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He expected this…this sorcery to cease and desist after the shot of his blaster. Straight at the heart of image of his father which penetrated through cloth and flesh, burnt flesh and vaporized blood upon contact from the plasma. It was too real, real enough for the illusion to gasp in pain and fall down while breathing its dying breaths. Djorn was conflicted with his emotions, expecting to “kill” something that was just a cloud of nothing. A pleasing hand reached out for help and the Imperial was just stunned.
What to do?
Could he correct this mistake? Take back his past? Steer off this path of hardship he elected to travel?
Before he could do anything the very same illusion began to morph, changing its appearance it someone else. Someone else he knew and had affections for. Words were spoken out to him again, but they were words that belonged to him years ago in the jungles of Gravlex Med. Along with the illusion of Loske, wild and green flora appeared replicating the jungles of Gravlex Med.
Not consumed by the parasite she was afflicted with prior to this encounter. When he tried to save her only to lose an eye in the process. Hand outstretched as if wanting him to join her. He was cautions in his walk and blaster still raised, not wanting to harm her like he did. Djorn’s mind effectively accepted this reality, finding a relief of peace and content.
The 43rd fleet began to collectively rumble under the ceaseless barrage of the Alliance fleet, yet it had in turn given equally as much as it had received, with massive ordnance continuing its bombardment of the Alliance fleet’s picket and escort vessels until they would be either reduced to debris, or rendered useless altogether. The Ave Imperator, alongside its Star Destroyer escorts, doggedly maintained their position despite the Alliance’s efforts to dislodge them. It almost went without saying that the flak bombardment of the advancing Alliance bomber wave was underwhelming to say the least, but the scrambled TIE fighters did their job of sowing discord within their ranks. As Shar Seiu and the providential Y-Wing bomber squadron set about disrupting the flanking maneuver of the 7th and 9th TIE squadrons, the bulk of the main wave would indeed meet stiff resistance by the 3rd and 15th squadrons, together with the interceptors. As the roughly-evenly numbered forces began to engage one another, hundreds of additional fighter craft began to emerge from the bowels of the fleet.
Bombers, Outlanders, Interceptors, Drones - all forms of the signature fighter craft of the Empire surged forth. To the small relief of the beleaguered bomber group, a fraction of the wave - yet a considerable fraction nonetheless - broke off from the swarm to join with the already deployed TIEs engaging them. This bore far graver tidings for the main Alliance attack force, however. Over one hundred TIE Drones pushed through the Alliance formation, fulfilling the main function of their design by attempting to overwhelm the waiting point defense batteries and Alliance defenders. The second wave that would follow would be the smaller contingent of four TIE Interceptor squadrons, who would set about intercepting whatever frantically deployed fighter craft had attempted to stave off the tide of Drones.
The true danger of the attack however, would be within the larger third wave. Ten full squadrons of TIE Bombers surged in attack formation against the waiting Alliance battle lines, flanked on either side and in the rear by the TIE Outlander squadrons. As the cacophony of laser fire and debris began to rise amidst the ranks and files of the Alliance fleet, the Bombers began breaking formation in strike wings; strafing the Star Defenders arrayed in formation to protect the centerpiece - and the true target of the attack.
The ANV Lightmaker would see four dedicated squadrons assault her, dropping a faux-payload of proton bombs to mask the deployment of the Empire’s Spacetroopers. As their boots landed against the reinforced hull plating of the capital ship, they would swoop around and join the attack against the Star Defenders from the rear - likely an oddity by the perceptive officer accustomed with Imperial tactical doctrine. But it made no difference. Their true payload had been successfully deployed - now was the time to finalize the Alliance’s ultimate destruction.
“Connection established sir.” The communications officer said as he glanced over to the Grand Moff. Korvan nodded and took his seat within the command chair. Before giving his leave to patch the Alliance flagship through, he turned to Rear Admiral Feros.
“I leave the fleet in your capable hands during this exchange, Admiral. Thank you for indulging me.” Although it was clear Korvan had stepped on the Admiral’s toes not but a dozen minutes prior, a begrudging level of respect bled through as the Rear Admiral nodded his ascent. At that, Korvan motioned to the communications officer, who in turn patched the feed of Rear Admiral Liedran Kathouse via a holographic display in front of Korvan.
Korvan would in turn appear before the Alliance commander, bedecked in his snow-white uniform and placard indicating his rank and status within the Empire. A gave a faint, cold smile as he began: “Rear Admiral Liedran Kathouse - a pleasure to make your acquaintance. It’s not every day you meet such a decorated member of the Alliance military.”
His tone was disarmingly, and quite unexpectedly pleasant - as if he were greeting an old friend or honored guest despite the fact Liedran was neither. “I am Grand Moff Ignacious Korvan, and on behalf of the Empire - I wish to extend to you one final offer to surrender, lest we see a repeat of the incident on... Empress Teta, yes?” His words took on a suggestive air, with the trademark smug and ‘superior’ air of a life-long Imperial. In truth, Ignacious had no intention of allowing Liedran or anyone in the Alliance military to surrender. Triumvir Rausegeber had already consigned these former allies-turned oathbreakers to death via his order to grant no leniency or quarter. Despite their differences, Korvan was not so bold as to shirk a direct order from his superior.
No, the purpose of this discussion was rather singular. The longer he kept Admiral Kathouse distracted, the easier of a time Lieutenant Freefall would have in breaching through the Lightmaker. “It would be a shame, to be sure - to play so recklessly once again with the lives of those under your command. Wouldn’t you say?” He awaited her reply, obviously attempting to bait her into some emotional outburst, or into entering a state that would cloud her judgement. Both would serve his purpose, and ultimately would secure victory for the Empire.
The Imperial line continues to bombard the Alliance picket and support ships.
Additional fighters join the fray against the oncoming bomber formation.
