YEARS PRIOR...
THE THIRD IMPERIAL CIVIL WAR...
R A I D E R - 1
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
TASK FORCE IMPERATOR
1ST ARMORED ASSAULT DIVISION
ZIOST
SHOT HIM DOWN
Ever the horrid symphony. A machination of war that only wrought death and devastation to the enemy. As much as it was a dreaded note to the enemy, each cataclysmic footfall into the battered, ashen earth of the coveted Sith world only further stewed the churning anxieties of the men inside. As much as they were always fiendish for the next deployment, the next chance to do their job, to their part in the war...so too did they soon realized they'd just landed in hell, 868 ABY. The Ziost campaign would turn to be one of the most grueling of the Third Imperial Civil War, one where countless ranks of Imperial, Alliance and Ashlan souls all but fell, trembling into that cauldron of doomed souls.
He lifted his gaze up to the man across from him in the troop bay of the AT-ATx. His platoon sergeant, Praig. One of the few remaining holdovers of the Sith Imperials that defected with the Imperator himself. A rare mark, many had been wasted in the first few months of the war. They were an overwhelming majority of the New Imperial Stormtrooper corps at Muunilinst. By the time of Bastion's reclamation, one would be hard-pressed to scrounge two hands worth amongst a fighting company of men. Kroeger was fortunate to have him as a close advisor. Whilst he was regarded as one of the more clever junior officers, he was well enough to know that he knew little. He had seen a good deal of the fight to this point, budding at the eve of promotion into a company commanding rule, especially with how quickly the Junior officer ranks of the Stormtrooper Corps were depleted by then, but even still, senior non commissioned officers still bore much of the knowledge.
Praig took a long draw of his cigara, watching the plume of smoke emerge from the ember end before flicking off the excess, matching his eyes with Kroeger.
"Want a hit? Seen you looking at the products and overlays like some spice fiend looking for his fix." He said to Kroeger who offered a grin, a light shake of his head.
"Heard those things kill you." He said in jest, it was hardly for moral reasons that he refused. He wanted his lungs clear for the coming battle, especially with the urban fighting again. Bounding between streets, clearing buildings, it took a toll quickly.
"Yeah? You picked the wrong line of work if thats what you cared to avoid, sir." He replied, Kroeger couldn't stifle a laugh, a tilt of his head in acknowledgement.
"Don't think either of us picked it, sergeant." He said in reply. A half truth. An upbringing on Adumar meant some martial trade for its brightest young men. Though he might've been able to contest among the nobles there in their bickering, the call of the Iron Sun was a bit more attractive. More regimented, far less freedom and far more dangerous, but it carried purpose.
<"Estimate three minutes to rally point 'Aurek'."> The walker commander sounded off over the comms. The men began to transition from their more leisurely state of mounted travel to one readied for dismounted warfare. Kroeger was hardly an exception, grasping his helmet and placing it over his head.
<"Comms check all Raider elements...ping back if loud and clear."> He said, a final affirmation that all functioned as it needed to. His HUD lit up with faint pings of affirmation from his squad leaders.
<"Right...you know the task. Each man does his job and we'll sweep the Sith bastards out of this city by sundown. We've got overhead assets, Alliance Marines already on the ground...this is the gateway to Kaas, gentlemen. We clear them out here...we'll be stomping down Zambrano's palace in no time."> He said, a few cheers and boisterous notes sounded off in agreement. He grinned beneath the helmet.
<
"Don't get cocky. We're the finest platoon in the Battalion, we know it, they know it...let's keep it that way. Iron Will!"> He said before soon enough, the thirty second warning sounded off.
<"Leaders only on platoon net."> He remarked.
<"Soon as we're down, we're pushing on-line with Red and Gold to objective area 'Mynock', then we're taking up overwatching, getting eyes for indirect."> He said, iterating the game plan again to which Praig laughed, shaking his head.
<"Sir...we know, we all read the damned OPORD...just focus on your lane...I'll make sure the men execute."> He said before soon enough the troop bay doors pulled open with a hydraulic, metallic screech, the belly opening up to a symphony of destruction beneath. Without a second thought, the Stromtroopers lined up in stacks approaching the rappel lines and one by one took the plunge. As soon as they hit the battered ground, their well drilled tactics took control, teams covering other teams as they bounded from cover to cover into the dogged streets of the city.
