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Sifting through data to determine its worth, or more importantly its potential threat, required a quick and focussed mind but she didn't have a sense of urgency, trusting that she still had plenty of time before anyone could break through her allies' defences - but she was wrong.
The sound of a voice behind her froze her hands in position but her head turned slowly to look over her shoulder at the Jedi near the doorway. With an almost frustrated sigh, she turned to face the Mirialan, her helmet devoid of any humaity, any emotion. Her tone of voice was controlled, calm, despite the tension spiking from within.
"Probably not any more than I can convince you to turn around and walk out of here." She replied, creating an impasse.
It was inevitable that she would face a Jedi sooner or later, if not today then next time or the time after. The encounter was just particularly poignant because it was her first since she had returned to active service. The Jedi she were familiar with were from the Concord but they were all one and the same, different shades from the same brush.
The Jedi were not the problem but the Alliance to which they anchored themselves. It was unfortunate that the Jedi before her represented her enemy, even if she wasn't inherently one herself, but Zoraya would defend the Empire against all who opposed it.
Her hand slowly reached to her pistol, a warning more than anything, allowing the Jedi an opportunity to leave. If she didn't take it, it would allow the Imperial the chance to quickly draw the weapon - set to stun.
More than a dozen armored warriors rushed through the labyrinth of hallways and corridors. In their midst Minerva followed along even as the alarms bared out and the intercom proclaimed swift instructions to the crew one after another. The young warrior paid the latter no mind at all. Her mind was focused on the task at hand. The time had now come.
As she turned another corner Minerva couldn't help but think. I will not hesitate. For the Enclave, for my vod. She gripped her blaster tighter at the thought.
Sometime ago she had been grievously wounded in her last mission and was stuck in a bacta tank, missing out on the zombie crisis when it began. Now recovered her old unit was already shipped out much to her frustration. Opportunity however came in the form of this quarrel between the Alliance and the Empire and so she volunteered to honor the pact with the former. As a result Minerva now found herself assigned to fight alongside Clan Kyrat's warriors.
Never really knew much about them until we got paired. They're not a boring lot that's for sure.
The clanless fighter envied their bond, overhearing some trading banter in the midst of their mad dash into the passageway.
"I'm gonna outshine ya Sari in this battle!"
"Hahaha we all have our fantasies, Holt! Don't worry I'll be generous with the drinks when we're done."
Minerva wanted to join in the conversation but stopped herself, not feeling that she earned it with them yet. Fortunately her awkwardness ended when they arrived at their destination. As soon as they stopped they looked upon the MNV-AV12 Ra'gr Assault Boarding Pod prepped for them.
I did assault exercises on this type of pod before but never the real deal.
Suppressing a sigh Minerva subsequently spotted the unit leader stepped out in front of the,.
"Stop gawking like a bunch of Jawas at a junkyard and get inside the kriffing pod already!"
At that word the rest of the outfit all ran in pursuit of their leader as he led the way. They entered the pod and started to situate themselves. Soon they will join the titanic clash raging on for Ilum.
"...Right." he dully mumbled, blue eyes averted from Valery's gaze. A doleful look dulled his usually colorful features. Dagon had no doubts in Valery and Korvan's reports from Imperial space but the truth was heavy to bear and hard to swallow. Rakaan lived... but as a Knight of the Empire. And one plagued by vengeance and wrath.
He had not only been a friend of the raven-haired Knight but a brother. One-third of the padawan trio they had formed back in the days. A trio Dagon had led to a disastrous end and Rakaan's alleged death. It had been one of the first of many to come failures staining his mind and heart. Perhaps the second after the fall of his twin brother to the Dark Side.
Dagon threw a somber glance back from whence they came. Somewhere in that direction were his two padawans in a fight for their lives. He longed to run towards them, aid them in their hour of need but Jem's fall had taught him that caged birds could not fly. His overprotectiveness had been perceived as distrust clipping their wings.
They would persevere.
Whatever the threat was.
He had taught them.
And they had taught him in turn.
A sigh escaped his lips before he spoke. "Their knights will find us first -- she will make sure of it." he said. Her malicious presence stained the threads of the empyrean beckoning for his presence.
His clenched fists loosened up as he rediscovered his center once more.
Objective 1
Allies: The Alliance
Enemies: NIO; Sars Sarad
Equipment: Armor, lightsaber, sad feelings
—
Close to the mouth of a collapsed tunnel, Nida worked.
First—assess the damage. There were four- no, five souls buried beneath the rubble. She could feel them when her gloved hand pressed against a chunk of jagged permafrost. Barely there, but they were there. For now.
Next— dig them out. Their team only managed to extract two from the debris, one of whom passed shortly after as life literally seeped from the piece of rebar embedded into his torso.
Then—you try to stabilize the last one for medevac. Even with the visor on, Nida could tell that the Alliance Soldier was younger than her. Just a kid, really. Barely past the age of conscription if she had to guess, now dealing with a pair of punctured lungs and a whole lot of internal bleeding. The healer pumped as much life as she could into him, trying to slow the bleeding, trying to force oxygen into a system that was no longer able to handle it.
Which kills your fist: suffocation or blood loss?
One of the soldiers on the Evac team hovered over her shoulder, antsy.
