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An Empire in chaos and Kastav was right in the thick of it. Scooped up from his posting on Raithal monitoring Alliance comms to deal with the Chiss. Those damned Chiss. It was the greatest mass defection since Carlac and even worse, happened right as the Order had lost Emperor Fel. Volff vividly remembers hearing the last bit of comms chatter from Jalter Volff
, "This is Captain Volff, I'm going down. Ave Rurik."
His brother, last of his family died for what Fel had built and the Reclemationists were going to tear that apart. The legacy of Jalter demanded they're punished for this folly. As he stood their thinking of the past his HUD lit up as the comms channel came to life, breaking the silence inside the dropship's troop bay. "All teams breach."Kastav raised his bozdugan and gave the CompForce troopers in his squad a quick nod. "Lets go hunt some blueskins."
Any plan was as good as its contingencies should something go wrong. Unfortunately for the ISB strike teams the Chiss ambush hit so hard there was almost no time to react. It was now adapt or die.
The younger Volff found himself standing over a Chiss soldier, he was struggling against Kastav who was now repeatedly punching the man in his face. His visor was cracked and the Chiss' red eyes stared into Kastav's own and he kept hitting, his fist was now red with the soldier's blood. By now the extent of his resistance was feeble and Volff stood up and stumbled back a second. He looked on the floor and caught eye of his blaster pistol and picked it up. Without hesitation he turned the blaster and the wounded soldier who meekly raised his hands. He uttered something but Kastav couldn't hear it over the sound of his blaster pistol firing as he unloaded three rounds into the man.
"Damned Chiss" he said as he slowly steadied his breaths an looked around for any sign of his fireteam and caught glimpse of only two men. "Where's the others?" he said. One of the CompForce troopers looked up to him and spoke.
"Kabe was killed right at the start and Bolvan never made it through the blastdoors." Kastav nodded before surveying the area and as he looked around the elevator shaft his wrist comm came to life.
"This is Rama Actual. We need to access the elevator now. Consolidate into three groups and place yourselves at the nearest waypoint here, here and here, Any slicers, hang back and make a break for the control panel when the hostiles are suppressed. Move out."
As the message came in Kastav tapped the side of his helmet, his HUD flickered in the cracked visor but still showed the positions of the waypoints. Immediately after he gave his reply to Sylus (Γ059)
. "Received Rama Actual. Preacher is moving to a waypoint now." Kastav then turned to his two remaining men and spoke. "Right, with me. Suppressive fire on the Chiss positions above us. Once the slicers get to work we're back on track and maybe salvage the mission from this mess." as soon as he finished speaking one of his troopers spoke up.
"What happens after we get the elevator up? Are we going to try ride it through the blaster fire?!" he said slightly panicked.
"It's do or die right now and Rama Actual has a plan. Lets just get it done." he finished and bounded straight towards the waypoint closet to the blast door and exposing himself to the enemies above. Immediately he raised his blaster pistol and fired shots upwards and the men of his fireteam followed suit.
Tri'sunodo's red eyes flashed a glare at Zodt. She had not given her life to the Ascendency and earned the title of Nightdragon to be condescended to by a turncloak. Since she and her sisters had joined this "Chiss Force Corps" they had been surprised by their brutality and skill with the blade. Two long wars would sharpen the sword of any make she guessed, but Zod was different. There was a darkness about him that she did not find comforting.
"This cause," she said in heavily accented Basic. She huffed, pulling her twin lightsabers from her belt. "You're lucky this cause was of interest to us at all. You Turncloaks were thought all but lost to the denizens of Lesser Space. Do not confuse our presence here." With a snap-hiss her twin blades of crimson came to life.
She and her sisters followed after the deadly telekinetic blast, trailing the destruction and cutting down stormtroopers who were lucky enough to survive Zodt's attack. There it was again. That ugly taint on the Force. It ran a shiver down her spine. She began shouting at the Stormtroopers in Cheun to calm fuel her resolve, her words coming in quick clipped tones and hisses.
<Come mighty Empire! Today the Chiss Ascendancy stands with allies! The Reclamation is here to receive you!>
’Charming.’ Margo thought to herself as ‘Reaper’ barked at her. Clearly, the role of ‘badass queen’ was covered in spades in this outfit (at least in Lily’s own summation, Margo would wager). Despite her abruptness, the senior officer in this squad was right. They did not have time to dally, and despite Margo’s hope to check on the status of the flight crew, she couldn’t do anything if they were killed or captured due to the approaching ambush. Plus, there was the old adage that rarely steered soldiers wrong in a combat situation.
Good soldiers follow orders.
While Reaper set about checking on Berand’s status while simultaneously aiming in the general direction of the approaching troopers, Margo wasted little time in doing as she was ordered. Quickly and quietly, she closed the dozen or so meters between the downed shuttle and the previously indicated outcropping of boulders. She perched behind cover and leveled her rifle just as the Ascendancy troopers came into view, with a slight click of the commlink indicating to Reaper that she was in position. No sooner had she done so though, had Gavyn taken advantage of rather close spacing between the approaching party. Concussive energy surged throughout the formation, causing the vast majority to collapse in a heap of their own making.
Margo had to admit - she was impressed. It wasn’t a small thing to recover from a knock like that and take care of business in such a decisive manner. <”That was quick.”> was all she said, a mock tone of disappointment in her voice laden with double meaning. No sooner had she said as much could the voice of Sergeant Vaiken be heard amidst broken static.
:: SCAR, this is Sarge, do you copy? Coordinates of the jammer have been transmitted to your HUDs -- half a klick west from your position, foot of the slope. Be advised for sentries, patrols, mines, and any other defensive emplacements on your way. It's dry season up north, cover's bound to be scarce so stay frosty. ::
:: And get moving, stat -- squad you gunned down's bound to raise alarms when they don't check back in. ::
Considering that everyone in the squad appeared in possession of their senses, Margo would give way to Reaper to respond to Vaiken given her seniority. Instead, she set about double checking the sensor readings on her hud. <”No additional movement detected. We are in the clear.”>
After making her report to the other two squad mates via their shared channel, she casually strode over with her blaster rifle held at the ready. She scanned the surrounding area while waiting for the order to move out, at least ensuring they wouldn't be caught by surprise.
Maintenance Hatch, Brask Oto Station, The Redoubt (Early-877 ABY)
Well, well, well.... It would seem the festivities started without me.
Blood at the breaches he felt shuddering from several hundred levels below, but seemingly not from the breaches' shrapnel or fragmentation, making it obvious to Scimitar that these were the blood spatters of defiance, of conflict and of wounds that forced someone to make a change of plans. Whether in the heat of the moment or whilst enjoying the respite of the firefight's conclusion, Massad wouldn't be able to tell for sure until he passed the well-lit threshold beyond where ISB were guessed to have advanced beyond, choosing on the spot to make his own concerted efforts within the station as a result of the operation's rather hectic beginnings.
