Rebirth of an Empire (Galactic Empire dominion of O'reen)

[Moira Skaldi]

A beautiful explosion tore through the hacked station. Its shields down, pummelled with missiles from both the battleship and adjacent stations, two of which had sustained heavy damage when its defences were turned against them. The organics were already dying a cruel death, for life support had been cut off and so they were deprived of oxygen. An explosion blossomed and ripped the station apart, its detritus flying through space, one starfighter being caught and blasted.

Moira was already calculating the next target, feeding coordinates into the targeting computers of the gunners. More orbital stations, more enemy fighters and bombers, but the enemy's numbers were thinning. Struggle they might, but they only resisted the inevitable, their deaths futile. But this was good, for it would serve as a lesson.

All the while drop pods were being disgourged from the belly of the battleship, a legion of them raining down upon the surface of O'reen like a hail, their numbers too many to count. Intense flak fire, streaks of red and viridian, came their way and produced a true hailstorm as the defenders desperately sought to keep them at bay. Doubtless many would be blown out of the sky as they raced towards the surface as fast as the thrusters would permit, doubtless many would miss their landing zones and land far away, but soon there would be chaos on the planet and this was only the start. Orbital stations were torn apart as the powerful Star Destroyers advanced, their defensive fire futile against the war vessels.

Some of the gunners cheered as they saw the beautiful explosions, but a cold look from Moira silenced them. No one wanted to piss off the killer droid...who had no restraining bolt, no shackles to keep her in check. Good. Fear was an efficient tool of management. Organics wanted to be commanded, that was the basis of any religion.

As mission updates from the bombers sent out to bombard the planet's defences were fed into her mind in real time, Moira pondered...when would she get to fight in a real war. Gehenna had been the bloodiest battle the Protectorate had ever fought, but it had been against Bando Gora...crazed cultists. Yaga Minor had been a Sith curbstomp...but again just one battle, an isolated incident. Her true vision...a Galaxy in flames, worlds cleansed of life, burnt and broken...in a galaxy of a million the death of one planet was like a grain of salt in an ocean...then the true order would arise. In a span of decades, centuries, a millennia perhaps even, unlike organics she could be patient and wait.

She pondered when she would participate in an Exterminatus. Somehow the processing power of her mind kept conjuring up flashes of Alderaan, razed to the ground and irradiated, devoid of life, put to the pyre like Donanyd. Peace was...boring...unnatural...

As an enemy fighter squadron was caught in the intense hailstorm of the point-laser defences, Moira accessed one of her subroutines, running a programme to play....dramatic music, all the while transmitting a new target to the batteries, purely because she could.

 

[James Mathison]

James woke under a pile of rubble, in excruciating pain. He could feel his left side burning as he bled. Pushing with all his might, he moved a slab of a wall off his chest and could feel the air rush into the cavity of the building that now lay around him. He crawled out into the open, hand on his side in an attempt to stop/hold off the bleeding. He looked back into the building he crawled from, and noticed the way down to the 'war room' was covered. At least now he could say the president didn't survive. But the big issue now, would he survive. He needed to get help fast, limping to the local air field, he hoped to find a spare ship, but only found a speeder bike. It would have to do, James hopped on and sped away towards the Imperial lines. He punched in his temporary ID code and hoped he could stay conscious long enough to make it to a medic or something.

As he went, his vision began to tunnel. His peripherals grew more and more dim as time wore on. He shook his head in an attempt to maintain consciousness, but a few hundred yards later, he blacked out again at 50km/h shaking awake in time to brace himself as the bike hit a fallen tree and catapulted him over the handlebars, tumbling to a stop in the open just 20 meters from the Imperial line.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

If the O'reen had any advantage over the Imperials as far as their space defenses went, it was in the number of Snubfighters they deployed. It was a relatively standard decision for independent systems to do to bolster their defenses. Having a fleet of 300 Snubfighters doesn't cost all that much compared to running a few Star Destroyers, and looks great on paper. Certainly they could be used extremely effectively, but pilot training and experience was key, as were proper tactics. So far the O'reen commander (or perhaps there were two, as the movement of ships seemed to indicate) had been using his fighters surprisingly smartly, staging hit and run attacks on ships that had broken off from formation, and picking off scattered groups of Imperial fighters.