The fighter group assaulting the Alliance formation makes contact, and effects the deployment of the Spacetroopers
Mylo's finger hovered above the trigger, wavering as he waited for the satisfying ping that meant that he finally had a lock. Just before he could cover the red button, his shields were once again lit up with a disturbing shimmering from the laserfire. "Kark it." He cursed under his breath, pitching the nosecone dramatically, moving into a steep nosedive. His frontal sight cleared up, as he moved back into a sharp starboard turn, now placed in the position of hunted. Nobody liked to be hunted. <"Drone classes, hot on my tail!"> He called out into the com, throttling up, juking out of a volley of fire, as green laser bolts illuminated the cockpit.
Rolling hard to port, he took a quick glance behind him. Breaking hard into the direction of attack, the pilot tried his best to let the drone overshoot. However, a sickening crackling sound akin to lightning coming from somewhere behind the fighter alerted him to a serious issue. Just around the X-Wing the natural glimmer of the shields began to fade away. Eyes widening in fear, he jacked the throttle up to 80 just to get some forward momentum, as his protection began to recede. Warning klaxons commenced their fearful cry, flashing lights overtaking the lights of battle. <"Shields are down!"> A worried note present in his voice. "Mig get on it." He ordered the droid brain, turning round the control stick in a circular motion.
He watched space spin around him, feeling a slight pull at the bottom of his chest as the X-Wing loop rolled out of the way of a TIE Drone's deadly spray. WARNING! WARNING! SHIELDS AT CRITICAL LEVEL. Mylo shook his head, keeping focus on the task ahead. "C'mon, c'mon, not a lotta time here! hurry it up Mig." Aurebesh letters scrolled out, as his droid brain replied.
<ALMOST DONE, THIRTY SECONDS.>
"I don't have thirty seconds!" Came a retort. The dark-haired fighter pilot gritted his teeth, a sinking feeling entering him. Mylo somehow had to create thirty seconds in order to keep himself alive. Worse yet his adversaries didn't seem to have dropped the scent, and a number of drones began a pursuit. Biting his lip, he was pushed back in his seat from the acceleration, darting across the battlefield, being careful not to catch any stray bolts.
But the numbers kept rising and rising, another volley headed straight for him. Just then, a ping rang out throughout the canopy, and Mylo watched in delight as the bar indicating shield strength began to turn a healthy green colour again. A long exhale left his lips which was quickly offset by more TIEs. A black shape entered his flight path, skittering off into the distance, without a single escort following it. Instinctively, a hand went to the stick, but he restrained himself. Mylo's turned off to feint that he was on the pursuit to see what might happen. It didn't add up. Drones were swarmers and usually stuck together. "Hmm.."
NYOOOM! The scope began to be covered in marks. Pushing on, he kicked the fighter up vertically, belly-side out into a half loop, as around eight drones focused waves of fire on where he had just been. Another close shave that he didn't want to repeat. He held the stick to port for a few seconds, moving into a half roll, levelling out away from his adamant pursuers. Another dirty trick. A smile almost formed on his face as he felt something click in his head. <"Two Flight! On me, I've got an idea."> He ordered, moving to a separate sector to try and regroup with the rest of the unit. Mylo took the opportunity to check on the other members of the squadron.
Switching frequency, he opened up a channel with Shar Sieu
. "You okay Four?" The question soon became redundant as his computer told him about a number of bandits closing in quickly on the B-Wings of Revenant Squadron. As much as his heart yearned to go and help his friend, he had to keep himself alive if he was going to do that. And keep himself alive he would.
A minor wound in exchange for destroying Simon's saber was a bargain in his mind. The pain was fleeting, the burn easily fixed with an application of bacta, or the healing energies of the Force. Both would require time to implement that he did not have right now. And while it would have been a simple matter to switch to offence, to carve his opponent to ribbons, as Simon was unlikely to survive his onslaught unless their armour happened to have a truly impressive composition, he stayed his blade. Offering mercy that he would not have received in return.
Because it was the right thing to do. He was not going to cut down a defenceless man. If Simon started using the Force or throwing a punch, that would be a different matter. But he had been disarmed, the fight was over. If the Imperial Knight decided they wished to continue hostilities, that would be on them to deal with the consequences.
"Consider who before you had the same dream. You fought to stop them not too long ago." An Empire bent on galactic conquest, proclaiming moral superiority despite acting in directly contradicting ways. An upper brass that attempted to grasp power from each other. All with an army of Force Sensitives serving them who'd serve a cult of personality without hesitation. Forgetting that the Force itself was both the ends and the means that a Jedi should seek. Losing themselves in the thrill of war and conflict, forgetting the ideals they originally strove for.
Aaran remembered when the New Imperial Order stood for freedom from chains. It was a shame Simon forgot that.
It was all so terribly familiar.
"Take care Sir Knight." Aaran said, raising one hand above his head, reaching out with the Force to grasp at the cracked ceiling, now even further damaged by the shaking of artillery rounds shaking the cityscape. By now, the Stormtroopers had almost completely taken the atrium, forcing the rebels back deeper into the hotel, some of them already retreating out the back.
All exactly as planned. As military victory was never his intent. Salvation for these people would not be decided in something as simple as a brawl between two Force users. The plan was to force the Empire to expend resources, to overreach and be bled inch by inch.
"Otherwise you will become what you sought to destroy." And with a grunt, he thrust his hand down, the ceiling cracking as rock began to collapse down on the advancing troopers, threatening to bury them in rubble. As unlike Simon, they were still active combatants, not standing down even as their commander had been disarmed.
So Simon was left with a choice, call upon the Force and save his men, a feat well within his abilities. Or pursue the Jedi who was bidding a hasty retreat, leaping backwards with the unnatural grace and celerity that the Force could provide.
