to manoeuvre to match Oman’s course change before his systems had even registered it.
In a short, horrible moment, Oman saw that his pursuer was going to intercept him if he stayed on this heading. The only option open to him now was...
With a quick swoop, he pushed the yoke forward and dove back toward the desert-planet’s surface. The pair were now outside the city borders, and all that spread before Oman’s eyes was a vast emptiness, endless and unforgiving.
He levelled off at about ten metres, skimming the surface and dipping slightly lower as the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Klakkon<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> appeared above him. His slice beeped, indicating it had found the data feed. Oman grinned, giving the order to cut it.
In that moment of hesitation, though, the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Klakkon<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> fired. It had been saving energy, lining up for a perfect shot. It now had it, and took the opportunity.
Alarms blared through the unshielded cockpit as Oman’s TIE was hit. It spun suddenly, out of his control. Through the viewport, and to Oman’s dismay, he could see the left solar wing panel flying off in a direction other than his.
Looking forward once more, he saw the ground rushing up to meet him, or rather, his rushing down to meet the ground.
The TIE spun, bumped, and Oman remembered no more.
----------
[[Lord.]] Hyuuk’s urgency filled his voice, and Talus’ mind, as the Sith Lord surveyed his rapidly oxygen depleting surroundings.
[[Report.]] The new lack of breathable air did not enter itself into Talus’ mind-speak, as it would have if he had been talking directly to Hyuuk, but he could not give his full concentration to the conversation, and this gave Hyuuk all the information he desired.
[[Lord, your and Uraak’s Interceptor have been destroyed, and mine is gone. We can hear and see it, though. It is flying east, away from the city. Uraak is signalling the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Klakkon<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> to intercept.]]
If Talus could have conveyed a believable growl through the Force, he would have done so now. Anger filled him, and he slammed his hand into the door leading to the cockpit, hard.
[[Kill whoever is responsible, Elite. Do not fail.]] The order from Talus was simple, dripping with hate and fury, and did not require an answer, Hyuuk knew.
Turning, Hyuuk surveyed the destroyed TIE’s once more, laughing inwardly at the thief’s stupidity.
<!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
He will live no more.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->
With that single purpose in mind, he signalled quickly to Uraak, and the pair set off quietly from the rooftop where the TIE’s still smouldered, in search of some fast transport.
----------
Back on the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
Dawning Night<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->, Talus was having extreme difficulty controlling himself.
That was not necessarily a bad thing, however...
Those TIE’s had been a gift! A gift, to the <!--EZCODE ITALIC START-->
true<!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> Dark Lord of the Sith! Granted, he had had them heavily modified, and added several features of his own, but they were still a gift.
Someone tonight was going to bleed for this, he swore.
For the mean time, though, the door to the cockpit served as a welcome recipient to his anger. After beating it in for about half a minute, Talus suddenly realised that his air supply was almost completely diminished.
He took a moment to compose himself, then. Not to dissolve the anger, but to channel it, reaching out, he placed his palm against the door, and concentrating ferociously, moved it aside.
The hand, as well as the door.
Metal tore from metal, and a blaster bolt flickered past his head as the door was ripped completely away. He stumbled into the cockpit, then, staggering. Part from oxygen depletion, part from anger, and part from hitting his head on the mangled doorframe. Being almost eight feet had it’s pros and cons, on a good day.
Another blaster bolt sizzled out at him, but Talus’ reactions had been honed over years to react to this kind of situation. Without thinking, he reached up his hand, bared his teeth, and caught the bolt square on the palm, cushioning the impact with the Force, and using what little pain he felt to fuel his anger and empower him further.
Turning, he panned his eyes menacingly onto the woman at the controls, and advanced slowly toward her.