Planet at the Edge of the Verse | Rebellion of Hex G-50

[Yula Perl]

Location: Aboard The Sparrow
Objective: Help reinforce Zak’s position
Enemies: [member="Sibar Laval"] | FO
Allies: [member="Luther Ando"] [Ike Parker] | [member="Dax Fyre"] | [member="Zak Amroth"] | ORC

The Sparrow cleared a cluster of buildings that still managed to stand, and suddenly the true measure of the fighting was not lost on Yula. She’d been in plenty of scraps, but this was absolute chaos. A mix of Coalition personnel and civilian gangsters were clashing with imperial stormtroopers, and everything was on fire. She was starting to get sick of fire.

“Why?” She asked with complete honesty. The situation was far from ideal, but there was no doubt in Yula’s mind that this was what they had to do. For all of her stupid decisions and odd reasoning, the Zeltron could not be accused of cowardice. “I don’t want to go down there either, but we can’t just let the First Order burn this place to ash.” Her jaw set tightly as her teeth ground in frustration and anxiety, but her there simply was no other option. Still, her stomach turned at the thought of confronting them again after what had happened last time.

“Look, Ike, I know this isn’t the best time to pretend we’re best buddies, but I was on the ground when the First Order invaded Skor II.” Recalling the stress of the event, her tone sobered automatically. The armored man she’d tangled with in the bazaar had either been playing some subtle yet profound mind games with her, or he was an estranged relative. Either way, the blows to the head and emotional manipulation had made the battle a difficult one for her. “I’ll never forget the firefight in the market, or the weird lights from the orbital bombardment. So even though I’m probably just as scared as you are, I won’t keep letting them hurt people. Maybe I won’t get to go home this time, but we’ve got to at least try.”

Exhaling sharply through her nose in an attempt to expel her nerves, Yula gave Ike another smile, though this one didn’t quite reach her eyes. “After this is all over, let’s grab a drink. Maybe we can start off again, on the right foot this time.”

With that, she turned towards the pilot and called for 01 to bring them in lower. Securing the helmet over her head and biting back her fear, Yula leapt from the craft. “Force guide me.” She whispered as she fell, closing her eyes and trying to center herself and hoping that the words would help. How some Jedi stayed the picture of calm in the middle of a battle, she would never know. The adrenaline pumping through her system made her brave, even as the noise of the fighting amplified the closer she fell. Her eyes fluttered open and she could see a man, burned and looking like hell charge at one of the walkers with a saber in hand. One of those big machines—that was her target.

Sucking in a breath and steeling herself, Yula drew Dax’s lightsaber and thumbed on the ignition. The buddha gold orange yellow blade sprung to life as if it were a reflection of the fires below, and she managed to dig it haphazardly into the back of a walker while making impact. The blade acted as an anchor while Yula nearly slipped off of the side, groaning and clambering her way onto the metal beast’s back. The landing had been less than graceful, jumbling her vision and sending a heavy ache spreading through her bones.

“Urrgh,” The single stab alone wouldn’t do any damage, that was more to help her stick the landing and not become a pancake. It took her a few moments to get her bearings, not used to the sound of her own labored breathing trapped in a helmet.

 

[Kahne Porte]

Location:Star Temple


"Patientce is a virtue Mater Porte!" One of the padawan's quipped trying to add a lightened humor to the situation. Kahne couldn't' help but smile, and retort with something of his own. "Not right now it isn't." The Jedi picked up the injured padawan in his arms as he took off in a jog down the hallway and then they finally made to their destination. The Jedi put the padawan down as he was then aided by the other two. "Get him seen by a doctor as soon as you can."

Kahne's attention was then diverted back down where they came from as the distant sound of a roar caught his attention. It echoed across the halls and the Jedi Master could hear it in his mind. "Go, now!" Kahne instructed the padawans as he turned and lightly jogged back down the hall. Keeping his mind and his sense open, his own desire to save those that he could coupled with Coren's declaration of valor was great. He could sense the presence of Sieger Ren, and he made his way to that location.

Hold on, I"m on my way...

The Jedi spoke through the force to any Jedi that were in that immediate area.



[member="Coren Starchaser"]
[member="Tiland Kortun"]
[member="Vorhi Alestrani"]



[member="Sieger Ren"]
[member="Kyrel Ren"]
[member="Kaiah Nihl"]

 

[Veino Garn]

Embassy
[member="Sol Stazi"] @Captain August
[member="Dominic Craig"] [member="Val Kordova"] [member="Isobel Nakano"]
=============

Veino's eyes flickered to the main embassy building as the lights drained out and he shrugged as one of them asked a question. "Well, I thought tomorrow. But if the power-grid is shutting down..." A slow shrug rippled across his shoulders and he looked suddenly older for a moment. "Who knows? Maybe we'll be able to redeploy resources to get everyone out tonight."

