Mission preperations to be made [LO]

[Aknoby]

He glanced over when he saw his sister there, torn between relief and fear of getting scolded, but that wasn't what happened.

He followed her with his eyes; first he noticed her voice sounded different, then the disturbance in the Force.

He stayed quiet as she had told him to. One of the mechanics reported that the Basilisk Stomper was fine, undergoing basic repairs, but the droid seemed irritated and was grumbling something about Aknoby being forced to fix it as compensation.

He smiled beneath his mask.

"I'm glad to still be here,"

He said, his voice coming through the bacta tank's speaker, not hiding his happiness, and in the Force it was as if he were giving his older sister a hug.

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre did not move at first when he spoke again.

The sound of his voice settling into the space, carried through the distortion of the tank, did something quiet but significant to the tension she had been holding. It did not remove it, but it softened its edge just enough for her shoulders to ease a fraction.

Her gaze remained on him, steady and intent, as if confirming that he was truly there and not something that might vanish if she looked away too quickly.

"That is good," she said, her tone composed, though no longer as sharp as it had been moments before. "You will remain that way."

It was not a suggestion.

Her attention shifted briefly toward the mechanic as the report came through, and the faintest trace of dry acknowledgment touched her expression at the mention of Stomper's condition. "See that it stays that way," she added, not unkindly, before her focus returned fully to him.

For a moment, she simply stood there again. Then something in her posture shifted. Subtle. Controlled. But real. The Force carried it more clearly than anything her expression allowed.

The echo of his relief reached her, that quiet warmth offered without words, and she did not resist it. Instead, she met it, her presence settling around him like a steady, grounding counterpoint. Not overwhelming, not shielding, but there. Present. Certain.

"You frightened me," she admitted at last, the words quieter than anything she had said so far, stripped of command or structure.

Her chin lifted slightly after, composure reasserting itself, though not as rigidly as before.

"Do not make a habit of it."

A pause followed, softer this time.

"Rest," she added, her voice easing in a way that carried more care than instruction now. "Recover properly. That is your only task."

Her hand shifted faintly at her side again, that same grounding motion as before, though this time it seemed less about holding herself together and more about holding onto the fact that he was still here.

"I am here," she said finally, the words simple, but anchored with quiet certainty.

Aknoby

 

[Aknoby]

He kept listening, letting out a soft chuckle at the news about Stomper. He sighed heavily as he heard Iandre describe how he'd startled her, adding to the guilt he already felt about the situation.

"Lesson learned, don't worry."

And he added after she said she'd be there.

"Thank you."

He spoke softly, a smile hidden beneath his air mask. The Force emanated the comforting love of a brother toward her, just before he closed his eyes and entered the Force trance to aid his body's recovery.

He wanted to say something to her, but perhaps it would be better to speak once he was out of the tank. He would likely be released in a few days and would remain in bed in the hospital room under observation for a few days, but for now he was there, floating in bacta.


Iandre Athlea

 

[Laphisto]

Kaelen 'Ember' Virek
The Ex-Diarchy soldiers kept advancing, but the corridor had become a grind every step forward bought in blood and resistance. Their blaster fire continued to pour into the doorway, but it was no longer having the effect they needed. Bolts struck center mass, shoulders, torsos—yet the Kov'dra armor of the Lilaste Order soldiers held firm. Energy dispersed, flared, and bled off across reinforced plating, leaving scorch marks but little else.

What had started as a coordinated advance splintered under the mounting pressure. One man faltered, another hesitated under returning fire, and in those brief fractures the formation lost its cohesion. The shield line flickered, no longer perfectly aligned, and the steady rhythm of their assault gave way to something more desperate.

Three of them made it through. They surged the final stretch of the corridor, breaking from the remnants of their formation and closing the distance to the depot entrance. Blaster rifles dropped from primary to secondary as they moved, each man reaching instead for something more immediate. LO-9M vibroswords snapped into their hands, then screaming as they charged in

---

Ra'a'mah Rasha Popova
"Understood, Protectorate craft. Your transmission is received. We will remain in-system to provide military support for your operation. Diarchal forces will be handled, and our operative will be accounted for accordingly." There was a brief pause, not hesitation, but control allowing the situation to settle as targeting systems and command directives aligned behind the words.

"As for the Ex-Diarchal vessel that was fired upon, transmit identification codes immediately and confirm status We thank you for your assistance. Your actions have reduced further loss within the sector. If you wish to speak further regarding coordination with the Lilaste Order, this channel remains open."