But Cyrus now watched as a large group of almost thirty of said fighters formed up and launched an attack on three Yovshin's engaging a Corvette on the outskirts of the system. If they'd had space superiority, it would have been simply a matter of diverting resources to deal with a pest. If they'd had parity in starships (say, a pair of Frigates alongside the Corvette) it might have been a sound tactical move. As it was, it was stupid. The Yovshin's quickly launched their fighters, all of which were the very cheap TIE Katar's. One group of six was hit before they could properly launch, with four of their number destroyed on the racks. Two made it some distance away before being chased down and shot apart.

The remaining two squadrons put up a better fight, linking up into a formation and attempting a Thach Weave on the O'reen fighters. But the disparity in numbers was too much, and they only managed to shoot down three snubfighters before being split apart and picked off one by one. With their fighter escort eliminated, the Yovshin's turned their guns away from the damaged corvette and on to the now more present threat. It did little good, the O'reen pilots were decently skilled and, perhaps more importantly, were riding the wave of their success. They split into several groups, with most targeting turrets and the deadly quad-lasers. A few switched into a bombing role, firing proton torpedo's and concussion missiles at engines, command pods, and other critical components or vulnerable sections of the ships. Soon one frigate was a drifting crippled hulk and the other two were running back to the cover of the main fleet. They wouldn't make it, of course, the fighters were hot on their tail.

But they'd served their part, and a wave of Qiang's swept into the O'reen defenders at speed, hitting them from profile with volleys of laser fire. As the snubfighters died and fled, the two Yovshin, which weren't nearly as badly damaged as they'd let on, turned around and with several well-placed turbolaser shots finished off the injured corvette. On the bridge of the Iron Duke, Cyrus stifled a yawn. O'reen was becoming boring fast.

 

[Masaru Mori]

Three days.

Three days ago, Masaru Mori and a small entourage of his clan had arrived on O'reen. Three days they had spent observing. Learning. Three days that ultimately brought them here, sitting in the office of Maximus' chief of police. Clad in a fine, dark red suit with four of his lieutenants flanking him.

Masaru couldn't suppress the slightest smile. Even in the office, he could just overhear the holo chatter as the city's garrison and police began to prepare for the arrival of Imperial soldiers. Having access to the plans of the Foreign Affairs Ministry had tipped him in the right direction, though the timetable proved somewhat faster than he'd anticipated. Emperor Kahoshi was certainly not one to waste time when making an example.

Well, neither was Masaru Mori.

"As you can see, Mr. Sarat, this city, this very world, finds itself at a crossroads. My associates and I have come here to help guide you and your officers onto the right path," he turned his head, motioning one of his men forward. With a bow, the Reki stepped forward, a large briefcase in hand.

"One of cooperation, mutual understanding, and, of course... pursuit of happiness," his smile spread as his underling opened the case. Imperial Credits, in untraceable hard currency form. The chief looked it over, having the decorum to not start counting it immediately in front of the gathered mobsters, but even a casual glance revealed it was easily more than he made in a year.

"And, of course, this is just a sample of how my associates and I treat our friends. We would be incredibly honored if we could count you among them, Mr. Sarat," he bowed his head in feigned humbleness, his smile never fading, "We simply ask for your cooperation. Starting today."

The chief of police was silent for a few moments, to his credit, but the greed of the man was palpable in the air. He had been carefully selected. Corrupt to his core, overlooking misdeeds of his officers left and right... but somehow untouched by the criminals of the city. It must have been insulting, Masaru mused, being in a position of such power without anyone even attempting to bribe you.

Mr. Sarat closed the case with a heavy click, looking Masaru in the eye, "What exactly do you have in mind, Mr. Mori?"