<"This is Rama Actual. We need to access the elevator now. Consolidate into three groups and place yourselves at the nearest waypoint here, here and here, Any slicers, hang back and make a break for the control panel when the hostiles are suppressed. Move out.">
<"Received Rama Actual. Preacher is moving to a waypoint now.">
Nodding at nobody in particular, the chatter-traffic on COMPFORCE's encrypted comm-link channels served well to put the Kandaran's mind at ease, as it very much sounded like there were commendable operators doing their part to assure the operation's success; and inadvertently, would assure his survival in some fashion or other, very much relying on the other operators to kill as many potential blaster-wielding issues along the way. No Fedayeen would be permitted to participate in such a delicate operation, as in a deployment as delicate as Operation: Damocles, it was generally agreed by the operation's overseers that exceeding the usual amount of tac-teams and solo agents would expectedly bring about untold complications. All would have served as an ideal diversion, but Jordi was still very much happy with whatever he was given, still dutifully adherent to the need for as many difficult jobs as possible by then, ever in the search of peak competence in self and peer alike.
However, in the understanding that need for his assistance would occur somewhere within the station, Jordi clenched his jaw tutted at the thought of having to assist at whatever intersecting location was best at the time, as the best possible assistance he could possibly offer was too explosive to escape detection, the sort of explosive that had potential to foil an agent's best-laid plans. All he had to fight with was his Yatan dagger and his disruptor pistol, but in thinking of how little comfort they provided this time, he realised his assistances would be better off applied in close-quarters instances, making every kill count to conserve energy and ammunition alike along the way.
<"Scimitar to Rama Actual. Before I begin, you should know I've been sent with my own plan in mind, but I've also chosen to assist in any way that might cause a headache for the Chiss Expansionists.... Perhaps you can assist me in my own matter? I'm looking for places to plant my bombs, and my rucksack is full to the brim with depth-charges. My favourite.">
Smiles that's what Aerys decided Lutih's nickname was going to be, the young gun was just a bit too happy and cheery for the sort of work they did. "Aye, stick around with me Smiles, I doubt the bloody blues are gonna let us sit here and twiddle-de-dee our way through this." Aerys directed more people on where to park their rears when she was pinged over the comms, already deciding to herself that the grass this side of Yularen was just a wee bit too quiet for her liking.
< Aye, much obliged Wildcat One. We'll put'em to good use then, Iron One out >
Not too much longer from there, the 709th's wait for the blue boys would be over. A young gun, roughly the same age as Smiles rushed up toward Aerys. "Blues, right up and fast, Scalebound fast." To reiterate just how quickly the Chiss were descending upon them. The sergeant grabbed her rifle and moved forward toward the front of the trenches, "pyr! pyr! pyr!" She shouted with that Dosuunian accented, the slanted Galidraani speech with that Unknown Regions' tone.
"Arma machis! Ochima!" Forward observers shouted as the 709th rushed to man their heavy weapons, and breathed life into the machine-gun nests that began to spit forth verdant and crimson-hued bolts it was an unholy life day affair as the heavy laser and ion combination fired off. "Dosuun! Needan!" More of the local jargon, that ran easily for the Dosuunian-based legion. Aerys translated for the young gun Smiles. "Dosuun, shoulder-mounted missile. Needan, fire mortars, but I need you to push forward and watch your head. Snipers and gunners 're sprayin' ta ground."
Corporal Mathur would translate the Dosuunian-language that was being tossed around.
< This is Iron One, requesting air support, blues on blitz forward from the power plant. >
Sergeant Fortan's own blaster opened up on the blues. "Eiserchomenos! KATO!" She pulled whoever was beside her down as the whistle of death planted itself within the trenches. "Bloody blue bastards, C'MON LET'S MAKE PATRIOTS TODAY BOYOS!"
"AKO NE SHTESH MIRA NA TI SEKIRA!" Shouted Corporal Mathur, which roughly translated to, if you want peace bring an axe. It was another language native to Dosuun, in the cities south of Gawain - whereas the language used by Aerys was more prominent in the North.
Aerys commented, "last time I let you go down to Odrysia, eh?"
"It's a lovely city, full of culture!" Mathur remarked over the orchestra of violence that had descended upon them.
"Culture sure" quipped Aerys in return with a bit of a cheeky grin, grateful that their First Order-resembling helmets concealed their features. The voice modulator distorted their voices and made them sound far more ominous than they actually were. The 709th's heavy weapons, machine guns, and infantry would do their best to cut out the feet of the 2nd Chiss Expeditionary Army.
< Iron One, requesting artillery support, coordinates being dispatched to the encrypted channel. >
"Let's make use of the armor from the Wildcats. Move them forward punch through the bloody blues, I wanna see'em fly." Her voice was harsher than she intended, but if the effect was done then more the better. The woman who craved violence was genuinely in her element.
Smiles? Ami only knew her superior for five seconds and she already gave her a nickname. It sounded pretty sweet! She'll take it! Ami preferred to be called the Savage Minx since that was her nickname, she received back when she participated in illegal fights in Ord Mantell. It was nice to start fresh, Smiles wasn't a very original nickname, but it was something. "Please sarge," Ami chuckled clutching her Blaster Rifle. "You would think after getting their planet blown to smithereens, the last things these Chiss wanna do is actually wage a war. But I guess some people are that hopelessly suicidal best you can do is to put them out of their misery."
And the Chiss call themselves a tactically brilliant species. Hah! Good to see them still riding high on Thrawn's legacy. He'll probably be rolling in his grave seeing his people about to get a thrashing. While the Sarge gave her speech, Ami face scrunched up in confusion. It's a good thing she was wearing a helmet, because with the way they sounded it was as if the rest of the 709th was speaking Huttsese or something. Thankfully, the Sarge translated the jargon for Ami. "Push through the motor fire!" Ami said. "Got it! Wonderful that the Blueberries are pulling out the red carpet!"
Ami's heart began to beat wildly, adrenaline coursing through her veins like a waterfall crashing against boulder. Ever since she became a Stormtrooper, she didn't see any action aside from small rebellions. To be in the field, to experience the excitement of slaughter was exhilarating. "Come on guys!" Ami yelled bouncing up and down hyping herself up. "Let's bash some skulls in so we can brag about it over some beers! I'm buying!"
The request for ground reinforcements from Iron One just made Ami even more jumpy. Can they start the party already?! The Chiss set up the festivities. It was time for the 709th to indulge in them.
