Within this world is housed the military communications infrastructure that acts as key to the Outer Rim, capture the facility, take control of the Outer Rim Communications Center. The full force of the Iron Sun will bear down unto the forest based installation. Gaining control of the ORCC, we can weaken Sith Imperial infrastructure and utilize it to further operate deep within Sith Imperial territory.
THE DUEL IN THE STARS...
In orbit around Generis, an orbital base lies in wait, another strategic resource for further New Imperial advances into the Sith Empire. Forces led by Grand Admiral Rausgeber will move to secure the installation and space side control over the rest of the sector, establishing a deep foothold for further conquest of the Sith Imperial territory.
UNEARTHING A DARK SECRET...
Within one of the vast Rakatan Temple ruins on Generis is rumored to lie the catalyst for a long derelict super weapon built by the Rakatans eons ago. Here, the Imperial Knights and the New Jedi Order battle the Sith to gain control of the catalyst deep within the Temple ruins as they battle the Sith who have arrived to lay claim to the very same relic and prevent anyone else from getting its hands upon it.
Strappa's Diner served the junkiest of junk food but most certainly the tastiest, too. Tastier than Hutta Burgers, at least to Dagon.
But today Dagon had no appetite.
Because tomorrow the New Jedi Order would be marching back to the frontlines against the Sith.
On the precipice of victory, he, once again, felt as helpless as he did on Korriban. This time over different reasons.
"Ryv?" Dagon broke the silence that had befallen the two.
"What's goin' on, brother?"
"How do you sleep at night?"
"Er-" the kiffar lowered his veggie wrap, brow furrowed. "That's a difficult question to answer. Truthfully? I struggle with it. If nightmares ain't keepin' me up, its the anxiety of what's comin' next, or stressing about the rest of you." He'd wipe down his hands before continuing. "What's bothering you, Dagon?"
Dagon averted his eyes, pursing his lips. “The Jedi I asked to join us...back to the front - Viera, Viers, Violet; I asked for their help to keep us, or rather me, from crossing the line, falling like I almost did on Ziost.” he turned to face the Sword again, concern drawn across his face, “Was I selfish? Viera and Violet are healers, Viers is too enthusiastic—I just—“ he shook his head, his words were coming out as a mess. “What if I had just signed their death sentence? Hell, even Kaska, even if she’s a Knight —she’s always picking up the biggest fight she could.“
The despair in his voice dwindled down replaced by a sorrowful acceptance.
“What if they don’t come back but I do?”
"Hmmm..." Ryv offered a shrug. "Selfish is subjective. Do I think you were selfish? Nah. You asked a group of Jedi to be Jedi. If they didn't wanna do it, they shouldn't of bothered with the training in the first place. Being a leader is difficult. It weighs on you. Other people's mistakes become your responsibility. No matter how hard you try to be perfect, it just ain't gonna happen. If you're worried about 'em, you need to stick by 'em and make sure they get back home safe and sound." The kiffar managed a smile, one both tired and somber in nature. "I'll tell you the same thing I recently told Maynard. You gotta focus on what YOU can control, Dagon. There's only so much one man can do. You don't have to take on the galaxy alone. You've got the rest of us to help you out. Just ask and you shall receive."
Rakatan Temple, Generis
...make sure they get back home safe and sound.
Ryv's words rang in his mind through the eerily silent voyage, interrupted only by the violent rattling of the dropship as it came under flak. Around him Jedi, no - friends. Friends he had to make sure came back home. The burden of responsibility weighed down on his shoulders, tension cracking his bones.
All of them knew what to do, the plan to split, find and destroy the superweapon plans before the Sith or the Imperials.
But the stakes couldn't have been much higher for the young padawan. The thought of losing anyone gripped and plagued his mind no matter what the Sword had told him days earlier. Dagon just couldn't shake it off.
When the doors slid open and the blades came to life, the concern was buried deep within, replaced by an aura of zeal. His fateful clash with his brother on Ziost had only solidified his resolve more. The Jedi's purpose was clear - no more brothers should suffer the same fate. Gone was the boy who had warily stepped unto the tainted soil of Ziost, now was the hour of the man, of the Jedi.
Cracking the shell of uncertainty and doubt, Dagon took point and raised his blue blade in defiance to the shadow that awaited them. A faint light shimmered and invisibly expanded to engulf his friends.
He glanced back at his fellow Jedi, "Trust in the Light."
"Alright! Up and ready!"Konrad barked out through the deployment bay of the Veers-class Star Galleon. The XT-64 Cataphracts, already seen their wear and tear since they'd rolled off the factory lines in re-armament for the Hell's Hammers.
The green and tan brushstroke paint was still fresh on the hulls of the tanks, an Archaisian tradition. Normally, the enigma coating would be sprayed clean after each deployment and that factory grey or another fresh pattern would be a applied over it. Between Archais and Generis, there was little change needed.
He kept the brushstroke patterned into the fatigues, such was the Archaisian tradition accompanied by the rest of the Hell's Hammers.
"Everything accounted for, we're touching dirt in one hundred and twenty. Systems check." Konrad said, seating himself in the command position of the Cataphract.
<"Navigation, traverse systems all green."> Krodare, the Iridonian Zabrak at the drivers position sounded out. He was fortunate in Konrad's seemingly intense focus on the objective ahead, else a xenophobic remark would've been slung his way. Granted, by now the nature of the banter had been watered down past malicious intent as the two grew respect for one another in the field of battle.
<"Weapons systems all green."> Artyom, the Mantellian gunner sounded out.
"Noted. Hammers! We're on the move!" Bolter barked in through the commo and soon the hammer was ready to drop, the armored formation set in three layered wedges aimed in the direction of Generis base set out to press the tip of the spear into this Sith Imperial hold out.
