Imperial's Best
Operatives:
ENEMY UNITS: Coalition of Criminal Gangs "The Sixers"
THEATER: CORUSCANT JOINT CSF/IMPERIAL OPERATION SMOKESTACK
FRIENDLY CV: NUMERICALLY INFERIOR, UNKNOWN TERRAIN
ENEMY TCV: COMMAND AND CONTROL VULNERABILITY, LACK OF TRAINING,
OBJECTIVE: REINFORCE FRIENDLY UNITS AT THEATER
Twenty-Six Minutes Ago
Coruscant by a recent estimate had a population of nearly four trillion people.
And hundreds of thousands of Coruscant Security Force troops. And with the collapse of the Alliance, security with the handover of the government to the Imperials was lacking in some sectors and some parts of the planet. In fact, in some parts of Coruscant, there was practically no government seen for months, since the Alliance was routed from the planet. This created a gap- in military terms, for the enemy to exploit. The enemy being the criminality that the weakened Alliance allowed to fester in their hellscape of control. And it wasn't much, by galactic or even planetary sectors. About six square miles and a couple tens of thousands citizens were under and living with the Sixers infesting their neighborhood and lives. By Coruscant standards, that wasn't much. But for the Empire, it was an affront to their mantra. And for Sid, it was personal. It was why he volunteered for the mission, after all.
The Sixers were estimated to be close to a thousand, a few more than that probably. They were called that because of their level of occupation- 1166. Double sixes. They started out controlling gambling, and it spiraled from there. And unchecked and untested, it only grew. Every vice and every illegality was at their disposal. It gave them money. They bought weapons. They bought recruits. They bought mercenaries. And they grew. They wanted more.
The Empire would put a stop to it. They were the law. They were order. They had citizens to protect, rules to enforce, an Empire to establish.
And tolerance for the guilty was injustice to the victim.
Sid tapped his helmet, black and sleek, as his team approached the dropsite. A message flashed across the HUDs of all the Stormtroopers and Operatives attached to the mission.
Operation Smokestack was a resounding, critical success in the early stages of the operation. The roughly company-sized element of Troopers had more or less massacred the entirety of the Sixers main leadership. No trials. No courts. No arrests. Just action, pure result. They would not worm their way through the court system. The CSF would not bungle with evidence and trials and juries. The Empire knew only efficiency and valued it even moreso. And death to traitors and to underminers was a sure way to enact peace and control. All other measures were foolish and without merit. They were guilty. They were punished. And their punishment was death. They had no business in the Empire's society. They had no place in it. Not in a mine, not in a field, nothing. They were beyond redemption. Beyond understanding of the Emperor's plan. They actively subversed it. So they suffered.
However- the Empire was soon overwhelmed, briefly. The Sixers, unbeknownst to the Empire due to a critical CSF intelligence leak, had called for backup from practically every criminal organization on Coruscant. Speeder after speeder, packed with gun-toting thugs, headed for their location. The landing site and the shuttles were hit first, severely damaging one. The forward elements of the company were cut off from their escape and extraction-
And now had to wade through an army of enemies and criminals, out for blood and eager to prove to their Masters that they'd fight the Empire. And they foolishly, collectively thought that any losses the Empire would resound to not return or to not interfere with their operations.
They were wrong.
Because Lieutenant Berik and his platoon were cut off, yes.
They were outnumbered, yes.
They were being jammed on their radios and in their communications, yes.
They had no feasible way to get to the extraction point quickly, yes.
But the enemy forgot one thing:
This was the Empire. Wrath incarnate. The Galaxy trembled at their name, Sith and Jedi alike. There was simply no equal on the Galactic Stage. And Sid's troopers, and his compatriots were outgunned. But not outmatched. And certainly not outsmarted.
Present:
The street was tightly packed, the E-web at the end of the street, hastily set up, slinging blue bolts of hate and malice at the advancing column of troopers. Sid poked his head out from the corner, only for his helmet to be nearly shaved in half by a bolt. He tossed aside his broken helmet, leaned down, took aim with his rifle-
And fired a single well-placed shot at the charge pack of the emplaced E-web. The resulting explosion sent two mercenaries flying, and the barrel of the weapon pointing downward, silent. Sid motioned his troops to go forward. They were rapidly being encroached upon, by every angle. The enemy knew the territory- some did, some didn't. Which meant that there speed was security, not their defensive posture. The limited radio traffic he was able to discern told him that the landing site was quickly being attacked as well- though to what degree, and to what success on part of the enemy, he did not know. Sid rolled his hands over his weapon, pushing another charge pack in as he crossed the street, rifle and blaster rounds kicking up asphalt and concrete around him. He quickly slammed his body into the side of a building, not bothering to slow his momentum. He turned the corner again, a fireteam of them rushing the troopers.
And then the Sixers and friends found out first-hand what marksmanship, soldiering, and coordination meant when roughly two dozen troops all shot them at once. Well-placed shots to the torso and head, no fanfare, no spraying, nothing that they were used to. The Stormtroopers were cold and ruthless, efficient to the point of machinery. They were an enigma to the Sixers and their allies, something they had not faced before. CSF and the Alliance had not crossed paths with them more than cursory glances and some police work, they had not met a true military action. No doubt, that the Alliance true infantry shocktroop could handle them just the same. The Alliance did have the capability to enact real change, real justice on these people, and to properly secure their planets, the center of the galaxy even.
They refused to. The Empire did not. They sent the best, they sent the meanest, and they sent the most lethal. Sid was proud to be here. Some of his compatriots, Officers born of "higher stock" than him, turned their noses when the assignment came out. Sweep-up operations on Coruscant was beneath them, they thought. No, not to Sid. This was what the Empire was meant to do. Establish order. Bring peace and stability, and remove the problems of the galaxy with might and strength rather than words and meetings. No Jedi sensibilities of peace and emotions, no Senatorial bickering and debating, questions about ethics and morals. Just pure, cold, calculated murder of those that would dare subvert peace and order, and most importantly, the will of the Emperor.
The Emperor sent his troops forth to enact his wrath, to breathe fire on the enemy. And that's what they were doing. But they had to reconnect with their team, reposition, and then push back on the enemy. Being dead was no way to win a war.
OBJECTIVE ONE:
Make it to the shuttle extract site, link up with the other element, refit, reload, and break the enemy's attack. Make it through roughly three miles of the city to get back to the extract site safely. There are hundreds of them, swarming in every direction. Nowhere is safe. Moving quickly and moving fast is the only way these troops will stay alive.
OBJECTIVE TWO:
Defend the landing site from a massive swarm of enemies, from ground troops to speeders above. The CSF and other Imperial units are on their way- but with jamming and communication issues, they won't be there for some time. Hold out and hold fast, Trooper.
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