Junction Head of the Hydra | Junction of Csilla Hex [GA], and Adrathorpe Hex [BotM]

[Garven Piarcos]

Objective II/BYOO - Retrieve from the Research Base
Equipment: COC-10 Carbine, HG-88 "Big Iron" Hand Cannon, Talon Vibrodagger, Covert Ops Clone Trooper Armor
Allies: GA
Enemies: BOTM

The Gunship smoothly slowed to a halt over a catwalk, Blackout checking his seals one more time before opening the hatches. Pushing himself into the artificial gravity field of the station, he could hear a thud as his feet touched the grating of the catwalk and could feel the other three agents thud onto it as well. Pointing for 1-4, codenamed Watchman, to keep an eye on their rear as they walked, Blackout moved forward in point position, his carbine at low ready. Arriving at their target hatch, Garven turned around and aimed past his men, motioning for 1-2.

The operative moved forward, removing a Security Spike Tunneler from his belt and inserting it into the hatch's droid-interface slot. The hatched hissed open and the team moved in, Blackout being the last one in. As the airlock began to cycle, each of them clicked off their coms and turned towards the inner hatch. Moving as soon as it opened, Blackout watched 1-2 and 1-3 duck into the maintenance tunnel to the right before following Watchman to the right. Each pair continued moving through the shadows and nooks of the maintenance tunnels, avoiding any contact and moving further towards their targets.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

CSILLAN BELT , CHISS SPACE
Objective | Eliminate Grand Moff Vel'alari and Complete the Destruction of Csilla
Tags | Grand Moff Vel'alari | Tu'teggacha | Maesr Elastren | Leon Gallo | Constantine Oliva

Maw Irregular Fleet - Core Fleet Predator [Agitator-Class Super Heavy Battlecarrier] Judgement [Pellaeon-IV Star Battlecarrier] Retribution [Pellaeon-IV Star Battlecarrier] 24/24 TIE/En Enforcers [Crimson Linings] 564/564 TIE/fd Fighters 256/256 TIE/fd Interceptors

Sularen soon reached the main ventral hangar of the Predator a few minutes after leaving his private quarters proceeding to seek out his aide , Colonel Rackham of the Politorate who had been initially assigned to lead the raid on the Research Station. The Grand Overseer soon found the Politorate Colonel with Captain James Hunter , the leader of the Crimson Linings , a Fighter Wing comprised of two dozen Pilots who each piloted a single TIE/EN Enforcer which held the status as being one of the best Fighter Wings within the entirety of the Final Dawn on par with the famous pilots of the Knyghts of the Maw. As the Grand Overseer approached them , the Colonel and the Captain quickly noticed his approach and proceeded to turn to face Sularen expecting the Grand Overseer to address then.

"Colonel , Captain" Sularen said as he arrived to greet the two men. "May i have a word with the both of you?" the Grand Overseer said to his two subordinates. With no reply , both men followed the Grand Overseer to a nearby briefing room where Sularen proceeded to explain his new plan. "Alight gentlemen , there has been a slight altercation in our Plan. First of all , Colonel Rackham , i have cancelled your operation to raid the Research Station and will have someone else fill up that role. Here , our focus will be solely on completing the destruction of Csilla and the elimination of Grand Moff Vel'alari while a separate force will deal with the Research Station" Sularen began before taking a brief pause.

Sularen then continued now addressing to Captain Hunter. "Captain Hunter , i'll be temporarily assuming the mantel of Crimson Leader . I'll join you and the Crimson Linings as you will help me put an end to the treacherous Grand Moff of Bilbringi and her accompanying Squadron. I apologize for this change of plans , but i intend to send a proper message back to the Galactic Alliance. Any questions?" The Grand Overseer said finishing his long statement. While Hunter remained silent , Rackham was quick to respond a bit disappointed that he was being pulled out of the Operation. "And exactly who will be that person to lead the raid on the Research Station?" Rackham asked. Sularen smiled at the question before responding to Rackham's question. "I believe you already know them , Colonel. This person in question would be Captain Kenth Berik and his Adjudicators Mercenary Company. So far they have proven to be very useful assets plus i could also utilize this mission to test on weather , Berik and his Men are still committed to my cause or will soon follow the same path as Grand Moff Vel'alari. " Sularen said "Fair enough and what shall i do in the meantime , Grand Overseer?" Rackham asked in response , accepting Sularen's reasoning over pulling him out of the operation although still questioning on what his role in this operation would be .Sularen then took out a data pad and gave it to Rackham. "Colonel , i want you to contact Captain Berik on my behalf. Inform him that i require his services here within the Csillan Belt. You will give him a short briefing regarding the operation and inform him that he'll receive a fifth tier payment for the Operation. Dismissed" Sularen said once more with both Rackham and Hunter leaving the room after the meeting.

Meanwhile outside the Csillan Belt , the Predator and it's two escorts were slowly moving towards the Civilian Fleet moving alongside the edge of the Csillan Belt and slowly nearing their target. The Outbound Flight was not yet visible to the Fleet as their view was blocked by portions of the Csillan Belt which stood in between the Final Dawn Flottila and the Outbound Flight itself. However that would soon change as the Flottila was nearing one of the corners of the Csillan Belt which upon passing would give them full visibility of the Outbound Flight. However as the Predator approached that corner , it's bridge crews quickly noticed something. There was a small cluster of vessels most of them smaller then a Star Destroyer right around the corner of the Csillan Belt which were confirmed to belong to the Bilbringi Defense Force. Intrigued , Captain Fisk quickly took out a commlink and proceeded to contact Sularen certain that he would be interested in this new development. "Grand Overseer , we have detected a small Flottila comprised of 2 Corvettes , 3 Light Cariers and a Light Cruiser around the corner of the Csillan Belt , our scans indicate that they are from Bilbringi. Should we engage?"

As Sularen left the briefing room to head to his Personal Starfighter he received the message from Captain Fisk and quickly responded to it. "No , have the Fleet continue it's course towards the Outbound Flight without issue. Instead on my signal deploy all fighters and we'll take care of this nuisance" Sularen said. Soon enough Sularen re-emerged in the Predator's Ventral Hangar this time to finally enter his personal TIE/o Omicron Prototype Starfighter and lead the glorious charge against the Galactic Alliance. Today he was going to get his revenge against Vel'alari , and he would start by dealing a blow that would cripple the pathetic fleet she had brought with her here at the ruins of Csilla. This was Sularen's Battle now and no one not even Tu'teggacha would stand in his way.

Eventually , the Predator and it's two escorting Pellaeon-IVs emerged from the corner of the Csillan Belt , their approach having been masked by utilizing their Electronic Countermeasure in an attempt to fool the Alliance Flottila that there was no Mawite Fleet nearby. Soon enough the Trio of Vessels appeared as they turned around the corner of the Csillan Belt to face the Flottila from Bilbringi. With those Bilbringi Vessels in sight , Sularen gave Captain Fisk the signal and proceeded to take-off in his TIE Omicron Prototype accelerating as he exited the ventral hangars of the Predator , followed by the Crimson Linings in their TIE Enforcers and a massive swarm of Final Dawn TIE Fighters and Interceptors coming from the hangars of the Predator and it's two escorting Battlecarriers with all Fighters proceeding to accelerate towards the Small Flottila. As they came near the Imperial Warships of the Bilbringi Defense Fleet , the Grand Overseer smiled before uttering "This is where the fun begins." as he and his swarm of TIEs proceeded to zero in towards the small collection of ships Vel'alari had assembled for this Battle. Soon enough they would be reduced to a little graveyard of wreckage , a testament to Sularen's dedication to revenge against Vel'alari.