"Oh, it's most simple," Masaru stood, nodding to his men, "Mr. Sarat, we have a unique opportunity. So much can happen in the course of invasion, especially among panicked citizens. You will take this time, and some of your officers, and escort us to whomever it is that believes he runs the proper business of this city."

"So you want a meeting then? That can't wait for this fet-... this little incident upstairs to stop?"

"No. Now is the time, Mr. Sarat. The opportunity is rapidly slipping. When else will the city be in such chaos? Besides," his smile returned, a glint in his eye giving it an unwholesome edge, "You have come to understand how the Reki treat our friends... but you, and this city, must also understand what it is to cross us."

@[member="Alejandro Ortega"]

 

[Rexus Drath]

@[member="James Mathison "]

Rex moved from building to building even making his way back to the imperial lines, Rexus had to kill a few enemy troops but he made it back. He felt something though, a hurt presence coming from an ally. Moving closer to the feeling Rexus jumped and dived from cover to cover getting to the wounded man. Reaching him finally the man looked to barely be awake, he looked to have gone through hell. Rex wasn't doing anything important anyway so he might as well give the man a hand. Leaning down he looked at him scratching his head. "Hey!! You dead?!" Rex grabbed a nearby stick and poked the man a few times

 

[James Mathison]

James' eyes slowly opened to daylight being shadowed by a figure, he rolled to his back as someone poked him. He had been battered pretty severely, and a few of his ribs had to be broken. He waved the stick away and tried to get his feet under him. He managed to stand, more like lean, on the wrecked speeder.

I will be, if I don't get to a doctor soon.

@[member="Rexus Drath"]

 

[Rexus Drath]

"Well let's get you the feth out of here." Grabbing the man Rex supported him as they began to limp over to imperial lines. This battle was certainly taking its toll. But Rex was confident that soon the planet would be theirs and the empire would expand. "The hell did you go through pal?" Rex tried to keep the man awake with conversation, he looked worse and Rex didn't have the time to triage him to see what was wrong. All he could do was get him to the medics and have them work their juju on him

 

[James Mathison]

Oh, the usual, took a job on a planet I didn't know, with an enemy I've never faced and went in 'blades ho'. Took a bolt to the side, lost a lot of blood, had a building fall on me. Then blacked out and crashed a speeder. Like I said...the usual.

James liked the conversation, it helped him stay awake. This man holding him up, this stranger, gave him a sense of comfort. He and his new comrade made it to the line, and walked towards the medical tent. The medics rushed the pair to aid James, and brought him to a blood-soaked bed. They went to work patching him up, gave him morphine and bacta and he was asleep in a few moments. He never got the chance to thank his comrade, or ask his name. The drugs went to work faster than he anticipated. His head was swimming with images of his day on his first big mission. He hoped he could make his employer proud for destroying the enemy leaders.

@[member="Rexus Drath"] @[member="Akio Kahoshi"]

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Of the various orbital platforms around O'reen, one was noticeably larger and better armored than the rest. On first arrival it had been labeled 'Oscar One' and had thus far been the focus of the fight to eliminate the planet's satellite defenses. Whereas many of the smaller platforms had proven unable to adapt to the to the leapfrog tactic Cyrus had employed, Oscar One and the smaller platforms around it (clearly under its direct control) had done so remarkably quickly. They began to coordinate their attacks, alternating missile and turbolaser fire to land volleys when shields were recharging, and using squadrons of fighters to disrupt point-defense systems.

A single Lee-class Star Destroyer, the Kusong, abruptly broke formation and rapidly dropped on the z-axis. It was a simplistic tactic, one that could be employed effectively but required proper timing and situation, neither of which were present here. Cyrus only shook his head slowly. Initiative was generally a desired and indeed necessary quality for a captain of a starship, but the willingness to act must be tempered by the intelligence to know when to at. This captain clearly lacked the latter, and if the commander of the O'reen station was clever enough to adapt to the leapfrogging, he would certainly be able to deal with this.