He tossed a thumb up at the shape of the First Order flagship that showed small and distant in the atmosphere. "Depends if that thing and its fleet lets the evac ships through or not."

A message beeped on his comlink and he listened in his earpiece, head tilted to one side before the message ended. "Sounds good. I'll let engineering now," was his only reply, casual and nonforced. That would explain many things. His instincts had been right. At least one of these potential Twilight members was a First Order agent, and he had a strong hunch which one. Perhaps the two he had been chatting with.

They seemed more confident and alert than the other ones. "Yeah, might as well keep it for now," Veino said, waving her question away with a hand. "If the First Order decides to attack an embassy, we'll be the first line of defense at the gate." He patted his own hand-cannon at his side. "And I've only got the one. Hope you all know where to find the gaps in stormtrooper armor."

But for now, all they could do was wait. Across the yard, he could just make out the shapes of his civilian aides hurrying to get as many evacuees on the ships as quickly as they could. He wasn't connected to the Thul comm network, only the main AiE network based out of the embassy. So, he wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he would find out eventually.

All he needed to do was keep these two in the dark. That was his specialty. "You two ever been off-world before?" He kept his senses and instincts primed, just in case that gave him any more evidence.

 

[Dax Perl]

Location: Terminus
Objective: Save Zak, and give him a healthy slap in the head
Allies: ORC | [member="Yula Perl"] | [member="Zak Amroth"]
Enemies: FO | [member="Sibar Laval"]
Nearby| [member="Luther Ando"]

In the time it had taken Yula to give the spook a bit of a pep talk, Force watch over the girl, Dax had taken off his mask to root around within the numerous bins in the cargo hold. A rather dinky little blaster pistol, some accompanying ammunition. Oh right, and this jump pack. Never leave home without one. The Rogue stood up and looked over at the two, standing near the edge of the cargo bay, just in time to his niece fling herself over the edge of the craft, wearing a suit of armor he didn't even know he had on this old bucket of bolts...amazing what you can find sometimes...

"Here, hold these for me," Dax said, stuffing Ike's arms full of the jump pack and ammo as he loaded the blaster pistol. "Look man, I'm not gonna give you some pep talk like she did, or promise that at the end of all this we'll be sitting around a campfire singing kumbaya and all that chit." With the pistol now loaded, Dax stuffed the extra ammo into one of the free pouches on the jumpkit, strapping the blaster to the outside of pack. "I will be honest though. I don't trust you. I think you've been lying about who you're working for since the moment you opened that big mouth of yours," Dax said rather matter-of-factly, "But. If you have a sudden change of heart about what side of the line you're on...look me up." The Rogue patted the man's shoulder, much softer than one would have expected from a man in full battle garb and extremely suspicious of the other. Perhaps he was being sincere in his offer..."In the meantime," Dax continued, "I'm going down there and kicking these boys off my lawn. Now I ain't gonna make you fight, and I'd hardly blame you if you didn't. Feel free to run you're ass off to whatever world you see fit. But, uh, I ain't lettin' you stay on my ship." What came next was not a friendly clap on the back or a handshake. Nope. A swift and powerful kick to the chest would send the agent flying off the edge of the cargo hold and into a free fall towards the battlefield below, arms full of jump gear and quite possibly a pair of soiled pants. Dax pulled down his mask with a self-satisfied grin before running and jumping off the ship himself. What? Did you really think the jump gear was for him?

 

[Dominic Craig]

Allies: [member="Val Kordova"] | [member="Isobel Nakano"]
Enemies: [member="Veino Garn"] | [member="Captain August "]| [member="Sol Stazi"]
Objective: Escape
Equipment Infanty MK-II Armour (x) | 1x Painkiller Syringes | FO Suspect MKI (x)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIvdj2dwfxE​

Dominic felt the private fall limp in his hands. And for the briefest moment, shock. Stunned shock reached the Agent. His eyes grew wide behind the helmet, and his grip slipped, letting Dash lie on the ground, his rifle, clattering on the ground. A surprised scoff, escaped his lips. And the scoff, into a chuckle. And the chuckle, a laugh. Dominic laughed, shaking his head. "You're one crazy bastard, Captain." he offered with the faintest of praise, "One after my own heart it seems." The FOSB special agent reached up, and unsealed the stolen helm, before looking at the Klatoonian and the Duros as they approached. His face, smeared with sweat, and some blood however, wore an expression of amusement. "Still," he looked up from the helm, and at the two, "Best keep the two of you laughing." He shrugged and cocked his head. "Give me your best shot."

