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

 

[Zeckane Harbum]

FIRST ORDER

OPERATION: CLARION
[REDACTED]
[REDACTED]

A classic...​

The only way that Zeckane could describe the troops assembled before him was...green.

Very, very green.

Sure, they were well equipped and outfitted, and by all accounts, they should do quite well in the upcoming battle. They had even been trained rather well for the mission, as Zeckane had made sure to do before sending them out to their possible doom. But, no amount of training could make up for experience, and Zeckane, despite his better judgement, had elected to go with the various troopers that were to assault the space station and capture the high value target. There were, of course, only a million different things that could possible go wrong. Zeckane was determined to minimize as many of them as he could.

That meant starting with weapons and equipment.

"This is the Model 216 Big Game Hunter", he began, taking the weapon off the table he was standing by. "It is a four gauge scattergun, firing 23mm shells. You only get four rounds before reloading, so make sure you make sure shots count. Remember to use buckshot as you go throughout the station to minimize the chance of any internal space station ruptures. She kicks like a Tauntaun in its death throes, but you can't beat the weapon on power, especially within the confines of the space station where you'll be operating."

Zeckane moved onto the next weapon.

"This is the BG-D 6 Outlaw", he continued. "It's a scaled down scattergun, like the Model 216, though you get six rounds instead of four. It works on on a double barreled rotating cylinder, as in you fire two shots and then the cylinder rotates. You get those two shots in rapid succession, but there is a slight delay between barrel rotation so keep that in mind. When the weapon is empty, you'll have to replace the whole barrel assembly, so use the weapon wisely."

Zeckane picked up the final weapon he was offering to the troops on this mission.

"This is the Mk III "Viper" Autoblaster. Think of it as a support weapon despite its small size. You can get a whopping 500 shots from one of these before they run dry, though each individual blaster bolt that they fire is rather individually weak. Good for suppression and handy in close quarters, you'll be hard pressed to find anything more useful for what we're getting into. Be aware that accidental discharges may occur if you bang or drop the weapon."

He looked up at the troops assembled before him.

"Any questions?"

TAGS:
The Arkanian
FN-999 (restored)
OPEN​

​

 

[Alessandra Sylaar]

Alessandra frowned at the equipment Zeckane was laying out, her hand resting on the hilt of her foil. After a momentary reluctance, she stepped forward, taking up one of the lighter Outlaw shotguns. She had done well in marksmanship and was familiar with shotguns, if not these ones in particular, but she had always found them... Boring. It was nothing compared to the rush of a well-fought duel.

On the other hand, she didn't want to be standing around like a potted plant while everyone else fought, hoping that the Sith would show themselves in an appropriate venue for a battle. She stepped aside with the shotgun, giving it a careful inspection as she had been trained, making sure that it was empty and collecting a couple of magazines. Everything went onto the attachment points of her armor, including a small blaster sidearm. She didn't expect to use it, but she had been trained well enough not to leave that to chance.

As she fiddled with the shotgun, she looked up at the Zeckane, clearly mulling over appropriate questions before settling on, "Is there anything I should be aware of, using this weapon inside of a station? You said the buckshot shouldn't pierce the walls, but is there anything else I should be aware of?" Ignorance is unbecoming, she reminded herself, but to act in ignorance is far worse.

She eyed the grenades thoughtfully, but recognized that her lack of experience would make them more of a liability than a useful weapon. Having secured her loadout, she stepped aside, lining up with the others who had done so.

She gave them a curious look-over as she waited, pulling on her helmet to mask her wandering eyes. Sensors assessed their weapons and armor, identifying and explaining their various... Many, many markings. Unit identifiers, badges, pins, Specialization tabs, specialist equipment... A dizzying array of capabilities all brought to bear. In a way, even she was just another Specialist in the First Order's service.

Unity of thought begets unity of action, her father's voice tickled the back of her mind.

Zeckane Harbum

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra had remained near the rear of the assembled group through most of the presentation, arms loosely folded as she watched Zeckane move from weapon to weapon with the practiced confidence of someone who had spent enough time around them to know exactly what each one could do to a body.

She understood ships. She understood engines, targeting systems, atmospheric drift, and the difference between a pilot who trusted their machine and one who merely occupied it.

This? This was another language entirely.

Her gaze moved over the scatterguns, the rotating cylinders, the autoblaster with its absurd ammunition count. Useful tools, no doubt, but they sat in front of her with the same emotional appeal as plumbing components.

Still, she listened.

The station environment mattered. Hull integrity mattered. Ricochets mattered. Fields of fire in confined corridors mattered. Those were variables she could appreciate, even if the weapons themselves did little for her.

When the others began selecting gear, Lyra stepped forward more slowly than most. She passed over the heavier shotgun without ceremony and studied the remaining options with narrowed eyes before finally taking up a compact sidearm and one of the lighter weapons more because she was expected to carry something than from genuine enthusiasm.