Ari could see the attacking K-wing try to activate it's SLAM as it was being engaged by the Interceptors - too late as a missile or laser cannon ripped into the rear hull of the bomber, the cockpit just barely detaching in time to launch off away from the plane of battle as the power plant exploded into a bright burst - "This isn't going to work. Krill flight, Simultaneous Targets- Full Saturation. Run and Gun." With the Proton Torpedoes flying quickly towards her Fighter, Ari Jerked the X-wing upwards, then rolled over dove towards the corvette, skimming along its hull so close so that, if they were anything like the advanced ones she was carrying, they wouldn't be able to turn and would impact the corvette's Point Defense
The Remaining 3 K-wings dove towards the plane of battle, somewhat shallower than the previous one. Each of them unleashing all of their Plasma Torpedoes on one Onager, they immediately climbed upwards and hit their SLAM systems, speeding away at top speed to avoid getting entangled in the battle like their previous one did. Meanwhile, the rest of Nemesis Squadron continued to fight against the overwhelming number of TIES, two of them having to jump out quickly before they could be finished off.
"Nemesis Squadron, Break off, Krill Fight, JUMP OU-" Ari could see the new Interceptor fire on two of her K-wings as they tried to accelerate away, though only one of them could detach the cockpit section before both of them exploded into a blaze of light. Damn it. We're getting torn apart up here. Seeing the Plasma torpedoes still firing towards their target, Ari knew that what forces she had weren't going to last very long if things continued the way that they did. The last K-wing barely managed to fire its hyperdrive before it could engaged by any of the corvettes or interceptors. Ari backed off her throttle, measuring her movements so that the X-wing could hide from sensors - even a fighter pilot that could see her would have to aim manually, without the help of a targeting computer.
Focusing in on the Onager her last 3 K-wings had just made a suicide run on, Ari noticed something that sent a shiver down her spine - they're getting ready to fire. The possibilities and th ememories memories flew through her mind. The desperate preparations for the doomed defense against the Brynadul invasion, the diplomatic long shot for help that had seen her away from the planet - and family - when the invasion finally came, doing escort duty and forcing her to watch. The Holonews vids of her planet's desolation. She couldn't tell if the siege lasers were targeting the planet or the fleet and at this point she didn't care - New Alderaan had suffered enough, and she wasn't going to let it go without a fight - that wasn't going to happen ever again.
NEVER. AGAIN. Ari flew back towards the Onager, this time with anger and vengeance in her heart. Skimming across the bow surface, she fire-linked her main tubes - a pair of Advanced Proton Torpedoes flying out the port and starboard torpedo tubes, timed to hit the Onager's main guns just after whatever missiles from the K-wing's last strike made it through. Immediately she firewalled the throttle again, sending a quick flurry of Phased-Pulse cannon blasts into the group of interceptors fighting her X-wings and firing another proton torpedo towards the one following her wingman. Flipping over to the Open comms, she threatened their commander direct. "Surrender now and I'll make sure they'll at least find your rank plaque in the wreckage."
Auteme dropped to the ground after a blaster bolt flew right past her face. She could tell the dust was beginning to fall -- if she didn't move quick, she'd be fully visible again.
Her hand shot out towards where she sensed the dully-malicious presence flailing on the ground. Her little carpet of Force-strands sprang to life once more, searching for purchase on his armor. Her momentary weaving work was rudimentary, no artistry, purely practical, growing with the intent to restrain him. The threads grew, crawling over him as quickly as they could.
"Crap, crap, crap-" Auteme burst from the dust cloud, only to find it clinging to her cloak. She frantically rubbed it off, trying to return to any semblance of stealth as she began to move once more towards the capital building.
Kaul unloaded 3 proton torpedoes towards the advancing TIE Interceptors. Each missile hit their mark as explosions rocked Kaul's cockpit for a brief moment. "Hah!" Kaul laughed banging his fist against the glass. "I'm just dominating your ass Mylo!"
He looked around the battlefield noticing that Mylo wasn't by his side. "Aw man Mylo don't tell me you're-"
<He wasn't by your side Kaul.> R5 beeped. <It seems that once again your lack of attentiveness has eluded you.>
"Excuse me?!" Kaul said steering his X-Wing towards the middle of the Dogfight. "Aren't you supposed to be my assistant?! How come you didn't tell me?!"
<Because I'm tracking his location while you were too busy laughing like a maniac towards the people you've killed.> R5 beeped. <Also Ari Naldax
is under heavy fire and I found Mylo! He's being chased by two hostiles! His shields are at critical and one more direct hit could destroy his ship!>
"First thing: Save Mylo!" Kaul said spotting Mylo's location on the targeting system. "Second, help out Blackwolf!" Kaul zipped towards the two interceptors taking them down in one blast.
"Hey Mylo!" Kaul laughed. "The thing is now that saved you! I think it's safe to say that you've lost the bet! I'm just sayin!"
Kaul saw 5 more TIE Interceptors firing wildly at him, the Pilot's shields took the brunt of it as he fought back with a flurry of blaster flak. <Shields 50 percent!> R5 whirred.
"Don't worry!" Kaul laughed taking down two more ships while the rest of the TIE interceptors retreated. He noticed an opening towards the Onager Star Destroyer as well as the Corvette firing at Blackwolf's squadron.
"Heads up! Mylo!" Kaul said. "Blackwolf is attacking the Onager Star Destroyer and is getting beaten badly! We're gonna rally the rest of the X-Wings and help her out."
"Hey 4!" Kaul screamed at the intercom. "Keep these eyeballs busy while we give Blackwolf some assistance!"
Kaul immediately rerouted all power to thrusters as he waited for Mylo to recover. "Everyone! Form up! Follow my lead!" Kaul said flashing a cocky grin.
Shields 80% l Weapons 100% l Engines 100% l Crew 100% l Kyber Cells 5 & timer in progress
On her return trip to make a second pass on the B and Y-Wings, and after her shields had received the return fire, Mae saw a new swarm of Imperial fighter squadrons on their way to her targets. Instead of getting caught up in that mess and possibly cause or fall victim to friendly fire, she once again pulled away and re-cloaked. She headed a few kilometers away from the action, not far enough to be kept from the fight as her ship was extremely fast, but far enough to evaluate her next target. She looked over at where she had been not 15 minutes ago, when she was destroying some K-Wings, to find a daring assault by a heavily armed Wolf X Wing (Ari Naldax
). She also found a few other X-Wings in that direction, one of which (Kaul "Joker" Emos
) was racing off in the direction of the Heavy X-wing and the other was attempting to regroup what was left of their wing or squadron (Mylo Thorne
). She wanted to go after the one racing to support the Heavy, but even with her advanced speed, she would not catch up to it before it had re-united with the Heavy, so her gaze fell on the one trying to re-group.