The Klatoonian obliged, and as soon as he was smote with the helm, Dominic pushing it into his face. The Klatoonian tried to dodge, and was instead slammed, before reaching for his face. Dominic gave no quarter, grabbing the man as he was disoriented, and pushing him in front of Stazi, hopefully shielding himself from the latters attack, while he went for the rifle man. Two shots were discarded, at his chest at close range. Those ones? They hurt. Not even the drugs could numb the pain. But Dominic pressed ever forward, choking on his own blood and bile as he did. The rush of endorphins and adrenaline, fuelling him, as he swung the helm at the soldier, hitting him in the side of the head, sending him sprawling. Dominic kicked the man while his down, trying to incapacitate.

That was when he turned to see the Duros lunge. Dominic was caught off guard, and the weight of the captain caused him to falter, slamming down unto the floor, back to the ground. "Well played!" Craig snarled, as the Duros drew his knife close to his throat. The Special Agent clasped his arm, trying to halt him, while his other arm struggled to his holster, the suspect was still good, and out there. There would be no surrender. Not yet. "I'm gonna enjoy watching you die!" Dominic spat.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

TERMINUS SYSTEM
FAR ORBIT
FIV WRATH, PROJECT 83295 SUPER STAR DESTROYER
FLAGSHIP, TERMINUS SECTOR INTERVENTION FORCE
GRAND ADMIRAL CYRUS TREGESSAR, COMMANDING

[member="Atlas Drake"] | [member="Cathul Thuku"] | [member="Rae-Anna Ku"] | [member="Robogeber"]

Viewed from far above the broad orbital plane the arrangement of the First Order ships was not immediately apparent. The ships of Carlyle Rausgeber's Sixth Fleet were arrayed in the van, and on either wing a knot of cruisers and other, lighter ships. A central formation was made up of six destroyers, including the sole Resurgent under Cyrus' direct command, arranged in a sort of wide spindle, with the ventral ships rotated around to guard from below and unmask as many batteries as possible. Escorts and support ships flitted throughout, healthy mixture of midline combat vessels and dedicated defensive ships. To the rear lurked most of the truly heavy artillery, including the Darr Itah Merciless, the handful of fleet carriers, and of course the Super Star Destroyer Wrath itself.

Each section was engaged, and while to some extent all of space fought the same battle, from another angle each flotilla fought and died as an individual.

The trio of Predator cruisers marked their success against the Qekoth, the unusual shield design proving to be a boon beyond its original intent. But now close in they began to suffer. Designed as assault ships, they had respectable defenses but not exceptional ones, and the battle became a race against damage control systems. At the same time, all three ships moved to increase range, using their long range weapons to keep hammering the Qekoth ships. The nearest cruiser, already venting from several plasmatic gel breaches, found itself unable to muster enough thrust, and turned hull down, resolved to the slugfest it was about to endure.

On the other flank, the captain of the Marauder-class Cruiser Zulfiqar, acting Commodore of the flanking force, watched as the unusual fire-like plasma burned through shields and hull and tore open gashes in the sides of his ship that he knew the Tof would soon exploit. On his viewscreen, one of the new heavy frigates shuddered violently and then ejected its core into open space, even as he watched it went completely dark, a hulk in space, the captain having scuttled it to prevent boarders from taking control. He gave what orders he could, directing the immediate launch of all strike craft and setting CQC quarters. As ships crew armed and armored themselves, and the stormtrooper garrison set up choke points, he gave a standby on tractor beam controls. The Tof would find a hard target ready to fix them in place while all accompanying fast-movers (heavy fighters and corvettes) surrounded and fired on the bulk cruiser from every available angle. He checked his sidearm, and prepared to sell his life dearly.

The central force had to deal with the Squib, and memories of Skor II lingered in the minds of many. But the slingshot of debris was initially less effective than it had been at Skor II. First Order doctrine had been updated accordingly, and the fleet had made preparations given the possibility of combat with the Squibs and others. Particle Shields double-front, extra power diverted to maneuver thrusters, getting out of the way of a large piece of debris, even a comparatively fast moving one, was not overwhelmingly difficult at range. Smaller ships were able to dodge larger objects even at somewhat close ranges by spinning and using primary thrust to burn hard onto a different vector. The larger cruisers and destroyers on the other hand, just put their heads down and spacers muttered words as old as time.

Hold Fast

It worked, mostly. One IDX took a severe blow that shredded much of the starboard deck and ripped most of the starboard octuple mounts away before finally clipping the bridge tower and shearing away a section. Even from a distance it was impossible to miss the venting atmosphere and glow of fire from the crippled ship. It dropped below the spindle to keep clear of firing lines and began to withdraw slowly with aft verniers, bow still pointed towards the enemy.