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Sularen tasks Colonel Rackham into Contacting Captain Kenth Berik to acquire his services for the Raid on the Research Station.
• The Predator , Judgement and Retribution come into view of Maesr Elastren 's Fleet and deploy their entire compliment of Starfighters to engage Elastren's Fleet

 

[Bernard of Arca]

Objective III
A Prelude to War​

Allies: GA, Ghost Company
Foes: BOTM, Kyrel Ren ​

The trench line of the western sector saw minimal combat in the initial stages of the conflict. Reports trickled in of encounters further out in the field, brief sightings of a foe that preceded communication cut-offs. A clear indication that something was making its way through the ranks of Chiss soldiers in the outer defences, but no indication of its nature. The other sectors faced droves of Brotherhood warriors, flooding the defences with the full might of their warbands, but on the western trench line, things seemed quiet. Eerily quiet.

Bernard stepped next to his second in command, atop the highest fortification overlooking the field of battle on their side. He tapped the trooper's shoulder to shift his attention away from the macrobinoculars he was peering through.

"What's the report?" Bernard asked, looking off in the same direction his second was.

"Nothing so far. Outposts keep going quiet, but no sign of the enemy. They're either incredibly efficient or more subtle than we initially believed them capable, sir," the trooper answered.

Bernard gave a hum of acknowledgement and rubbed his chin. Outposts going dark, incredibly vague reports, barely any sign of enemy activity, it all seemed to indicate the work of no ordinary group of warriors. Normally, the Maw employed wild tribes of troops. Undisciplined, but large in number and ferocious enough to match. It was a crude tactic, but with a constant influx of new recruits in the form of captives and prisoners of war that were being forcibly turned to fight against their own brethren, it became a brutally effective means of conquest. This seemed different, however. If the Brotherhood had come in force the Chiss outposts would have discovered the intruders and called them in. As it stood, there was only the comm silence and vague mentions of something lurking, far out there.

None of this sat well with Bernard. The time before a battle always carried with it unease and unexpected complications such as these only exacerbated that trepidation. He shifted on his feet. Not even in the Force could he find any refuge. It seemed there was a shadow looming over him there, a cold, dead air that spelt doom.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he said. "Tell the company to prepare for a fight, I don't think we'll be alone for long."

 

[Glossa]

Location: CEDF Fuel Depot - Kinoss
Allies: BoTM ( The Mongrel Kyrel Ren Darth Senthral Darth Tennacus )
Enemies: GA (Jeffery Kizaroe Xian Cade)
Direct Engagement: Jeffery Kizaroe

Before long, Ilglossa found her way back to the fight, watching as many of the Aspirants threw themselves at the walls in their efforts for glory and blood. Many had already fallen, forcing a brief stalemate to emerge as the Alliance and Chiss defenders held their positions along the walls, raining down fire upon the groups of Aspirants, who were forced into cover. After activating the miniaturized shield projectors in her bodysuit, the Jango Jumper began to return fire, unconsciously calling on imprinted combat skills as she worked to cut down the defenders, seeking blood for herself. Three squeezes of the trigger saw a Chiss warrior struck once in the head as he peeked out of cover, the high-powered bolt burning through his face and incinerating organic matter in a burst of blue energy. Another pair of bolts struck a second Chiss defender in the chest, though the soldier managed to crawl behind a barricade before Ilglossa could finish him off.

Then, came the Moon Children.

Warnings were shouted across the lines of marauders as the shuttles disgorged their payloads of mad clones, which swarmed towards the walls, uncaring of any allies in their path. As such, Ilglossa moved quickly to get out of their path. Those who were too slow or failed to heed the warnings were swept up in the tide of ravenous flesh, their bodies torn apart by teeth, blades, and spikes, the Moon Children leaving nought but mangled remains in their wake. All the while, as the insane clones penetrated the breaches in the walls, Ilglossa fired into the Alliance defensive lines, taking advantage of the fact that friendly fire wasn’t exactly a concern with the Moon Children to cut down or injure enemy troops where she saw them. Already, her efforts had borne fruit, as the same Chiss soldier she had wounded only moments before was ripped apart by the horde, having been too slow to escape their perpetually enraged frenzy.

Ilglossa scored her second and third kills as the Moon Children charged through the breaches, with two of her bolts finding a cornered Chiss warrior in the neck, then another four punched into the back of an Alliance Defense Force soldier, caught out of cover as he attempted to fall back.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake beneath her feet as the Y-Wings dropped their payloads of proton bombs on the Moon Children, forcing the Jango Jumper into cover as she watched the fast-moving craft fly overhead, the roar of their ion engines vibrating within her ears. And yet, so thoroughly had the ravenous, blood-crazed clones shattered the will of the Chiss and Alliance defenders that in their desperation, they had cast fire from the skies…

On the wrong target.

“War! Death! Rebirth!”

Ilglossa howled to the Avatars at the top of her lungs as the Deathgangs punched through the breaches created by the Spider Walkers, her voice joined by countless others marauders and Aspirants. Soaring out of cover, the diminutive Jango Jumper crossed open ground with frightening speed driven by powerful strides. Then, pressing a button on her wrist to encase her form in the protective aegis of her personal energy shield, the Jango Jumper took flight from the ground with a high, acrobatic somersault leap…

Before landing on the walls directly in the midst of the Corellian Joes and immediately beginning to pour blaster fire into their flanks at close range, firing first on the Joe who was the closest to her position, then moving progressively towards the furthest.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Pulsiva Bodysuit
  • Energy Shield
    • DS-102 “Aegis” Personal Energy Shield
  • B-11 “Greitis” Class Combat Boots
    • Whimsy Knife (2)
• BR-4 “Baleful Bantha” Blaster Rifle
• Hekler’Kok FR-01
• FAE/M-01 "Scherezade" Energized Vibroblade
• Vape Charge (4)

 

[Qellene Tyliame]

[Flight Officer Qellene Tyliame - "Comet Two"]
[REC-AI01 A-wing Interceptor]
[Attached Carrier - ANV Wyvern, Sacheen II-class Escort Frigate]
[Comet Squadron]

[Fly Me To The Moon]

Tu'teggacha , Marlon Sularen , Leon Gallo , Tren Chaar , and the others I'm forgetting
​

The Thornwave's narrow bow now faced her own, staring down the center, for a moment seeming to lock eyes with her.

She felt her life slipping away-- a sensation that she had read of in reports, studied in psychological profiles of others, even experienced herself. But Qellene had never heard of feelings described to such a magnitude, never felt the sensation with the same amount of dread she faced now.