"Are you able to-"
A mortar round shook the cavern, somewhere further down, somewhere they wouldn't be able to access easily given the cave-in. Nida's hands continued their work, pressed against the dying soldier's chest in an attempt to stabilize his threading pulse. Normally restless, the Zeltron was laser focused on her patient, lips pressed into a stern line as the walls of the tunnel shuddered around her. Even the debris falling from the ceiling seemed to avoid hitting her slight form.
Every good medic knew when a patient was beyond saving, especially in the urgency of war. The hardest part wasn't watching the injured die—it was knowing when you had to give up. Nida pulled her hands away, replacing the gloves. The dying man was gasping for breath now, choking on a foamy concoction of blood and saliva that leaked from the broken sealing of his helmet. The sight gave her pause—Nida knew better than to expend more of her energy on a man slated for death in the middle of a war zone. There were others who'd need tending to, lives that might be saved if she'd get to them in time. Every second was precious.
After the briefest of hesitations, she planted two fingers at the dying soldier's neck, eyes fluttering closed. The Forced surged through her and into him, into the poor, wretched body fighting for survival. If she couldn't save him, perhaps she could ease him into death with a measure of comfort by lessening his discomfort through a technique
that had been passed down by her mother.
Finally— you have to leave him there to wither away, mangled body atop a mound of ice and rock. There are other soldier with a greater chance of survival that need medical intervention. Don't worry; you can revisit this moment every time you close your eyes to sleep and convince yourself that if you'd just done something different, he would have made it.
As Nida turned towards the mouth of the cave, something shifted dangerously in the Force. Something close. Too close for them to try and slip passed and make it to the shuttle, if it was still even there. With their backs against a pile of wreckage, being pinned like this was not survivable.
The medical evacuation team looked towards the Jedi of their group, drinking in her heavy silence and solemn features. They too knew that something was coming.
"Climb through and take shelter further into the cave." There were gaps in the rubble they'd be able to shimmy through, and hopefully there'd be no imperial death squads waiting on the other side.
Reaching for the borrowed lightsaber tucked into her light armor—her own still hadn't been relinquished to her—Nida prepared to face the threat that cut through the howling blizzard as it stepped into the entrance of the cave.
When the Red Devils were let loose on Ilum Sabe hoped it was with the idea of carving a way through Alliance forces for the rest of the ground forces could follow behind. That did not end up being the case. Sure they were providing muscle, but more than anything the dozen huge AT-ATs that Sabe commanded were becoming targets to allow the more strategic companies easier flow into GA territory.
The latest to start taking pot shots at the Devils was a group of snowspeeders. “Lieutenant, why haven’t walkers six and eight taken care of these pesky gnats?” Sabe demanded impatiently. “I know those are the new crews but they are fighting with the same hardware as everyone else right?”
“Yes ma’am same walker,” the lieutenant answered nervously.
“And we have taken out five measly speeders how often?” Sabe growled angrily.
“More times than I can count Mistress Aner,” the man returned more confident.
“So what you’re saying is that those new crews need better training,” Sabe continued her rant. “Very well. Once we’re out of this fight I want the files of the crews in my inbox. Especially the commanders. Might be I’ll need to rearrange things.”
In a huff Sabe clicked on her communicator and called up walker four. “Captain Ringbey,” Sabe called out to her second in command. “Seems our new recruits need a bit of help. Please take walker seven and see if you can’t avail them of those flying insects.”
“Yes Mistress,” came the curt call back. Almost immediately two walkers began a slow maneuver to add their firepower to the two already turning to engage the approaching speeders that had gotten too close for Sabe’s comfort. Shots from the walkers’ heavy laser cannons ringing out as they targeted Echo Group’s approach.
Sabe punched another button on her comm. “Damn it command, I need fighter support. Our new walker crew let a group of speeders get inside containment. My Captain is moving to intercept, but unless you want to lose a walker send me something else.”
The Ave Imperator rocked as stray volleys broke through the main battleline and pinged against their shields, minimal damage bleeding through as the brunt of the counter-battery was absorbed by the front line of Valiant Star Destroyers and Tirailleur frigates. Live-action reports began flooding in, but for the most part the shield arrays of the Imperial fleet had done well to absorb the majority of the attack. But that wouldn’t last for long - not if something wasn’t done to remove some pieces from the battlefield. Amidst the chatter, the tactical officer’s voice pierced through the din as he made his report: “The Alliance fleet is launching fighter craft and beginning their assault sir. Their maneuvers appear to indicate a focus on the Reckoning.”
“Begin flak bombardment of the battlespace between our lines - coordinated barrage through sectors Delta-Seven-Zero through Gamma-Seven-One. Launch the first fighter wave and prepare for interception” With a dutiful nod and an ‘Aye’ uttered in response, the tactical officer quickly set about relaying the orders. Just as the considerable flak armaments of the fleet unleashed their opening salvos into the gap, the Mandalorian fleet emerged from lightspeed along the Imperial flank. The New Imperial Star Destroyers deployed thusly angled their hulls to square off against the newly arrived threat, and immediately opened fire alongside a trio of Gurkha-class Corvettes.