But there was a larger, more insidious impact than actual kinetic damage. The carefully arranged formation dictated by the Warmind began to fray apart as individual captains made maneuvers on their own judgement. As astoundingly powerful as it was, the AI could simply not keep up with the onslaught of rocks and metallic chunks, even when it could accurately track their velocity.

Whether the enemy had planned it or not, no one could say, but as the destroyer squadron broke apart to avoid the onslaught of debris, the Spirit of Light fired down a nearly clear path straight towards the titanic flying wedge of the Wrath. Only a single Supremacy-class Destroyer was nearby enough to attempt to interdict the beam, and it did so only at a glance, absorbing a portion of the energy into its Combustion Shields and siphoning it out, glowing so brightly on the display after only a moment that it seemed to be like a star itself. Before the shields failed dramatically in a flash, and the proton beam lashed across the surface of the ship, tearing away armor and hull and sending the destroyer spinning away from the formation, heavily damaged and struggling to right itself.

The rest of the blow struck the Wrath, which flinched under the impact almost like an animal in pain. But the flagship was not a fragile beast, and even as bulkheads buckled, armor boiled away like gas, and whole compartments were gutted and vaporized, redundancies and automated damage control systems kicked on, rerouted power, and re-dispersed operational systems.

Nor was it toothless. But the target was not the Shield of Light in response, but rather the three broadside destroyers as the center of the Kathol fleet. The Merciless opened the fusilade, it's Hypervelocity Cannons and Long-Range turbolasers firing the first shots, but the Wrath, the Resurgent, and several Halberd-class artillery frigates followed up, trading shots with the large-aspect targets far in front of them.

The Warmind continued to struggle, the damage having affected enough to make it stop and thing several times. Cyrus intervened, issuing orders manually as required. While the fights on the flanks were going well enough, and the Sixth Fleet vanguard engaged the easily-identified Therapy Command head-to-head, the Squib were proving as frustrating to fight as before. Every destroyed or damaged ship became a potential shield or weapon, and eliminating their fleet required more finesse than simple long-range artillery barrage.

It was a matter of using the right tool for the right task. Choked under all that mass, and with most of their power dedicated to their advanced tensor beams, the surviving Squib ships were likely sluggish, limited in both their ability to accelerate and maneuver. Exactly the sort of target missiles were made for. Squadron commanders were directed to set up coordinated strikes on needleships and larger targets, focusing on power generators and propulsion systems. Fighters and Bombers led, with backup and secondary salvos plotted by 849A Frigates and Brawl-class Torpedo ships spread throughout the central formation. Needleships that shed mass to maneuver would find themselves targeted by conventional weapons, while those that stayed bottled up risked being picked apart by precision multi-axis munition strikes. Where the opportunity presented itself, Lancer II's and other dedicated AA ships moved in concert with heavy frigates, acting as bubbles of safety for attacking strike craft, eliminating larger or more widespread debris fields, and keeping up the pressure on any ships willing to focus too much effort on eliminating the First Order strikers.

And there another option presented. The ever-aggressive commander of Therapy Command, in attempting to dive below the plane, had apparently opened her screen, exposing the refugee flotilla beyond. If she imagined the Grand Admiral Tregessar some misguided devotee of the law of war, she was in for a rude awakening.

“Idle batteries, target the refugee flotilla. Engines and command cabins, fire to disable. Force them to pick what matters most, and we'll exploit the aftermath.”

It was a brutal, ruthless calculation, but the First Order had long since stopped trying to bother to win 'hearts and minds' of their foes. The results of their conquest and stability spoke for itself, or would be spoken for, at the last. If the former GADF ships continued their aggressive dive they would risk the apparent annihilation of the refugee ships they intended to protect. On the other hand, if they stayed too close, they risked being outflanked, outmaneuvered, and annihilated piecemeal by the emotionless machinations of the Wrath.