Prior to the debriefs leading up to the incursion behind Sith-Imperial lines Kainan had never heard of the planet. Generis. And yet, it was given the utmost priority. From going as deep as to strike at Helgard and then pulling back to friendly territory, it felt that they were retreading downtrodden ground. But the objectives suggested otherwise. From the infrastructure on the planet, claiming it meant they could orchestrate even more devastating assaults upon the Sith Empire, worse than Helgard. And in the future, when the Sith threat was gone, it meant connection with the Unknown Regions and the mysterious entities in the unmapped areas of space.
But that would have to wait until the Sith threat was gone.
Kainan, Once Sith, Now, Knight of the Empire had work to do.
Eradicate the Sith.
By any means.
Kainan hurried through the busy hangar to get to his shuttle. The bulk of the New Imperial Armed Forces would make a move for Generis Base, to seize the communications structure on the planet while the forces in orbit worked to seize the space station. However, Kainan’s mission differed. The Imperial Force Corps was tasked with acquiring the Crucifixion Engine. Preferable for the Empire to wield it in place of the Sith, the Imperator’s trusted Order of Knights was deployed in place of the more common soldier of the Stormtrooper Corps.
The immense blast doors that secured the hangar bay opened, revealing the backdrop of obsidian filled with the pinpricks of distant ivory stars. The New Imperial Armada was already ensnared with the hostile forces in orbit. Arriving at the foot of the ladder that would lead up to the TIE Interceptor, Kainan began his climb. Tugging his cloak off to the side and out of his way as he descended into the cockpit. The starfighter had already gone through the preflight check by the time he arrived. The cockpits roof shut over him, and the Imperial Knight’s hands found the controls.
Freed of the fuel lines, the Interceptor hovered above the ground, repulsors active. Emerald light flew passed the opened hangar, and he shoved the sticks forwards, propelling the TIE forwards and out into the void of space, on the tail of a vanguard squadron. Behind him, his Special Operations Squad raised in his wake.
“SF-Aurek. Hang back, I’ll clear a path for you to the planet below.” Shutting off the commline, his danger sense flared, and he yanked on the sticks, lifting, and spiraling out of the way of fiery TIE wreckage. The point defense cannons of the orbital station were active. Molars grinding against each other, on the IFF map Kainan saw multiple Sith fighter squadrons being pinged on approach to the New Order’s battle fleet. As reckless as ever, Kainan engaged.
The interceptor’s speed was great in comparison to the naked eye, and its maneuverability greater. Thankful for the inertial compensators built in, Kainan pushed the Interceptor straight for the Sith fighters. Ahead, the TIE Vanguard squad ahead engaged with them. Fire was traded, and Kainan did his best to maneuver around the debris that he whipped past, and those he did not harmlessly reflected off his shields before he barreled past. Naturally, the fighters split apart, breaking into half a dozen duos and trios chasing after each other, and with the path open he made straight for the station.
“Comeoncomeoncomeon,” Kainan muttered, obviously uneasy in his seat. Flipping up on the tab that sat atop one of the sticks, he could not see them, but he could sense that he was about to come under fire from the stations defenses. Fast approach, the responsive automated turrets rotated about to find him. Pushing his senses so far out ahead of him, he could practically see it happening as if it were point blank in front of him. The first spurts of fire shot out towards him, and the Interceptor was angled down, target acquisition lost.
“Feth,” he muttered.
“Legate Actual, are we clear?” The voice of SF-Aurek’s pilot could be heard. As he opened his mouth to respond, the TIE Interceptor shook, crimson bolts lancing from the station splashing across the forward shields of the TIE.
“Almost there!” Kainan groaned, shutting off the commline. Distance closed rapidly as he crossed the expanse of space, the overwhelming amount of New Imperial forces made it easy for the defensive guns to lose track of him. A split second into the future he saw the console flash green, and his thumb slammed down on the stick. A duo of bright blue missiles firing from his TIE. Cutting off the engines, he rolled the sticks, flipping over to angle down to the planet as momentum brought him closer to the station.
Throwing a glance over his shoulder, through the cockpit’s viewport and into the expanse of space, he could see the disruptor torpedoes impacting the surface of the orbital station. Ionic energy arcing sporadically across the impact zone, shutting off both guns and interior lights as he cleared the blast. Just as he kicked on the engine again and it propelled him to the planet one of those ionic arcs lanced up, as if it could sense the systems powering his TIE and reached out to touch it.
The Interceptor went dark, and all Kainan could do was slam the console as he was dragged into the planets atmosphere.
At first the downwards spiral into Generis’ orbit had not bothered Kainan, and with eyes closed he focused inward, counting down the time until he would be able to make his escape from the earthbound metal prison. Initially careless, without the use of the built-in systems to protect the occupant, he weaved the Force around himself first, and then expanded it outwards as his hands reached towards the viewport. The Force encompassed solely the cockpit of the TIE, acting as the first layer of protection as the first wing snapped off. Wrenched free of its fused and bent tube that connected it to the cockpit, Kainan poured more of his will into maintaining the integrity of the ball.
Even with the Force shield surrounding him, the build up of heat was too much. Forced to maintain the shield simultaneously, it faltered, and cracks formed in the cockpit’s viewport. It was hot. Hot enough to rival the heat from the twin suns of Thyrsus and Tatooine combined. Sweat formed on his forehead behind his helmet, and as it dripped past his long locks, he could not help but to reach and yank it free from his head.
Just in time to have passed through the atmosphere, when his hands dropped, the barrier weaved by the Force did as well. Cracks deepened in the glasteel as he rapidly plummeted to the forests. He reached across the controls to bring the TIE back to life. Slamming the console again when no responsive hum greeted him, the Young Conqueror widened his eyes upon seeing the rapidly approaching structure below.
Another few hundred metres down, and he tried at bringing the fighter back to life. And the second time, it did. The engines kicked on, thrusting the ship downwards faster. The viewport shattered, and a hand raised to cover his face. He could feel himself lifting, being pulled from his seat as the wind sucked everything it could from that cockpit. Reaching one hand to the belts release button, he tucked his legs up as far as they could.