The Kusong slowed and lowered its particle shields to launch fighters, and as it did several squadrons of O'reen snubfighters broke off from their harassing attacks and swooped down to meet it. At the same time Oscar One and several of its satellites launched several volleys of Concussion Missiles. They would be timed to arrive slighty after the fighters. Cyrus watched the display closely, already sure of how it would play out. When the captain of the Kusong detected the missiles, he would re-raise the Particle Shields, thus preventing his fighters from launching (and quite possibly losing some in the process). The snubfighters, deemed the lesser threat even though they were arriving later, would distract the Quad Laser turrets and focus on damaging the particle shields, after which the missile barrage which punch through and cripple the ship. Then the fighters could either finish it off or withdraw and let it be destroyed from afar.

But it's a fool who things they can predict every action in a battle. The first surprise was that the Kusong didn't raise it's particle shields, instead it continued to launch its Katar's and Qiangs. They were quickly sent to engage the O'reen snubfighters (a mistake) and shortly a dogfight was brewing in the space around the Star Destroyer. The quad-lasers opened fire a moment later, but they had never been a particularly foolproof defense against missiles, and most of the barrage made it through. Fire blossomed on the surface of the Kusong, with several plumes of flame multiplying in a display that indicated secondary explosions.

A face appeared on the screen of Cyrus' console. The captain of the Kusong looked somewhat haggard, with blood dripping down the side of his face and a red patch on his shoulder. For a moment he looked lost, like a child who's 'careful' argument has been dashed to pieces in their mind upon seeing the angered face of their parent.

Cyrus spoke first, his face and voice a neutral mask. "Captain Isay, who gave the order to keep the particle shields down?"

The captain blinked, then recovered quickly, like a starving animal who has smelled meat. "That was the Tactical Officer, sir. I gave the order to raise shields, but he countermanded it, saying it put the pilots at risk, I tried to tell hi-"

Cyrus cut him off with a wave. "Very well, Commander. You are hereby relieved of command. Inform your Tactical Officer he is now in charge, and that his request to withdraw is granted. If you fail to save that ship, I'll see you executed. Iron Duke out."

The face of Commander Isay as his 'chance' at survival turned into a vice around his neck gave Cyrus a lot more joy than he supposed was normal.

 

[Laura Na'Varro]

This was all going better than expected. Safely back, before the reserves but behind the ships-of-the-line such as the Lee-class Star Destroyers, the Akatsuki pummeled away at her targets with precision and power. It was glorious. Satoshi found himself falling in love with the twin cannons of the Gyon-class cruiser and the wanton destruction they caused. They were beautiful weapons, hammering away with all the subtlety of a psychedelic rancor, tearing ships to shreds with huge concussive blasts. It was slightly more difficult to hit targets square now ... with all the snubfighters and TIEs dancing with each other in the silence of space, red and green lights flashing as they busied themselves with the deathly work at hand. They would have been beautiful if they weren't in Satoshi's firing line. He couldn't risk hitting any Empire flyboys ... that wouldn't do, politically. And then there was the fact that the O'reen defenders had smaller ships. Smaller ships, obscured firing lines and distance ... not a good combination. Yet Satoshi was brilliant. His was a quick, powerful mind, and he found his firing solutions quickly and easily.

The Akatsuki combined with two other Gyons and proceeded to batter one of the enemy cruisers into submission. The cruiser's shields couldn't stand up to the barrage of six heavy cannons and as they fell, Satoshi managed to sneak a tricky torpedo shot through heavy traffic and take out the cruiser's bridge. Once that was down the three GE cruisers continued their heavy barrage, taking the ship apart as escape pods began firing out of its hull. The flashing lights of the battle reflected off of the durasteel exteriors of the escape pods, lighting them up for all to see. In the silence of space, they were beautiful. Poetic. They spoke of the melancholy of defeat, something Satoshi hoped never to experience.