Time seemed to slow in those moments, as if it were carefully guiding the young Pamarthen to a quiet end...

She wouldn't surrender so easily.

Qellene's boot slammed down on the accelerator, followed by her hand crashing into the dashboard and pressing the SLAM system into full gear, pushing the interceptor to its limits as the craft tore across the Thornwave's spray of cannon fire. A secure hold of the yoke brought her veering to port, quite nearly scraping the edge of the hostile fighter's shields before disappearing into the debris fields. It wasn't for long that the flight officer maintained her reprieve from danger, however.

Something slammed into the interceptor's side, then another...another.

The two asteroids surrounding her jettisoned plasma-coated rock; minerals thrown directly in her path, set alight by flame and propelled by the constant push of shockwaves erupting across the field.

The starboard thruster went unresponsive, followed by half of her available attitude thrusters as she spiraled through the fiery debris and bomblet explosions. Briefly, she caught other fighters, Brotherhood and Alliance alike, barreling into flying asteroids and flinging inflamed metal in a multitude of directions.

Finally, the forward-most attitude controllers managed to grind her fighter to a hastily stabilized halt. For now, the firing seemed to cease.

Qellene's heart raced, lungs desperately grasping for the remaining pockets of air sealed in her helmet. She could've sworn she felt water building up inside, surrounding her. But the feeling vanished as soon as the flight officer forced the craft forward, eyes still ablaze with fear, but with her breathing more or less under control . . . Slowly now, her surroundings became clear, mercifully apparent. It was then that Qellene saw the enemy's fighters diving past her original course... and at the Alliance fleet far behind her.

In front of her were the Brotherhood's capital ships.

In the rush for safety, Qellene had apparently cleared the asteroid belt, at least, she had been to clear its largest concentrations. Now, that would be good news, and bad news. Good news... She started positive at first, knowing the majority of the Brotherhood's fighters would be farther behind her and busy with far nearer targets. But her attitude quickly soured, knowing there wouldn't be much else to acknowledge.

Bad news... If the enemy's interceptors detected her, they would begin pursuit faster than she could evade. Hell, with the A-wing's wounds, a single missile from a distant starship could reduce her to fragments of flesh and chrome. She would have no back-up, the rest of the squadron was far behind-- Six fighters remaining . . . Where there once was 12, at least according to the IFF sweeps.

Qellene had left them to die.

{“Saber Seven, here to assist.” }

“Comets, Sabres, we have you on our scopes.”

She listened as other squadron leaders checked in with the fresh batch of reinforcements, but never once hearing Comet-Leader's voice in the medley. And when Qellene's eyes returned to the IFF displays . . . she didn't see his name either.

Instinct kicked in with little regard for her need to panic, military protocol forcing her to dial in the necessary frequencies, forcing her to speak despite a shaky voice.

"Comet-Two-- Acknowledged, Viscount-leader."

 

[Kreg Jare]

Task Force Xesh
Maijan Paisea | Viribus | Kingsley​

Great, more stuff dealing with the Chiss.

The more and more this team dealt with these blue-skinned freaks, the less and less he cared for them. It was to the point that he was happy their karking planet got blown up. Chiss this, Chiss that, who cares. There were enough aliens in the galaxy as-is.

Underneath his helmet the bounty hunter rolled his eyes. One of the reasons he hated aliens so much was because of this farting bird that he happened to be working with. If this wasn’t such a serious operation, he would have shot that thing in the back of the head by now.

But then his head would have been blown off by the bomb, and that wouldn’t be good either.

Once the bird had finished detonating the bomb, the bounty hunter simply walked through the open doorway. He pushed the bird out of the way, him obviously being in his way.

“Out of my way bird.”

After completing a quick sweep, he let the others know the room was empty. After that he decided to start asking some questions.

“So why the Kark are we here anyways? IVI never tells me the deats, and it pisses me off.”

 

[Tren Chaar]

FLY ME TO THE MOON

V I S C O U N T _ L E A D E R
B-WING HEAVY STARFIGHTER​

---

---

“Watch your lines.”

Viscount Squadron, split into its three constituent flights, skimmed just above the debris field which had once been Csilla. Laying in the horizontal position to minimise their silhouettes, the B-Wings wove between asteroids as they closed the distance to the Brotherhood fleet headed by Forge of Laments. The heavy starfighters flew in white-knuckled silence at the pilots gave their full attention to avoiding the deadly obstacles spiralling around them, the silence occasionally punctuated by an order from Chaar or his XO to tighten the formation.

The squadron moved as one, naturally filling gaps and arcs of fire created by B-Wings dodging around the ever-moving field of debris. Chaar had been relentless in his training and drilling of the eleven other Vanguard pilots. He didn’t give his trust easily. It had taken more than one trial by fire for them to earn his begrudging respect. The glory they had won during the Stygian Campaign had made it all worthwhile.

“Contacts at seven-two,” announced Viscount Three. The Umbaran adjusted his scanner to the bearing, illuminating multiple enemy threats. The tactical computer ran the signatures through the database and identified them as Divine-Eagle-class heavy starfighters. If Fleet Intel were to be trusted - which Chaar personally didn’t - they were highly armed and armoured craft, a good match for the B-Wings.

Viscount Squadron had proved themselves against the Sith. Kills across two theatres of war would look great on his promotion sheet.

“Two Flight, high cover,” he ordered. Four B-Wings broke off and dropped their speed slightly, allowing the rest of the Viscounts to pull away. “Stick with your wings.” Each pilot carefully moved closer to their wingmate as they wove through the asteriods. “Staggered line. Break in three, two, one, break.” The wing pairs began to drift apart to give themselves more room to maneuver as the distance between themselves and the Brotherhood starfighters continued to count down.

Chaar used his thumb to cycle to his warhead launcher, and brought his targeting reticle over the lead enemy ship, watching as the time to firing range ticked down and down.

GA: Tyrant Leader: Grand Moff Vel'alari | Comet Two: Qellene Tyliame | Sabre Seven: Leon Gallo
MAW: Tu'teggacha | TK-818​

 

[Leon Gallo]

Saber Seven
Shields: 100%
Stealth Systems inactive
Grand Moff Vel'alari Qellene Tyliame Tren Chaar
Tu'teggacha Marlon Sularen
​

There were so many. The number of enemy craft swarming the asteroid field was nearly as overwhelming in Leon’s mind as the host of the dead, lurking just moments away. Lasers, missiles, and plasma filled the gaps between craft and asteroid. To an outside observer, it could be beautiful- the streaks of color as the fighters engaged in a deadly dance. Between the constantly shifting of the dead planet and the swarm of opponents, lesser pilots wouldn't stand a chance.


But Saber Seven was not a lesser pilot. The X-wing weaved and spiraled, outmaneuvering the dozen tails following it. A slight press of a button, and a Shadow Bomb deployed, to detonate moments later. Only a few enemies continued out of the resulting cloud of shrapnel and death. A sharp bank along an asteroid, and one slammed into the debris. Two. The starfighter rotated nearly on the spot, it’s thrusters cut. Now facing the two Thornwaves, the X-02’s guns roared to life. Two more kills on the Jedi’s record.