And after a short mental countdown, he pressed, the straps snapped back away from his torso and lap. He lifted, and with the Force aiding him, he shot his legs back to push against the TIEs seat and thrusted himself out into open air.
The long seconds he spent falling to his mundane death gave him the time to draw from his lessons. His impatience turned to frustration, long since pushed down and suppressed saw him regretting the actions he had taken. Perhaps if he had been faster, he could have gotten away from the ion explosion, or if he had fired them earlier. Kainan’s fists clenched, the wind trying to steal his breath as his obsidian cloak snapped in the wind behind him.
From his own hands, he pushed with the Force, shoving himself onto a proper trajectory to the Rakatan Temple. His momentum was too much to stop, but he could slow it, he realized. And as he fell, he reached out ahead, to the roof of the Temple he was aiming for, fashioning a cushion of the Force to meet him. Too quick, he thought, the Force weaved itself around him as an explosion leapt up into the sky in the proximity of the Temple. And a moment later, Kainan’s form crashed into the roof.
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group
Another war; she was almost beginning to doubt that it would ever end. Not that she was so interested. She means, she hasn't really been particularly interested in anything lately. Ingrid found no joy in anything, she did everything dutifully, mechanically. Even existence was as if it were a duty. If she could, she would have spent the whole day researching her obsessive way of bringing Adrian back. Her other husband, her few friends, also tried to help her in vain.
Ingrid was looking for one thing outside the method, war, fighting. She lived in what was customary in her people, so did not commit suicide. Last but not least, she had no idea what could kill her, she means actually, outside of the vacuum. The fight was a good attempt and she managed to die on the Byss, although that would have been planned and an extreme circumstance. Because of the habits of her people, did not commit suicide, she hoped to find someone on the battlefield who would kill her. A worthy opponent.
She had no idea what would have happened in the reverse situation if Tubrok had died, what Adrian would have done to make her better. All she knew was that she would be in the same condition. But at least she took care of the Empire, if she dies here today, Tubrok will be the new Emperor. He finally gets the title he deserves. The Eternal Empire was in safe hands if anything happened to her. She didn't think about how her still-living husband would feel if she died.
That’s why she decided to go to one of the most dangerous places to help protect the Rakata Temple, of course by respecting the contract with the NIO. Did not want to endanger the Eternal Empire because she was in a bad condition, knew what her duty was, and that was to protect the Empire at all costs. And helping their allies as well. Yes, if someone said that death would be salvation for a woman, they weren’t much wrong.
The only very small consolation even now was the way she was at the ruins, that felt Adrian thanks to her weapon and amulet. She had seen and heard the Sith Lord lately, but she knew it was just hallucinations. She would never have admitted to getting a nervous breakdown, if at all. She wasn’t a psychologist and maybe the Force was having fun with her or her own soulshard what she left at the Netherworld caused it all. She had no idea what the explanation might be.
Even now a touch, a hug; at least that was the feeling of the amulet. He tried to comfort her again, though did not have much result. Ingrid was inconsolable. Meanwhile, the enemy could already be seen and heard in the distance; they were here nearby and would arrive soon, looking for the supposed superweapon point. Just so they can slaughter more worlds with it? She did not know what the weapon was, did not ask; just not interested.
Although the woman had always considered herself a monster, today this was not a story where she was the monster. Here the enemy was the one who was infecting the galaxy. Maybe they were even worse than Bryn’adûl. Ingrid still held the helmet of her armour in her hand, the wind caught in her red hair, her blue eyes scanning the distant where the enemy was already visible, the endless barbaric horde who would not spare even the children. For a moment, it came to her mind with a maternal concern that her children would be killed as well? The Empress had no doubt about that.
Dismissed the thought, she had to pay her full attention to the war. Picked up her helmet and continued to watch the approaching enemy.
Lying in wait. The stalkers of the void. As the wave of iron crashed against the crimson tide once more over and unto Generis, the Wolf Pack answered the call of the stars. The call of the hunt.
He'd been imposed an exile from the Jedi, made to undo his 'sins' by taking the Barash Vow. To swear off the duties of the Jedi for a period of self-reflection. Ryv
knew as well as anyone, that wasn't going to happen. At least, not the way the decriers of the New Jedi Order hoped it would. While he'd officially 'cut ties', his sole aim was clear.
Getting her back.
They'd cut their once seemingly inseverable tether at Ziost, leaving the path to her as murky and vague as it ever could be. But there was one lynchpin to getting to Loske.
The very woman responsible for the symbiote which had taken ahold of Loske and ripped her away from him. If there was any path to getting her back alive, it went through her. The Elidibus Star Dreadnough had left port and within its hold there was no doubt the Lady of Secrets lied. Or perhaps, seizing it would be enough to capture her attention.
Through the several engagements it'd been deployed against the New Imperial Order and Galactic Alliance its ion emissions were on file with both New Imperial and Alliance Naval Intelligence. They knew they could find it, they only need know where to look.
They'd use the New Imperial operation to further choke the Sith Imperial space with their offensive unto Generis as the bait. Positioning itself along the path of reinforcement from the Dreadnought's last trace, Maynard's task force waited. They saw the signature creep closer...and closer.
"We've got the signature. The same from Dantooine." The Nikto Commodore, Vikar Drydyn sounded off, peering over the holomap with arms crossed over his chest aboard the Starhawk's command bridge. The tension ran deep in the air around them. Adjacent to him, the Jedi General stood, donning the same battle armor he had at the time of Mandalore's dogged liberation, cobalt and grey plating depicting a cross between the beskar'gam and katarn armors. No better fusion could've spelled what made up the stuff of Maynard Treicolt. Born of Concord Dawn, raised up in those same harsh and abrasive circumstances as many of the Mandalorian crusaders were, crossing lineage with the Galactic Alliance and a newfound purpose.
"Any minute...run interdiction." Maynard commands, lifting his gaze from the cold flourescent to lock eyes with the naval officer, taking up the helmet from under his arm into his hands.