 

[James Mathison]

James awoke in a stiff medical bed. His side ached, along with most of the rest of his body. He rolled to a seated position, groaning the whole time, and pushed himself to his feet. He felt very stiff and unstable on his feet, but he couldn't stay here. Couldn't be found weak and defenseless, so he had to move. He went to the table holding all of his gear and clothes. He struggled to put it all on as quickly as possible. James grunted as he slipped his arms through his clothes and armor, and when he tightened his armor over his chest. Once he finished,he ducked out of the room. His heartbeat monitor alarm went off now that it was not connected to James' pulse, and orderlies ran to the room to check on the now empty bed. James was hiding in an adjacent room until they ran out to look for him. He crept by the clerks and James then realized he was back onboard a ship. James ran...hobbled to an escape pod, but they were now guarded, as the reports may have been passed between ships, that he had jumped from a pod at the start of this battle. Now instead, he walked to a lift and went to the bridge, hoping to discover which ship James was now on. When the door slid open, he stopped mid-step when he noticed just which ship he was on, the leader of the Empire, and his employer, @[member="Akio Kahoshi"] sat on the command chair overlooking the battle. James stepped onto the bridge as the ding from the lift had to have alerted anyone with in earshot. James grabbed his left side with his right arm, trying to subdue the pain and the bleeding that occurred from his premature attempt to run.
Ouch.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

At this point in the battle Cyrus had identified three main commanders of the various forces in space. One was directing things from the planet, and had thus far displayed little in the way of overall competence. Probably a General of some sort who was the Supreme Commander, and imagined that entitled him to waste what forces he had in suicide runs and mass charges. Whatever the case, his influence was clearly waning, as the number of ships and fighters operating in individual units around the planet had dropped precipitously, and not just because they were getting destroyed by the Imperial Fleet.

The primary reason was the second commander, who appeared to be running things from an old Heavy Cruiser. So far he had done little more than gather whatever forces he could around him, but his unwillingness to let O'reen's navy be destroyed piecemeal meant he at least recognized what was going on, which was more than could be said for the planetary commander. Still, even with almost all the ships remaining, he had a far smaller force than the Imperial Forces present. If their positions were switched, Cyrus wouldn't have even tried to fight to a classic victory, instead he would've harassed and subsequently retreated when pressed, punishing any commander who followed.

But that supposed you had a place to retreat to, and O'reen was an independent system. It was do or die for the defenders.

The last commander was the person in charge of the Starbase dubbed 'Oscar One.' So far he was presenting the most stubborn defense. It was an unenviable task, commanding a relatively immobile space station against a fleet of warships who could relocate at a whim, but the officer was industrious, using defense satellites, civilian craft, and even target drones as mobile shields and to provide extra punch where necessary. All told, the strike group dispatched to eliminate the orbital defenses had stalled as a result, and this made Oscar One the highest priority.

Well flashy tactics and fancy maneuvers were one thing, but when you got it, flaunt it. Time for some Overwhelming Force.

 

[Laura Na'Varro]

The Akatsuki had begun to press now, Satoshi could feel it. He wasn't on the bridge but he could see everything on his visual display as he processed firing solutions. It was more complex now, even more than before ... the ship pressed forward and as it did, it became more exposed to enemy fire. And as it became more exposed, there were more targets to fire at, which meant he had to make use of all of the Akatsuki's batteries. Satoshi was brilliant, no doubting that fact, but he was also just a man. Too much to think about and he would become overworked and thus less efficient, and so he began delegating specifics regarding the minor batteries to his subordinates. The young Ensign was so engaged in his particular work, defending his ship from snubfighters with his minor batteries while hammering away at Oscar One with his big, beautiful twin cannons, that he almost didn't realise it. The Akatsuki had drifted too far out of formation, and was no longer protected by the heavy shields and armour of the Lee's that were meant to be "downside", or "in front" of them when one was using full gravity terminology. In fact, the Akatsuki was now downside of the Lee's, and completely unprotected. Satoshi was just comprehending the depth of his CO's incompetence when it hit.