"How are those shields coming along?" She asked her chief engineer. "We can use one of the Cells now and top it off, or we can wait another 5 minutes to recharge them manually, they are already back to 85%" The Zilk replied. "No, we better wait. No need to waste a cell yet, but get three of them primed for our next engagement at the shield manifolds!" She ordered back to him. "Yes, Captain!" he quickly replied with a quick salute.
She quickly put her throttle at full power on her way to her new target area. Unfortunately, she randomly got caught in some cross fire between an Alliance Frigate and two Imperial Corvettes. She weaved her way through the bolts of turbo lasers flying both directions, but was unable to avoid some of the lighter, laser fire. While in her cloaked state, she still had shields up, but they were at a much more dampened state, which meant a good portion of the laser fire bled through and hit the side of her ship. Luckily, it did not effect any of her critical systems, but made her sigh in relief none the less.
By the time she had further avoided more cross fire, the X-wing at the rear had already somewhat organized his group. She made a direct path in their direction and decided to give her gunners a better chance at hitting up more targets, so she de-cloaked early, allowing them to set up firing solutions quicker. This of course exposed her and her plan of attack, but with shields almost back up, she was okay with the risk. A few moments later, her gunners lit up and destroyed two of the re-organized X-wings, while Mae targeted the lead ship (Mylo Thorne
) and squeezed her trigger, sending many heavy laser bolts out of her repeating cannons in his direction. She was very accurate as of late, but her target seemed a bit more agile then the others. Mae smiled to herself as she enjoyed a good challenge.
AIR COMPLIMENT: "ARES WING"
CALLSIGNS: Admiral Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Angel 1", Captain Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Angel 2" Captain Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "VOODOO 1". Captain Ewan Isaacs "Raider" is "SCAR 1" and in command of the Jackals primarily for both ships. Each Squadron leader makes up the remaining "Angel" callsigns, their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below.
SPACIAL COMBAT AND RENDITION - SCARs use the Jackal Fighter for its balance of speed and maneuverability as well as its remote capabilities. This allows the elite pilot/operators to"bail" and operate in zero-G often a tactic in boarding capital ships.
The charge set off on the “Thundercrack”’s central Bridge Viewport exploded and tore open the glass, immediately bringing up the blast shield on all of the remaining “windows.” The next charges (and it would take more than one) did not destroy the shield, but dislodged it enough for explosive decompression to do the rest. The violent expulsion of atmosphere pushed the shield out into open space and took much of the bridge crew nearby with it.
[SCARs.. 1’s moving in!] Brozek! Seal the room, Tanner, see what you can do about locking down everything to the bridge before someone else locks us out.
CAPTAIN OF TORTUGA COMPANY 222ND NOVA CORPS| 512TH LEGION | 312 ATTACK BATALLION
She saw it. Whatever it was, something, in him reacted. It was like a flinch through his lifeforce. Even with his face concealed, she felt some of her words were reaching him. Maybe even as deep as his heart.
"Sonofa ——" she started but didn't finish. Her breath was hot, angry, and narrowly hissed through her teeth.
Rats and sheep were nothing. Osarla had mistrusted a snake. His forked tongue kept her listening to the lies, allowing him to spin tales of Eden, and then, suddenly, her attuned senses wailed out klaxons.
In a whoosh, Osarla's twisted. The blue length of her blade that had been close to decapitating the 501st leader arced to her side in a bridge of blue. Inhumanly fast, her blade navigated to track the onslaught of plasma peppered at her. A few shots, she missed, and they glanced off the plating of her armour in puffs of sparks and left black scorch marks in their wake.
At first, she ducked and dodged. Then, a personal shield emerged from her vambrace, blue-green and oval. It covered her from the distant firing range, which had drawn the attention of her own marine's blasters. Green raced to meet red. The 222nd and the 501st. And blue angled to meet songsteel.
It hurt to know that it was too late. That Saul's purpose was so misguided that he couldn't surrender his pride for peace.
His attacks were ferocious, more than before, and Osarla felt with each battering blow that he was further and further from calling off his men. The offer for him to stand down had been rejected and spat back at her.
In an instant of opportunity, Saul's hammering opened up an upward arc and Osarla rushed in. Force Body imbued the colossal shape of a woman, and with both her hands around the hilt of her saber, she rushed to body slam Saul to the ground with all the extra reverberations of The Force rippling through her body. If she made impact, it would be the equivalent of a telekinetic blast, but significantly less elegant.
Remaining true to his beliefs, not wanting to strike down a defenseless man. Admirable, but quite foolish. What would’ve happened if it were a Sith Lord in his place? Would the Jedi spare the demon and allow him to continue rampaging desperate souls?
Aaran would come to regret that.
The cracked and damaged ceiling above began to crumble down from the influence of Aaran, planning to bury the Stormtroopers within nearby. There was a choice; save them or continue his pursuit.
And ultimately he chose…
A hand raised above, to prevent the ceiling above to collapse on top of him; however, the same could not be said for his own men. They had come here for a purpose and their efforts would be in vain if they didn’t try to kill or capture every insurgent here. And so his other hand reached out to grab Aaran with the Force as the Jedi leaped backwards at great distance.
”You know nothing of my fate, Jedi,” his grip coiling around the man. “But yours has come for meddling in our affairs,” and violently his hand descended as a means to slam Aaran on the ground. The debris suspended above Simon was tossed to the side, ignoring the screams from his men behind him. Their need of help would be answered, but first to deal with the Jedi. “You will not evade the consequences of your actions so easily. All that for a lost cause.”
"If you think I'll give you an honest answer then you really are more foolish than you look. I've given you a chance to save your men, but you chose greed over everything. How do you not see it is a hopeless operation you're doing?"