"Understood. Should have enough time to put enough of a beating on them before they get the chance to flick on HIMS." The Concordian nods, turning as he moves to place the helmet over his head.
"And General-" The Nikto sounded out, causing Treicolt to turn his head over his shoulder, eventually facing him fully.
"May the Force be with you..." He said, Maynard nodding once in return.
<"You as well..."> He said and soon enough, he was surrounded by the Pack, his hand grasping the handle hooked along the line running along the top of the gunship's troop bay.
Time to hunt again.
<"You all know our task here. We make our entrance...do as much f*cking damage as we can manage. Disable any vital system, kill any Sith you see. Don't give them anything."> Maynard said, speaking past the t-visor to look into the gaze of the men around him, each of them replied with that simple, silent nod, the stone grey visage of the Wolf painted over their duraplast gaze.
The magnetic clamps forced the gunships free with a hydraulic push, the glasteel vision slits present on each door showing a rapid cascade of cold light as it descended the Starhawk's deployment bay before soon enough, the starfield.
With the violent thrum and pull of the interdiction, the Dreadnought emerged from the blackness.
<"We've got it!"> Vikar sounded off through the commo, the dropships in line with their fighter escort, squadrons of X-Wings, Y-Wings and B-Wings all meant to keep the dreadnought roped up externally as the Wolves feasted on its insides.
<"Punch it!"> Maynard commanded the way of the gunship's pilot, there was a noticeable jostle that ran through the troop bay as the repulsors of the gunship wrenched up to full power.
They closed the gap under heavy duress, the point defense cracking against the shielding and hull of the gunship as chaff launchers pulsed through the blackness in the charge. Moments before the gunship burst through the shielding barrier of one of the auxiliary hangar bays, the doors swung open with a hydraulic hiss.
<"Wolfpack! Time to hunt!"> Maynard barked out as he burst into the fray with a pulse from his jetpack, willing his saber from his hip with a pull through the Force, igniting the cobalt blade with its characteristic crack, a swipe of the saber cut through the first trooper in reach as the Wolves began to bring hell.
At his flank, Amon Viszla marched at his side in foreboding defiance, his two pistols firing off in practiced bursts at those who came to intercept them.
<"Viszla, get to the hyperdrive, disable it."> Treicolt commanded and the Mandalorian split ways with a nod, taking a contingent of Marines with him as Maynard continued his bloodied path to the command bridge.
Ivory teeth sunk into the soft flesh of the deceased snake he had killed several minutes ago, sating his hunger that had been bothering and affecting his performance. The dead reptile was eaten raw, only washed by the nearest source of water available. He didn’t have the luxury of time to prepare a setup and cook the snake before eating it. Hell, he wouldn’t even finish eating the animal as he could only spare a few minutes of “enjoying” the raw meat to satisfy his hunger. Blood smeared and painted on his lips and chin as his teeth pulled at the tissues he consumed. Eating a raw snake didn’t bother him as he had done it numerous of times in his life, partaking when operating on missions like this he was trained and called for.
The soldier was alone in the thick of the jungle, enjoying the shade from the mature canopy of the jungle. He wasn’t entirely alone as he could hear the metal gear of walkers and tanks moving, and the singing of blaster fire out in the distance. The war had come to Generis after the New Imperials struck total victory against the Sith near the Stygian Caldera Helgard, laying waste to the frozen planet and starting a fire the cold would never conquer. A small task force was left behind to use for strategic planning with a bulk of New Imperial assets and personnel returning back home, preparing for the next attack. Morale was up in spirits with the men, enjoying the taste of victory and revenge after the failure they suffered at Dantooine.
Joy he found with their success, but it did nothing to calm the pain within him. Not after losing her to that Sith. He wanted to divert his attention on finding Loske, saving her from whatever torture she was suffering from Raaf. Part of him hoped to find them here as he knew the Sith enjoyed to torment and taunt their victims out of spite. Snake hoped to find her beyond the treeline, even if she was in a corrupted form. It meant a chance of seeing her, and a chance to bring her back as he made that promise.
One last bite from the large reptile, chewing the raw meat before dropping the snake to the ground which lay thick with flora. Much of the corpse was unfinished, but there would be some scavenger to find this lucky meal with some meat and much bones to feast on. Spitting some blood from his mouth belonging to the snake, he reached for his helmet before putting it on his head.
<“Not too far now,”> recognizing the distance he was from the main military installation on Generis, hidden within the beautiful scenery the planet was known for. This operation was a mix of conventional and unconventional with regular infantry and armor units marching through the thick jungle, maneuvering based on reconnaissance; the unconventional tactics were special forces being the first deployed and much more ahead than their conventional counterparts, surveying the area and recognizing strategic points to capture and hold.
Snake? Again he was alone on his part of the mission. He never complained about having alone time. Infiltrating and sabotaging the base, specifically communications. Disrupting and hacking into enemy comms was always proven to be the most efficient way of breaking the enemy’s morale.
<“Snake, you hear me?”> an Imperial from COMPNOR, Colonel Arjant Holesco, was tasked in relaying any relevant intel to Djorn that would help in increasing the chances of success for this mission. An old acquaintance to the Imperial Operative.
<“I hear you, Colonel. Any news?”>
<“Yes, there should be a river nearby your current position. It should lead up to the Sith-Imperial compound as it’s a major resource to their disposal. However, with our presence alerting the SIMPs, I’m sure there are patrols and scouts to counter our operations. While your primary objective is to infiltrate the base, it would be appreciated if you neutralize these threats that come in your way. Mostly for our infantry and armored units. It takes one critical attack to disrupt our offensive, especially in this terrain. I’ll keep you informed of any transpiring events relevant to your assignment.”>
G A L I D R A A N I
N E W_I M P E R I A L_O R D E R 1st armoured Galidraani ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER brigade 1st Battalion, "Fighting first."