 

[Kaelen 'Ember' Virek]

Location: Bastion Curtain, Rear Installation, Lilaste Order Operation Sector 7
Current Objective: survive till extract
Gear: Standard Lilaste armor, LO-20D, LO-22S, commlink, data pad, small tool kit for system access.
Squad Size: 4 personnel combat fit + 2 utility droids + 1 wounded + 1 KIA

The moment Kaelen saw them break formation, his stomach dropped.
Three shapes surged through the failing shield line, abandoning rifles in favor of crackling LO-9M vibroswords as they closed the remaining distance in a violent rush.

"Oh, kriff me!" Kaelen shouted, dread flaring in his chest. "They're charging with blades!"
The depot erupted into motion.
"Spread out!" he barked immediately. "Don't bunch up! Force them apart, keep distance where you can!"
His rifle snapped toward the lead attacker, and Kaelen squeezed off a hurried shot as the man barreled forward. Whether it landed or not, he didn't know.
The enemy was already on him.

Kaelen barely got his rifle up before the vibrosword came screaming down. Metal shrieked as blade met weapon, the force nearly wrenching the rifle from his hands. Reacting on instinct, he slammed the stock of his rifle forward into the attacker's upper body before throwing his weight into him.

They crashed together violently.
His rifle flew from his grip, skidding across the deck.
Then everything turned frantic.

Kaelen caught the attacker's sword arm with both hands, straining as the humming blade hovered dangerously close to his chest. His boots slipped against the metal floor as panic and adrenaline surged through him.

"Move!" he snarled, twisting hard.
He drove a fist into the man's side.

Then another.
Then a third, rough and desperate until the attacker's footing broke.
Kaelen shoved forward with everything he had, slamming the soldier to the deck and scrambling on top long enough to wrench himself free and stagger backward.

Then something slammed into the side of his helmet.
His head snapped violently.
The seal broke with a sharp crack, and his helmet flew loose, bouncing across the floor into the corner of the depot.
Kaelen stumbled, dazed, blinking hard as pain flared across the side of his face.

He spat instinctively.
Red splashed against the deck.
His hand shot to his cheek, fingers brushing warm blood and a sharp burning cut just beneath the cheekbone. A blaster round must have grazed him in the chaos, close enough to tear flesh and send his helmet flying, but not enough to put him down.

His breathing hitched for half a second.
Then he forced the panic away.
No time.
No room.
"Keep fighting!" he shouted, voice raw now without the helmet filter. "Hold the line!"

He drew his sidearm in one quick motion, stepping back into stance despite the sting in his face and the blood running warm down his jaw.
His heart pounded in his ears.
His cheek burned.
And the fight was far from over.

Tags: Laphisto

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah listened to the response without interruption, her gaze remaining fixed on the shifting field as new patterns began to form around the presence of the Lilaste cruiser. The tone, the structure, the control behind the words, all of it registered and settled into her awareness as part of the evolving equation.

When she replied, her voice carried the same measured calm, precise without excess.

"Lilaste command, your support is noted and appreciated."

Her attention moved briefly to the remaining civilian signatures, tracking their progress through the corridors that still held.

"The evacuation lanes are stabilizing under your presence. That is already making a measurable difference."

A slight pause followed, her focus shifting to the compliant corvette, its fractured signal still attempting to resolve into something coherent.

"We are relaying your request for identification to the vessel now," she continued. "Its systems appear degraded, but responsive. You should begin receiving clearer transmission shortly."

Her gaze lifted again, tracing outward toward the wider field, toward Aknoby's position and the pressure still emanating from it.

"If your forces are able to maintain containment on Aknoby, we will continue routing civilians through the remaining viable corridors," she added. "That alignment will prevent further destabilization."

Not an instruction. A continuation of shared intent.

A brief silence settled before she spoke again, quieter now, but no less deliberate.

"Once the evacuation is complete, coordination may be worth formalizing," Ra said. "Your intervention here has demonstrated a capacity for precision that aligns well with our operational priorities."

No assumption. No demand. Only an opening.

"For now, we will maintain current channels and provide updates as the situation evolves."

She let the transmission close naturally, her attention already returning fully to the field, to the movement of ships still escaping, to the narrowing margins that remained, and to ensuring that this moment of regained control was not lost again.

Laphisto