Spoiler

Formation Cherek (engaging Qekoth)

• 
  Three Predator-class Assault Cruisers
  
• 
  Handful of escorts (few frigates, several corvettes)
  
• 
  Accompanying squadrons (approximately 6)
  

Formation Trill (engaging Tof)

• 
  2 Marauder-class Medium Cruisers
  
• 
  Many Corvettes
  
• 
  Some escort Frigates
  
• 
  Accompanying squadrons (approximately 9)
  

Central Destroyer Squadron (engaging generally)

• 
  One Supremacy-class Star Destroyers
  
• 
  One Resurgent III-class Star Destroyers
  
• 
  Three IDX-IIs
  
• 
  Escorts
  
• 
  Many x Squadrons
  

Aft Support Squadron

• 
  One Darr Itah-class Battlecruiser (Merciless)
  
• 
  At least two Vanguard-class Fleet Carriers
  
• 
  Several escorts (picket and AA ships)
  
• 
  A few Halberd-class Artillery Frigates
  
• 
  Super Star Destroyer FIV Wrath
  

 

[Progflaw99]

Location: Former Alliance Embassy/ Recruitment Facility
Objective: Infiltration
Enemies: The Outer Rim Coalition | [member="Elaine Thul"] | [member="Sol Stazi"] | [member="Veino Garn"]
Allies: First Order | [member="Isobel Nakano"] | [member="Delilah Graham"] | [member="Dominic Craig"]

Nobody accused the life of a field agent of being overly glorious. Contrary to popular belief, most of the actual work consisted of waiting, waiting, and more waiting. If you were lucky? Maybe a little bit of action. *Kind of like my love life* Val thought fleetingly. It was not dissimilar to the position she found herself in now. She could feel her heart rate rising, eyes surveying their surroundings before eyeing the shadow cut across the sky. "Can't say one way or the other." she said in response to 'Garn's' comment about the Wrath allowing evac ships onto or off of the planet. "What a mess." she uttered, still seeing that the lights were out. "Hope that's not going to put a damper on things - while I'm all for a fight, it'll make things hard without power."

"Sounds good. I'll let Engineering know."

One corner of Mira's lips rose in a lopsided grin. "Bet whoever that was, wasn't right happy." Eyeing Lotus' blaster, the presence of her own boot knife came to mind. She could feel its subtle pressure on the outside of her ankle. She hoped it didn't come to that. The question about being offworld before struck her as odd - of course she'd been off world, certainly her accent could have told him that. Obliging though, she responded. "Yes, of course - I've been in the Outer Rim a long time now. Used to run trade goods all over the Rim on a ship - the Debutante. Not much of a ship, but it kept me fed.. till they abandoned me on Dosuun." her words ended with a hiss of irritation. "You folk aren't in the habit of abandoning people, are you?"

The worried look on her face would seem genuine - ever the actress. Her eyes darted towards the small clusters of folks hurrying about, boarding shuttles and organizing groups. Looking back to 'Garn' she pointed their direction. "You sure we can't help somehow? I can't imagine two sets of hands would be useless right about now. As for a weapon.." she shrugged. "..I'm a bit empty handed." In truth, she was. A knife would be of little use against a stormtrooper. Even against the lesser armored Imperial Army forces that was like bringing a peashooter to a gunfight. She wondered how long they had before the First Order did arrive - it could put her in a compromising situation if she found herself face to face with one of the troopers. The thought of what she might have to do didn't please her, but it would be necessary. For Sieger. For the Order.

 

[Atlas Drake]

Location: Inner Terminus System
Objective: Rally
Allies: Outer Rim Coalition - [member="Cathul Thuku"]
Enemies: The First Order - [member="Robogeber"] | [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] | [member="Rae-Anna Ku"]

---

COMMAND DECK​

KRV UTOPIA​

​

This was savagery.

There was no art to any of it, the Coalition had seen fit to deny their enemy even the illusion of grace. Imperial escort ships were draw into close range brawls, each side trading numerical advantage in engagements based entirely on opportunity and timing. Atlas saw Qektoth attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Terminus. Further still in the distance, even from such extreme he could make out the constant thundering from a badly damaged Fortune, the Tof bulk cruiser's chase guns working overtime to eviscerate any fighter that strayed to close to their axes of fire. One by one they were losing needle ships, even with the practically limitless supply of wreckage from what was quickly turning into a starship graveyard over the Outer Rim trade hub.

But they were giving as good as they took. Ruined Imperial hulls drifted across the void, perhaps not near in number but certainly in value. By now Admiral Stone had given up on trying to neutralize skirmishing weaponry, and they were targeting enemy destroyers directly, sustained heavy beam cannons arcing out across the void to unleash agrocite infused fusillades. There had been a ragged cheer when the Shield of Light had struck true, scouring through an Imperial destroyer to inflict a maiming blow to the FIV Wrath. Just as there had been a moment of terrible silence for the dead when the first Kathol Marauder corvette was laid low, lost with all hands.

Now the Halcyon was scuttled, the last of her surviving crew escaping on shuttlecraft and making for the Ascension. More than a third of their Marauders were either destroyed or disabled, and they had lost a full squadron of Guardian pilots, truly one of the Republic's most precious commodities. In the Outback, trained manpower was far more difficult to come by, though Drake's people had traded grievous blows with the enemy it would be a loss they felt far more keenly in the months and years to come.