She checked the chamber the way she had been taught, deliberate and careful, then secured it to her harness with visible skepticism.

"If I may, sir."

Her voice carried cleanly enough through the room, respectful but direct.

"My primary assignment is still flight support once we launch. In the event we meet resistance before extraction, do you want me to preserve ammunition and stay with the formation, or treat this strictly as a path-to-the-hangar problem?"

There was a faint pause.

"I'd just prefer to know whether you need a pilot with a gun… or a pilot trying very hard to become infantry for ten minutes."

A few nearby troopers smirked despite themselves. Lyra seemed not to notice.

She adjusted the sling on the weapon, then stepped aside into line beside the others, helmet still tucked beneath one arm, her eyes moving once across the room as she quietly assessed the people she might soon trust with her life in a corridor she already hoped to leave behind.

Zeckane Harbum The Arkanian Alessandra Sylaar FN-999 (restored)

 

[Zeckane Harbum]

FIRST ORDER

OPERATION: CLARION
[REDACTED]
[REDACTED]

A classic...​

Zeckane had always adhered to the saying that "the only stupid questions were the ones that you didn't ask." He thought it truly a shame that others didn't, even if it meant potentially reducing risk or casualties taken during missions.

So he was pleasantly surprised to hear Alessandra Sylaar asking him for additional clarification. Smart. It would be soldiers like her who lasted the longest in this kind of business. Hell, she might even make it until retirement! Assuming that was something that the First Order allowed, of course. Zeckane turned to face her as he once again picked up the Model 216 Big Game Hunter that had lying on the table.

"As a matter of fact, there is", he responded. "These weapons here were selected to minimize the risk of accidental hull breaches. That being said...do not, I repeat, DO NOT under any circumstances shoot out any viewports that you come across. It's a tempting option, I'll give you that: you encounter a room full of hostiles, and you think to yourself, 'oh, I'll just shoot out the viewports behind them so that they all get sucked into space.' You'd be right to do so, of course, because all your enemies would be sucked out of the station and into the cold void of space...along with you and the rest of your squad members, naturally. And if you think that the emergency shutters will close behind the viewport once its broken, you would again be correct, though it wouldn't matter because you'd still be dead by the time they finished activating. It's a hell of a way to go, and if the lack of oxygen doesn't get you, the extreme lack of temperature or sudden depressurization certainly will. I wouldn't recommend it", Zeckane finished gravely, as if he were speaking from personal experience, because he was.

He then turned to answer Lyra Ventor and her query.

"Wouldn't that be a better question for your unit commander?", Zeckane asked her with a puzzled expression behind his helmet. "While I understand the notion of where you're coming from, enlisting pilots alongside naval infantry generally isn't something that's done unless your desperate, which last I checked, we certainly weren't. Your skills should be best utilized in the notion for which you trained, and losing a valuable asset like yourself over some additional infantry support just isn't worth it in my opinion. Then again, I'm not your unit commander, and its ultimately there decision as to where you end up. Check in with them."

Zeckane looked around once more to make sure there wasn't anyone or anything that he had missed.

"Any other questions?"

TAGS:
Alessandra Sylaar
Lyra Ventor
OPEN​

​

 

[Ashel de Stilico]

Ashel de Stilico, Stormtrooper Medic
Tags: Zeckane Harbum Alessandra Sylaar Lyra Ventor FN-999 (restored) The Arkanian

Complaining was one of Ashel’s favorite pastimes, it allowed her reprieve and a chance to feel like a normal person. So she had always made it a point to complain after receiving any of her new orders, even if it was just a few moments alone in her bunk. Unfortunately there hadn’t been the time to even utter a single expletive, she only accrued more tension in her shoulders as she was shipped out to meet up with her team and mission brief.

Ashel sighed gently, thankful for her helmet as well as her decision to always keep her medical go-bag ready. The others were from different branches of the military, distinctions that flew over her head but she understood Special Forces when she saw them. At the moment they were explaining the mission and showcasing different equipment for this “retrieval” mission.

She eyed the Viper and noted at how lightweight it would be, a suitable weapon. Ashel looked around but couldn’t really foresee the need for firing the weapon with the type of company present. She rolled her shoulders once and waited for their briefing to end.. Though Ashel fought herself from asking a clarifying question, as she figured it would be best to address while in the field as it were.

Ashel stood at the ready.

 

[FN-999 (restored)]

Tags: The Arkanian | Lyra Ventor | Alessandra Sylaar | Zeckane Harbum | Ashel de Stilico

FOV VILNIUS
TWO SYSTEMS AWAY FROM WAYSTATION K-249

It was time to address the squad.
​

A holoprojector near the center of the briefing room sprung to life, a blue-tinted holo of a towering man covered head to toe in silver armor standing before the special operations team. After a brief pause, he spoke.

[Greetings, soldiers.] began FN-999. [You are among the best soldiers our special forces have to offer, and your pedigrees are certainly impressive. However, this will be a new test for all of you. For many of you, this will be your first time working with your squadmates.]

