Dominion Ashes of a Fallen Empire [GA Dominion of The Ghost Nebula]

[Alicio Organa]

Obredaan, Classified Location
Objective 1
- Connel Vanagor -​

The stranger stepped to the side of Connel, continuing to flip the dark, cylindrical object in his hand. He'd gotten the wrong impression of Omega Squad, just from hearing reports. Of course, he knew them as competent, strategically-minded operatives, who took whatever job was given to them, and turned it into a success. But the reports didn't talk about these choices. Doing what was right, over doing what was easy.

//You have... surpassed my expectations, Master Jedi. Thank you.//

It would have been easy to brush the moral implications to the side, but they didn't. That meant something.

They had an escape plan. They had the positions. Now they just had to cause as much damage as possible before they left. And, he supposed, he would honor the team's efforts at making this as low-casualty a mission as possible for as long as they did.

The masked figure ignited his lightsaber, the blue and black blade growling darkly in his hands. He smirked at the Shadow. One final hint to it's wielder's identity.

As soon as the battle began, the cloaked figure hardly seemed impressive. He stood still, letting blaster bolts pass around him, only letting his blade flash out to deflect when he was sure it would hit him, or someone behind him. But as the enemy charged into battle, things immediately went wrong for them.

Someone tripped in the smokescreen, causing two others behind them to stumble to the ground. Blaster bolts aimed for Omega Squad continued to go wide, their weapons twitching and jumping in their hands just before they pulled the trigger. Throughout the battle, the consultant saw the Future, then adjusted it slightly, his non-dominant hand shifting from beneath his cloak.

It was his job to make sure the Squad survived. Let them worry about making a dent in the opposition.

- Connel Vanagor -

 

[Connel Vanagor]

TO THE MINES
Obredaan
Mines

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Seraphim
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]


Objective One: Obredaan, Fallen Industry (Jedi/GADF)

A collapsed freight shaft, flickering emergency lights, cortosis walls stained with dust and smoke. The team squared themselves not far from the shaft that would lead them to the old rail line—Azrael rigged the wall to cave in if detonated, buying time.
But the Remnant squads were too fast. Trained. Stubborn. Unrelenting… And more were coming. They fight… And the mine becomes a graveyard in waiting. The Remnant’s, not Omega Squad’s

It was a good thing that Connel had his mask on as he rolled his eyes at the “thank you”... Thank me when we’re out of the woods.

Sariel calling out from above was not unexpected, what was is the rare showing of emotion. [We’ve got thermal spikes moving fast. Two squads, ten strong. Rear corridor… Another five forward—looks like they’ve boxed us.] There was no fear in his tone, but concern?

Michael was breathing hard, wiping dust off his visor. [Hold position and get to work Squad! Gabriel, break their sensor feed. Raphael, Jer—center lane. Hit them like a brick wall! Connel—]

Connel just interrupted, already moving. [I know.] Charging into the darkness, shortsaber igniting with a violet hum, shield sliding forward over his arm like a final verdict. The consultant was already moving. This was it.

Raphael anchored the forward line, firing from the hip, chewing through cover and scattering debris as Azrael’s charges blew the dust, and dirt up into clouds. Jeremiel stood beside him, Connel’s combat shield raised, pulsing with Force-bolstered strength, protecting the team’s flank as he was blasting away. Michael zig-zagged between columns, cutting down squad leaders with pinpoint stun shots and CQC flips. Sariel dropped three with timed sniper bursts from a crossbeam, then jumped down with a stun baton to finish a fourth.

Azrael ignited two plasma axes and laughs as he rushes into hand-to-hand, slamming enemies into rock walls then switching to his scattergun. Gabriel set up an uplink at the top of a ladder, boosting their call through the collapsing mine’s relay system.