Another opponent drew near--A Divine Eagle. New prey sighted, Saber Seven dove into pursuit. This one was more skillful, that much was clear. But even this foe couldn’t get away. An Ion cannon shot landed, weakening the opponent’s shields. It banked, Leon following. Another burst of fire, all missing. It rolled, and once again was followed almost exactly. Another burst, two hits on shields. The eagle was rushing towards a smaller asteroid, before swinging around it. The X-wing curved close around the obstacle, firing another burst. All missed. Rather than continuing the chase, Leon responded to a tingling in the back of his mind. Something bad would happen if he continued.


As he veered off, he saw what he’d felt approaching. Hundreds of TIE fighters. Saber Seven rushed off into the asteroids to put distance between him and the approaching swarm.

The moment’s distraction from the flight also drove another painful realization into the Jedi’s awareness. He could feel the ghosts. Hundreds of thousands, who’d all been killed in an instant. The flood of spirits nearly overwhelmed the man then and there. It was inevitable that he’d be dragged along in their tide. The longest Leon had ever held out was at Brentaal, where he’d directed the flow of their rage at the one who brought their ends...Could he do that again?

 

[Maesr Elastren]

{Raider-class corvette - Defiant - CIC}

[Fleet Comp.]
2 x Raider-class corvettes - (Defiant. Dauntless)
3 x Quasar-fire-class carriers - (Nova. Celestial. Nebula)
1 x Carrack-class light cruiser - Anti-Starfighter Config. - (Chairman's Voice)
]

[Fly Me To The Moon]
Grand Moff Vel'alari , Marlon Sularen
​

"Five seconds till contact...Four... Three... Two.... One."

The two Divine Eagles quickly broke off pursuit before they met the greeting of ten laser cannons fired in quick and unrelenting succession, the rounds instead sailing off into the void and through the asteroid field. Grand Moff Vel'alari's fighter had made it through only seconds before, and quickly moved to join with the rest of the Billbringi Defense Force's dispatched squadrons on their way to their home carriers.

The Moff was safe, as anticipated. As to how long that would be the case...

"Three Brotherhood capital ships emerging from the asteroid belt-- Bearing 90, Mark 3.. Distance-- Nine kilometers. Launching fighters-- 82 squadrons inbound!"

"Why didn't we detect them!?" Maesr snapped out and set his eyes on the three huge hostile markers and their clusters of fighters.

"I don't know! I don't know!" The commander's voice turned erratic while she scrambled to process a scaling wall of scanning data, "Three minutes till they can engage..."

"The other ships?" He asked in reference to their previously dispatched corvette and frigate.

"Four minutes... Moff Vel'alari and her fighters will be here within two..."

82 squadrons. They couldn't handle that many fighters for long, not with three poorly-armed carriers to draw the attention of the lone corvette toward.

"Order our Quasars to move in to the rest of the fleet," The commodore spoke with uncompromised dignity, in spite of the wall of fighters closing in on the Defiant's viewports, "Start loading our diamond boron missiles. We'll cover the retreat until the others can rendezvous... Keep three squadrons with us, save the rest to escort our carriers."

"Advise the Alliance vessels of our situation, see if we can get some reinforcements."

The corvette's laser cannons scrambled to lock on the approaching swarm, seemingly the entirety of the three battlecarriers' air wing. Odd. The Brotherhood had left nothing for screening.

It wouldn't matter unless they survived.

Maesr felt the world starting to burn around him, Fires erupting across the Defiant's decks and drowning prospects of success in smoke and flame. Now he searched for a way to extinguish them.

"They're firing, sir!"

The corvette rumbled with the impact of a thousand cannon releases, sending unsecured crewmembers barreling toward the floors despite the efforts of their shields-- now dropping exponentially. The commodore himself held, hands clamped on the arm rests of his chair while he had begun a frantic visual sweep around the bridge. Smoke began to cloud his vision immediately, pouring from overstressed and fractured conduits lining the top-most edges of the walls. His hearing became muffled aswell, quickly picking up on the sounds of blast doors scrambling to reinforce the ship's corridors.

"Shields at 90%- 70%. 45... 30--"

"Our carriers!?"

"Thirty seconds till E.T.A with the rest of the fleet!"

"Shunt power to engines, Begin retreat!"

Bright bursts of light overtook the space around the Defiant, signaling the rapid transfer of power to the corvette's engines, and beginning its race for safety within the shielded confines of the Outbound Flight Flotilla.

 

[Kingsley]

CODENAME: STARBIRD
TASK FORCE XESH SUPERCOMMANDO
Maijan Paisea Viribus Kreg Jare
Garven Piarcos Dakrul

​

"Rrrawk! How rude."

Kingsley reared up from his hunched walk to the bird's full two meter height. He flapped both feathered arms at the mandalorian's back in an avian display of dominance. When Kreg turned to ask about the mission he hunched back down and glanced away whistling a torturous melody. His ocular appraisal implant whirred noisily to life, zooming in and out at their surroundings as it scanned the breached station for anything of value to steal.

"Weren't you listening?" Kingsley scoffed, "We're here to blow up the station!"

He sauntered over to the nearest viewport oblivious to any looks from those on the team who actually understood their mission parameters. A flash of metal caught his augmented eye and the smuggler zoomed in on a LAAT transport landing a few dozen meters away. Kingsley cocked his head to one side and snapped his beak in confusion.

"Hey goldenbod!" he called out to Maijan, "Did IVI say anything about sending another team?"

Pressing his face up against the viewport Kingsley watched a squad of Galactic Alliance commandos breach the station's outer hull. Just beyond his peripheral vision swarms of alien Maw fanatics crawled around the transparisteel searching for a way back inside.

"Looks like this place is abandoned. Rrrrawk! Mission accomplished?"

 

[CETCOM]

CSILLAN BELT , CHISS SPACE
Tags | Kenth Berik

As Sularen proceeded to engage the Galactic Alliance in Space his Aide , Colonel Rackham proceeded to contact Captain Berik as instructed sending an Encrypted Message to Sularen's Part-Time Enforcer. The Mercenary was well known to Rackham and most operatives in the Politorate as one of the Secretive Organization's best assets as Berik's Adjudicators had proven themselves many times over especially on Arkania and Emperess Teta. Now Sularen seeked their aid here at Csilla to secure that Research Station before the Alliance or the Brotherhood could in order to deliver what intel lay inside to the Final Dawn for the Grand Overseer's own benefit and the interests of the Final Dawn. If this Intel was so important to the point the Alliance would send a Strike Force after it , then it would be crtical to get such intel into the hands of the Final Dawn for the sake of further pushing the agenda of the secretive Neo-Imperial Junta embedded within the Maw.