The maneuver that the commander of Oscar One used was as old as time itself, and Satoshi's CO should have been ready for it. A flight of O'reen fighters made a pass at the Akatsuki, coming straight for the bridge in a style that seemed so amateurish that it was almost too good to be true. They seemed to be serving themselves up on a platter for the Gyon-class cruisers defensive batteries, making themselves large targets and making no effort to avoid blasterfire. Satoshi could see what was happening before it happened ... his CO could not. The CO dropped his particle shields in order for Satoshi to take out the fighters easily, but in that moment the snubfighters entered a steep "climb" north-wise ... and the torpedoes that had been following them the whole time, the torpedoes that their heat signatures had been disguising, smacked into the Akatsuki's bridge with a deafening crunch, and the resulting explosions were silent but devastating.

Satoshi was strapped into his chair, as was protocol, but the force of the impact through his head into his control panel with a crunch. Reeling, his head spinning and disorientated beyond measure, the young officer reacted almost subconsciously. The bridge was gone, which left him and Lt. Varga down in engines as the two ranking officers on deck. Which made him XO. Which meant-

"Ensign Satoshi to all crew. Status reports."

"Shields are okay."

"Engines are hit, not looking good, sir. Lt. Varga is dead, Chief Wille isn't looking good either, sir."

"Get shields up to maximum! Are we still maneuverable, Danzig?"

"Sub-light maneuverability is greatly reduced, sir. We're not exactly sitting ducks out here, but we're damn close."

"Get us moving and get us out of here." Satoshi stood up, knowing he'd have to command the whole ship from the battery. This situation was less than ideal, safe to say. The Akatsuki was now basically a slow-moving, half-crippled hulk whose ranking officer was an Ensign a week out of Command School. They had no maneuverability and they were getting battered by everything the O'reen defenders had. They were looking for a weak link and now they had found one. All that followed for them was to finish the Akatsuki off and be done with it. Satoshi was not about to let that happen. This ship was his command now, and he wasn't dying in the orbit of some pissant world like O'reen. He had far too much ambition for that.

They need as much defensive capability and as much time as possible. As such, Satoshi made the easy decision to release his one flight of the old, cheap TIE Katar fighters. None of them would make it back to the flight deck alive but they'd buy the ship valuable time. It was either them or the rest of the crew, and truth be told this ship was worth a heck of a lot more than twelve Katar fighters. The Katars launched a formed a moving protective screen for the Akatsuki as she limped back towards the line of Lee's and hopeful safety. Satoshi looked back as the Katar's were quickly picked apart and destroyed by the superior number of O'reen fighters and felt little remorse ...

@[member="Cyrus Tregessar"]

 

[Rexus Drath]

Rex returned to the fob after taking the injured man back, it wasn't much but he was sure that he didn't have to do much. The might of the imperial army could handle this engagement. Though he had to get back out to his squad. He couldn't leave them

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

@[member="Rodrigo Satoshi"]

Apparently the Kusong's actions had somewhat more widespread consequences than Cyrus had anticipated. While the Lee-class Star Destroyer limped back to the main fleet, a Gyon Heavy Cruiser, the Akatsuki attempted to mimic it's earlier action, with predictably similar results. The commander of Oscar One used the same bait-and-switch tactic he had before, and as a volley of proton torpedo's obliterated the bridge of thee heavy cruiser, Cyrus felt a surge of anger, mixed inexplicably with joy.

Two capital ships crippled, which was two more serious casualties than he had anticipated taking when the fleet had first jumped into the system. His anger was reserved for the ship's captains, who had proved their incompetence, and at least in one instance, paid the ultimate price for it (and Commander Isay really had it coming). But the fact that this fight was turning into more of a challenge, well, that was relief of a sort.

But philosophical musings could wait until the enemy were dead or dying. The Akatsuki had raised shields and begun to maneuver again, which meant someone was still in charge. A single press of a button brought up the comms display, and Cyrus hailed the wounded ship. "This is Vice Admiral Tregessar, whoever is in command, state your name, rank, and number."

 

[Laura Na'Varro]

@[member="Cyrus Tregessar"]

"This is Vice Admiral Tregessar, whoever is in command, state your name, rank, and number."