In the narrowest stretch of the corridor, four Remnant heavies charged Connel with cortosis blades. No escape. No tricks. Just Connel—and his style forged from pain. The were trained to expect certain attacks with a lightsaber, he would not. Following instinctively on his knowledge of “Way of the Saber”, the style his father taught him—his footwork flawless, blade gliding around strikes, bending their momentum. Opened up Broken Gate—the “Jedi Martial Art” made specifically for this. He snaps an arm, flips a body over his hip, then slams a knee into a visor.

Simple.

Fluid. Brutally effective.

Non-Lethal.

He didn’t just beat them. He deconstructed them. You shouldn’t have brought blades.

They had a lull, but more were coming, and coming fast. Should they have run? Too late for that now. Should they give up? Have you SEEN ANY OF THIS?

Azrael took a hit across the back, grunting, he was staggering but still going. Jeremiel is out of stim packs, and had spread out the majority of his power cells to the others. Gabriel was jamming the signal manually. Michael was bleeding from cracked ribs. Raphael’s cannon was starting to overheat. Connel was staggering but still standing.

Then mine began to rumble.

I have two charges and what’s left in my scattergun.

Moving high.

Then—a new signal pings on Gabriel’s pad. High-frequency. SIA authentication code.

It’s them! Alliance strike team—ETA twenty seconds. They’re here! … in less time, but what seemed an eternity… through the far corridor—a burst of bright blue light. GADF soldiers poured in—blasters raised, formation tight.

Behind them, the SIA officer-Tora from command finally appears—out of breath, furious.

“We had to override an entire command structure to greenlight this! Do not die now!”

Omega didn’t.

They pushed forward, almost angry that backup was here, swept the last of the Remnant into unconsciousness, and dragged their wounded into the open before collapsing themselves. They would survive, they all would.

The sun was just rising over the rocky plains of Obredaan. A cool breeze. Scorched clothes. Fractured silence. Omega Squad stood in a temporary command tent, bandaged, breathing, weapons sheathed for once. Connel walked a few paces ahead, visor off, quietly watching the cortosis shipment being secured for Obredaan authorities—not stolen, not scorched. Protected.

You think we made a dent?[/COLOR]

We didn’t break the mine. We broke them. That’s enough.

Connel was off in the distance, standing with the consultant. In response to your “thank you”... none are needed… we officially don’t exist. He went to walk away then stopped. ... and you’re welcome…

Alicio Organa • OPEN​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Obredaan, Classified Location
Objective 1
- Connel Vanagor -​

Having his lightsaber out was... difficult, at times.

He used it only for defense, never letting the opponent get close enough for him to swing it. Connel focused on the melee units, while the masked man hung behind him, using telekinesis to break their guard and harry their swings. But in those rare moments, where he lost focus on his hand... his own blade drifted toward his neck, with a mind of his own.

He stopped it, each time. Of course he did. But each correction also brought with it a stab of annoyance, and a darkening of emotion. He couldn't afford to let his mind drift.

But he fought on, regardless, not even pausing to acknowledge when the Squad reported that Alliance forces were breaching. It was the plan all along, weaken the defenses from the inside while the Defense Force rolled in, but they weren't supposed to do so until Omega Squad was out. Someone had fought tooth-and-nail to give them the back-up they needed.

Which meant Alicio was no longer needed. Nor did he want any soldiers asking questions. So just before the Alliance troopers entered... the dark figure tossed his cloak, and evaporated away in a burst of black smoke.

He joined Connel outside the command tent.

The fruits of their labor, crates of collected cortosis, were taken on skiffs to be shipped to the capital city. It was just one mine, but it represented far more for the planet. The Alliance had taken it, without hurting their lifeblood. The economy would survive them. And they would all be stronger for it.

In response to your “thank you”... none are needed… we officially don’t exist... and you’re welcome…

The masked figure shook his head slightly, the softly glowing eyes within rolling, ever so slightly. The best people never could take a compliment.

//I owe you and yours a drink.// The shadowed man's voice, underneath the growl, was easygoing, soft. //Come find me, when you can.//

He let the Shadow walk away, then decided he should get going too. He was a busy man, after all. Hopefully, the negotiations went fine without him.