How things have changed. Gone is the time that Imperials and Jedi have worked together. Gone is the voice of her father. Gone is the sense of emotion. She had sacrificed far too much to turn tail now.
When she saw the flick of the hand, Lily knew something was coming. The first crate hitting her from behind, however, was not what she was ready for. It knocked her slightly off balance, but she didn't stand still for the rest either. As the SCAR Trooper lost some of her balance, she fell into a roll as other crates passed over hear head.
As she rolled to her feet, however, she rolled her shoulder right into the Jedi's lightsaber. It pierced through the outer armour before hitting the cortosis-weave underlayer. Not that it completely prevented the blade. The tip of the kid's saber burned through the material to bite into her skin. "Bastard!" she cried before she flung her armoured fist that was curled around her sword at his jaw to get him and his saber out of her shoulder.
With a sideways pivot, she followed up with a slice towards his own shoulder for good measure.
ALPHA SQUAD CORPORAL TYLER NORMAN 3/6 TROOPERS
There it was.
The gap that Tyler wanted. Private Hollard darted forward to capitalise on his Corporal's opening.
But what would have been a brilliant, armoured tackle, there was suddenly nothing. Hollard hugged nothing but air as he stumbled with no resistance to balk his momentum.
Tyler could only watch in horror as the Jedi disappeared and reappeared again to skewer his subordinate. Hollard's lifeless body hit the floor as the woman turned to face his remaining comrades.
Tyler's visor glared at her while his heart was clenching for Hollard's toddlers that would never see their daddy again. "You're more Sith than you think, lady." he told her before Savante to his right lobbed a grenade toward the rebels behind her.
At the same time Tyler let loose with a three-round burst of particle shots directly at the Jedi.
She sent the large warrior tumbling like a mere sack of potatoes with a body slam empowered with the Force. He rolled to a halt as stormtroopers evaded their general and rushed forward in a furious assault befitting their nature of shock troopers. They led the way for the Imperial war machine to follow.
Saul slowly rose up as the clash between Marines and Stormtroopers flooded and separated both duelists. He removed the half-black, half-orange helmet to reveal a bloodied face. Crimson running down a cut lip and a cut brow, deep gashes formed from Osarla's blows, both physical and ethereal. Scars he would carry to the grave from their first bout of surely many more to come.
A wicked smirk greeted his incensed former comrade before the looming figure of the general disappeared in the tide of white armors and blaster fire.
All war was chaos, that much could be applied universally. But to experience the chaos, and to be a part of it, was a completely different matter altogether. Especially when one's allies were in dire straits. From what his computer was telling him, the battle didn't seem to be moving in favour of the Alliance. Mylo craned his neck to try and see out of the starboard viewport, a grimace forming as he saw Kaul's X-Wing racing away from the already dangerous situation. Shaking his head, in disappointment, he watched the rest of the unit regroup near him, as he banked off, only just skirting the battlefield to try and see if he could find a way in.
The fighters really didn't seem to want to let off, as he watched swarms of fighters explode out of the Imperial Fleet, like insectoid creatures behaved, they seemed to move as one entity. One iron fist of destruction. He couldn't even make out any particular fighters, and had to rely on his computer to distinguish between the mass amount of TIE Drones and Interceptors that came racing toward the Alliance Fleet. His scope also read that a number of TIE Bombers were moving in to try and cripple the Alliance Fleet. Just after his shields had returned to normal, the voice of his wingman came through the com.
Keep these eyeballs busy while help give Blackwolf some assistance!"
Kaul immediately rerouted all power to thrusters as he waited for Mylo to recover. "Everyone! Form up! Follow my lead!" Kaul said flashing a cocky grin.
<"Belay that order, the zone is too hot Kaul! Or.. maybe not."> Something seemed to switch on in his mind as he heard the communication come through.
"Mig, open up a secure tactical channel with the ANV Lightmaker." Just as he heard the communciations officer respond, he immediately began to relay his idea.
<"ANV Lightmaker, this is Revenant Six, put me through toLiedran Kathause.">
<"Copy, Revenant Six, patching you through now, might take some time, the Commodore is currently receiving a transmission from enemy forces.">
Tapping his fingers on the dashboard, he awaited eagerly, before a hologram of the recently returned naval officer showed, protruding a blue hue throughout the cockpit. She seemed to be a little busy <"Commodore, this is Captain Mylo Thorne of Revenant Squadron. Your tactical officers have probably already shown you the mass amount of starfighters the Empire is fielding straight towards the fleet position. But I got an idea. Revenant Five is moving with a number of fighters from our squadron to assist Major Naldax and her squadron to attack an Onager. If they can nab the Onager, it'll leave an opening in the Imperial line. While they are doing that, we'll need to direct attention away from them while simultaneously defending against attacking fighters. It's not a great plan, I'll be the first to admit ma'am, but it's a plan nonetheless. Revenant Six out.">
He closed the channel, and reopened one with Kaul. <"Take the majority of forces to go and help out Nemesis Leader, I'll take a portion, along with the rest of the squadrons to try and defend the fleet. Try out a nova flare and most importantly go get 'em buddy! The Tionese are counting on us!"> Closing this one now, he wondered if the commander of Alliance forces at the battle had gotten his message. Perhaps.. just perhaps there was possibility they could get through this battle without it being an absolute routing by the Iron Doctrine.
However, his problems seemed to only grow as the heavy laser bolts from Mae Tecono
' s Vilkin class began to pepper his rear shields. Two blips on the screen that represented the other fighters disappeared. Juking and jinking rapidly back and forth from port to starboard to try and take the heat off his shields that had already taken a beating earlier in the battle. Pulling into a nose dive, he climbed once more, giving him some momentum to kick in the throttle.