As the remainder of the Imperial fleet returned fire against the Alliance forces massing before them, and the first wave of TIE Fighters swarmed from within their berths; Ignacious analyzed the developing situation with an almost casual air. His eyes flicked to the alert on his own personal station from the naval mercenary the Empire had seen fit to hire for this operation. ‘Aculia Voland... hmm.’ The name evoked only superficial recognition within the Grand Moff’s mind, with the commander being decorated for her service alongside the Alliance in their efforts to repel the Mawite invasion of Tython. He keyed the comm channel personally: “Admiral Voland...” The Grand Moff placed just the slightest emphasis on the rank, but continued without pause: “Your orders are to intercept and disable the encroaching Enclave fleet. Immediately.”
The comms officer was quick to interrupt: “Incoming transmission from the ANV Wildfire, from a Commodore Jadwig--”
“Ignore the transmission, Lieutenant.” Ignacious quickly retorted, turning to face the viewport and peering at the ever brightening buildup of energy from the Reckoning.
As if on cue, Rear Admiral Feros spoke up: “The Reckoning’s primary ignition sequence is complete, Your Excellency.”
“Very good Admiral. You may fire when ready.” Korvan acknowledged, his hands clasped behind his back as a wolfish smile began to line his lips.
At first, the ambient light from the energy buildup along the gauss rod appeared to flicker and pulse, but soon the faltering energy began to wax ascendant. Just as its final firing sequence began to initiate, the ion discharges from the initial wave of boarding parties would gain purchase along the fore section of the vessel’s hull. The initial volley flickered against the shielding, and was hardly enough to cause significant damage to the ship. But the side effect was something hardly anyone would desire or expect. The beam management compensators began to spike, with the intensity of the beam magnifying exponentially as the subsystems strained to remain operational.
Despite the fluctuations, it was too late to stop - too late to modulate the dispersion field and prevent what was fated to happen next. The beam emitters surged, with high intensity beams coalescing and traveling along the gauss rod - and bursting forth with a violent intensity reminiscent of the power of a giant pulsar. A small opening had been allowed by the defensive lines of the Imperial Blockade, enough to safely prevent the Imperial ships along the firing path from being engulfed in the estimated diameter of its beam. But the actual payload the Reckoning had delivered was something no one could have expected. Half a dozen Imperial ships within the 43rd Battlegroup from a variety of tonnages had transformed from their mighty outlines, to literal clouds of debris instantly. The same fate would be met by any ship - be they Imperial, Alliance, or otherwise - that lay within the beam’s path, which lay squarely at the heart of the Alliance formation.
Aboard the command deck of the Ave Imperator, the entire ship rumbled from the intensity of the beam, which lay mere kilometers away from the massive battlecruiser. Everyone grasped for the nearest handhold, with an unfortunate few being thrown violently to the deck or against the wall. Red lights flashed amidst blaringly loud emergency klaxons as the proximity sensors protested from the sheer energy that surged past them.
The wrath of the Empire had been unleashed.
The Imperial line tanks return fire from the Alliance
Flak bombardment commences against the encroaching Alliance fighters
TIE Swarms launch to intercept any fighters that break through
part of the Imperial left flank pivots to attack the Mandalorian fleet
Korvan dispatches Aculia to directly confront the Mandalorians
Korvan leaves Jagwiga on read
The superweapon fires, causing mass and indiscriminate devastation
Iris flicked her blade around as the colors shifted and swirled around her. Danger, danger was everywhere. Stormtroopers. The Empire. They'd stripped mined the planet, and now she was fighting for her very life. Not just hers, at that. The blue of her blade swiped through another of the troopers, sending their body to the ground before she raised a hand to throw another aside.
"Go! Back the way we came!"
Her gaze shifted to the younger of the Padawan's with them. They needed to escape. Those that couldn't fight needed to escape. Then back forward.
"Corin! Jand!" Iris's voice didn't carry far, but she wasn't too concerned with it. They all knew what they needed to do. Get the younger ones out. Protect the retreat. Of them all, those were probably the two most combat ready.
A Howling Gale that was snow and sleet and everything else surrounding him.
The Mouth of a Cave ahead of him.
By the time Sarad had stepped out of the roaring windfall and into the entrance of the cave, crossing the threshold into shelter from the elements he'd almost forgotten the tingling sensations that coursed through his body, alerting him not just to the call of the force but something else. It was dimmer in the caves, his eyes would have needed to adjust to the light if not for the lenses affixed to them but because of them the transition was quite quick and painless.
A Mortar round shook the cavern, debris and rock collapsed from above. Icicles, long since frozen and jagged looking broke and shattered on the ground but Sarad was undeterred.
Then it happened. Not long after he stepped through the mouth of the cave his eyes were drawn to the silhouette of a figure that he soon recognized as a Zeltron purely from the features that he could have seen. He paused, was this the one? And at a distance he looked at her carefully, like he was assessing her.
The Armor. A hint of what may have been a lightsaber that she reached for according to the body language he could read. That tingling in the force, a sensation that he knew well by this point having followed it across the galaxy from Lao Mon to Odessen and now to Ilum.
She was the one.
Sarad didn't see anyone else or if he did he didn't care about them. The Medical Evacuation Team that had been with her, they were inconsequential to him. At this point, unless someone else came along she was the only one he could give him what he wanted.
Like it was second nature to him he brushed aside the duster that he was wearing, revealing the hilt of the lightsaber clipped to his utility belt and over his hip before it flew into his right hand, summoned by its master. A moment later and the searing phosphorescent blade came to life, radiating an ambient amount of heat in the process. The Lightsaber came up, aimed towards her....