The Akatsuki was still absorbing heavy fire from Oscar One and a flight of snubfighters as she limped back towards the line of Lee's that were intended to provide a line of cover for the Gyon-class ships. Her rear shields had begun to flicker and die from the relentless assault so Satoshi ordered that her front shield power be re-routed in order to buy himself and the ship more time to escape. The situation was far from resolved. The Akatsuki very little sub-light speed and maneuverability, and though Gunnery Chief Nagase was doing an able job of firing her smaller defensive batteries, there were simply too many ships to deal with. Satoshi hoped her shields could hold until she managed to make it back to the lines.

"Sir, this is Ensign Rodrigo Satoshi, OF-42368."

Satoshi waited expectantly as the Akatsuki took a heavy hit to the hangar bay, rocking the ship violently. Thankfully he had already released all of the fighters, otherwise they would not have had a chance to serve their purpose.

 

[Commander Lusk]

Better late then never, the two Czars @[member="JerrickShado"] and Rolland were busy at the other end of imperial space. They had been tracking mercinary groups that had it out for the empire until they were called away to the invasion of O'reen. So they sat in one of the bonsai drop pods awaiting their target. "Rock Eater 1 this is Overlord, radio check over" A voice on Rolland's comm unit went off inside his helmet. Standard procedures for testing communication systems "Overlord this Rock Eater 1 Roger over" Rolland responded on his comm then looked over to his brother Jerrick "Were coming out of this one alive. And I promise I won't drive this time" A small smile was under the man's skull faced helmet as he buckled up getting ready for the drop into the war zone.

"Rock Eater 1 this is Overlord. The first objective is simple drop down and push into enemy territory once there raise as much hell as possible, how copy over." It was a simple job and it was something Rolland and his brother were good at. "Good copy over, understood" Looking over to Zero One he gave him a chance to talk before the pod would launch and hit the surface hard.

 

[The Red of Sinner]

Jerrick leaned back taking a deep breath. "Why? Why do we always drop out of a perfectly good ship?" He made sure all was strapped correctly to his armor. He checked his hud, and weapons. "Who's the opposing army? What resitance do we expect? Can we just land, and not basically jump out in a portapotty? Please? Copy over?" He asked @[member="Rolland CZ M1 002"]

 

[Commander Lusk]

Rolland almost chuckled at what @[member="JerrickShado"] had said, it was true though they seemed to be doing a lot of jumping lately "Enemy forces are the people of O'reen I'm not sure on their history but expect heavy resistance once we hit the ground." Rolland grabbed his new IAR and gear making sure he had everything. Jerrick seemed to set and as much of a diva as ever when it came to jumping out of ships "For someone who has done this before you seem to complain a lot" he said in a cold yet joking tone

Pushing the button above him the pod fired from the ship and headed straight down through the atmosphere of the enemy planet. "You get used to it!" Rolland shouted over his comm to Jerrick trying to yell past the rumbling of the cavern "We hit in 10 9 8" the ground neared closer and closer to the two Czars drop pod bellow them was the warzone of the planet and they were here to finish this fight "3 2 1!" Rolland said as the pod hit the earth with a thunderous smack. "Cover me!" Rolland kicked down the door of the pod and immediately the battle engulfed the men blaster fire flew everywhere as Rolland grabbed his new rifle and began to fire on an enemy squad

 

[The Red of Sinner]

Jerrick rushed behind him, rejocing for the ground. The fire of enemy weapons rushed past him and his brother. "Right, tell me that after the tenth drop, I've got your six." He yelled in his comm. He fired his weapon on the squad along with Rolland, the battle pumping adrenaline into his body, helping him to choose his targets. He took out the farthest man in the squad with a shot directly in his face. He rushed to gain cover behind a fallen tree and yelled for Rolland to follow. The armor was great, but not invincible. "So where from here?" He asked over the sound of gun fire. He took blind shots of suppresive fire, making the squad stay their ground. @[member="Rolland CZ M1 002"]