<"Revenant Eight, take point, I'll play decoy, let's under split. All the others, break off, we're moving into a heavy fire zone, we need those bombers dead if this fleet is gonna have a chance. Make contact with Strike, Valiant and Yellow Squadrons to help out.">
Almost as soon as he had finished speak, he heard the rough voice of the new pilot acknowledge the order and he sped ahead, deliberately moving head on toward the advancing enemy fighter formation. "Catch me if you can, whoever you are.." He muttered.
The words that Rakaan used were more lethal than any other weapon he could have brought to bear against Korvan. The blade of his lightsaber, devoid of colour and emotion in stark contrast to the boy who wielded it. Rakaan was the very definition of imbalance - every lesson that Korvan had taught him lay at the periphery, hidden behind a thunderous veil of emotion. Power surged from his anger, his fear, his sorrow - but weakness pulled at him from his connections.
He was everything that Korvan truly feared, everything that he worked to push against. Emotion, attachment, love.
Because Korvan did love this boy. Even still, the sorrow he felt was more for what had become of him, of the pain he could clearly see that Rakaan was in - moreso than in what the Imperial Knight said to him. How he had failed him. There was nothing that Korvan could have said or done in the moment that would have made good on any of it, he could not have made things better. All he could do was accept what had come, and face the consequences of it all.
Korvan shifted where he stood, dropping his stance. The blade he held lowered to his side, hanging idly in his fingers as he watched Rakaan, as he listened to his words. A slow sigh escaped him. With a press, the blue blade of his lightsaber dissipated, and those fingers which had gripped tightly to the hilt loosened, letting it clatter to the floor at his side.
"I'm sorry, Rakaan."
His words came softly, and the Jedi Master's gaze never left Rakaan. What happened next was entirely up to his former student.
Liedran brushed the sides of her uniform a few times before Comms managed to establish a visual feed, putting on a show of professionality as much for the officer on the other end of the line as for the rest of her crew. She didn't quite know what to expect from Ignacious Korvan
; rarely had she found herself in a position to meet a member of the Imperial military-- the perks of a life on an entirely different frontier.
The Moff materialized onto the holo-pad in front of her, starting as a mess of blue lights that quickly sharpened into something more distinguishable. He bore a similar posture to Liedran's: an equal part hostile and respectful. Though, as the two officers locked eyes and stared at one another, she felt the latter courtesy dying inside her.
“I am Grand Moff Ignacious Korvan, and on behalf of the Empire - I wish to extend to you one final offer to surrender, lest we see a repeat of the incident on... Empress Teta, yes?”
Those final words were uttered with a smugness that threatened every ounce of professionalism she could spare. Liedran felt her fists tighten by her sides, her metal hand struggling to process the rush of stimuli jolting through her nerves. So he'd read her file, or, at least enough to find something that bothered her. If that was the intention, it was working. Liedran felt her sense of control beginning to diminish, and in staunch defiance began to cling to the words of an old academy lecturer.
As the last words slipped out of the Moff's mouth, the entire ship shook, as if to confirm his thinly veiled ultimatum. Liedran hung to her professionalism by a thread by that time. The panicked cry of her Officer of the Deck didn't help matters.
"Ma'am, multiple confirmed breaches across decks one and two! Three fire teams down, heavy casualties across the board! We're losing control of our starboard point defense emplacements!"
She gritted her teeth, and finally spoke to address the Moff, hostility burning in her throat. "It'll be a shame I have to live with. I suggest you call off your boarding parties."
Whether the succeeding action fell in line with the Moff's plans, he'd succeeded into getting Liedran to snap. "Kill the feed!" Seething, she waited only a second after the line was severed to start making her follow-up orders. "Full stop! Lightmaker and the rest of the rear guard to engage reverse thrusters. Pull our most damaged vessels behind the star defenders. Fighters to draw in toward our center ranks." As her staff scrambled to relay that order, Liedran pulled up a map of her flagship. Red splotches marked the corridors breached by Imperial boarding teams, and rising digits displayed the lives lost in slowing their progress.
Aside from breaching the hallways, the Imperials had sent a group hurtling into one of the ship's hangars. Rumbles rocked the Lightmaker as the landed gunships left within the bays began to catch fire and erupt.
Contacts were detected coming around aft, 25 of them seemingly setting their sights on the carrier's engine block. As to the intention behind the maneuver, Liedran could only speculate.
She felt time slipping from her hands, as casualties ranked up across the ship, whether through the direct actions of the Imperial raiders or the vessels battering her fleet just outside. In the opening hours of the battle over New Alderaan, she'd found herself surrounded seemingly on all flanks.
"Seal off the starboard bay," she struggled to level her tone, though the fire in her eyes existed with little interference on her part, "8 fire teams to intercept the boarders at the main entrance. Order everyone else inside to pull back to one of the tertiary doors." As the Imperials pushed further into the hangar, they'd soon enough encounter a salvo of small arms fire from Alliance marines outside the door. It was the hope that they'd fall or at least surrender quickly enough for the marines to be redistributed across the ship.
Within the corridors of the Lightmaker, the remaining marines locked in an engagement with the 1st Company began to retreat into a more defensible T-junction. As volleys momentarily ceased to be thrown about, the corridors would be overtaken by a scene of bursting circuitry, hastily installed components erupting into waves of sparks as the firefight excited their lines.
"Ma'am, we've got a line open with Captain Thorne of Revenant Squadron." Her comms chief interrupted Liedran's grim look-over of the tactical plots. Releuctantly, the Rear Admiral nodded, then turned toward the holo-platform.
<"Commodore, this is Captain Mylo Thorne of Revenant Squadron. Your tactical officers have probably already shown you the mass amount of starfighters the Empire is fielding straight towards the fleet position. But I got an idea. Revenant Five is moving with a number of fighters from our squadron to assist Major Naldax and her squadron to attack an Onager. If they can nab the Onager, it'll leave an opening in the Imperial line. While they are doing that, we'll need to direct attention away from them while simultaneously defending against attacking fighters. It's not a great plan, I'll be the first to admit ma'am, but it's a plan nonetheless. Revenant Six out.">
She wondered if Thorne noticed the amount of damage being inflicted on the 74th Flotilla at the moment. There was little Liedran could possibly spare, especially for the distraction necessitated by the Captain's plan. But, if there was still at least a chance they could break the Imperial blockade... The admiral replied, reluctantly, "I don't have much I can spare... But I'll send one of my Auroras, the Chariot, to engage. She should be nimble enough to draw fire."