C R U S A D E R NIRAUAN | FORT YULAREN
SONS OF MANDALORE
16th COMPANY | 501st LEGION Alex Eldar | Seydou of Thyrsus
Could Adenn blame the Chiss for their transgressions? There was no simple answer to that, if he were to be honest to himself. It was all nuance, but he wasn’t bred by the ideology of Imperials. No, he was a Mandalorian; a warrior with his own creed and beliefs, yet fought for the banner of Imperials. He didn’t find any sense of belonging with their ilk, only with his clan and fellow warriors that lived under their domain. The pact between Tavlar and the Mandalorians, whom came together as allies against the Sith, was still honored to this day. Mandalorians would live with autonomy in their colonies within the Empire, and be treated as equals.
The Sons of Mandalore prospered in these times, but for the Munin he wasn’t satisfied by these standards. Prospering based on a coalition instead of themselves.
He respected the Chiss and their motives; being their own nation and not being a protectorate beneath the Empire. Being their own nation, even if it meant betraying their allies and invade their dirt.
But now he had to store away his thoughts and focus on what was ahead of him. Bloodshed and destruction. The elite 16th company would have the glory of fighting in the frontlines, even daring to dissuade their attack and break their ranks. Live or die, they would have their honor and glory.
<“Make them tremble before us!”>
The Chiss were sharp and brilliant strategists, but were they as sharp to the deadly edge of a beskad?
"Scimitar to Rama Actual. Before I begin, you should know I've been sent with my own plan in mind, but I've also chosen to assist in any way that might cause a headache for the Chiss Expansionists.... Perhaps you can assist me in my own matter? I'm looking for places to plant my bombs, and my rucksack is full to the brim with depth-charges. My favourite."
"Priority will be life support systems. Air supply, HVAC, gravity generators. We have sealed and magnetised suits, they don't all have one.'
Sylus ducked as a blaster bolt flew past his head, returning fire and blasting the attacker, who fell down from upper floor to meet a messy end on the level the Imperials were on.
"Preference for leaving electricals untouched as much as possible. Next objective will require taking over the station's critical systems remotely once we reach the central level."
Sylus tried to remember what else might help. Scimitar mentioned he was in the maintenance tunnels.
"Confirm if Chiss are breaking through the sealed blast door from your end. If positive, a single explosive at a clustered group like them would remove a possible attack vector."
O P P E R A T I O N - K N I G H T F A L L O B J E C T I V E - T W O
N O - R E G R E T S . . .
Primary Objective: Take control of the station. Secondary Objective: Sift through moral dilemmas. Location: Brask Oto Command Station. Equipment: In biography. Friendlies: The Empire. Enemies: Chiss Restorationists. Allies:Matma BernuSaharRakaan HorneLucien Dooku Hostiles:SinestraTris
The walls of the building crackled and shook. Looking around, Mira saw the walls collapsing inwards, towards the knights. She deactivated her lightsaber and lifted her hands. Using the Force the best she could, she halted the rubble coming for her. With a grunt, she carefully set aside, avoiding more knights, and anxiously looked around. Had any knights been caught in the rubble?
At the edge of her hearing, she heard a fellow knight's hostility, calling these opponents animals. A silent frown spread across her lips, beneath her visor. She had been raised to be respectful of equal standing opponents. Nonetheless, she found a knight buried and hastily yanked the rubble off, only to see that he was dead. She was unable to take the moment to mourn her ally, and instead pulled her energy bow out. From the back of the line she fired at the enemy while calling, <"Is anyone stuck in the rubble!?">
STRATEGIC COMMANDER OF THE RECLAMATION OPERATION DAMOCLES
COUNTER OPERATIONS COMMENCED
Dac scoffed at the sight beholden to him. High Command had descended into an uproar of voices, brought about as a result of the unforeseen assault upon the station by what amounted to a fragment, albeit a potent one at that, of the Imperial forces dedicated to their war against them. He recognized the flagship as it came into view, a coy smirk sliding across his face as it delivered a message that few within the echelons of his now-compatriots would understand.
"Twice the Pride, Double the Fall." He repeated to himself, scoffing at the King's hubris.
Or was it hubris?
A coordinated assault was commenced henceforth as wave after wave of breaching vessels were released from the outer hull of the NIV Myrmidon, the flagship of Task Force Dooku, and personal vessel of the Heir himself. Chiss forces were limited to the substantial reserves that were left behind the frontlines, and while those present would not be substantial in the face of what was being reported back to his feed, the Chiss-Imperial still had a number of aces up his sleeve nonetheless.
Despite the cries of despair from his fellow officers in the command center, Dac had not once shifted his crimson eyes off the center HUD, dedicated to tracking the assault points as they filtered up the chain of command, his hands marking upon the HUD each and every reported incursion onto the station with shrewd efficiency. The bigger picture was all that the Chiss-Imperial cared about; he worried little for his compatriots and their fervent calls for utilizing their forces to open up a contingent withdrawal point for themselves. It was irrelevant, if their little war against the Empire was to bear any fruit. Focusing upon a withdrawal would cede not only the station, but effective communication to Supreme Commander Seydou of Thyrsus
whilst he engaged the Imperials upon the Imperial jewel of Nirauan.
Patience.
The situation was not grim, and what losses they were sustaining were within calculated risk of what he expected, if a scenario such as this would have arrived. Dac lifted his hands off the Command screen's side panels, shifting a side-glance towards his quietly awaiting adjutant to his right. The woman -- another Chiss-Imperial like himself -- stepped up to meet his glance, presenting herself at attention not a moment too late, and not a moment too soon. Efficient, just as he'd trained her to be when they still bided their time beneath the service of The Hand.
"It is time, Sera." Dac shifted his body to meet her, a hand reaching out to meet her own, and she handed him the headset that he'd commonly pass off for her to carry. She gave him a nod as the veteran Chiss-Imperial mounted the headset over his ears, and reached towards her opposite arm to retrieve the combat vest she also carried for him.
He slipped it over his uniform, and activated the headset just moments later. Preparations had been underway for some time now. A contingency, in case the security of high command had ever come at risk, or alternatively... if High Command ever proved a threat to the Reclamation itself.
"Alpha Group."
"Trackin'."
"Bravo Group."
"Trackin', Commander."
"Charlie and Delta."
"In position; the Imperials took the bait."
The smirk widened some more, and he paused to survey the condition of his pistol before holstering it back onto his hip.
"Good. Charlie and Delta, engage at will. Alpha, Bravo, on my position immediately."
SPECIAL OPERATIONS GROUPS
ALPHA SOG [30/30]
BRAVO SOG [30/30]
CHARLIE SOG [25/30]
DELTA SOG [21/30]
There was no such thing as a weak point in his defensive plans. What the Imperials thought was an opening, had been left there for them to take like the small-minded fools they were. The latter two echelons of his Special Operations Groups had engaged the infiltrators with a coordinated ambush, striking them during their advance with charric weapons and light ordinance in tow. Minimal losses were being reported, and as their job had been to deny them a quick advance until the final two teams had mustered on his command, all was proceeding mostly as planned.