The boys: Konrad BolterErskine Barran
It was funny how fate convened that after Tal's little trip to Archais, He'd be deployed alongside his colonial cousins in the green inferno of Generis. A miasmic mix of horrific heat, wildlife and bugs that seemingly fancied you the next meal. If prior engagements were any indication, one had to guess the local nature was a more significant danger than Sith army units at this stage in the war. But as time had proven in the past, one couldn't ignore that a cornered cat still had claws and would fight if pushed. Bastion was a clear example of that. At least in comparison to the muted engagements that took place on Helgards frosted landscapes. Tal wagered he had spent more time verbally fencing Barran on the comms about unit manoeuvres and logistics than he had Sith.
Preliminary measures to adapt the brigade tanks to blend in with the jungle surface made them look like rumbling mobile bushes. If one removed the hastily placed branches and grass you'd still see the blaster streaked arctic camo from the Helgard deployment days prior. Tal and the rest of the boys ditched their heavier armour in favour of lighter attire for jungle warfare, many opting to ditch their helmets and wear bandanas and headbands to better deal with the jungle heat and environment. Willan himself opted for a less formal look, leaving his generals coat unbuttoned and open, having not shaved in five days he looked like a Tattoine street bum and not a Galidraani noble. Still ever sharp and motivated to pursue the liberation and emancipation of his homeworld from the Siths rule.
'Zippin up my boots- going back to my roots... yeah.'
Tal hummed along to the music's lyrics from the tanks transistor radio, some funk tune by a Corellian band playing on one of the main galactic radio stations. The Brigadier general sat atop his tank hatch, smoking a cigarra as his column trudged through the jungle. Both men and tanks as far as the naked eye could see ahead of Tal's Cataphract tank along the muddy trail. Both Konrad and Barrans columns were near he knew that, but the dense impenetrable jungle made comm communication often fraught and nearly impossible. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the comm, wiping the sweat off his brow before speaking. Being sat atop one's tank was an excellent way to be sniped, but it was either sit outside and be shot or cook to death from the humidity in the tank. << Brigadier General Tal to blue heart alpha and the 66th armoured company, we've made headway into the jungle, and we're heading for the point of interest, will send SITREP when we've made contact over.">>
From the depths of space the transport descended to the forested acres below.
Jax could admit, the green was beautiful. So much of it, Thyrsus had little. It was almost a shame that to get to the Outer Rim Communications Centre they'd tear apart so much of it with their mechanized infantry.
Underneath him, the speeder came to life, once more testing its engines as it briefly lifted off the cold metal flooring of the dropship. There wasn't a lot of space on account of the other members of his squad being mounted as well, but Jax cared little. He was counting down the minutes to when they'd be released from that durasteel prison and unleashed on the Sith.
Save for the occasional rumble and shake on descent, there was naught to worry about.
The Bozdugan Blaster Rifle was slung over his shoulder, and the crimson light in the transport shone bright above them. Helmet grasped tightly and slipped down into place on his head, he rolled his shoulders back and counted down the seconds with the voice over the commsline.
"Hell's Hammers are already deployed ahead of us with the Galidraan Volunteer Brigades," Jax said, a repeat of the debrief from earlier. "We'll come up along their flanks, and we'll sweep across any forces hidden within the trees that try to halt their advance. Got it?"
Confirmations all around, and nearly a minute later, that scarlet light turned green and the doors flew open. The speeder kicking to life again and the squad of speeder bikes leapt off into the forests.
Imperial Security spent far too long winning the Gree over to their cause; but the efforts finally bore fruit. As the Imperium turned its gaze on Generis, new information uncovered from the study of Ancient Gree texts and Star Maps identified the world as the final resting place of a strange relic of the Infinite Empire.
That revelation would not remain clandestine long. With Alliance and Sith Eternal intelligence hounding the area, it was inevitable that something would leak somewhere. That made uncovering the relic and safeguarding it against misuse the King's ultimate goal.
Irveric Tavlar wanted it. He would not be persuaded simply to be rid of a tool on that scale, despite all warnings that Enlil gave about the vile and contemptable nature of the Rakata. Nothing they wrought had potential for good. They were evil incarnate, such that their hunger consumed entire worlds.
That same darkness lingered close on anything where they left their mark.
He did not remain on Ketaris. There were some duties that no man could turn his back on. To see the workings of the Rakata put to rest where they could do no harm was a personal quest for Enlil. To that end, he sat among the Imperial Knights, eyes closed and thoughts fixated on the course ahead of him.
It was narrow, heavy and thick with the stench of unnecessary death. Members of the Alliance, of the Jedi, Sith- creatures wayward in their walks through life sought various ends that all intersected at the enigmatic artifact. He could see them faintly, stretching like gossamer threads woven just before the morning dew. With the slightest touch they could be undone.
Or, darker still, they could become concrete.
Someone might take command of the technology and utilize it. The fate of all Civilizations hung in the balance. The stakes were higher this time. The King would not fail again.
His fingers tightened around his kneecaps. His ruby gaze stiffened on the floor. With a ragged breath, he let the cold embrace of oblivion seep into his mind and fill his thoughts. The void of space grew smaller with each moment that passed: his vision extended far beyond the small space that they occupied.
It fell upon Generis.
Time, distance, life, death- all things became relative as he peered through the vast depths, his mind flowing backward through epochs. Civilization raced backward, to its roots and beyond, to a time where the dust was still new. The Rakata had come to Generis, just as they had come to his own world.
They came, and they consumed. He saw them, their hideous features, and the horrors they wrought, slipping backward from Armageddon to a time before their conquest. There, he saw it.
Under the guise of kindness and exploration, they met with indigenous peoples. They harnessed knowledge from outside their own civilization. They built wonders. As they exploited the labor and the awesome intellect of a world forgotten by time, the Rakata slowly devoured and assimilated a people without a name.
And in the ashes of their unwillingly made sacrifice, they birthed it.
Enlil peered at it. He saw the intricacies, the energies that coalesced around it. The King could taste the immense potential of the machine, even without standing before it.