"Good luck." The line cut, and Liedran was yet again made aware of the burden set on her shoulders.
As Simon made his choice, Aaran's concentration was impeded enough that the Knight could grasp him, the Jedi's own calm compromised to the point where another Force Sensitive could affect him in such a way despite the lack of an overwhelming difference in power.
His calm was compromised out of sheer anguish at Simon's choice. He remembered why the New Imperial Order was born. Out of a man's desire for his soldiers to be seen as more than simple fodder for mad sorcerers who were looking to settle a grudge. Now those same soldiers were once again being cast aside so that some Sorcerer could finish their fight with an opponent in an ultimately meaningless battle.
As he was slammed into the ground, he felt his shoulder pop and dislocate as he flopped awkwardly onto the ground, breathing heavily as iron discipline clamped down on the pain that threatened to further break his concentration. Instead he drew in a shaky breath, before forcing himself up to his feet. His arm hanging limp at his side as he regarded Simon through the Force.
He had hoped that his initial assessment was wrong. He sincerely wished that things would have gone differently. But his fears had become reality. The Imperial Knights were becoming the next generation of Sith, they just had a different coat of paint.
"Seems you've chosen your path then." He muttered, voice quiet, tone changed. The stoicism was still there, but now it was something colder, a layer of steel entering it where before there was an honest hope that the Knight would make the right choice. Reaching out with the Force, he grasped his own dislocated arm, popping it back into place with a sickening crack.
The saber at his side snapped to life, the Jedi exhaling again, far more steady than before. The Force echoed within him, numbing the pain as he gave himself over to it. "So it seems that I must do the same." It was inevitable perhaps, it was his own desires that put off this confrontation, a lingering attachment to his memories of when he fought side by side with the New Imperial Order against the Sith and the Maw.
"Goodbye Sir Knight. It was an honour while it lasted."
So he let go of it. His conflicted feelings of the matter fading like drops of ink in the ocean. Fading away as they dissolved into the greater universe. The Force granted him clarity in exchange for opening himself up to it, to understand that his ego was ultimately an illusion that separated himself from the greater universe. The pain in his arm was nothing, the agony of his burn faded, the weariness in his body was inconsequential.
The Jedi moved, their form a blur as he crossed the intervening distance between the two. Hesitation gone, restraint released. It was a common mistake that many saw the Jedi as weak for practising restraint and offering mercy to an almost unreasonable degree. But that was all out of respect. Respect for both Life and the Force. A fully trained Jedi was aware of the great power their dedication to the Force afforded them. Every act of violence, every fight must be one that was carefully considered. The restraint was not only because of a Jedi's belief that any conflect was capable of being resolved without violence. But because they knew just how easy it would be to take a life without that restraint, to dictate the lives of others, to become so hubristic that they'd decide what was right.
So now Simon would see that strength finally unleashed against him. Without a saber certainly, but they had just demonstrated that they were not entirely defenceless. Now they just had to defend themselves against a younger and larger opponent who was not disarmed.
One who's saber was swinging in a lightning fast arc aiming to take his head right from his shoulders. Ending the fight decisively right then and there.
His emotions carried him forwards, further into the abyss, a black heart cast into the void once all colour of his life had left him. Korvan was the colour; from the red hues to the darkest blues, the one Rakaan could hold onto was his master, his friend, his brother. Had that been the cause of all the heartache then, to allow his mind to become consumed with idle hatred until it all burst and no one to see it simmer? To be alone, with no one. The Imperials welcomed another able bodied yet addled minded soldier into their ranks, to wield the Force and their white crystalled sabers - crafted not in the caves of Ilum, but from the mind of man. Had it all been a mistake, the words trickled into his turbulent self with impassioned eyes over the alive blade in his hand.
But once more, had Rakaan allowed his emotions to consume him. To enable his fear and his hate, all until it ensured Rakaan suffered. It was inevitable, the time the two of them clashed and the former Jedi could lay his demons to rest. To delve further down this road. But his thoughts lied to him. His wrath was traded for sorrow, for childish pleas. Inside, the fire still breathed.
He marched towards Korvan with his saber in hand and alive, thunder set out across his face as Rakaan knew he could let his past die with but one thrust of his blade. His motions quickened, hurried, all in an effort to end it sooner rather than allow it sit in the twisted air around them. Poisoned, poisoned by the storm of emotion. He rose the blade and let it slink into his other hand and with one slash, it set out to sever his old master in two. It had not, though. It would not, could not, as Rakaan forced himself to stop.
Rakaan offered no words to the man he stared into the eyes of, not as his frantic breaths had seen to the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and neither as he continued to hold the blade outstretched and oddly close to the flesh. In the end, a flip of the switch and the white blade retreated. He turned his back and wandered a few short metres with slow steps. Then he screamed, he bellowed in a black and violent rage, and his head craned towards the roof riddled with holes.
He didn't look back, not even as he crumbled to his knees.
Location: New Aldera Orbital Defense Base Objective: Aegis of Liberty
"You're more Sith than you think, lady."
"I take no joy in doing this," Valery said and without any venom in her words, only sincerity. In a battle like this, people were going to die — it was inevitable. But she could feel how the death of squad mates affected those who were left behind, and she understood there was a person behind each helmet or mask. A father or mother, brother or sister, even young adults who had barely moved out of their parent's homes.
One of them was dead on the floor behind her, and she did not take it lightly at all.
She wasn't given much more time to reflect, however, as a grenade was thrown between her and the Alliance soldiers. It was easy enough to shield herself against it and the danger she felt coming from Tyler, but it would leave those men exposed. Choosing there had been enough loss of life today, Valery extended both hands forward to project a more powerful, condensed barrier around the grenade itself to contain as much as she could of the explosion.