Positioning himself several blast-doors and a couple hundred meters to the rear of the fighting to reach High Command, he'd effectively established a defensive point in the middle-ground between the infiltrators and High Command itself. Alpha and Bravo had reinforced the point, ad-hoc turning it into a FOB for them to fallback to if the SOG's were overwhelmed, and a final defensive line in case Dac saw it necessary for High Command to be allowed a graceful retreat-- if it were possible.
That final point was still undetermined, that much he'd concede. He'd expected the Imperials to concentrate their Knights upon Nirauan, but the wayward King of Serenno had defied his expectations for once. Luckily for them, Commander Zodt had been gracious enough to commit the Force Corps in defense against the overwhelming power that the Imperial Knights brought to bear.
Meanwhile he had his own defenses to tend to, starting with ensuring enough firepower was thrown forwards at the intruders. A detachment of reservists were pulled away from the station's defense after the Force Corps entered the fray, their firepower being sent down at Dac's request to further bolster their lines. Already the Chiss regulars were filtered in from the elevators behind their FOB, many of them carrying spare ammunition along with what few weapon emplacements could be re-routed down to them as well.
These E-WEB pattern weapons were being sent directly to the front, along with the full complement of Alpha SOG to support the two already engaging the infiltrators with everything they had. The regulars were attempting to set these weapons on the upper rafters, and utilize their height advantage to rain down heavy repeater fire upon the Imperials if they weren't stopped. Alpha SOG would take up positions all across the frontline; many of them remained on the lower levels to engage directly, while a third of their numbers would join the rest of the fighting force who were engaging the Imperials from the upper floors, in support of the fixed weapons being set up.
Bravo SOG remained behind at the FOB as reserves. There were still several blast doors between them and the Imperials, and many Chiss bodies for them to contend with in the meantime.
It would be a tough fight, but Dac had undergone worst odds in his service to the Empire.
Two armored figures rushed urgently down a steel-lined hallway.
One of them was a military courier, a large rectangular radio apparatus in his hands. He spoke loudly and animatedly, relaying allied and hostile movements to the man to his left while a steady stream of transmissions flowed out of his radio. The other figure was FN-999.
"Sir, the Wildcat Goidels have responded to your order. They are sending IFVs center-left and an armored brigade hard right to support the pot-tip."
"Sir, the Chiss are sending in a mixed armor-artillery assault on our center."
"Sir, the left flank is receding as planned."
"Sir, the right flank is beginning a slow rise. What should I relay about its pace?"
"Please shut your mouth for just a moment." ordered FN-999.
Admonished, the young courier complied. Still, his excitement was visible in his physical agitation.
"Relay the order to Major Spades to hold the line down center." commanded FN-999. "Have Lieutenant Eudeux's artillery concentrate on silencing their Chiss counterparts and then secondarily Chiss infantry. Leave the heavy armor to Lieutenant Bigfoot's armor battalions, and I'll address Goidel personally."
"Actually, wait on the last part. Did the Goidels say they had a brigade?"
"Yes, they did. It seems like a pretty decent unit."
"'Decent' won't win this battle." replied FN-999. "I knew that General Barran was pretty lax on the whole 'unit standardization' thing, but if this is what it's come to... Have the 3rd Scouts get an estimate on them ASAP. I swear, if he wasn't Imperial Regent right now..."
"Yes, sir!" replied the courier eagerly before finally returning his attention to his radio.
The pair arrived near the front of the mobile command center, near a large circular window and a series of tactical computers with technical officers seated nearby, typing away furiously.
"Casualty report!" shouted FN-999.
Immediately, two officers turned to face him, tablets in their hands.
"Around 150 casualties so far, including 28 KIA." replied the first, a young human woman. "Numbers for allied units and Chiss currently unknown."
28 deaths. Ten years ago, during the height of his service with the First Order, the number would have been overwhelming. In fact, it would have been enough to have killed FN-999's entire squad almost six times over. However, as his commands grew ever larger within the New Imperial Order, a bittersweet and disturbing sensation had occurred. Nines had become increasingly numb to increasingly high casualty numbers, to the point that nowadays, he considered "only" 28 deaths to be a good thing. On one hand, it was beneficial to become numb to a certain extent: it was only natural that he would have more casualties as his commands grew larger. However, the sergeant in him had trouble grappling with the possibility of reducing hundreds of comrades to mere statistics. It was a troubling development, one that would most certainly need to be evaluated in detail before it could be resolved.
"Thank you." replied FN-999.
Next on his mind was how to best integrate the Goidels into his master plan. General Barran and FN-999 had differed considerably in mannerisms and strategy since their commands first collaborated on Csilla, with the former's wild and aggressive offensives serving as a strong foil for the latter's cautious and calculating battleplan focused doctrine. This "Gowrie" commander appeared to be an orthodox protege, with all the aggression and passion his predecessor had possessed. However, with such wild passion also came a lack of standard organization, hindering efforts for a coordinated offensive. If Nines wanted to rope the Goidels into his plan and keep them on his plan, he would have to remind them of certain responsibilities.
"Sir, I've delivered internal orders." exclaimed the courier. "Also, the 3rd have their report. The Goidel-Wildcat 'brigade' consists of four around full-strength armored battalions. Do you want my comms so I can address them now?"
"It's fine, I'll do it myself." replied FN-999. "Go and see if the logistics crew back in center bay need anything delivered."
"Yes, sir!"
With an energetic flourish, the courier jogged back the way he came.
"For God's sake, how hard is it to call your unit a regiment?" muttered FN-999.
It was likely that he was simply overthinking, his strong sense of militaristic efficiency egging him on at any hint of disorder. Still, it was a useful distraction. It was better for FN-999 to go on a tirade about the inefficient traditions of his highborn peers than to linger on the deaths of his comrades and the moral crisis relating to it.
FN-999 turned on his helmet comms array, satisfied when the static of the mic recorder snapped on inside his helmet immediately.
[Gowrie, this is Nines again. Hold the line with your forces stationed center-left until I give the signal. Move the armored brigade from far right to center-right of formation and slightly forwards. We'll need the armored support in order to create the illusion of a dogged strategic defensive. Push slightly on the right, but NOT in ANY significant way until I give the signal. Once our scouts determine that General Faraak has committed all his forces in the area to the offensive, I'll give the signal. For both groups, the signal will be {Spill}. Also, you all owe us a drink for the trouble it took my scouts to count your oh-so-standard "brigade". Nines out.]