-

Name of Contract: Raid on Research Station within the Csillan Belt
Name of Contractor: Final Dawn/Politorate
Exclusivity: Captain Kenth Berik
Compensation: Very High Sum of Credits + A Factory/Codex Asset for the Adjudicators [Equivalent to a Tier 5 Reward from the Bounty Board]
Overview:

Greetings Captain Berik. I am Colonel Rackham , the personal aide of Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen. I am currently writing this to you to acquire your services as the Grand Overseer seeks your help in securing important intel believed to be stored in a Mysterious Research Station within the Csillan Belt. According to my intelligence , it could be of great use to the Final Dawn , especially in their plans for the Core Worlds , where you have worked tirelessly to preserve Imperialism in the area. For this operation you will be provided with access to 4 TIE Stealth Transports which would enable you to arrive at the Csillan Belt undetected.

Once you arrive at Csilla you will bring your Stealth Transports into the Heart of the Csillan Belt where the Facility Lays. Find a way into the Facility and then proceed to deploy your men inside in order to conduct a full sweep of the Station. Your objective would be to secure any important data and retrieve the Research Station's Central Memory Core before the Alliance and Brotherhood can lay their hands on such potentially useful assets. Should you and your men encounter SIA Operatives or other Mawites you are to eliminate anyone regardless of whether they are from the Maw or the Alliance. This Intel could be of great use to the Final Dawn and it is imperative that it falls into the hands of the Final Dawn regardless of what enemies you encounter. Once you have completed your objectives , return to your Stealth Transports and reach the Predator which has already arrived at Csilla to engage the Alliance Fleet protecting the Outbound Flight. Through the use of your Stealth Transports Advanced Systems i am confident that you should be able to reach the Predator without being detected.

With this i do hope that you can successfully carry out this operation and provide the Grand Overseer with the Intel he seeks to aquire. Remember , this intel could be valuable for the Final Dawn's plans for the Core Worlds which are aligned with the goals of your Adjudicators. Soon enough Imperialism will be restored in the Core Worlds through the Final Dawn and the decadence and the corruption the Alliance have spreaded throughout the Core Worlds will soon be extinguished for that is the Will of Sularen , the Will of the Final Dawn.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Csilla System, Edge of the Csillan Belt
Allies: Marlon Sularen | TK-818
Foes: Grand Moff Vel'alari | Qellene Tyliame | Maesr Elastren | Constantine Oliva | Leon Gallo | Orn | Tren Chaar

The Knyghts of Kasparov streaked in, confident of their ability to tear these B-Wings apart. They piloted heavy fighters, choosing armor over speed, armed with heavy beam cannons to tear through equally strong foes - and proton bombs to rip apart stronger ones. B-Wings were excellent capital ship killers, while Divine Eagles were designed for smaller prey, frigates at most... but fighters and corvettes were their specialty. It remained to be seen whether that difference in specialization would go in favor of the Maw. Of course, the Force-sensitive, cyber-enhanced Knyghts had other reasons to be confident.

And that was before TK-818 streaked in to assist them. With a mighty Knight of Ren among their number, his Night Vulture's powerful laser cannons and missile launchers adding to their firepower, how could they lose? Sinh had butchered the Fangshi Force Order's Council of Masters on Tiantang, and had even stood against the mighty Grandmaster and survived to tell the tale. The Knyghts knew him as a veteran of countless such battles, both planetary and in space. They would follow his lead as they moved in, trying to use their positioning and beam cannon fire to open pathways for the Ren to missile-target the foe.

Before Tren Chaar and Viscount Squadron could reach the Forge of Laments, they would have to contend with the Knyghts of Kasparov and their sinister ally. As the B-Wings broke into a staggered line, giving themselves space to fight and maneuver, the Divine Eagles spread to match them, confident in their ability to take the enemy fighters one on one... and carefully keeping avenues open for Sinh to fire through. The goal was simple: to charge in at the enemy like jousting knights, raking them with beam cannons as they passed... and leaving deadly proton bombs behind them for the surviving hostiles to fly through.

----------------------------------------------
​

Aboard the Forge of Laments, the Taskmaster continued to monitor the situation. Sularen was moving to engage the Bilbringi battle group directly, and Tu'teggacha meant that in a very literal sense; the Grand Overseer was personally leading in his TIE group. It was an action that Mawite marauders would respect, for they had no patience for warleaders who did not lead from the front. Tu'teggacha himself was less impressed. If Sularen got himself killed in a dogfight, there was little chance that his Neo-Imperial movement would survive without him. It was him that held it all together, so why risk his life with so much at stake?

The Ebruchi hoped that personal grudge of his wouldn't cost the Brotherhood.

Most of the Alliance forces were withdrawing from the asteroid belt, falling back to the protection of the flak defenses as they prepared to confront Sularen's vengeful advance. Tu'teggacha would not intervene in that little grudge match unless given no choice; he did not want to risk his capital ships in a direct contest with the infamous Alliance Navy unless he had no choice, not after the losses at Korriban. The Alliance Navy was one of the two pillars the Brotherhood had identified as the greatest threats to their dark crusade, the other being the Jedi. Schemes were being enacted to neutralize both... but they weren't done yet.

For now, Tu'teggacha focused on the remaining forces in the asteroid belt, or those - like the B-wings - emerging on his side of Csilla's ragged ruins. Thankfully for Qellene Tyliame , her lone A-Wing at the edge of the field wasn't noticed by Brotherhood sensors officers... yet. Interference from rock and heavy metals would keep her from being spotted for a little while, but soon she would be spotted, and the wrath of the Maw would be unleashed in her direction. Killing enemy aces was a worthy goal in the Taskmaster's mind, one that would not cost him so greatly as a contest of capital ships but would still soften up the Alliance.

Within the field, Comet and Saber squadrons were acquitting themselves well. Knyghts were elite, and their fighters were strong, but the skill and maneuverability of the Alliance pilots and their ships were particularly telling within the ever-shifting confines of the Csillan Belt. Thornwaves went down in droves, and pilots working together were more than capable of vanquishing even the mighty Knyghts. In the end, it was a question of attrition. How long would the Outbound Flight fighters remain in the belt? How many losses were they willing to take in order to contest the ruins of a murdered world? Time would tell.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Kinoss, CEDF Fuel Depot
Allies: Kyrel Ren | Darth Tennacus | Darth Senthral | Glossa | Maestus
Foes: Xian Cade | Jeffery Kizaroe | Bernard of Arca

As the Corellian Joes continued their desperate fight at the walls, giving as good as they got - the Mawites would remember them as worthy foes long after the battle was ended - The Mongrel and his elite battled the Chiss forces at the depot gate. For the moment, the advance had stalled. Despite the ferocity of the Aspirants and the supporting fire of the Tarar, the Chiss were well-practiced in defending this installation, having drilled for years to face a situation just like this. Their powerful charric rifles and entrenched defensive positions held back even the fury of the onrushing Maw.

That would not do. The Mongrel would not be delayed in reaching his goal and claiming his glory on this battlefield. "Loose the wardogs," he commanded, and his beastmasters scrambled to obey. The Firefang Wardogs so favored by the Scar Hounds Tribe were not kept in cages; they were tribe members, not warbeasts. They ate, slept, trained, hunted, and fought beside the warriors of the tribe, operating as one huge pack as they confronted their foes. Still, they were often held in reserve until the perfect moment arrived to break enemy infantry lines.

That moment had arrived. Shuttle ramps descended.