"Captain, receiving new telemetry from the First Order battle line. The Wrath has a new target!"

Atlas rose from his command throne, eyes widening in shock. He could see on the bridge's sunken holodisplay before him who that target was.

"It's us..." he murmured, before quickly keying in a sequence into his throne that would open a shipwide broadcast, "All hands, this is the Captain. Brace for impact."

In the end, it was their damaged aft turret that saved them.

Drake didn't even remember the moment of impact, when the barrage of turbolaser and ordinance fire from the Imperial line crashed into their hull. The next thing he knew he was coming to on the bridge, a medical orderly crouching over him and applying gauze to what he didn't realize was a nasty head wound. With only their ventral and dorsal cannons viable, Atlas had directed his navigator to hold them steady at a slim angle, while the other Star Dragons had shown their bellies to the enemy so they could fire each platform simultaneously.

The Titan was practically a wreck, cored out in several sections and bleeding both reactor power as well as bodies. From what he could tell, the Ascension was just gone. Torn apart under such concentrated firepower. Dimly, he recalled his executive officer explaining to him that the Utopia wasn't much better off. Entire decks breached, a horrific gash of its own amidship where it had been most exposed.

"Sir, they're firing on...on the civilians, sir," one of the bridge's least wounded sensor officers relayed, "They're shooting at noncombatants!"

"Navigation, whatever you can give me! Move us to cover."

"We're dead in space," helm control reported with complete defeat in their tone, "It will take time to restore even minimal sublight capacity."

Captain Drake slammed his fist so hard into the command throne's console that it cracked the glass overlay.

"There must be something we can-"

"Sir! I'm getting a new reading," his sensor officer cut him off excitedly, "It's...I'm not sure what it is, I've never seen anything like it."

It was the Leviathan.

Only her massive dimensions were keeping her together at this point. The Reduce, Reuse, Exterminate was a gargantuan supercarrier but it was not designed as a warship and it could not stand up for long against the Sixth Fleet's concentrated assault. Still, despite imminent threat of destruction, both the Leviathan and the grievously stricken Squib Cal-class had activated all their tractor beams at once and focused them all on the spatial plane in between Imperial forces and the refugees. At five kilometers the Squib flagship was bristling with industrial grade tensor emitters, and with the amount of energy they were pumping into their combined power transfer, every piece of starship wreckage and scrap metal within a hundred thousand kilometer radius was being slowly drawn into one massive debris cloud. Without sublight power, nothing was safe.

Including the Utopia.

"It looks like we're gonna get to be heroes after all," Captain Drake singled out his navigation officer, "How much time to make those repairs?"

CONTROL ALTAR​

SHIELD OF LIGHT​

​

Gnost-Joral wept for the dead.

It was an agonizing psychic barrage, to feel that many lives snuffed out in terror and to know that they were the cause. He had dismissed some of the younger Jedi from the bridge earlier under the pretense of repelling boarders, but the truth was that he wanted to spare them from this shame for as long as possible. Truly, they were a broken people. A broken order. Driven to the edges of known space, forced to emulate the very behavior of those they were sworn to stand against. But there could be no more room for half measures, this was a war for the fate of the Living Force, and if the Sith and these Knights of Ren had made one thing clear over the millennia it was that theirs was a fight to the death.

Again.

Though it pained them to do so, each remaining Jedi on his bridge crew summoned the mental pattern that when interlaced with the whole of their thoughts would reactivate the firing sequence. Once more, the Shield of Light's primary cannon began to build up charge. Unless the Imperial commander directed others to sacrifice themselves, the next shot would have an unimpeded line of fire with the Wrath.

Extend the beam.

The others glanced back at forth one another, hesitant. It was possible for the Star Temple to fire a sustained proton beam for a brief period of time, but to do so would drain the battlecruiser's deflector shields.

Master?

This ship festers with Ren, explained the Kel'Dor commander, They will not destroy us for so long as their dark lord remains our guest.

 

[Luther Lewis]

Agent Ike Parker – Codename: Firebrand
Sparrow
[member="Yula Perl"] | [member="Sibar Laval"] | [member="Dax Fyre"] | [member="Zak Amroth"]

Spoiler

‘Out of the frying pan and into the fire’ he thought. Almost quite literally in this case. He remained at the window while Yula spoke, although the woman’s tone was not suspicious or condescending. Instead she spoke with real empathy, and Ike could tell she was fearful too. He followed her as she moved towards the back of the cargo bay, opening one of the large doors. He watched in stunned silence as the Zeltron attached her helmet and jumped off the ship. Ike ran to the edge of the ramp, peering over the side as Yula made her decent. The woman landed on one of the walkers and ignited her saber.

