Mission Operation Clarion

[The Arkanian]

OPERATION CLARION

TAG: Aram Kalast
GEAR: Purge Trooper Loadout

The 709th Legion’s briefing room buzzed with conversation.

“Quiet down, listen up.”

An intelligence analyst moved to the front of the briefing room. The room was crowded with special warfare troopers. The Arkanian did not recognize most of them.

“As you know, this will be a straight forward snatch and grab raid. The target is Gideon Deed, a former Galactic Empire bureaucrat in their research and development division who managed to siphon off funds from the Empire just before its collapse. He fled and has been off the grid. Until now.”

“He’s going under a new identity of Jas Kell and is living in a penthouse of this asteroid way station, K-249. K-249 is a transit hub for shipping and cargo. It has a casino and a hotel inside. Gideon Deed is in that hotel. There will be civilians present. HUMINT sources indicate he has a number of highly trained bodyguards, including at least two Sunguards from Thyrsus and one Dark Jedi, powers unknown.”

“You will infiltrate in a simple cargo freighter with a sixteen-man team drawn from every branch.”

That explained all the Storm Commandos, Death Troopers, and why the Arkanian was also tapped for this operation.

One of the Death Troopers scratched at his chin.

“Naval support?”

The intel analyst nodded curtly, “Yes, a stealthed corvette will be in cloaked orbit around the station. We do not anticipate that ground control have CGTS capabilities so that corvette should remain undetected until exfil. A four-wing of TIEs will be on standby to sortie for close air support for egress after capture of the target. It’s imperative he be taken alive so that we can turn him over to ISB for interrogation on the location of the stolen funds.”

“While you’re inside the hotel, the only support will be the forward turbolaser battery. The station’s defensive shielding can’t withstand a double salvo and a single burst would penetrate the station far enough to eliminate any substantive resistance. However, you only get one call for fire. Repeat fire risks cracking the entire asteroid station open.”

The Arkanian grunted. It had been a while since he had done something so classically straightforward as this body snatch. But these type of missions could become complex quickly, especially with a Dark Jedi involved. The Arkanian cleared his throat, “The Dark Jedi, is there Underworld involvement?”

“Potentially. The station is a known narcotics trafficking waypoint.”

The Arkanian chewed the inside of his cheek. Another variable.

“If traffickers become a problem, eliminate them. Any questions?”
​

 

[Lyra Ventor]

The Arkanian Nixie Voidskipper Aram Kalast

Lyra had remained quiet through most of the briefing, standing near the back of the crowded room where she could watch without being watched too closely. The special warfare troopers around her carried themselves with the easy confidence of people used to this kind of work, their presence defined by the heavy weight of armor, the lethality of their weapons, and a mindset fixed on ground objectives where extraction routes were measured in tight corridors and overlapping kill zones.

It was not her world.

She listened anyway, committing every detail to memory with the same mechanical precision she applied to complex star charts or engine schematics. She cataloged the variables as they were presented: the layout of the asteroid station, the unpredictable nature of the civilian presence, the limitations of the defensive shielding, and the narrowness of the single available strike window. However, it was the mention of the TIE support held in reserve that finally snagged her focus.

Her posture straightened instinctively as the analyst opened the floor for questions, and Lyra hesitated for only a fraction of a second before speaking. Her voice was clear enough to cut through the low murmur of the room, pitched with a professional neutrality that remained entirely absent of challenge.

"Yes, sir."

Several heads turned toward the younger pilot, eyes scanning her with varying degrees of curiosity or skepticism, but she ignored them entirely.

"You mentioned a four-wing of TIEs positioned on standby to provide close air support during the egress phase," she continued, her gaze remaining fixed on the analyst with a steady, unwavering focus. "I would like to clarify exactly what my assigned role will be within that specific part of the operation."

There was no trace of arrogance in her inquiry, only the cold practicality of a pilot who functioned best when the parameters were defined.

"Should I be prepared for an escort screen, an immediate interceptor response to hostile scrambles, or am I providing direct extraction cover while the rest remain in reserve?"

She folded her hands loosely behind her back, careful to maintain a composed exterior while she fought to suppress the genuine spark of eagerness that was beginning to thrum beneath her skin.

"Since this will be my first mission under the direct command of the First Order, I believe it would be most efficient to know exactly where I am expected to be useful before we begin the launch sequence."

The last line was delivered simply, stripped of any unnecessary theatrics or posturing. Yet, beneath the disciplined calm of her tone, there was something far sharper and hungrier. She was tired of the cold silence of the briefing room; she wanted to feel the kick of the engines and the liberation of the open sky, driven by a desperate, quiet need to prove to everyone in the room that she belonged exactly where she was.