This Calamity was beyond any of them.
His mind slipped backward, reeling, and he gasped for air. Like a nearly drowned child, he flailed for a moment before he looked over, his features pale, and he spoke to Rurik Fel.
"We cannot allow it to fall into their hands," he rasped, breathless.
The New Imperial armada slowly marched its way through orbit, around the curvature of Genaris below. The blue and green illuminating the space around it, as the dagger-shaped Tregessar lead its subordinate vessels below. The prize for which the Admiral Regent was hoping to secure, drew closer. The space station, lone and nestled above the planet. Ideally, the station would have been ignored, even destroyed. But the Sovereign Imperator's will was hardly one to be ignored, ergo, an assortment of special forces were preparing in the bowels of the taskforces' hangars to depart.
"Admiral Regent," A lieutenant approached, dressed in New Imperial, rather than the traditional, austere Prefsbelt uniform. This was after all a super star destroyer for the Empire, not his own. "Mi'lord," The lieutenant bowed his head, "Malice Squadron has just dispatched the last of the ground forces below sir." The lieutenant informed him. "What is our course of action now?"
"Proceed," Carlyle drawled, eyeing the little man with a wry smirk, "Have Malice Squadron press itself back to the centre of the task force, we will increase our speed." He looked back to the viewport of the command bridge, watching the space station steadily draw closer. "You are dismissed lieutenant." Carlyle's attentions turned themselves to him, and gave the man a curt, stiff salute. Carlyle strode along the bridge, to the centre deck plating, above the cavernous crew pits, where his staff, all handpicked from commands across Prefsbelt and the New Imperial Navy worked busily.
"Is the KriegsGeist active?" Carlyle inquired.
"Yessir!" A report from the starboard crew pit immediately responded, "Spooling the last of her turbines up now sir!"
Excellent. "What about the comms jamming? I want nothing to leave this system. No alarms. No calls for reinforcement. Nothing."
"We're layering out the last of the static now sir. Approximately two more minutes, and they'll be muzzled sir!" The portside crewpit enthusiastically snapped.
Good. Very good. "Well done." Carlyle allowed one compliment to keep the hounds baying for more. He stepped up and leaned against the console before the viewport, peering into the void, and watching his prize draw nearer, "Prepare Taskforce Kreig," The Grand Admiral added, "I want the Stossjaegers on there and securing the space station as soon as possible." Today, Carlyle believed quite firmly, would be another feather in his cap. And another step further into the confidence of his patron, Irveric Tavlar.
Actual hangar compositions to be decided at a later point.
Prefsbelt Class Super Star Destroyer (
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I // Aradia Pavanos [VIBES] | [DRIP] | [LEGION]
The New Imperial Order had surged forth from its nest once more. No longer was it poised to strike back , strictly in defense of it life and those who lived beneath its banner. The game had changed the New Imperials into a vicious tiger that could challenge the galactic superpowers head-to-head, and once more it ventured forth into the territory of the Sith. A salient was desired to allow their forces to continue their onslaught against the tyrants of Dromund Kaas, and so the 173rd were requested to accompany the Imperator's armies once more.
He owed it to the people of Nirauan, if not the New Imperial Order itself. Though he'd never admit to Tavlar that he respected the man for what he'd done, Lucien had showed it through his actions-- most of the time, anyway. Generis would be no different from those others, despite the fact that he currently wasn't at the vanguard of a formation, or dropping down from the skies with his Legion.
The Myrmidons had been deployed onto the world en masse just hours before the invasion of the planet had commenced. His Captains and their respective companies scattered across the planet to tackle tertiary objectives elsewhere, typically the kind which left the rank-and-file dead to a man.
While his Legion were kept occupied with sowing havoc through the Sith's ranks, Lucien would assume a secondary command alongside the Galidraani Commanders at the head of the operation. Officially he should've been leading men towards the facility, but his fellow commanders seemed more than willing to do the hard work on their own.
And as it wasn't his Leigon being thrown at the facility, he chose to remain compliant at the rear lines and monitor the battle through his comms. For once he was alone, given the state that the battle of Dantooine had left his companions. More than half of them had been lost, while the other half were still in recovery. It was a decision that left him open, but Lucien had never encountered a Sith who proved an opportunist on the field of battle. Then again, he'd never been in the rear-lines either.
With a bit of luck and surprise, perhaps even he was in for a fun time.
Objective:Secure the Rakatan Temple, Kill anyone that gets in the way Location: Outside the Rakatan Temple Equipment: Lightsaber Allies: TSE Enemies: NIO/ GA Tags: Alina Tremiru ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Generis. Another planet to protect.
"...I want you on that barricade, you three will be guarding the flanks, and the rest of you will be wherever there isn't someone at already. Keep an eye on your rears people, we've got both Jedi scum and their watered-down counterparts to deal with today." Yet again Alisteri found himself arranging fellow acolytes and dishing out orders. Being one of the first on the ground meant that he had to get stuck with the job until someone more qualified arrived. He sincerely hoped that someone more qualified was about to walk around the corner. "Now go, and don't let a single one of them through. Let's show these invaders that we're on top for a reason."
The acolytes gave their temporary superior a small salute before quickly fanning out to go to their positions. The sight made him sigh in relief. Now these people I can work with. He was assigned to do one simple job: keep the temple secure. Extracting and finding whatever was inside wasn't his objective, keeping everyone else from doing so was however.
It was the first time that he had been on an actual defensive line thus far in the war, but he did like what he saw. No need to advance or to worry about running headfirst into the enemy, just sit tight and let them come to you.
Hold the line. Just stay in one place and keep killing the enemy, ah defense is a wonderful thing.
The enemy was no doubt fast approaching this position, so getting everything prepared was a must. The last thing they needed was the 'Knights' of the NIO or the Jedi to catch them while they were still putting up their defenses.