Ike turned around to find the other Jedi standing uncomfortably close. He backed up on instinct, only barely stopping his foot slipping off the edge of the cargo bay. The man piled a heap of gear into Ike’s hands, what looked like some sort of jump pack and ammunition. The weight of it pulled his arms down, so he was holding it more around his waist than his chest. The man loaded the gun and packed it while he gave a rather threatening speech. Ike said nothing, very much aware of the empty void to his back.

Ike didn’t like the man. He was direct and to-the-point, making it clear that he didn’t trust the agent. He looked into the man’s eyes as he placed a hand on Ike’s shoulder. He saw cold flints of steel, the type of a person who only saw black and white; friend or foe. The Jedi made it clear. He was giving Ike a chance to escape but only if he joined those below.

“Alright” Ike said cautiously. “And you want me to use this to-”. He was interrupted by a swift kick to the chest, an audible crack reverberating through the air as ribs broke. He flew backwards out into the empty space, until the force of gravity pulled him towards the ground.

The normally level-headed agent was gone, replaced by a panicking child. His fingers scrabbled over the jump-pack as he fell, desperately searching for the start button. He didn’t know if his fingers found any switches, but the jump pack was only designed to be used when strapped to the back. Safety features ensured the device didn’t ignite from Ike’s frantic hand movements. Halfway through the fall, the pack was lost and his hands flailed in the air.

Had he been thinking normally, Ike might have remarked that falling was nothing like it was in holovids. In action thrillers, the hero fell in slow motion and always had plenty of time to contemplate their situation. Ike's final thoughts before impact were a mixture of confusion and panic, swirling around a memory he saw with complete clarity. It was an old cottage on Dosuun, his family home. He could see the gradient of reds as the sun set and could smell the roast coming from the kitchen. He moved to walk through the long grass, but found his legs wouldn’t work. He wasn’t walking, he was falling.

Ike Carter hit the ground at terminal velocity, head first, his neck snapping and killing him instantly.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Objective: Infiltrate Catalyst
Allies: None?
Enemies: [member="Val Kordova"]
Others: [member="Veino Garn"] | [member="Sol Stazi"] | [member="Elaine Thul"]

"Elle" glanced over her shoulder nervously, then -- as if seeing something that confirmed her suspicion -- immediately rounded on [member="Val Kordova"]. She swept her blaster off her shoulder and brandished it at "Mira." "Oi, better not get any bloody ideas," she snarled in her working-class brogue. "I'll bash yer kriffin' 'head in, I swear on me life! I saw y'oglin' me gun on the shuttle, ya gutter-snipe. Ya think ya can 'ave it off me, eh, you go 'ead and try it mother-kriffer!"

With as apologetic a look towards Mockingbird as she could muster without giving herself away, Isobel executed a swift whack with the rifle's butt towards Kordova's head. Elle apparently misjudged the angle, because rather than cracking her jaw, it caught her shoulder first, resulting in a hard whack to the shoulder but a glancing blow to her jaw. "Come at me, eh?" she screamed at the woman. "Tryin'a get me gun, tryin'a get me only possession in this world, I'll bloody well 'ave ya! I'll kriffin' have ya!" she shouted.

To any medical professionals watching, the outburst was a textbook withdrawal effect of one of Terminus' underworld's more brutal drugs -- paranoia, unhinged rage, unchecked impulses. But Isobel was hoping that by breaking the logjam, forcing action on the part of the Alliance personnel, either Isobel or Val being isolated -- by way of the brig or the infirmary -- would open up new avenues of infiltration or intelligence gathering. Besides, someone had to do something before the First Order blew this base into atoms. Isobel made to swing again, but the strap of her satchel broke, spilling a handful of vials and a scratched syringe on the ground. With an almost inhumane growl, Isobel dropped to a crouch and furtively gathered the paraphernalia, opening herself up to counter-strike by Val or detainment by the grown-ups in the room.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

TERMINUS SYSTEM
FAR ORBIT
FIV WRATH, PROJECT 83295 SUPER STAR DESTROYER
FLAGSHIP, TERMINUS SECTOR INTERVENTION FORCE
GRAND ADMIRAL CYRUS TREGESSAR, COMMANDING

[member="Atlas Drake"] | [member="Cathul Thuku"] | [member="Robogeber"]

A second star destroyer drifted away unpowered, the ship half hulked, thrusters firing at random as power surged and faded. It spiraled out from the formation in an almost lackadaisical manner, the easy, meandering progress belying the violence that had just been wreaked on the ship. Thousands of kilometers away, Cyrus watched its steady, unhurried progress with a gaze unfettered by emotion. Death came with war, all who entered into that business were expendable to some degree. There was no reason to cry foul at this most immutable law of the universe. A soldiers lot was to do or die, and if he had a good commander, and here Cyrus knew that he was one, than perhaps his death was not vain, perhaps it served some greater purpose.