"I am Sars Sarad."
...it was the same, always the same. Almost like he was compelled to let them know he had come for them. He would take the Empires credits but it was moments like these that he came for. Nothing else mattered.
It didn't take long for another quake to occur. Jasper didn't have time to react, only just barely leaping out of the way of the falling rubble. When he came to his senses, he realized that he was completely alone: No Thalia Senn
, no Arlo Renard
. All the young Padawan could do was keep walking. Before long, however, Jasper did indeed find an exit. Unfortunately, he found himself amidst the sounds of blaster fire and explosions. A whole war had started without his realization. The others would no doubt be in danger. Before he could set off to search for anyone, the sound of a blaster nearby drew his attention. A man was making his way towards Jasper's general direction, leaving behind the body of a young Jedi he didn't recognize.
"Oh," Jasper began with a frown. "I guess I'm doing this now."
Jasper didn't try to hide from the man. He was, after all, a man of action... so long as that didn't involve much speaking. The duelist drew his lightsaber, standing down the imperial.
"Hey you!" Jasper snapped. "Not a step further!"
There were many ways to get into the head of an opponent. Bold openings usually resulted in bold responses.
A formidable weapon of mass destruction has been unleashed upon the battlefield, cutting through the battle lines of both fleets with its indiscriminate power and morphing the battlefield into a display of slagged vessels and floating debris. Dying vessels from both sides hurtle towards the planet itself, lighting the crystal skies of Ilum for the thousands still on the ground in a display that could only be described as apocalyptic to the eyes.
Despite the incalculable damage done upon not only the Alliance, but the Empire's vessels themselves, fleet sensors across the alliance report that the weapon is in the process of being primed to fire once more. It is a race against time for the fleets of the Alliance to regroup and destroy the weapon, and for the Imperials, it is paramount that an unsurmountable defense is mounted against the impending response to the chaos unleashed. Regroup amidst the destruction, and rejoin the battle once more within the graveyard of steel that now serves as the battlefield in the void.
"If you've finally stopped running," the giant Mando said, "Shall we have a proper fight?"
And here's another dolt. She tilted her head, regarding the Mandalorian mercenary with prim disgust. Even standing on a particularly large chunk of ice, he was still taller than her. He cut an intimidating figure, as large as he was - at least, she assumed that was his intention- bristling with weapons and armor, a wicked vibro-axe in either hand.
But Sola was not intimidated. Everyone was bigger than her, though perhaps not by such a large margin. A big man, however, made for a big target. The gaps in his armor were more like gaping maws. Inner elbow, armpit, inner knee, wrist, ankle- all were vulnerable, even if the rest of him might've been a tank.
"Proper? Are you serious?" She scoffed. "You're over twice my height and easily ten times as wide, and you're armored in beskar." She pulled her saber from her belt, settling into a loose stance. The engines on her jet boots whined, melting the snow beneath her feet, but she held still, holding off on engaging them. She breathed in deeply. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.
Her yellow blade flared to life, casting a soft golden glow across the snow. "Maybe if there were two of you," she said, flourishing her blade in a Makashi salute, "this would be a proper fight."
Hundreds of icicles, some of them as large as Grendel, hung like fangs from the roof of the cavern. There were a few thick columns of ice spaced around the cave, and a thin chasm ran from one corner of the room to the other, through which only darkness could be seen. Sola stood on one side of the small chasm- no more than a few feet across- and her opponent on the other. Behind her, a raised shelf of ice led to a another tunnel.
GENERAL RIDOR 222ND NOVA CORPS| 512TH LEGION | 312 ATTACK BATALLION ILUM | DRILL SITE | NORTH POINT MINING AREA
Gabe was in battle. Of course the boy was. When had someone with Pryce blood ever run and hid in the face of danger?
Bloody brilliant. The Imperials launch an attack while her Padawan is on a field trip with his training sabre.
Sion was helpful, but it was straining him. His senses were running so wild he couldn’t manage the foresight to dodge a plasma beam heading straight for them. And the mention of another, heavier, dark presence in his scope made her frown deeply. She tried to look in the direction he seemed to be staring out into, but the blizzard obscured her vision.
“I sense it too.”
Worse still, a great disturbance rumbled through the skies above. Ilum itself seemed to groan in anticipation. Loud enough that someone as obtuse to the sensitivities of the empyrean as Osarla was could feel it.
With that, Gabe’s stress, and the feeling of a Sith Lord, all of the Master’s concern focused on her student. But coddling the boy would do him no good, and there was no time for it either. Throw him in and hope he floats, Osarla instructed herself firmly.
But not so thrown in that he'd have to face another Sith Lord. He wasn't ready for that again. Not so soon after Empress Teta. She would stay.
“Centre yourself, Padawan.” Osarla encouraged and made a hand gesture that pointed over Sion’s shoulder. On her three-fingered point, three of her men plunged forward to station themselves at the mouth of the cavern, back to the walls, and point their defences to cover the trajectory the Jedi would travel.
“Focus on Padawan Pryce. Find him.”
Her shoulders drew taut beneath her armour, and she rose to her full height. All of it, and fixed her sight squarely in the direction Sion had reported the Sithy feeling from.