All was going smoothly until the thunderous crack of Sith ordnance began to rain hell unto their own coveted city. Within moments, all of Kroeger's trusted men were slain in a superheated inferno. He was close among them, his body left permanently wounded, leaving grievous burns across his face, arms, torso, most of his body was inflicted with the horrid marks. The last vision he'd saw before he lost consciousness, the trail of ships leaving Ziost, entire capital ships shifting into hyperspace from orbit as others strained to keep in the fight. All of the former, Alliance and all of the latter Imperial. The Sunbird fled in fear...but the Iron Sun stayed alight.
It had been years since then...but old grudges don't die young. Kroeger was left to die by supposed allies of great moral virtue.
Now...vengeance.
Even after a rather uneventful oath of allegiance. The entire prospect of the battle, nay, war ahead felt hollow. As much as it was a grueling, necessary tasking to face down the barrel of the Galaxy's most dominant superpower and strike the vaunted king from his holy mountain. The Alliance was once a vital ally to a budding New Imperial Order. Arminius had been around long enough to recall those days, to share cigaras and break bread with Alliance Marines in the Braxant Campaign.
But today, there were roads to burn. A purpose renewed, that of which all soldiers seek their motivation. Any fighting man can go through their grueling tasks with a begrudging compliance, if only for the means to make a living. But it is purpose that gives them the motive to fight and die. The Dark Empire, the thought of a once extinguished flame restored provided that to the Iron Legion.
They'd burn the Galaxy, if it meant remaking it in their image. An Empire, an Iron Sun once more dawning over all civilized life. When the Dark Empire made their commitment to strike into the Deep Core, the Iron Legion was among those tapped for the task force which made up the fighting force in Operation Shadow Hand.
Naturally. They were renewed with a well needed resupply and refit. Those Once Loyal were among the first on the ground in Cinnegar. It was hardly within their forte, the sprawling urban hellscape that would be this battleground. But even so, it was a setting that most any New Imperial veteran was well used to. After all, the capital cities of each and every world along the Empire's march along the Braxant were the quickest and most sure fire way to secure their conquering in the name of the Imperator.
The silence warped the air around the Megacaliber's muzzle before a thunderous volley of high powered laser bolts sent streaming down the city street from the
Barran's main gun, thudding into the emplaced gun position of a Alliance marines high up along the tower at the end of their stretch of street. The infantry fighting vehicle was ahead of the others in its platoon, emplacing behind a downed commercial speeder before another with its accompanying squad of stormtroopers bounded forward. There were similar maneuvers taking place along the entirety of the Iron Legion's engagement area. Such was the nature of city fighting. Ever brutal and personal as it was, certainly so in these circumstances.
The New Order did well in warning the worlds it planned to invade prior to, so that the civilians had some opportunity to evacuate, lest they be used as human shields. The Dark Empire did not spare so much luxury. He stepped past a severed arm in the rubble, Kroeger hardly cared. Gruesome visions like that had long been faded in his memory. War needed to be broken down into simple terms to be digested comfortably. There was the mission, your men, the enemy. You and your men had to do whatever it took to kill the enemy and accomplish the mission, nothing else mattered. Spending too much time thinking about the means left a man awake at night with the muzzle of a blaster in his mouth.
To hell if any of that mattered now. The Iron Legion was pushing toward the river way which acted as a moat to the heart of the city. It was a hellish circumstance with only a handful of bridges, walk ways and cargo lanes connecting the city's districts. He deployed what he could cobble together of his 'Storm Commandos' to push through the subterreanean levels of Cinnagar in order to disrupt the inner defenses of the city on the other side but still, the weight laid on the shoulders of the Iron Legion to push through and lay siege.
As soon as his observers and scouts caught eyes of the bridges, each of them lined up in observation points intersecting into the target area for which they'd breach through unto the other side, they each sent back their reports of the strike, the tactical operations center consolidating the locations of the hit bridges before Captain Falken opened the back ramp of his Barran to deliver the message to Kroeger. In the slow, grueling assault through the city to the first phase line which they would begin the breach. He was walking behind his vehicle, smoking from a cigara in the hellish clatter of the war around him. He peered up with one eye organic, one eye mechanical to the man, nodding for him to speak.