Operation: Phalanx
The Empire
Location: Nirauan, Fort Yularen, Motor Pool Local Time: 13:09 Primary Objective: Hold the line Secondary Objective: Provide Armored Support to Friendly Elements Equipment:In Bio Tags:Aerys Fortan | Amiggie Lutih
| DECEASED Aron Gowrie
| Asanté Tsilor
| FN-999 | Open For Interaction!
Elements of the 181st Armored Division, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Company, 3rd Platoon
It happened all of a sudden, at the blink of an eye.
Caught under sudden artillery fire while carrying out the weekly maintenance routine for their armored vehicles in the motor pool before the enemy commenced their attack, none of the men of the third platoon, as well as the maintenance crew in the motor pool heard the artillery shells whistling in the air until it was too late, moments before they struck.
As he was walking out the supply depot with a set of new track links to swap out the worn out ones of their tank, the young crewman felt the ground beneath his feet quake terribly under the thunderous roar of a shell landing just several feet in front of him, amidst a small group of personnel in the motor pool. His surroundings quickly became a blur as he registered he could no longer feel the ground beneath his feet, a moment before a small scale dust bowl contained within the confines of the garage swallowed him whole. Thrown away from the sheer force of the explosion, all he could feel was throbbing pain all over his body before he blacked out.
Regaining his consciousness a few moments later, the young crewman woke up to a waning ringing in his ears, drowned out by the screams, shouts and pleas for help from the wounded personnel inside; the artillery barrage continued to beat down on the Fort, shifting towards other parts of the base as the cacophony of war that surrounded them all could be heard all across their sector.
A pained, muffled grunt escaped his lips in protest against the burning pain that wrapped every limb and appendage while he forced himself to straighten up and check for any life threatening wounds, dreading for the worst; the loss of a limb or several. But even as he opened his eyes, fearful of what he may lay eyes upon, all he could see was darkness, and a stinging pain rushing in whenever he tried to open his eyes. Panic and fear started to nestle into his mind. The lad lifted his shaking hands over his eyes, trying to feel them timidly. The kid trembled with a bated breath as he could feel what he assumed was his own blood on his face, coupled with the taste of iron and copper in his mouth. His helmet had flung off from the blast! He was hit! Panicked, not knowing how severe his injuries were and unable to see anything, he screamed and shouted for help amidst the ensuing chaos inside the motor pool.
Not long after he started shouting in panic for assistance, he felt somebody’s firm grasp over the collar of his fatigues, dragging him somewhere with haste. Uncaring of the pained yelps and groans of the young crewman, shouting in protest to being forcefully relocated in his wounded, incapacitated state with haste as someone kept dragging him away; every fiber of his being shouted in agony as pain rushed to his mind. Rubble shifted underneath him as he was dragged to safety. He could hear the crackling of flames and shouting somewhere nearby. Not long after, what he perceived as the acrid smell of cooked flesh reached his nostrils. It took him a display of will power to keep his lunch inside his stomach as the smell burned into his memory.
“Aargh! Kkark!” The young crewman cried out in pain as his back now rested against what he perceived to be the side panel of a tank. Only after he managed to register Stege’s words in between the ensuing chaos. <“-gonna be okay!”> the man shouted, trying to assure his comrade he would be alright. Making out the metallic jingle of a water canteen’s lid opening as he could feel Stege’s hand applying pressure over his brow, he felt the fresh, purified water washing down over his face. ”WHAT’REYOU-” the young crewman shouted in panic, trying to push him away as he thought he’d make the injury that impaired his vision worse by cleaning or tampering with the wound. Unrelenting from the kid's shoving in his weakened state, Stege shouted back in response, trying to calm down his friend as he continued washing away the dried blood and dirt smeared all over his eyes and face. <”CALM DOWN! IT’S NOT AS BAD AS YOU THINK!”>
His comrade’s words struck true as he tried opening his eyes again, having regained his vision to an extent thanks to him. Noticeably calming down as his friend continued to work on him, he broke into a nervous fit of laughter as panic and fear that once got a hold of his mind began to fade away; even though he knew he wasn’t out of it yet, he was happy he did not lose his eyes.
Although his surroundings were still a blur, with the clean water in his eyes preventing him from viewing his surroundings clearly, he could still make out the silhouettes running around. Later, the odd, grotesque looking shapes and objects started making sense as his vision cleared; limbs, torn chunks of flesh and bodies torn asunder lying on the ground, what used to be spare parts and tools were now turned into bits and pieces of metal, bent and warped in undescribable ways. As Stege went about patching up the gash over his brow and wrap the wound with a clean gauze, Hall watched in silence with eyes widened terror, as one of the maintenance crews absentmindedly picked up their torn, severed arm from the ground, trudging towards a corpsman on the other side of the garage who tended to the injured.
<”Hey,”> Stege said, noticing where exactly Hall’s attention had shifted. He had to get his mind off that for his sake. <”Where’s your helmet?”> he asked to get the young crewman’s mind and attention away from the injured. Shifting his gaze from the maintenance personnel walking away with his torn arm, he looked at the obsidian black visor of his friend before him. ”I-I don’t know. One moment I was walking out the depot and-” he paused for a moment, shrugging as he was about to shift his gaze away from Stege. <”Hey, need you to apply pressure here,”> he said, grabbing his friend’s hands and placing them two handbreadths above his left knee, over the piece of shrapnel biting into his leg. ”Oh, karkin’ damn it!” he hissed with a grimace as he followed Stege’s instructions. Only after being made aware of the shrapnel did its pain register.
”Are… are the others OOo-kay!Aaah, KARK!” he shouted in pain as Stege quickly pulled out the shrapnel buried into the kid’s flesh, and reached for a field cauterizer from his medikit to tend to the bleeding and close up the wound. <”They’re fine! They're with the others helping our guys put out the flames over there!”> he said as he gave a nod towards ‘333’ without looking away from Hall’s injury. He couldn’t see the effort from where he was, but he could make out the LT’s[1] voice, shouting short set of commands back to back, a few moments after, an FPE[2] kicked in, starting to gradually wither away the flames. They were trying with heart and soul to put out the fire. If the flames somehow found their way to the ammunition inside the tank…
<”Alright, up we go!”> Held from his shoulders, the young crewman got up to his feet, cursing out loud in the process as moving around pained him still. <”You alright?”> Stege asked as he leaned forward, examining Hall’s pupils, checking for any abnormal dilations; a sign of cranial trauma. ”I could… use some painkillers for sure, man.” He hissed with difficulty. <”I’ll give you some once we’re in. You’ll just have to suck it up for now,”> he said as he reached for the toolbox on their tank. <”Now come on! We got work to do! Tracks still need replacing and we need to roll out, ASAP![3]”> He said as he tossed a large hammer his way. ”Copy,” he said as he managed to catch the tool mid air, grimacing in pain every time he moved a muscle. Reaching for his black, standard issue tanker beret from one of his cargo pockets, the young crewman quickly wore the piece of headgear in the absence of his helmet before helping Stege loosen and remove the large bolts keeping the track links that were damaged, and needed replacement to swap them out with newer ones.