Now only able to barely shield herself with a weak layer of Force energy around her, she was rather exposed to the particle rounds that struck seconds after a deafening sound broke through the barrier. The explosive force of the grenade had mostly been contained, but smoke rapidly expanded through the hallway, leaving them all covered for several seconds.
When it settled, Valery could be seen climbing back up to her feet, her back bloodied from whatever energy had pierced through, and yet, she still seemed and felt calm. Several Alliance soldiers were on the ground as well and not moving, but the damage could have been far worse. If only she had more time to focus on shielding them.
Valery then spun around and extended her arms towards the three remaining soldiers again, this time in an attempt to grip and freeze them completely with just telekinetic pressure, "It's time for you to go," she spoke through gritted teeth. She didn't want to kill them, so with as much force as she could muster, she tried to send them all flying back through the hallway. If it worked, it wouldn't be a soft landing by any stretch of the imagination, but they would live, and she hoped they would cease their attempts at attacking her.
Finally, her eyes shifted to the body of the soldier she had killed, and with a more gentle grip, she displaced him in the direction of the Imperial forces. While his family would never see him come home again, at least his body wouldn't have to be left behind.
"Take the injured and dead, we need to reposition," Valery called back to the Alliance soldiers.
<T> "Silas, we risk them breaking through in other parts of the facility. It's time to fall back a step."
As Shar Seiu and the providential Y-Wing bomber squadron set about disrupting the flanking maneuver of the 7th and 9th TIE squadrons, the bulk of the main wave would indeed meet stiff resistance by the 3rd and 15th squadrons, together with the interceptors. As the roughly-evenly numbered forces began to engage one another, hundreds of additional fighter craft began to emerge from the bowels of the fleet.
Bombers, Outlanders, Interceptors, Drones - all forms of the signature fighter craft of the Empire surged forth. To the small relief of the beleaguered bomber group, a fraction of the wave - yet a considerable fraction nonetheless - broke off from the swarm to join with the already deployed TIEs engaging them. This bore far graver tidings for the main Alliance attack force, however. Over one hundred TIE Drones pushed through the Alliance formation, fulfilling the main function of their design by attempting to overwhelm the waiting point defense batteries and Alliance defenders. The second wave that would follow would be the smaller contingent of four TIE Interceptor squadrons, who would set about intercepting whatever frantically deployed fighter craft had attempted to stave off the tide of Drones.
The B-Wings continued their disruption of the TIEs: working in small groups, one group would vector into a cloud of TIEs, firing off all their cannons before transferring powers to engines, blasting away from the area. When the TIEs gave chase they would run into another group. Still, the Imperials had the numbers advantage, so it was a delicate balance of shaking off pursuit while baiting them to corral into their own groups to be attacked by a wide spread of cannons.
<"Slayer Two to Rev Four, we got more incoming.">
<"We can't keep dogfighting them.">
Shar watched the scopes, seeing most of the TIEs head towards the main bomber group and filtering past into the Alliance's capital ships.
<"They're focusing on their own attack and the main force. Recommend begin attack run on Imp capitals.">
<"Y-Wings will hang back and tangle with Eyeballs,"> the Y-Wing commander of the ad-hoc group radioed.
<"This is Slayer Two, I'm taking operational command of the attack group."> Within seconds, the B-Wings in the scattered group formed up, their on-board networks linked and relaying information. Shar watched the newly formed command flash up on his own console, desginating him as Group 2 commander.
<"Attack Groups, we're cutting into the jaws of the TIE reinforcements coming our way. Power to shields and engines; we'll blast through and continue on to an attack run.">
The B-Wings formed up, heading on a vector into the TIE reinforcements. Anticipating their manuevre, the TIEs loosened their formation, and trying to surround and envelop the B-Wings, but they were too close. Shar pulled the trigger on his control sticks, firing. One TIE moved into his blaster fire and was shredded, but most dodged, screaming past the Attack Groups before frantically trying to reverse course and chase them.
Switching frequency, he opened up a channel with @Shar Sieu . "You okay Four?" The question soon became redundant as his computer told him about a number of bandits closing in quickly on the B-Wings of Revenant Squadron. As much as his heart yearned to go and help his friend, he had to keep himself alive if he was going to do that. And keep himself alive he would.
<"I'm good, Six, just keep at it and keep their bombers busy. We're going to do as much as we can from our side of the space!"> The pilot checked his radar again: there were simply too few in this group to do any real damage to the battle line. The main force, heading towards the Battlegroup from another angle, had sustained heavy damage, with many shot down or forced to retreat. The enemy battleline was screened by Corvettes, but along the main line were the prized Star Destroyers.
<"1-1 to 2-1, Attack Group 1 will make a run on the battleline. Looking at the NIV Primus."> <"2-1, roger, we'll cover you and cut in from the rear."> <"They're Valiant-class, cut around them and come in from the rear or bottom. Avoid their spine-mounted fire power."
The B-Wings vectored forward, weaving around and between the Corvette screen, putting in emergency power. Several bombers were hit, some forced out of the attack vector or destroyed. The rest zoomed past, Group 1 diving and changing angles to attack the Primus from its 'belly'. Shar's group hooked past the battleline, drawing fire, his own B-Wing barely dodging a stray turbolaser blast, before turning around and coming in from the rear.
<"2-1 to Group 2, lock wings in attack position. First flight will fire ion torpedoes, second is with me and will along the spine. Take out their central batteries!">
The two groups struck at the same time: proton torpedoes, missiles and heavy lasers hit the Star Destroyer. A Heavy Composite Beam Cannon was even deployed, following Shar as they flew from the rear past the bridge, dipped down and raked fire from above on the turbolaser batteries. Group 1 fired into the hangar and belly-mounted shield generators, causing serious damage.
Hopefully that draws off fighters blocking the main attack group.
<"Regroup for another run!">
The stranded group sends its heavy hitters directly at the battleline, concentrating on one of the 43rd's SDs, the NIV Primus.