With a clatter of durasteel paws and a series of metallic barks and howls, the cybernetic charhounds charged at the gate. They were fast, nimble, and low to the ground, scrambling swiftly and easily over the rough battlefield terrain. Some, of course, were shot down along the way. Those merely maimed, lying whining and panting in the snow, would be recovered and cybernetically made whole again; veteran wardogs, like veteran Scar Hounds, were more machine than organic. Those who died would be honored as members of the tribe when their bodies were consigned to the fire.

Their implants would be scavenged first, of course. Zero waste.

Though some dogs fell, many more of them reached the Chiss lines, their augmented legs allowing them to leap perimeter defenses and close distance with the defenders. With metal-enhanced jaws and claws they ripped into the defenders, growling and thrashing. The charhounds within the mechanical shells breathed great plumes of fire over their foes, roasting Chiss soldiers alive. It was not a sustainable attack, for the wardogs could not hold a position on their own... but they could certainly shatter one, and the marauders advanced in their wake, howling and cheering.

Many savage cyber-hounds received headpats on the way.

Once they were inside, it would be a short journey to the fuel pods, the goal of this raid. Crippling the CEDF battle group anchored here would turn the Ascendancy's western border porous once again, and teach the Alliance a valuable lesson about interfering in hunting grounds the Brotherhood had claimed... and they had claimed all of Chiss space to raid and to ravage. Looking up to the walls, The Mongrel caught sight of Glossa, a lone marauder taking flight from the ground to strike the Corellian Joes in the flank. He raised a fist in salute to her, impressed with her savagery.

Even those who appeared small and weak could prove to be strong and worthy. He knew that well. After all, it was the path he had taken.

 

[Garven Piarcos]

Objective II/BYOO - Retrieve Communications and Hangar Data from the Research Base
Equipment: COC-10 Carbine, HG-88 "Big Iron" Hand Cannon, Talon Vibrodagger, Covert Ops Clone Trooper Armor
Allies: GA
Enemies: BOTM

The commandoes continued through the hallways of the maintenance decks. "Watchman, I'll take point." Moving in front of his partner, Blackout checked each corner and junction in every direction when they met cross hallways. This place was a ghost town, or at least it seemed to be. The station's silence seemed to indicate that it was as dead as the world it had presumably been built to study, and Garven couldn't imagine the sort of horror it must have been for the Chiss to see their homeworld shattered, millions of lives being destroyed in the blink of an eye.

It was an absolute travesty, and if finding this communications core could keep any more worlds, especially in the Alliance's sphere of influence, from suffering same fate, or at least could bring justice upon those who'd been scavenging this dead world, then nothing was going to stop Vornskr from making their catch.

 

[Kenth Berik]

Location: Csilla's Asteroid Field
Objective: Remnants of a Dead World | The Grand Overseer's Orders
Tags: Allies CETCOM | Enemies Kingsley Viribus Maijan Paisea Dakrul Garven Piarcos

​

Did it make sense? For a mercenary to be having an existential crisis over who they're fighting for? Probably not yet as Kenth completed job after job for his shadowy employer he was always left with more questions than answers. The latest mission again, another of the illegal variant under the eyes of Galactic Governments and no clear allies, with Sularen designating both Alliance and Mawite forces as hostile. To make matters worse an old ally amongst them, Grand Moff Vel'alari. When news of Csilla's destruction came to light he knew where her allegiance would lay and Kenth couldn't blame her, he'd undoubtedly do the same if it was Carida. Constantine Oliva stood among the Alliance forces as well, and while Kenth never fully trusted the man he respected him as a veteran naval officer.

He donned a black balaclava, his uniform bare of any insignia or rank. The soldiers around him wore their white plastoid stormtrooper armour absent of the Adjudicator's symbol. He felt like he was back in his days in the ISB, preforming false flag missions and assassination's. Not the most glorious work yet work that needed to be done. The only difference now is his loyalty was not absolute. Maybe mercenary life had changed him.

"Thirty seconds." the pilot said calmly but stern.

The Stealth transports were a nice touch, one that made his job much easier. The twelve troopers with him made their final checks, ammo counts, weapons safety's, all the usual a soldier would check, regardless if they had prepared their gear to perfection the day before. Kenth let his hand drop to his blaster pistol which was holstered to his belt, it was cold and clean from disuse. "Perhaps that would change today" he thought, drawing it out.

The vessel jerked as the station's artificial gravity took over and as quickly as they had stopped the Transports ramp had opened. The pilot didn't even turn his head, offering the men behind him a quick thumbs up before they rushed onto the station. With their weapons raised they stood in silence scanning the room before the platoon sergeant gave a shout. "Clear!" Kenth lowered his blaster slightly taking a few steps forward. "What are we looking at sergeant." the trooper offered a low chuckle. "The usual. Abandoned station, scans showed life forms but the fact the stations built into an asteroid made it impossible to calculate exactly how many." Kenth nodded before replying. "Good thing we don't have to worry about friendlies. Our employer has deemed everyone inside hostile."

Kenth took the first step out of the hanger into a cramped hallway, the troopers following closely behind. Whatever SIA tricks and mawite horrors that await they'd have to face together.

 

[Dakrul]

Objective: Remnants of a Dead World - Destroy
Location: Inside the Research Station
Allies: The Maw
Enemies: Kenth Berik / Stiketeam Xesh - Kingsley Viribus Maijan Paisea Kreg Jare
Equipment: Staff of Dakrul, Cursed Gen'Dai Flesh Armour, Dread Blade

Dakrul enjoyed the silence, he hadn't quite figured out what this place was. It was dark and quiet, which made it easier to listen to their songs, their tales of tragic demise, their calls from the other side. A choir of the dead made up of an uncountable number of voices. Every now and then his advance into the tunnels of metal and blinking lights was halted so he could take it in. The chants of passed Chiss from the Nether mesmerized the zealot.

He felt additional presences, there were others, living, and breathing but they seemed far and irrelevant. He was tasked to tear this place apart as the Avatars had torn apart Csilla and he would obey, he´d much rather be outside dwelling among the spirits anyway than here in these iron chambers cut off from their presence.

Once he felt he was deep enough within the installations, without considering the implications his wretched claws started to shred and rip into nearby consoles. Machines were but stone to him, inanimate objects, void of any force energy for him to witness. Decorations in the landscape. Tentacles of pink flesh burst forth from beneath his skin to assist his four already maiming appendages in tearing apart a room full of desks with input screens and other technical equipment. The undead Cha'ta'ri had no clue the value nor nature of what he was destroying.

An alarm rang out and the red flashing lights from before returned as he continued to thrash from chamber to chamber smashing and breaking everything in his sight. He ripped vents from the ceilings, slashed cables of unknown origin and destination, and tore apart anything that could run on ones and zeros.

Gleefully committed to heeding out each and every echo and their dreadful demises he soon fell into a rhythm, almost a dance of carnage. The undead swung his massive form side to side, back and forth simultaneously holding his connection to the plethora of specters looming in the burial site of their homeworld.

A rampaging monster with an utter disregard for any sort of plan or tactic to conceal his identity or location. Unchecked and unstopped he would continue to take apart the research station bit by bit.