Chaos was stemmed in the motor pool as the soldiers shook away the initial shock, as all that could be heard amidst the occasional pained yelp of an injured trooper and the ever present cacophony of battle, was orders being shouted around fervently by NCO’s[4] and CO’s[5] alike, and the personnel scurrying around, following the orders they were given with all due haste. Working faster than before they came under artillery fire, the combat effective tank crews and maintenance personnel began to put great effort towards getting their damaged vehicles back in action, as they had to report to their assigned battle stations pronto and hold the line against the enemy.
[1] LT= Lieutenant.
[2] FPE = Fire Prevention Equipment.
[3] ASAP = As Soon As Possible.
[4] NCO = Non Commissioned Officer.
[5] CO = Commissioned Officer.
The disgust in Sergeant Teyr Kelborn's voice cut like a vibroblade through the platoon of 16's. The sounds of agreement from some of the others grumbled through the comms as well.
Alex's own face was scrunched up in disdain behind her visor. Many 16's have lost their lives trying to save this bloody planet and the rest who survived were all decked out in various cybernetics. First they tried saving the damn Chiss from the Maw. Now they were back on this shit heap to try and save the rest of the Empire from the damn Chiss. <Ungrateful blue bastards.> she growled.
The Crusader's voice cut through their comms, the warrior's drive evident in his voice.
Just then a devastating howl could be heard approaching their location from the air as the platoon stood alongside their kinsmen from the Sons of Mandalore. Before long, 2 squadrons of Basilisks touched down behind them all, the ground protesting under the great beasts' devastating claws.
Alex smirked behind her helmet. <Yeah don't worry, Miss Daisy. We know how to swing and swing hard.> she told Adenn, the smile evident in her voice. A chuckle rumbled through the rest of the platoon. They made their own rules after all.
It seemed the blue kids had a similar state of mind, however, as their forces advanced on the Fort with tactical precision. <Let's show 'em how galaar really play, Vode.> Lex said as her jetpack kicked to life. <Now you talkin'.> Georgia Bralor said. The memories of this planet weren't good - for any of them - and they wanted blood for it. This time, they would be ready for any funny explosive curveballs that may be thrown at them.
Streaks of white shot into the air like one as the 16s took to the sky while the Basilisks' engines howled to life again as well.
<You ladies coming, Princess?> Alex asked Adenn before she too took to the air.
The average sentient will never see a TIE Fighter overhead, or stormtroopers- outside of a parade. They'll never see an Imperial Knight out of a holo-drama. So it can be forgiven that the average sentient doesn't see much of a difference between the countless Force Users aligned with countless governments and factions across the galaxy.
Because the difference between an Imperial Knight, a Sith Lord, and Jedi?
All Knights are not navel-gazing mystics. They do not, as a general rule, ponder the greater meaning of the Force. And they certainly do not agonize over their role in the greater galaxy.
No, The Order of the Imperial Knights are soldiers. They do their duty by the Empire.
Their current obligation? Putting down the Chiss Reclamation. And they were doing it with gusto.
Matma waded through the chaos, batting blaster bolts back at the Chiss as he and the Hellions surged into the fray. Around him, the Knights and the famed Myrmidons were tearing through the Chiss. He could see the Warden of the Empire moving through- literally through- the defenses out of the corner of his eye, with a speed he would have been pressed to match in his formative years.
He had something else though- Battle Mediation. Matma had alway had the innate talent, but using it on the battlefield was useless- he needed to dedicate the entirety of his concentration to maintaining the Meditation.
"All personnel of the Strike Force; Fight-- and keep fighting until not a single defender remains. When you've cleared out the enemy, press forwards your advance deeper into the station. Prosecute all targets with extreme prejudice. Civilian personnel are to be detained and removed from the combat zone into our rear lines. The Myrmidons will be setting up a defensive line on every level we've hit, but do not commit more than you must to the evacuation of non-combat personnel to the rear. Dooku out."- @Lucien Dooku
In lieu of an acknowledgment, Matma began channeling his Battle Meditation, coordinating the Hellions. However, before he could start, he felt the Force whisper a warning- and the head of three of the 407th fly off before he could intercept one of the Chiss Knights that had arrived on the battlefield. His face was a rictus of anger.
"You are a pet", he spat, thrusting his saber forward only for it to be batted away. "You and the rest of them. You fight for our oppressors- those who think we should be happy with scraps." Lightsabers clashed twice, before separating. "I sense your conflict, brother. Your indecisiveness. Join us. We shall bathe the star-ways in the blood of the Imperials, and take back what is rightfully-"
"You talk to much. And your Ataru is bantha poo-doo", Matma said mildly, as if he were discussing the weather. The Chiss snarled, sweeping down to smash the saber into his older opponent. Matma stepped back, then yanked the Knight's leg forward with the Force, breaking his concentration and sending him toppling forwards.
"Shame", The Knight-Inquisitor said, as he watched his opponent's head topple over. Around him the Imperial Knights had began to engage their counterparts. He stiffened when he overhead Sahar
quip:
He was going to tell the Kandaran exactly what he thought of that, when he felt a surge in the Force- something powerful, from someone very, very strong.
Then the hallways collapsed. A hasty use of the Force narrowly avoided certain death, but only just so; Matma was never a powerhouse in the Force. But several troopers behind him- his men, his charges- were not so fortunate, trapped under the rubble. Winded, he began to shovel the best he could.
"We have wounded!", he called back to Aoki-Barran Mira
. He was relieved someone could help the troops in the chaos. Then he saw something in the distance that filled his heart with rage.
Tris killing survivors of the telekinetic assault.
Members of the 407th.
Enough was enough.
"I'll handle this", he snapped to Aoki as he strode towards the woman purposefully.
<Come mighty Empire! Today the Chiss Ascendancy stands with allies! The Reclamation is here to receive you!>
TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS: SONS OF HEROES - PART TWO
FORT YULAREN, EASTERN WARFRONT, NEW CARANNIA OUTSKIRTS, NIRAUAN (EARLY-877 ABY)
<"Aye, much obliged Wildcat One. We'll put'em to good use then, Iron One out!">
With the Greenhorn in tow, it wouldn't be long before he heard everything from the comm-link unit in Gowrie's ACV, but until then, the 2nd-Leftenant would only be able to assume everything was going according to the Brigadier-General's ornate plan. But they wouldn't need to wait for long, as everyone was already waiting in their vehicles by the time they made it out to the southern gatehouse courtyard, giving Lord Aron enough reason to turn back to the Greenhorn to comment,'Not bad, but if it had been more o' the old generation, the retirees? I would be much more comfortable, don't take it the wrong way though.... We lost more to retirement than KIAs in the last run, an' while I'm happy for it, I also worry that none of that knowledge has been passed down properly.', in the approach to the ACV's slide-door on the left side.