Thankfully they didn't need to hold the entire temple, but they were guarding the main entrance. Barricades, the occasional gun emplacement, a few positions that the temple already had, and plenty of eager acolytes made up their defenses so far. Still, they were too few to offer resistance if their enemy brought a substantial enough force. They could only do so much after all.
He could only hope that reinforcements were on the way, what they had now was hardly substantial for a proper holdout. Then again he supposed all they had to do was buy time for those inside of the temple. Now that they could do. Throwing a few heretics from the walls of the temple was certainly an attractive thought.
Even so, they could hold for as long as they drew breath, perhaps even longer if there were any sorcerers amongst the acolytes.
His weapon slid into his hand easily as he looked out over the various defenses and defenders, and then to the area beyond said defenses. Let them come, we'll slaughter them to the last.
The enemy was coming, the vibrations of their war machines could be felt all throughout the base. The base itself was poorly constructed in my opinion; not a feasible structure to which a viable defense could be mounted. But here I was, like always, in the middle of the insurmountable odds. The Sith Empire, whom I elected to fight for, done the best they could with what they possessed to reinforce the base. The Sith were many things, engineers they were not. I began to wonder if the vibrations grew any stronger in nature if the base would simply fall over, exposing all of us to laughing NIO soldiers and officers.
Pushing away that humiliating outcome from my mind, I hunkered down mentally and truly focused at the task before me. I chose a position that I knew I could easily defend, sending NIO soldiers back to mommy and daddy in lavish, over-expensive decorative boxes. Where parents would hear stories from former Commanding officers weaving tales of how their son or daughter died bravely. If given the opportunity, I would tell the parents of the dead the truth; some died quickly, others screaming and wetting themselves before the next shot, if they were lucky, came; bravery had abandoned them that day. War is not pretty.
To strengthen my position to allow for the most prominent view of the my killing field, I put a few tactical holes in the walls, which was already crumbling anyway, around me. If asked later by the Sith engineers, I would blame water damage as the main culprit. The holes were big enough for me to see out whilst aiming my weapons, but enough of the wall remained to provide me substantial coverage of enemy fire.
A R E Y O N
Gear: Lightsaber Pike, Armor
The time to attack was now.
The wall that the Sith desperately put up to defend themselves from the New Imperial Order's onslaught was finally crumbling. Another victory would call for the destruction of said wall.
Areyon took a deep breath. For years he has followed the New Imperial Order to each planet and to each planet and subsequently, each victory. Victory after victory has made him so ever hungry to defeat the Sith once and for all. The fire inside of him burned to its apex and he did not want anything else other than to complete his goal. His resolve would remain true and strong until the bitter end.
The objective placed itself somewhere in the vast jungles of Generis. It called for the search of the Rakatan Temple that laid broken and desolate, only to find the true meaning of what was inside. Areyon knew of what he was looking for, yet did not have a clue of what its origins were. Where did such a thing come from? Why did it exist? There were questions that were left answered by the briefings but may have inside of the temple.
No companions stood with him. He was without the Omega Guard, his brothers, for the time being. This exhibition was not only to be a push forward in the advance of the New Imperial Orders goal, but it was also a test for Areyon. It was to test if he had been too reliant on his team to back him up and save him when the situation became too troubling to handle with one man. He loved his brothers dearly, but this mission he would have to do alone. He would have to find himself as well as the superweapon. The Omegas trusted that he could complete this task, and with their hopes backing his resolve nothing would stop him.
"For the Sovereign Imperator," Areyon said to himself, as he further stepped into the jungle towards the Temple.
TEN DAYS AGO
FRINGES OF THE GREE ENCLAVE
PROLOGUE TO OBJECTIVE III
"And you understand, Green Transector, as well as any non-Gree can."
The tea tasted foul to Khefiir, but he lapped it dutifully so as not to offend the slouching mass of tentacles across the weird little table. At only a meter tall, the Gree elder had presence, gravitas...
...and information. Khefiir was sure of it.
"How sso, Gatemasster?"
The Gree's lumpen cephalopod head wrinkled deeply, an expression Khefiir couldn't hope to interpret. "Perhaps one in twenty Gree aspires to become an Operator or Administrator - to make any meaningful contribution to our sundowning civilization. Most of our people border on semi-sapient, Green Transector. Short attention spans, no imagination or vision, working toward subsistence and servitude in short bursts of attention without planning. Does this not sound familiar?"
Khefiir bared his teeth. It did. And the old Gree's observation struck at the heart of Khefiir's complex place between the Jedi and the Trandoshans.
Both of which, from a certain point of view, fit the description just as well as the Gree. He wondered which one the Gatemaster had meant. He felt it unwise to ask, and couldn't say why.
"As you ssay," he replied at last, and drained the rest of the tea with finality. "Sso you undersstand the necesssity of keeping thiss artifact out of the handss of thosse without higher purpossse."
The Gree offered a bubbling laugh. "The human empires, yes, all three of them."
Khefiir frowned. "That'ss not an accurate-"
"You serve a human empire like any other. Clawing for significance." A tentacle did something much like the snap of a human's fingers, a slick little whipcrack. "Gone in a heartsbeat. Of course I have a sense of proportion: I know full well that the Sith Empire indulges in planetary-scale xenocide, and neither the Galactic Alliance nor the New Imperial Order do that. Above all, the Sith must not take possession of the Cobalt Theorem - the Crucifixion Engine. But if possible, friend Green Transector...please make sure nobody does. Now that it's been established as real, it must be consigned to legend again, where it has rested for a thousand lifetimes. Do you swear your best efforts to this?, if I tell you and your human masters what I know?"
Objective: Secure the Rakatan Temple, Kill anyone that gets in the way Location: Outside the Rakatan Temple Equipment: Lightsaber Allies: TSE Enemies: NIO / GA Tags: Alisteri Haxim
She wasn't the best reinforcements the Empire could provide, but Alina made sure she was part of whoever went. The Temple held something of importance that she was certain the Empire wanted or needed. But more importantly, Alisteri was there trying to hold the line. The young Sith sat in the back of a heavily armored transport, among troopers and other Sith alike. She didn't look at any of them. Her eyes were focused on the floor in front of her.