Operation: Black Ice
The Empire
The Hallowed Scar, Ilum
Primary Objective: Survive Ambush, Return to Convoy & Provide Armored Support to Imperial Elements Friendlies: The Empire | Michael Barran
| Bex Tarring
| Orik Dakari
| Open For More Hostiles: Galactic Alliance | Kelly T. Perris | Open For More Directly Engaging: Open Gear:In Bio
Elements of the 181st Armored Division, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Company, 3rd Platoon
XT-62 MBTb ‘331’ | Charlie 3-1 | [Command Tank]
XT-62 MBTb ‘332’ | Charlie 3-2 | Forward Recon
XT-62 MBTb ‘333’ | Charlie 3-3 |
XT-62 MBTb ‘334’ | Charlie 3-4 | Forward Recon | [Crew Alive & Conscious; Radio Station Moderately Damaged | RWS Rendered Unoperational | Turret Ring Jammed Due to IED’s Overpressure | Right Track Destroyed, Immobilized]
Following a short lived sharp whistle, quite distinct amidst the gun reports from the Alliance troopers who beset the pair of tanks on the frozen path, the ear splitting rending of metal would shortly be drowned out by the subsequent thunderous roar of a HEAT round striking the upper glacis of ‘332’s frontal armor. Yet another round failed to penetrate through their armor. Though their armor held, the nerves of the young, and somewhat inexperienced crew strained with each round striking and shaking the tank.
<”KARKIN’ ASSHOLES!”> The driver, no older than twenty, shouted in despair; his voice trilled with deep apprehension. Being the assigned driver to their tank, he had no choice but to sit tight at his seat and look out of his driver’s viewport and watch the events unfold. The young lad recoiled back in his seat with the occasional blaster round striking the armored glass of his viewport.
Their armor held, but for how long!?
Although this was not their first ever baptism of fire, never before had they found themselves in such a situation before during their time of service; by themselves, cut off from the rest of their unit and forced to hold their ground, refusing to leave their comrades in the confines of ‘334’ behind.
Despite the odds stacked against them, the crew continued to hold their ground as long as possible, firmly believing they would not be abandoned to their fate, and a friendly unit or two were enroute to get them out of this mess; the remote controlled heavy repeater on the roof of the turret vibrantly thrummed with each pull of the trigger. Controlling the RWS from the panel in front of him as he shouted gunnery commands for his gunner and loader, the young TC gave his all to prevent the GADF troops from closing in, prioritizing the biggest threat among them first and foremost; the anti-tank gunners.
<”UP, MOTHERKARKER!”> Stege shouted at the top of his lungs; the gun breech of the main cannon closed shut following a series of metallic clatters after inserting the selected shell into its breech.
<”NEXTTARGETNEXTTARGET! RIGHT, RIGHT, RIIIIIGHT!”> The crew made haste to line up another shot at the infantry up on the ridge to their immediate left, following the one before. <”OOON!”> Kenth shouted, seeing the gunner’s sights holding over the intended target at the crest of the ridge; a two man anti-tank team.
<”IDENTIFIED! ON THE W-”> Hall shouted, one moment away from pulling back the trigger mechanism on the gunner sticks in his firm grasp but just as he was about to open fire with the cannon, the targets dipped down; the pair of silhouettes disappeared from his line of sight. <”OBSTRUCTED!”> switching to coaxial again to save the shell for a larger concentration of targets that would ideally number more than a single trooper, the young lad hissed in frustration between his clenched teeth as he shifted the turret leftwards of the disappearing targets, scanning the crest of the ridge for another contact to take out as blaster bolts kept slamming onto the tank from all sides.
Although small arms fire had no hopes of penetrating their armor, the troopers were focusing down on damaging or otherwise destroying modules that could be damaged with small arms fires, such as the RWS and targeting the crew’s viewports to prevent them from getting better eyes on them.
With concentrated blaster rifle and light repeater fire alike, it did not take long for the ambushing opposition force to wither down TC’s remote controlled weapon system; the gun no longer responded to his controls, with its thermal camera torn to pieces not long after the gun fell silent. <”FOR KARK SAAAKE!”> the man slammed his fist over the console before his helmet visor in defeat.
But that would not be the last of their troubles they would have to endure and try to survive. The howling engines of a fighter craft flew past them in the air. Checking for his screen, the man’s eye twitched nervously as he saw no reports of friendly fighter craft reported over their position.
It was an enemy pilot that buzzed past them!
Not knowing, and unable to see clearly from either his eight viewports on the commander’s hatch, or his panoramic periscope on the turret’s roof to ascertain the number of enemy bandits in the air, or whether they were coming in for an attack run on their position, the radio station crackled to life, pulling his attention from the bandit in the skies of Ilum; his pleas for help were answered!
Quickly yanking the handset from the radio station beside him, the man raised it to the side of his helmet, firmly pressing down onto the push to talk key with his thumb. <”Bravo Eight, Charlie Three Two! you’re a sight for sore eyes! We’re trying to hold them back but they’re everywhere!”> The man spoke with a slightly more calmer tone as he looked out of his commander’s viewports. Witnessing several troopers climbing onto their comrades’ tank nearby, a chill ran down his spine as his eyes widened. They were reaching for their turret hatches, with grenades in their grasp; he primed thermal detonators in their hands flashed red! <”HALL TRAVERSE LEEEFT! THEY’RE CLIMBING ONTO THEIR TANK!”> the man's calm demeanor was swept away at the sight of the troops so close to them and their brothers-in-arms inside the other tank.