 

[FN-999 (restored)]

Tags: The Arkanian | Lyra Ventor | First Order

FOV VILNIUS
TWO SYSTEMS AWAY FROM WAYSTATION K-249

Amidst the glow of the blue giant star, FN-999 stood solemn vigil.
​

Two systems away, the First Order’s best covert operatives were preparing to infiltrate an asteroid space station, defeat a trio of deadly bodyguards, and make off with a money-laundering ex-Imperial official. It would be the ultimate test of the special forces: while records indicated they had performed admirably in the pacification of Zakuul, they had worked only to complement the main effort launched by standard ground forces. Here, it was the storm commandos that formed the bulk of the fighting force, and no reinforcements would be immediately forthcoming.

“What is the status of the strike team?” asked the silver-clad general, turning to face the ship’s captain.

The captain, a reed-thin, middle-aged man, turned to address one of his officers, their murmurs indecipherable to FN-999’s ears. After a few seconds, the captain turned back to the general.

“Our contacts tell me they're concluding their briefing in the next few minutes.” responded the man. “The mission will commence not long after."

“Very well.” remarked FN-999. “Then I shall wait before delivering my remarks."

In his youth, the general had been in similar briefings more times than he could count. Therefore, he knew firsthand that it was essential that every voice in the task force be heard and understood before he delivered his final remarks. It was through extensive communication and inquiry that effective squads could be formed, where trust was a given and each soldier knew the other had their back even if they were not always in perfect agreement.

He could only hope that everyone would get along well enough to begin building an effective team.
​

 

[The Arkanian]

"Should I be prepared for an escort screen, an immediate interceptor response to hostile scrambles, or am I providing direct extraction cover while the rest remain in reserve?"

“There is the possibility that when the strike team goes hot the station will launch a small fighter response. We anticipate TIE uglies and some small armed freighters. Nothing you can’t handle.”

The analyst cleared his throat.

“If that occurs we expect you to eliminate the hostiles and maintain space superiority so our freighter can egress. That includes precision strikes on any surface emplacements.”

 

[Alessandra Sylaar]

Alessandra stood to the side. She wasn't very familiar with military briefings, but what she did know was that input from 'civilians' was rarely welcome. She already knew her role in things; if that Sith made an appearance, they needed someone who could match them. Despite her youth, she felt supremely confident in her training, especially under her father's tutelage.

She wore nondescript black armor bereft of any rank insignia but manufactured to a much higher standard than line infantry equipment. Her helmet hung from a hook on her belt, peridot eyes slowly sweeping the room, inspecting her new comrades. Her father had trained her for missions just such as this, and her heart burned with the desire to finally get to strike back against the forces of Chaos in the galaxy. Some renegade scientist had managed to scuttle away and hide in the darkness like a cockroach, counting his credits and hiding out on a rock somewhere.

Truthfully, his crimes didn't much matter to her; that his retrieval was commanded was enough. She'd chafed at her enforced isolation, held back by things like fear of discovery and her father's protectiveness. It was finally time to step out from his shadow and show the First Order what she had to offer.

She finally cleared her throat, lifting her chin to indicate a question. "What of witnesses?" She paused for a moment, then clarified, "Should we attempt to avoid leaving a trace, or do we want them to know we've taken their rogue scientist?"

Her fingers idly trailed along the ornate hilt of the lightfoil at her hip, taking a moment to tighten the strap on her shield emitter vambrace. She lacked the self-awareness to recognize her own nervous movements.

 

[The Arkanian]

"Should we attempt to avoid leaving a trace, or do we want them to know we've taken their rogue scientist?"

“Calling Gideon Deed a scientist is generous,” the analyst replied, grimacing. “He’s a rogue bureaucrat with a combination to a bank vault we need. That’s all.”

He sniffed.

“As for witnesses. Let them. Let them witness the First Order’s overwhelming military might and whisper of who might be next.”

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra gave a single, sharp nod as the analyst clarified the assignment.

Space superiority. Hostile interceptors. Surface emplacements if needed.

The parameters were clean, stripped of the clutter that usually muddied ground operations. Once the strike team went hot, the sky became her sole responsibility. She would keep the lane open, remove anything that threatened extraction, and ensure their people made it home.

That was work she understood.

Her hands folded neatly behind her back as she settled into a practiced stillness. Her expression remained neutral, though a quiet current of anticipation moved beneath the surface. Around her, the troopers focused on corridors, breaching points, and bodyguards, but Lyra's mind was already elsewhere.

She thought in vectors and launch windows. She calculated weapons ranges and the exact moment poorly maintained uglies would break under pressure.

Her gaze lowered briefly to the deck plating, her mind already tracing imaginary pursuit routes through the asteroid station's approach lanes. Then, she lifted her head and waited with the rest of them to be released.

The Arkanian