Here, it did.

The Qekoth were all but swept aside, unwittingly matched against technology that rendered their exotic weapons useless. The Tof continued their brutal massacre of imperial personnel, but that savage race's demand and need to engage in close combat threatened more harm than benefit in the scope of the battle. The last report from the Zulfiqar was that the fighting was vicious and brutal, each passage and compartment given up only by extracting a price in blood. The Kathol battleline had wilted under the massed artillery that the First Order so specialized in. It wasn't conclusive, not yet. Cathul Thuku's GADF deserters were still in decent shape, and had the ORC had the time to reform there was plenty of opportunity to turn things around. But at the last the Squibs had, in a terrifically noble gesture, given up their shields and weapons to protect the helpless refugee fleet now under attack.

"The ORC proves their nobility in purpose after all. I commend the enemy for their honor. Punish their valor, all ships shift targets to Squib and Kathol warships."

Almost on cue, the First Order ships stopped firing, a momentary lull besides the brawl still ongoing on the fringes and in the close quarters of the vanguard. Then they shifted slightly, and turned their guns on the now unprotected Squib ships, with firing lines clear of debris.

"Massive energy surge from the Shield of Light!"

Cyrus didn't have a chance to react before the enemy dreadnought fired, its energy beam lancing across space, through a void just as clear of any sort of obstructions. It struck the Wrath on the port wing, sending the vessel lurching (though not, Cyrus noted, nearly as badly as when it was struck full force by the leviathan) and then searing across the flank until the energy of the shot and liberal application of maneuver thrusters pulled the super star destroyer clear.

Something howled in fury and rage, a voice both distinctly inhuman and instantly distinguishable. A voice that should not be, its anger so eerie and forlorn that even Cyrus, a man for whom battle was his lifeblood and fear was an utterly alien emotion, suppressed a shudder. The Warmind howled again in... pain? Rage? He didn't know, and he certainly didn't care, but his heart was iron and his voice was steel as he gave the order to disable the Warmind. Then, ignoring the damage reports that even in brief noted catastrophic surface damage, he gave up trying to master his own rage, and issued a single order to the FIV Merciless.

"Admiral Radham, the Jedi Mothership shields are utterly spent. Annihilate that ship."

Cowed by the fury he saw in the Grand Admiral's eyes, Radham didn't even object. The refitted Darr Itah, still one of the most heavily armed ships for its size in the galaxy, fixed its armament on the Shield of Light and began to fire.

 

[Veino Garn]

[member="Val Kordova"] [member="Isobel Nakano"]

Veino shook his head. "Nah. That was the chief medic. His temper's shorter than most younglings. Especially when it comes to faulty tech. Something hit the power-grid. Probably some of the flaming buildings. Emergency will kick back on soon enough."

A warning surged through the Force and he set down the snacks, spilling some of the nuts and fruit onto the dust-coated crate. "That's Thul business over there," but he was cut off as soon the one exploded. A few of the Twilight guards moved, but Veino held up a hand, calculating. He wasn't a medic, so that was sudden and unusual. Even as the satchel broke and the syringes spilled on the ground, he watched. Two guards had moved along the top of the wall and had them covered with their rifles while others began to circle around.

Nothing wrong and no sign of the behavior. Deliberate and he just caught a flash of sympathy on the assailant's face before she had begun her attack. He stood up and brushed the crumbs from his pants and unslung the Occluder from its holster, switching to stun, and squeezing the trigger as soon as it pointed at the two. The spread of stun bolts hurtled forward over a range of barely two meters. Full power at that range would have shredded the two, but they were more valuable alive. His other hand already rested inside the pocket that held his hidden lightsaber.

The gun hummed in his hand as the powered capacitors recharged, and he kept it leveled at the two.

"Stun settings, Twilight," Veino called out to the ones around them, and a few more stun blasts hurtled towards them. Whether they hit or had any effect, only the next few moments could tell. "And you two can drop your charade." He was about to take a leap of faith, but he was fairly confident in his conjecture at this point, especially after this last stunt. "You two are intelligence agents of the First Order. We've already apprehended your co-conspirator inside. Just needed you to tip your hand. If you can still function, drop your weapons and place your hands on your head. Otherwise, you get another round. Might not be stun this time."