Wordlessly complying without wasting a moment, the young lad swung the turret around towards the friendly tank; firmly squeezing the trigger on the gunner sticks, the coaxial heavy repeater howled with a long, ear splitting salvo, slowly rotating the turret from one target to the other that had managed to climb onto their friends’ tank; tearing limb from limb and leaving gaping, see-through blaster wounds, the red blaster bolts that missed their mark glanced off harmlessly from the tank’s thick armor, trailing into the sky.
Denied the opportunity to completely decommission their friends’ tank by chucking grenades down the hatches, the primed thermal detonators rolled onto the frozen ground from their grasp, detonating mere moments after once their fuzes eventually burned down. Kicking up snow in the wake of the series of inevitable detonations, the men who could lay eyes on the tank would heave a brief sigh of relief as the snow settled and allowed them sight once again; their friends were alright.
Denied the moment to acknowledge the report incoming from the friendly element as they relieved pressure off of them put onto them by enemy infantry, they were faced with a newer threat, approaching them from a distance.
The thunderous roar of engines in the distance would force them to shift their attention away from their comrades for the moment, however, as a new, and much more dangerous threat emerged. Turning his panoramic periscope towards the source of the engine sounds, demanding his attention, it did not take long for the young crewman to shout for his gunner to bring the turret to bear.
<”GUNNER! HEAT! TAAAAANK! LEFTLEFTLEFTLEFTLEEEEFT!”> The man ordered in panic as he watched the turret of a Terenta Pattern Main Battle Tank turning towards him in horror, roughly three hundred yards to their south-east.
Turning to point their frontal armor to meet the new threat, the vehicle turned at the same time as the turret, slowing down the turret’s traverse noticeably until the tank came to a halt. <”FIREFIRE SABOOOOT!”> Placing the sights on the intended target from the approaching armored platoon of the enemy, the young lad switched from the coaxial repeater with the flick of a switch from the fire control system panel before him before pulling the trigger.
<”ON THE WAAAAAY!”> the gun breech recoiled back violently at the pull of the trigger; <”TARGEEEET!”> Kenth shouted as he observed the shot through his periscope; but it did not stop the massive, tall armored behemoth from continuing to lurch towards them. <”SHOOTHIMSHOOTHIM, SHOOTHIMAGAIN!”> the TC sputtered with panic over the comlink as he stared down the barrel of the hostile tank’s gun through his periscope now; the spent 120mm shell slid out of the breech and fell into the basket underneath with a metallic, echoing tang. Hurriedly turning around, Stege reached for a SABOT round from the ready rack behind him for the follow up shot.
Revenge came out of hyperspace alongside the rest of the 11th Flotilla. We’d been rushing to join the growing battle for three days, and had finally arrived.
My expression remained firm and calm. To the crew, or an outside observer, I appeared as a calm pool of water, still and clear. Underneath the surface though, the current was racing. How had it come to this? Two former allies, fighting each other now even as greater threats loomed. And now there were rumors that the treacherous Imperials had begun to develop the same planet-killers as the Maw.
“Helm, take the line to the left flank. We’ll attack from there.”
Nodding at the Helmsman's acknowledgement, I turned my attention back to the data flowing into the Revenge’s screens. All along the line, fighting had already broken out. The 11th Flotilla wasn’t yet engaged of course, only part of the stream of Alliance Reinforcements. A large build up of energy had been detected from within the Imperial fleet…One suspiciously like other energy signatures from battles fought years ago…
My eye widened in horror as I realized what was about to happen. I’d witnessed it firsthand before. The devastation of such a weapon.
“Maximum speed, Now! Move away from the rest of the fleet!”
Knots formed in my gut as the 11th Flotilla turned with all possible haste. Slowly, all too slowly, things were moving. As though time had slowed down. The steady hammering in my chest matched the dull and distant noise of blood flowing through my own ears. Shouts, alarms and movement blurred together, each while seeming totally clear and distinct. Each moment was one we could be in the path of the weapon, each second could be out last each--
Then it fired. Klaxons blared and Revenge shook. I winced, though it was hardly as bright as the terrible red beam of annihilation at Csilla. The Revenge’s bridge went dark. The tactical displays faded to oblivion. And then, there was a moment of silence. Stunned bridge members looked around in the sudden black, a couple beginning to reach for light sources. Many didn’t dare to breathe. Finally, I was able to force sound from my lips.
“I want to know what just happened, and why.” Firm and cold, the words were sharpened by an additional “Now.”
“Sir,” A lieutenant sheepishly spoke up. “We weren’t clear. I…I transferred all power to shields.”
“How? Nevermind that, how long until we have enough power to find out how the rest of the line fared?”
“That might take a couple minutes, sir.” Another officer spoke up this time. “But the reactor crews should already be working on it. The doors won’t open, and we don’t have communication with the rest of the ship.”
Damned.
“Lieutenant, if you’ve doomed us all to suffocate, I’m stringing you up first.”
Of course, if he hadn’t he’d be up for a medal at the end of this.
Slowly, power returned and communications were restored. Two ships weren’t answering hails, and another was heavily damaged. I gave out orders for it to have its strike craft transfer to the rest of the fleet while it searched for survivors from the other two. The rest of the flotilla would have to make do.