"They've hit most all of the bridges between us and the city. A few of them might be upright enough to cross but- they have turbolasers sighted in on them, must have been planned targets." The fire support officer said to Kroeger who nodded in acknowledgement, taking a slow draw from his cigara as he peered down to the broken ground of urban devestation beneath. Shattered duracrete, chunks of shrapnel and spalling, scorch marks and discarded refuse filled his contemplating vision for a moment before he peered back up toward the man.
"Map." Kroeger said to which the officer produced a hologram projector from his hip, tossing it unto the ground between them, a projection of the battlespace displaying between them, showing each of the different overlays, unit symbols, planned targets, obstacles, key and decisive terrain features all of which constructed by Kroeger's battle staff in preparation of the fight.
He pinched in the air above the map before splaying his index finger and thumb out to zoom in on the water way crossing. The six main bridges were hit, eliminating the most likely approach of the Imperial assault.
But not the deadliest.
"We have location of the units to fire on these bridges?" Kroeger inquired, lofting a brow.
"Sphinxes. Same we faced down on Onderon." Arminius grit his teeth for a moment, flicking the butt of his cigara into the ashen ruins of this war torn street.
"Simple enough to correlate for close air support, but getting a Mauler or Bruiser flight with contested air is burning assets." He remarked, the two mentioned TIE variants being some of the heaviest hitting ground attack craft in the Imperial arsenal. But with the stark drawback of being unwieldy and easy to shoot down.
"We have vicinity grids to the firing units that hit the bridges, the only quandry is getting assets and of course, counter battery to follow. I doubt we have enough indirect to hammer down one of them directly before we need to move it." Falken remarked.
"Then we're not firing them at the enemy. Not to kill at least. Those walkers see with their sensors, not their eyes. They have the coordinates the bridges locked in, even if we blind them, they can hammer those positions all day. We have the capabilities to cross...but not all our assets are at the trigger point for the breach..." He remarked, a dull moment of contemplation before he lifted his wrist to get in contact with the maneuver commander of the Stormtrooper Battalion heading up the breach.
"Demon Actual, Ironclad Actual. Status." He said sternly to the man.
<"Copy, Demon. Approaching rally point now. Aurek and Besh companies are emplaced, Cresh in support by fire."> He said. A good up on status. Though it meant some of the Stormtrooper units were in direct fire range. It meant the plan was ready to proceed.
<"Good copy. Stand by."> Kroeger said, bringing his vambrace down before he began to 'draw' on the holographic map. Multiple linear lines along the opposite side of the river with two pings on the supposed locations of the Sphinxes.
"Static smoke on all of these positions. As soon as they fire, Iron Will will begin their advance into the breach point with Dreadnought and our heavy walkers in support by fire. We'll blind their sensors, close with and destroy them. If they're as morally upstanding as the Alliance should be, it will force restrictions on their fire, being in the sector of their city they're supposed to defend. They can blow up every damned bridge as they please, we've the capabilities to cross..." Kroeger said before placing his commander's helmet back over his head, the back hatch of his
Barran-class opening back up.
<"Execute."> He said to the Captain who nodded, sitting himself at the command station in the back of the infantry fighting vehicle, sending back the fire missions to the
HARP batteries assigned to the attack over their encrypted and enclosed holonet. Within a minute, the quick smoke deployed with static smoke along the opposite side of the river and atop the Sphinxes with the aim of disrupting optics, sensors, direct line of sight and rhythm. Though, it wasn't much longer before airburst rounds were loaded into the guns to follow.
The Cataphrachts and Barrans began their crossing, under the punishing fire of heavy walkers in direct support.
It was dangerous maneuver, but a high pay off one. The more ground they could close with the Hellstomper's heavy walkers, the more they'd be at risk to dismounts able to embark into buildings with anti-tank.
Kroeger's own command vehicle advanced forward as he peered over the map with a pit in his stomach, his ears brimming over the comms of the battalion taking point, each of the voices wracked with adrenaline and anxiety themselves. The first good hit, the battle had begun in earnest.