Longing to be freed off this task to return to his prayers.

 

[Jeffery Kizaroe]

OOC: Apologies for being inactive for so long. Life got in the way.
Objective 3
Enemies: BOTM
Allies: GA [OPEN]
Engaging: The Mongrel Glossa
Equipment: In Bio
ERROR! RECORDING UNAVAILABLE
"Get some!" Jeffery shouted as he unloaded a series of full auto laser blast against the advancing marauders, another one falling to his blaster, his body crumpling in front of the smoking breach. "We got these bastards! Thought they was supposed to be tough or somethin! Hah!" Jeffery laughed as his gun overheated. It seemed the men had been blessed with a brief reprieve from the constant fighting, and Jeffery decided to be proactive. "Reloading." Jeffery intoned, looking down as he quickly removed the cartridge from his blaster, dropping it to the ground and reaching for another in his satchel. "The hell? Anyone seein' this?" 2 said. Jeffery's eyes darted upwards, and he saw shapes approaching on the horizon, moving at a fast pace towards the damaged wall. In spite of himself, Jeffery froze, in total confusion as to what these strange blobs on the horizon could possibly be. The shapes grew clearer. Animals of some sort? Were they wearing... armor? Durasteel? 2 piped up, trying to break the tension. "What? They sending dogs to get us? Please." 2 snorted. 5 snapped back at him, "Shut it." The shapes were now clear as day, several feet from the position the Joes stood in. Dogs. Coated in armor. No. Not armor. The armor was a part of their skin. "What in the f*ck...." came Jeff's reply, his previous confidence replaced with bewilderment and fear. "Cmon' people! Enough standing around! Get to the inside of the base!" The squad obeyed, and moved quickly towards the closest door of the base, where the Chiss had set up an auto-turret, Jeffery quickly reloading his rifle. "Aaagh!" 2's voice came from behind, Jeffery wheeling around to see one of the dogs clamping down on 2's left leg, it's metal teeth sunk deep into his skin. The other dog went right past 2, running towards the duo. 4 and 5 raised their blasters, and opened fire. The dog's metal hide absorbed the first two shots, the blaster bolt ricocheting of it's head, and nearly hitting Jeffery in his own. The canine charged towards Jeffery, who raised the butt of his rifle and struck the creature hard, slamming it with all the force in his arms, the animal yelping in pain as it stumbled backward, a large crack in it's head, 5 finishing it off with a blaster shot. "AAAAGH! HELP!" 2's cries grew louder as the duo raised their blasters again, ready to fire, but then, both jammed. Suddenly, the auto-turret activated, and hit the dog in the head twice. The dog yelped in pain, and ran off through the breach, releasing it's hold on 2. "MY LEG!" Jeffery looked down at the bloody mess that was 2's leg, and nearly hurled. Blood was smeared across the ground, pooling near the lower part of his leg. The area directly below his ankle was a smooshed, gory mess. A large open wound was on top. "Get inside! I got 2!" 5 yelled to Jeffery. "Yes sir!" Jeffery ran inside, followed closely behind by 5 carrying 2. The room was a small, gray room with a door leading deeper into the base. A radio sat on a desk in the corner. Fortification material lay in the corner, from when the Alliance had first came to the Chiss's aid. "Use those materials, fortify this position. I'll try to get someone on the horn to help out 2!" 5 set down 2 on a medical table that had been left behind. "Those Chiss at the gate sir, can't they help us?" "No, they got problems of their own. We need someone else." Jeffery nodded, and began to set up the fortifications, dragging a metal barricade, blocking the doorway, and carefully grabbing a large bundle of barbed wire and placing it on top of the metal barricade. "This is Joe 6, of the Corellian Joes! We need support! We have a presumably large incoming enemy presence, and I got a man down here! We're by the side entrance of the depot!" 6 said into the radio. The best they could do was hope that someone would respond. Suddenly, footsteps came from the other side of the door that led deeper into the base, echoing off the walls. Jeffery and 5 raised their rifles. They had been outflanked....

 

[Qellene Tyliame]

[Flight Officer Qellene Tyliame - "Comet Two"]
[REC-AI01 A-wing Interceptor]
[Attached Carrier - ANV Wyvern, Sacheen II-class Escort Frigate]
[Comet Squadron]
[Direct Relevancy: People]

[Fly Me To The Moon]
​

[12 years prior - Pamarthe - The Middle of the Sea]

Air. She needed- She-

The water lapped over the Pamarthen's disorderly hair, pulling at the blond strands, forcing her under the waves. . . Screams came at no effect, quickly drowned in the chaos, lost in the motion. Rain poured overhead, as if the storm-imbued ocean waves that had torn her from the safety of the Aelerk Solvane's deck weren't enough. Salt melted on the tip of her tongue, singed her taste buds. But Qellene couldn't tell if it was the surrounding water that she tasted, or if it was her own tears.

The storm beat down on her drenched body further, and had by then surrounded her in a fog so thick that the cargo ship's silhouette came barely above a blur of grey; until a light emerged in the darkness, a lantern's muffled glow, perhaps. Quickly, she felt her father's hand in her own. Tugging. Struggling. Shivering.

In moments, she had collided with the vessel's cold, wet deck.

---

[Present Day]

Stay calm. Stay calm.

The atmosphere in the A-wing's cockpit turned increasingly bitter with each chilling breath, and with each distant flicker of movement.

Be it a curse, or a gift, the collections of fractured rock masking her presence on hostile scanners masked most of the situation before her-- brief explosions and rushes of motion only small glints appearing between the debris. And yet, she swore she could hear every scream. Some part of her registered the desperate pleas to an unforgiving universe... And regret began to fester.

"First, You'll feel your hands growing cold. And the breaths you take afterward will begin to sting. Pain will crescendo until it's nearly unbearable... Then you'll feel anger. You'll curse the universe. You'll curse your allies, your enemies... And in those moments..."

"You'll feel your life slipping from your grasp. Your vision will brighten, and brighten... But your heart will slow. Your breathing will quiet, and it won't sting anymore. You'll feel docile, compliant; Though some part of you will try to hold on to the world you know. Tranquility will take full hold. You won't be able to feel confused by that... You won't wonder what happens next. You won't have answers, but you'll know...Everything."
​

Qellene remembered practically racing from her podium at the lecture hall's head, scrambling for the door amidst the haunting silence of the academy's recruits. Just as she had run from Pamarthe after her father died, And just how she had run from the Brotherhood's fighters only minutes ago.

Keep running, Q. That's all you're good for.

Collected deep breaths sounded in spite of the rush of negativity echoing throughout her mind while she began a rehearsed pre-flight checklist. She released an audible sigh next. The unresponsive starboard wasn't a mere malfunction in the integrated maneuvering programs... The connections had been severed completely-- either that or singed beyond use. If she wanted any chance of surviving in the battle's increasingly violent dogfights, she'd have to return to the Wyvern for repairs. That was, if Qellene could even make it across the full width of the belt with only one sublight engine.

If she stayed any longer, the Brotherhood would no doubt discover her presence, and would no doubt reduce her half-disabled A-wing to another collection of loose debris within the field.