Moving quickly, I could only hope the Imperial Flank wasn’t heavily defended…
Silas threw caution to the wind and sprinted towards Lily fearlessly, even when his partner was adamant about them working together. He threw that to the back of his mind when his lightsaber made contact with her shield, his teeth gritting and looking at her as she spoke. Silas wasn't able to react until her gun smacked straight into his gut "UGH!" he breathed out while stumbling back, a hand quickly going to the spot she hit. He slowly leaned back up and took a deep breath, the lightsaber slowly extended out before him.
"Today will not be our downfall..."
Kara was right, if they wanted to survive this they all needed to work together. These weren't regular troops, these were well seasoned killers who didn't care for who they stepped on as long as the fulfillment of the empire was achieved. Somehow, someway, Kara and Silas and the rest of the padawans need to drive them back. Steadily, he began to approach the trooper again, dead staring the woman through her visor as he tried to control his emotions.
<<Kara... we need to drive them back and hold them off until help arrives. Any ideas would be handy!">>
With a loud grunt, he jumped at the trooper and thrust at her chest first before swinging a multitude of strikes at her midsection and legs to try and drive her back to the ledge. In their previous meeting, Silas could sense doubt in the woman when she gave her a choice, if he used that against her it was possible she could create mistakes for him to capitalize on
"You are conflicted... I could sense it on New Alderann and I can sense it now!"
He looked over his shoulder to the stately boulder that was his Master.
"Master? I... are you certain you don't need me to watch your back?" His first Master had died protecting him. What if Osarla died here too? He would never forgive himself, if he could have helped her, save her somehow.
"Not this time. Gabe needs you more."
I don't even know Gabe. The petulant part of him wanted to respond. He knew it was unfair, knew that to be Jedi meant protecting everyone and sometimes it meant leaving those you care about behind. Because others needed the assistance more. It didn't make it any easier and Ridor would see that struggle flash over the expression of her Padawan.
But then-
"Of course, Master. Stay safe, please." As if he wasn't talking to a battle-tested Jedi Master who could easily hold her own against most opponents. But that was trauma for you.
He quickly stepped away and then towards the hole that the three soldiers created on the orders of Ridor. "Thank you, soldiers." A quick nod to them all before he jumped into the deep. Figuratively anyway, since this was going to be more a steep hill to climb. As he strode deeper into the caverns, towards the erratic presence of Gabriel, Sion couldn't help but blink.
Then looked up towards the rocky ceiling.
Why did it feel... familiar somehow?
"Keep your head in the game, Sion... Gabriel needs you." Sion reminded himself as he unclipped his lightsaber. It was getting darker now as the gunfight behind him started to deafen out. The familiar snaphiss bathed the cavern into sudden blue light. Shadows creeping away from the hue as he made his way deeper in.
"Oh... I am ready. Are you? Do you have the resolve to face down those threatening this operation? I sincerely hope so," She remarked with a slight smile, seizing up the other knight with her intense glare as she deciphered the mystery that was Rakaan. Sahar noticed that something had snapped, something had been broken, and it brought her much joy knowing that the Jedi within had indeed died and been replaced by a more powerful being.
Her question was cut short by the arrival of several Alliance-marked craft and the accompanying sounds of fighting and blaster fire; Sahar looked back to Rakaan one last time as she moved to the edge of the platform.
"See you on the battlefield Knight."
And with that parting line, she threw herself off the platform with her cloak flailing in the wind, giving her the appearance of a vulture descending down on prey below. Then, landing deftly on the snow-clad ground, the Kandaran knight rose to her feet and threw her cloak to the side, revealing two sabers on each side of her belt and the ceremonial black jagged armour she'd come to wear ever since Rurik had blessed her ascension into the order.
And so it began.
Sahar was an artist whose art was war, her saber her brush and the battlefield her canvas. A trade and artform perfected in the dark pits of Bastion under the tutelage of the knights and Rurik herself. Ilum was no different; the only difference was that she was in the Jedi's own backyard.
The first of many came, a foolish soldier full of bravado or foolishness firing at her as she closed in, Sahar ignited her silver saber and then ignited the other, a purple saber taken from the severed hand of a Jedi. And almost as if predicted, in perfect unison, she deflected the blaster bolts back at the soldier and his friends, sending several outright slumping to the ground as their blaster bolts hit them square in the chest or face.
"Mhmmph."
She hated blasters, a weaklings weapon; where was the honour or pleasure in seeing your enemy die a distance away, close and personal was better; at least then you could see the life go out in their eyes. Using the force as a boost, Sahar launched herself forward into the mass of alliance soldiers, cutting and hacking heads and limbs apart as she furiously cut down any and all she came across. She turned to her Kandaran soldiers behind her, screaming in her mother tongue for her countrymen to take the fight directly to the alliance soldiers.