[Furthermore, for all of you, this will be your first operation outside the reach of the First Order’s standard military forces. There will be no steady stream of reinforcements or fleets to be called upon in your aid. Until the mission is concluded, you are on your own.]

[The specifics of your mission profile should have already been debriefed to you, and I assume you need no further explanation. Once the mission is concluded, I will provide the coordinates of my cruiser. You are to rendezvous with the cruiser and transfer the prisoner to the ship's wards for interrogation before we return to Zakuul.]

[Good luck.] concluded the general. [For these shall be your proving grounds.]

The holoprojector cut, its projection of the armored man disappearing as rapidly as it had appeared.
​

 

[Alessandra Sylaar]

Alessandra looked down at the helmet hanging at her hip, thoughtfully. Her black-gloved fingers drummed along the top of it, contemplating. Internal air supply, about an hour average; a little longer for me. Her fingers drifted over the toggles and interlocks that rimmed the neck opening, making sure she didn't feel anything out of place. If they depressurize the station, I'll have that long to get to safety. She carefully pushed the helmet into place, tucking her braid behind her ear and down the collar of her suit. It locked into place with a quiet hiss before detecting the breathable atmosphere and opening the vents within the helmets 'jaw'.

She was about to voice another question when the holoprojector sprung to life in a sapphire haze. She came to attention reflexively, though she realized her attention looked positively at ease compared to some of the others filling the briefing room.

"Proving grounds, huh?" She murmured, half to herself, glancing aside to the blonde-haired pilot - Lyra - the HUD of her helmet helpfully supplied. "I guess this is going to be my first... Overt mission." She stood up a little straighter, and even the helmet couldn't hide the soft inward draw of breath in the sudden quiet. "I won't let you down," she murmured quietly, though it wasn't clear to whom she was speaking.

She glanced at Lyra and asked, softly, "What about you?" She realized, after a moment that the pilot couldn't see Alessandra looking in her direction, so she turned her helmet to look more directly at her. "Have you flown many combat missions?"

Lyra Ventor

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra had remained mostly quiet through the latter half of the briefing, her attention divided between the tactical discussion and the growing awareness that this mission would be very different from the simulations and escort assignments she had grown accustomed to. Space superiority, interception patterns, extraction vectors; those were familiar. Boarding actions and close-quarters combat inside a station vulnerable to depressurization were something else entirely.

Still, she listened carefully. Especially after Zeckane's warning about viewports. That was exactly the sort of mistake inexperienced personnel made once adrenaline overtook common sense.

When the holoprojector activated, Lyra instinctively straightened as well, though unlike many of the others, her focus drifted less toward the speech itself and more toward the underlying implication behind it. No fleet support. No safety net. If something went wrong, the people in this room would be relying entirely on one another. That realization settled heavily.

Her fingers rested against the side of her helmet while Alessandra spoke, and when the question finally came, Lyra glanced toward her with the faintest flicker of understanding crossing her expression.

"This will be my first mission with this Order," she admitted quietly. "But I've flown several combat operations before." There was no boasting in it, only calm honesty.

Her eyes drifted briefly toward the holoprojector that had gone dark moments earlier before returning to Alessandra.

"Mostly escort assignments, interception runs, and response deployments," she continued. "Enough to know things rarely stay as clean as the briefing suggests."

A faint, crooked half-smile touched her mouth then, subtle but genuine. "What about you?" she asked. "First overt mission sounds like there's a story attached to it."

As she spoke, Lyra finally lifted her helmet fully into place, tucking loose strands of blonde hair back before sealing it with a practiced motion. The faint hiss of atmosphere equalization followed a second later as the internal systems activated across the visor.

Immediately, the galaxy became cleaner. Filtered. Measured. Comfortably mechanical.

Her voice came through the helmet speaker slightly softened now, calmer beneath the modulation. "At least we know one thing already," she added lightly. "If the station starts venting atmosphere, we should probably run before becoming part of the local debris field."

Alessandra Sylaar FN-999 (restored) Ashel de Stilico Zeckane Harbum The Arkanian

 

[Alessandra Sylaar]

Alessandra gave a lopsided shrug, her right hand tracing along the edges of her lightfoil. "First time... Like this. With soldiers. Loud and proud and..." She gestured around vaguely, tipping her head to the steady line of soldiers acquiring weapons and discussing equipment.

"I've done some work before, but it was all... Uhm, independent operations," she stated, a bit vaguely; it seemed less from concerns of confidentiality than being unsure how else to phrase it. "There are enemies of Order everywhere. Agents of Chaos. Sometimes my fath-... the Order would identify individuals that the Galaxy would be better without, and then I would do my best to make it so." She shifted in place a little, and added, quietly, "But in those situations, discretion was key. I couldn't announce who I was... Who we are. I'm glad for the opportunity to wear the colors and do the Supreme Leader's will."

Lyra Ventor