'It has, Milord.... Trust me, it has. We just need bloodied properl-'
'-Aye, we'll see. An' while you're at it, do be careful with that bloodying talk.', the Kellas shot back after pulling the door open and stepping inside, sneering at the holographic plinth as it took a moment to properly illuminate the air above. Then, after seeing the relevant blips for all the Imperial callsigns on the ground, Lord Aron would lean back as the BattleNet array recalibrated, concluding,'Rest assured, folks won't want to hear anything of the sort at the end o' this one.', lighting a cigarra as all the right groupings were assorted into larger, better-tracked blocks in handy colour-coding.
<"Gowrie, this is Nines again. Hold the line with your forces stationed center-left until I give the signal. Move the armored brigade from far right to center-right of formation and slightly forwards. We'll need the armored support in order to create the illusion of a dogged strategic defensive. Push slightly on the right, but NOT in ANY significant way until I give the signal. Once our scouts determine that General Faraak has committed all his forces in the area to the offensive, I'll give the signal. For both groups, the signal will be {Spill}. Also, you all owe us a drink for the trouble it took my scouts to count your oh-so-standard "brigade". Nines out.">
If we'd remained as rigid as we were afore Muunilinst 2, we'd be much too dead to make it look so easy now.
'Heh! He'll be glad of it before long anyways.... Patch me through to Captain Reed, Green-'
'-Its Mulgrew! Kier Mulgrew! A true Woad of An-Cridheachan, born an' raised a lower-clansman o' House Sinclair! Got that, Gowrie?', the young officer finally piped up, and though he was staring right into the back of Lord Aron's head at the time, occasional drawn glances to the comm-link would be allowed of himself as he spoke. However, fortunately for young Kier, Lord Aron would allow it and then some, stepping up from the holographic booth to relay commands anyway, but also making sure to offer silent praise in the process. Accepting the Tuath's handshake, Mulgrew relented in expression and physical demeanour with what looked to be lasting finality, continuing,'Finally, man.... I apologise for that, Milord. I'm only here to work and prove my competence, just trust that everything else will be learned along the way.', as he stepped aside for Gowrie with enough kindly grace the Kellas was sure the new face wouldn't be too much trouble after that.
'That's more than good enough for now, Leftenant Mulgrew. About bloody time ye found your voice anyway.'
<"Gowrie to Wildcat Two! It appears the vanguard want us linking up on their right after all.... Quick movement towards their center-right, tad forward - you know the drill.">
<"Reed to Wildcat One! Easy done, still sticking with our unconventional doctrine though. Anything else?">
<"Whit? Settle down, dafty! First off, we know the shift of the line's going to take some attention off the 181st and the 709th alike, drawing some o' that fire away so they can keep our backs covered, especially on our way in.... But next, when the lines engage, they'll provide enough backbone to,"Spill the pot.", in a westerly direction. Battleplan's being sent to your datapad as we speak. Expect more Sit-Reps. Wildcat One out!">
Understanding then what his superior officer had been preparing him for, the perceived cruel treatment became the opposite of preferential within moments, seeing and hearing for himself that Galidraan's experienced officer cadre were all quite rough around the edges in conversation with each other. But just as he was about to make a passing comment on the matter, the sight of a familiar blip caught Mulgrew's eye, one such that he remembered from his studies on the First Battle of Nirauan; and in that moment, the young Leftenant grabbed Gowrie's shoulder and yanked him towards the Holographic plinth, pointing to the Mandalorian ensign of 16th Company with a menacing grin on his face. As he leaned back to let Lord Aron take his seat, the dark-haired youth admitted,'I've studied Nirauan in my time at Sandhurst, Milord. And in two separate semesters at that, both focusing heavily on the Mandalorians of 16th Company and the Free-State's Wildcats alike.', passing the Kellas the comm-link receiver as he patched through to Adenn Munin.
<"Marauder, this is Gowrie of Wildcat Division! Callsign: Wildcat One for future reference.... Alright, last time you were offering protection for slow an' gloriously heavy tanks, but this time, I think it would be more fun for you to coordinate and protect our IFVs instead. I want them behaving as unconventionally as possible, confusing an otherwise-intelligent enemy is the secret key to victory here.">
As the ISB forces moved into position, Sylus spotted repeater blasters being set up on the upper level. Things were about to get bad unless they moved now.
<"Slicers. Go for the console on my mark. Any troopers with jump capability, we're going up to the next level to neutralise the repeaters. Mark in ten seconds. Those on this level, continue suppression, prioritise against heavy weaponry.">
Sylus checked his jump status. His Armour's attached jump pack was still at full capacity, as Command had planned for the use of it in case gravity generators were shut off. More than enough to hop up quickly.
The survivors of Rama squad had assembled around him, just as the first E-WEB repeaters opened fire.
<"Jump troopers. Mark in three. Two. One. Mark!">
The slicers, escorted by some troopers firing up, dashed to the control panel. The jump-capable troopers soared up in unison, opening fire at the upper level. Propelled upwards, Sylus steered his controls as he lifted up, shutting off just as he crossed the ledge of the upper level. He heard someone scream behind him as the Chis split their fire, momentarily shocked but still able to shoot down a few CompForce troopers. Pulled by gravity, Sylus landed with a punch, his fist propelled forward by the Reactive Fabric in his armour, connecting with the helmet of one of the Chiss up here with a satisfying crunch. He had landed in the midst of one of the E-WEB teams, and one of their troopers levelled his blaster at him before also being knocked to the ground by a landing CompForce trooper.
Sylus physically threw himself at the E-WEB team in front of him. One of the Chiss staggered away from the agent and tripped, falling off the upper level. The other two fought back, landing solid punches on Sylus. He rolled away and turned, getting on his feet before launching a kick at the Chiss nearest to the edge. The blow was enough to throw her off the upper level, down to her doom. The last Chiss in this group charged Sylus, vibroblade in hand.
The commando dodged backwards, punishing the Chiss' wild swings with a kick to his arm, disarming the alien. In one fluid motion, Sylus stepped back, drew his pistol and sent a Charric-Maser bolt threw the disarmed soldier's chest.
Sylus took stock of his situation up here. The other E-WEBs and the rest of the Chiss up here were beginning to split their fire, some at the CompForce troopers up here. Hoping to draw them off further while the slicers worked on the console, Sylus drew his disruptor and circled the upper level, firing at Chiss as he went.