The battle had only just started, but was she really this worried about her friend? No, he was more than that now. Annoyance filled her gaze as she gripped her saberpike tighter. This was war. She needed to be focused. Why was it all she could see was him getting harmed? Or killed? The shuttle touching down pulled her out of her own head. They made it.
With the troops she rushed out, heading right for the temple to get inside. She was here to fight the traitors and for the Empire, but all she wanted to do was see Alisteri. When she did finally see him her face brightened right up. "Alisteri!" She paused, clearing her throat before stepping up beside him. "What's the situation here?"
The klaxons blared throughout the Dissident Aggressor as Jinn slipped himself into his flight uniform, stretching on his gloves as he tapped the controls on the life support controls mounted to his chest, tucking his intubated helmet underneath his armpit as he jogged his way over to the hangar bay alongside the rest of the TIE Pilots that were readying themselves for the oncoming battle. Hollowed steps from boots clambering up metal steps to get to the TIE deployment racks could be heard as the flight control's voice blared over the speakers, giving the green light for squadrons to start deploying.
Jinn taps the shoulder of pilots he passed by, firmly grasping each shoulder to ease the tension and get them relaxed before making his way over to his Bruiser. He slips his helmet over his head as he clambers into the ball cockpit, reaching up as he grabbed the hatch and sealed it shut. He glances up as his hands instinctively move by muscle memory as he runs his ship's diagnostics and powers the engines up, his feet teasing the peddle as the engines flared to life. His vocoded voice crackled over the comms, " Alright Brawler Squadron, ground pounders are hittin' the base and we're going to open up a path for them. Spadroon Squadron is running escort on this, so focus on the bombing run. "
The floor personnel would wave up the TIE racks as the next set of squadrons, the announcer over the intercomms, "Brawler and Spadroon Squadron, you are clear to deploy. " The locks on the TIE craft would release as their engines flared to life, the squadrons beginning to deploy as the roar of their engines blasted and they took off into the void of space, Jinn taking the lead of the Brawler bomber squadron as the TIE interceptors and fighters of Spadroon spiraled into a defensive spearhead formation around them while flying off towards the surface.
The silent emptiness of void beckoned to her from outside the invisible force field that separated the hangar bay from space, an ingrained desire to please her Eternal Father through service tugging at her will as once more, she found herself facing the barbarians at the gates of his Empire. From inside her cockpit, SV-2121 watched the development of the battle transpiring outside, knowing that it would be only moments before she was given the order to launch. After finishing the pre-flight checklist, the Twi’lek took a deep breath and powered on the engines, which hummed, then howled to life, further adding to the din of engines and activity in the hangar bay.
After a few moments, a technician gave her the signal to launch.
The ancient and primal roar of the Ragnos manifested as a gentle vibration in the cockpit as she accelerated the machine into space, driving the control columns forward with both hands to bring her interceptor up to speed. While they were a sharp departure from her previous Sith-Imperial TIE Interceptor, it had not taken long for the strand-cast to get acclimated to the Ragnos’ controls. The haptic feedback systems acted as a bridge between pilot and machine, affording her greater control and touch over her interceptor, even without the assistance of the Neurocrown.
Harnessing that control, the strand-cast pulled her interceptor into a spin and shifted course in order to move into a screen formation with Dancer squadron, around the hulking mass of the HMIS Basilisk.
All the while, 2121 watched the Sith and New Imperial fleets slowly shift into position around the installation, taking in the initial clashes as the battle over Generis was cast into motion...
The turbolift came to a silent stop deep below the Alliance Executive Building, it’s heavily armoured door parted with a mechanical hiss. Only known to high ranking Alliance leaders and officials, the turbolift provided the only connection between the Executive Building above and the secure room complex underneath. The Senate Guard riding inside the liftcar nodded to the occupants, who one by one egressed and moved into the room beyond.
Compared to the silent and unadorned turbolift, the Alliance Command Centre was a hive of colour and activity. Galactic Alliance Defence Force and Strategic Intelligence Agency officers, analysts and tacticians hurried throughout the room, moving between various stations to share information and relay orders. A small number of New Imperial Order liaisons were scattered around, providing an important interface between the two newly allied governments.
Tithe took his seat near the central holoprojector and studied the various data streams as he accepted a cup of caf from an aide - it was after midnight of Coruscant, but war waited for no one. He and was soon joined by members of the Defence and Intelligence Committees, who provided civilian oversight of the GADF and SIA.
His attention settled on the holoprojectors relaying updated from the assault on Generis Base. NIO forces had made planetfall and were beginning to deploy. The armoured assets of Major Konrad Bolter
and Brigadier General Willan Tal
arrayed themselves into formation and set off toward the S-IMP base. More agile forces on speeder bikes, including Commander Jax Sloane
, took up positions to protect the flanks of the main advance and quickly respond to threads. Commissioner Djorn Bline
was forward of the main push, conducting critical sabotage deep behind enemy lines. A report came through that First Lieutenant Arten Jinn
and Brawler Squadron had launched and were moving to provide aerial cover.
While the number of Alliance forces committed made up only a fraction of the invasion, this was the first operation undertaken by the two governments as formal allies. Close coordination would be vital in their ongoing war with the Sith Empire. That top Alliance officials were down in the situation room watching the battle unfold spoke to the importance of the events taking place on the other side of the galaxy.
“What’s the, ah, latest from the fleets?” Tithe asked nervously. In addition to ground forces, the Alliance had deployed a number of fleets in support of the NIO, and indeed his own fate may be tied to them. While their alliance with the New Imperials was now official, there was dissent among a vocal minority of the population. If lives were unnecessarily lost on the other side of the galaxy, the Vice Chancellor and his colleagues would have to answer for it.
While his life may not have been on the line at Generis, his future certainly was.