-"TAKE THE FIGHT TO THEM O FEDAYEEN."-
Her soldiers roared in response, violently surging into the snow-clad wasteland, Vibro blades in hand and blasters in the other as they engaged the enemies in brutal hand-to-hand combat or close-quarters firefights using the cover of the ragged landscape. Sahar pushed forward with her men at her side as she moved to fight the enemy. She threw her saber into the chest of an enemy, pinning him against a boulder as she threw out her free hand and clenched her fist, using the force to collapse a structure down on alliance soldiers in the vicinity. Now deprived of her sabers, Sahar withdrew a vibro blade, moving to block the clumsy swing of a rifle butt as she swerved to the side and stuck her knife deep into the soft, unprotected side of a trooper, carving through the tunic and deep into his flesh. Though the soldier wore a protective mask, a muffled scream could be heard as Sahar repeatedly stabbed him in the side before grabbing him by the shoulder and throwing him in the direction of her men so they could finish him off. Her knife found purchase in the belly of another soldier, and she stuck in the chest to finish him off as he crumpled into the blood-red snow, Sahar turned to face another and slashed him across the face, rending the cheek open as it gushed blood and the man fell in agony clutching at his face.
Sahar used the force to pull her sabers to her as she made her way through the sea of melee and chaos, searching for the Jedi she'd so wanted to kill. But he wasn't here in this melee, but she sensed his presence; how could she not. They were once whole, now two opposites, one on the losing side and the other fighting for purity and peace in the galaxy. And she knew where she stood. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a frigate descending from the desolate skyline, crashing below and sending man and buildings flying and breaking; she used a force shield just in time as the shock wave hit her. In the dust and aftermath of the crash, Sahar looked ahead, where a fierce melee once took place, now lay fire, ash and gore as the survivors collected themselves and threw themselves at each other in the wreckage-strewn wasteland. She smirked viciously to herself, realising that a path had been created for her, she sensed him now; she saw him as the smoke cleared, stood there with others all high and mighty. Sahar scowled intensely and turned her attention to an abandoned tank, converted for digging up the Ilum soil, where a turret once stood was a giant digger tool. She pulled herself to the drivers seat, turning on the tanks engine and pushing the steering handle forward down the hill full bore towards Dagon Kaze, Sahar intended to send both Kaze and the digger tank crashing down into the trench with her.
"Can't believe these rules of engagement." His voice came through the voice modulator. "But I suppose these aren't exactly the guys we were made to take down. Just going to be hard taking them alive."
"I know what you mean buddy." He replied, a cloud of his breath forming around his mouth as he spoke. "But the rules are the rules." Tiric was fully aware that the objective the ROE that had come along with it was going to make his job a thousand times mor difficult. Most people didn't like being held captive. Tiric didn't imagine an Imperial Knight for that matter would be any different. Fishing through his pockets with one free hand, he brought up a miniaturized holoprojector, a flickering image of a green-skinned, blonde haired being, the tattoos on their face leading Tiric to deduce that this person was likely of Mirialan extraction. Good to know.
Rifle sight raised back up to his eyes, he slowed down to a steady march, the torch attached to the barrel gradually illuminating the way, still leaving part of it dark, the dimness creating an eerie atmosphere. Spooky, he thought to himself, nodding at Dominik's question. "We've got a bit of intel from scouts that they've seen an Imp Knight near to our destination." He handed over the holoprojector to the group's weapons expert, squeezing himself through a tight fit as they approached a much wider corridor.
Then a pinging sound. It rang and bounced around the chipped and rugged walls, the acoustics amplifying the sound into an echo. Tiric rolled up the sleeve of his insulating base layer and peered down at his vambrace, a small red light flashing aggressively. It could only mean one thing. Tiric made a few quick hand signals to the group. He raised a close fist, signaling them to halt and pushed his hand down palm facing to the ground to signal them to crouch. The commando then put a hand to his ears, and raised his arm vertically, moving his fingers in to the shape of a gun, indicating that he wanted small arms and rifle fire only.
The silence was deafening. He guessed the troops that would soon be approaching were returning from the mining operation and wouldn't be too happy to see them. Flicking off the torch, he let the holographic sight of his new weapon do all the work as he waited for the dogs of war to reveal themselves.
While whisps of hesitation in fighting children slithered through the steel-hardened hearts of the rest SCAR troopers, Sarge's fury at the Jedi Order was only fueled further. These kids reminded him of his own self, many years ago in a world he called home. A backwater planet ruled by dukes who hosted an annual gladiatorial game in the woods for the lower class simply for their own pleasure. And while they drank their wine and placed their bets in sick laughter, Sarge had buried his brother at nine, sister at twelve, and both parents at fifteen.
Until the day he saw his first stormtrooper.
The wine dried out in the slit throats of the dukes.
Such would be the fate of the Jedi Order when the long hand of the Empire inevitably reached it.
Lifting his vambrace up Sarge fired a high-explosive missile above the Jedi's heads. Chunks of rocks rained upon the padawans before a loud groan pierced the tumult of battle -- a massive boulder broke free and tumbled down to splatter them.
"Maybe if there were two of you, this would be a proper fight." said the Jedi
Grendel let out a loud and deep guttural laugh that seemed to shake the cavern, the kid certainly had spirit he had to give her that. Beginning to charge which was slow and ponderous to start with Grendel started to pick up speed and with each step ice and stone would crack beneath each thunderous stomp. Activating his jet pack at the last possible moment for a sudden burst of speed and completely stepping over the thin chasm, Grendel struck the ground at an angle with one of his vibro-axes to kick up a hail of ice and stone shards and brought the other vibro-axe down like a sledge hammer towards the Jedi in hopes of dealing with the Jedi fast. Grendel really didn't want to deal with any force shenanigans.