Rika and three other agents formed one of the strike teams, ready to insert into the objective surgically, but the Chiss were more prepared than anticipated. Rikas team had entered from one of the maintenance tunnels, crawling through long stretches of midnight black claustrophobic ventilation shafts before exiting and falling from an opened panel and into an abandoned storage room. Unfortunately for the four of them, Chiss troops tracked their movements from the second they had arrived to the moment they dropped out of the ventilation shafts.
The textbook definition of a perfect ambush, to quote her old instructors at the Imperial Academy, the four of them fanned out into the room from the drop point. Then, something dropped and hit the floor; Rika turned her gun and was greeted by a flurry of red-eyed Chiss popping out from every nook and cranny in the room, blasters in hand. She barely had time to mouth fuck before a flurry of blaster bolts from every corner of the room hit the team, dropping two agents outright. Rika panicked and took cover, sliding behind a box and letting off a few rounds before looking around for her partner.
"We need to get the hell outta here; there's a door to our northwest point."
She shouted, pointing towards the blast door where barely any Chiss stood firing, the only other agent nodded in agreement and raised his head from where he was taking cover to look before a red bolt hit him in the eye and sent him slumping back down. It was only Rika left now.
"Ahhh, kark." Rika cursed loudly, counting the footsteps that got closer with every hurried second. They'd be on her and have her in cuff links before long if she didn't move and get out of here and regroup with the others.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One!
She sprung from where she was, dropping a Chiss with a blaster bolt to the head and wounding another who fell back and took another Chiss down with him as he fell. Rika used that window of opportunity to run, trading shots with several other Chiss as she edged towards the door as it opened.
<<"Sparrow to Rama actual and Preacher, my team got ambushed at the entry point, I'm the only one left, moving to your point soon over."
Lily finger had already started to flex on the trigger of the particle rifle when a concussion shot flew past her to land between the squad of Chiss. The helmet that swiveled toward Gavyn conveyed a very clear message without Lily having to say anything - you just gave away our position, you dumbass.
But it bought them some time at least.
She swung her rifle back over her shoulder and shooed Gavyn in the direction of Margo's location without a word. No use bitching about spilt milk. She did, however, pick up a Chiss helmet that had scattered away during the blast from the concussion shot.
:: ....half a klick west from your position, foot of the slope....sentries, patrols, mines, and any other defensive emplacements on your way. It's dry season up north.....get moving, stat -- squad you gunned down's bound to raise alarms when they don't check back in. ::
Static was still interfering, but Lily didn't need much more than the stops and starts coming through from Sarge - the message was received clear enough. <On it, Sarge.> she relayed as she moved away from the crash site.
For now. <Thanks, Sergeant. Let's get moving. And let's keep it quiet from here on out. No need to go banging on the front door.> Lily said. At least one soldier had followed orders well enough. Hopefully Berand caught on quicker now. Hesitation or insubordination could jeopardise more than just this current operation.
The coordinates blipped through at a snail's pace, but they finally flashed out proper on her HUD as they started in a western direction. <Good. It ain't far.> she said, tucking the Chiss helmet under arm before general scans started to do their thing. <The scans may or may not pick up anything, so watch your steps and keep your eyes open for funny business.> she told the other two as she started to trek toward the dam.
Sticking to the foothills and staying relatively low, the SCAR operatives moved toward their goal. For now the comms were silent within the looted helmet but the Reaper knew it would only be a matter of time before check ins would have to be done. That would give them enough of a headsup at least. The rest of the defences would be a gamble, however. It was crucial to couple speed with caution at just the right amount.
They were about halfway when the Chiss helmet chimed to life with Cheunh-chatter. <Look sharp. They'll be searching for us soon enough. By then we need to be at our destination.> Lily said as she picked up the pace even more while drawing a pistol.
Rose glared at the situation advancing from the northwest through the binocs. "You sure you can even do this, Rosebud? Fight your own people?" Master-Sergeant Danny Evans asked her as he observed the situation as well through his own binocs.
Crimson, narrowed eyes turned towards him. "Do I bloody look like I have issues shooting at dumb shits playing at rebellion?" she deadpanned, a dark brow shooting into her hairline. "Fair enough." he said, lowering the binocs. "So gameplan?" "Bless them with rain." she said before turning back towards her soldiers, pulling on her helmet as she did so.
In truth, it irked her to high heaven that the Empire had come to the defence of her people, had opened their borders for them, had even enlisted them if it were their choice and now her kind were turning cloaks on that hospitality, on all the sacrifices made for them - her sister giving her life for their people.
Just nah.
"Geier! Send them some letters, would ya? Tell them hi from us." she barked at one of the squad sergeants. "Hell yeah, ma'am." Kale Geier said before rallying his squad and taking off towards a different edge in the plant were they could launch some mortars from without blowing anything else up. "The rest of us, let's roll out the red carpet for them!" she said. "Link up with them Banshees and 173rds but let's show 'em what a party really looks like." Rose said, a smirk spreading on her face. "Roll out, Boomers!"
"BOOM LAY BOOM!"
The rallying cry of the platoon echoed wide before the marked armour of the 501st walked out in unison to await the onslaught while the rumble of mortars from Geier's squad shot through the sky to meet some of the front runners from the Chiss forces. For the rest of the Imperials in the ranks present, it didn't really matter. But to Rose it cut deep - the betrayal of her kin.
The day had come for the Thorn to face her own in battle.
Gavyn's eyes rolled beneath his black helmet as he moved away from the wreckage with the rest of SCAR. It was obvious even without seeing her face that Lily thought he'd been reckless in firing at the Chiss squad, and that she thought he'd given away their position. To his mind, the crashed dropship and the flaming wreckage had been a bright, burning beacon telling the Chiss exactly where they'd be. Gavyn also wouldn't be surprised if the other two had been ready to fire, and would have done so if he hadn't acted first. Getting into a firefight would have given them time to radio in, actually giving away their position and status. Getting rid of them all in one shot had actually bought them time, quickly and efficiently.
No sense arguing about it, he supposed. Just get in formation and follow orders.
He fell in line behind the other two troopers, moving low and silent over the all-too-open terrain between the squad and their objective. He swiveled his rifle back and forth as he scanned the horizon, watching for enemy contact. For the moment, there was none, and the comm silence from the Chiss helmet indicated that they were clear so far.
They were about halfway when the Chiss helmet chimed to life with Cheunh-chatter. <Look sharp. They'll be searching for us soon enough. By then we need to be at our destination.> Lily said as she picked up the pace even more while drawing a pistol.
Sylus (Γ059)
[] Compnor folks
Jalter Volff
, "This is Captain Volff, I'm going down. Ave Rurik."