Qellene risked another glance at the IFF displays, sent into a panic by dropping numbers, and an increasing number of enemy signatures for each loss. Wincing, she let regret force her hands to shake, knowing she had left so many innocent lives to be extinguished...

Run. You know how to do that, right?

She swallowed, shuddered, then set both her hands on the fighter's yoke and the hyperdrive control panel respectively. Slowly, the interceptor started for the tight gap in the surrounding debris, the single remaining engine burning at reduced intensity in order for starboard maneuvering jets to compensate. Now she had an opening, holding a position just along the position of a hyperspace route, a clear and more or less mass-free line before her. But the hyperdrive sequence never initiated.

The A-wing spun clumsily to port, facing into the asteroid field now, and aiming toward the struggling Alliance fleet. And with weapons primed, missiles loaded and ready to be armed, Qellene rocketed through the belt.

Begging for destiny to be kind.

 

[Maijan Paisea]

TASK FORCE XESH

REMNANTS OF A DEAD WORLD
CSILLA | ASTEROID FIELDS | RESEARCH STATION
KIDS NEVER STOOD A CHANCE

​

"But I'll treat ya to some spice...if we managed,"

"Prrromises prromises."

To her horror, the big bird enacted on the request for a tech. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but it was entirely irritating. With a delayed reaction, she watched the subtleties of their invisibility be consumed in an eruption of flames and smoke. And her stomach became as heavy as her body with the groan that rolled out at the same time she shielded her face from the blast.

The heat sizzled against her body, warming the metallic flesh of her left side considerably before she dropped her arms and stared aghast at the space where the door had been.

"You're welcome!"

Surely The Director had expected an unorthodox approach; that was all Task Force Xesh was good for. But so early? They'd been told they had a tech person now. It's what they'd lacked on Csilla the first time, where all those –––

Something in her gut shifted, and the former pirate frowned. Why did she care about the timing of anything –– so long as they did their job somewhat that little bomb stuck in their necks wouldn't detonate.

“So why the Kark are we here anyways? M never tells me the deats, and it pisses me off.”

"We're here to blow up the station!"

Always with the not listening. At least on a ship, with a crew, everyone listened to the captain until there was a mutiny. But, Maijan realized, that was an entirely different dynamic. In that situation, the crew had the opportunity to benefit as much as they had the chance to overthrow those in control. Task Force Xesh had neither such luxury.

And always with all the moving. Made it rough to try and keep them invisible. Although, their explosive arrival didn't seem to have attracted any attention. Nor did it seem to stir up any kerfuffle inside. It might have been abandoned by now.

Either way, Maijan tossed up her hands in frustration and let the invisible barrier covering each of them down, and reached out to indicate Voyana had a role to play next. Based on what she'd heard.

She was about to re-explain the mission, when Kingsley interjected again while looking out at something she couldn't see.

"Did M say anything about sending another team?"

"What? No, not that either –– Okay!" Maijan hissed, stomping her foot. "We figure out what this station's doing, why The Maw set up in a space they kaboom'ed." Kaboom was a horribly understated term, but she couldn't really bring herself to anything more sombre.

Then, after a few seconds of glaring, she dropped her fleshly hand to her hip and pat a belt of detonators. "Then we destroy." Then, a golden finger flared up in warning. "But afterr, not beforre.

Other teams?" She shrugged, stomping toward the bird and squinting out the viewport. "Not our prrroblem. Maybe ourr competition, but not ourr concerrn." She scowled at the thought of M setting them up. It seemed like a waste of time, but Xesh had run into friendly fire on the station before against Compnor agents.

Something begged the Fallanassi to keep looking, and not turn away from the window. The Force reached out from her, one hundred and thirteen times a second it reached out; fully aware of the echoes of the commandos, the consciousness bound within them and their movements within The Current. But there was more, something darker, something more twisted that the Current swam around and avoided. The reverberations and recoiling of the metaphysical fed back to the Fallanassi dropout and she frowned.

"But that.." she pressed a golden finger against the viewport, the crisp sound of metal on glass making a distinct ping. "That ..those..they? ..might be a concern."

The heaviness in her tone shifted and she shrugged, "But, something we get to blow up soonerr. Let's get this overr with." With a stretch, she reached up to pinch near Kingsley's eye. "You got this mechanical thingy-- new girl's got whateverrr she's got –– let's rread this station."


ALLIES | GA | TASK FORCE XESH | Viribus | Kingsley | Kirk Korrado | Kreg Jare | Voyana | Garven Piarcos
ENEMIES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | Dakrul |

​

 

[Tren Chaar]

FLY ME TO THE MOON

V I S C O U N T _ L E A D E R
B-WING HEAVY STARFIGHTER​

---

---

The range finder dinged to signal that the enemy Divine Eagle starfighters were in range. Without a second thought he depressed the firing stud on his control yoke, unleashing a proton torpedo toward the Brotherhood ship. His thumb toggled to the B-wing’s heavy laser cannons and set the firing pattern to cycle. He opened fire, each laser cannon spitting a deadly burst of energy toward the enemy in turn, maintaining a steady stream of single shots and giving the three remaining cannons a few seconds to cool between each shot.

The attack pattern had ravaged the Sith Imperial starfighters in the Stygian Campaign, earning Viscount Squadron a kill tally in the highest percentiles of the Starfighter Command, and granting Chaar a corresponding level of status as an elite squadron leader.

The Divine Eagles were having none of it.

The narrow yet wide Brotherhood starfighters, similar in appearance to a B-wing on its long axis without its strike foils, reacted instantly. While they were slow, the ships moved in a tactical pattern until anything Viscount had ever experienced. Chaar adjusted his aim to track after the lead fighter, only to realise an instant later that it was a ruse. Two Divine Eagle coming from below opened fire with powerful beams weapons, triggering an array and alerts and warning tones in his cockpit.

The Umbaran dove toward the ruins of Csilla. Astroids around his exploded as the Brotherhood’s starfighters unleashed a barrage of proton bombs into the remnants of the Chiss world. The Viscount comm net lit up with reports of the enemy simply shrugging off the B-wings heavy weapons fire. While they weren’t the most nimble ships, the Brotherhood pilots had an uncanny ability to read the B-wings tactics, faster than any normal pilot could.

“Viscount, turn to sector three-one-cresh and regroup,” Chaar ordered. “Two Flight, we need covering fire.”

Seven clicks played out over the comm net as the pilots of One and Three Flight acknowledged the order by double-tapping their push-to-talks. Chaar waited for the flight leader of Two Flight, who was flying high cover, to confirm the order. “Two Flight, say again, we need immediate covering fire.” This was unacceptable, he shouldn't have needed to give the same order twice.

Seconds painfully ticked by without a response. Chaar flicked his attention from the dog fight with a Divine Eagle to his tactical display, his gaze locked to the display with horror.

Two Flight was KIA.

GA: Tyrant Leader: Grand Moff Vel'alari | Comet Two: Qellene Tyliame | Sabre Seven: Leon Gallo
MAW: Tu'teggacha | TK-818​