Last of the Southern Gentlebeings
While the bulk of Confederate Forces had gone north, to the battle at Mechis III or to help with the expansion effort in the area, a sizable chunk of the Defense Force was spread out, keeping order across all of the Confederacy. When the call from Chommell Minor came in, forces immediately made way to the planet. A small task force was sent to perform delaying actions, assist security forces in evacuation of the affected zones, and to gather information for a main force that would come shortly.
On the ground, portions of Var City were on fire. Smoke rose like billowing clouds towards the heavens. While well equipped, the security forces were simply to small in number, and to spread out to deal with the situation. It was gang violence taken to a whole new level. Some how the Death's Head Gang got hold of heavy weaponry, conscripted others and created a situation that required far more fire power than the security forces had access too.
At an important choke point, a platoon of B1s, and two squads of B2s held the line, along with a dozen security personnel. In the air, nine Vulture Droids flew recon and performed limited strikes at exposed targets. A single AAT acted as a command vehicle, along with a SWAT team speeder. The B1s behaved...unusually. They had erected a sandbag barricade, and were kneeling behind it, minimizing their exposure. They took semi-frequent shots to keep the riffraff back and in cover themselves. The B2s offered occasional heavier blaster support, but kept moving, to limit their target profile themselves. They behaved....almost intelligent, and were actively protecting the security personnel.
Inside the SWAT speeder, a white masked man in a trench coat like uniform spoke to the man in charge of the security forces in the area. “Sergent. My heart breaks for the plight of the people trapped inside. It truly does. We have evacuated as far back as we can. We managed to push to this spot. Both of our boys took heavy casualties. This line prevents them from being able to get downtown. It's the only spot like this for kilometers. We don't have the numbers to push deeper.”
The sergant, a tall, lanky twi'lek shook his head and growled at the masked man. “LIEUTENANT! We have fought to hard, we can't just wait! Are you running scared?! What about the CDF's promise to protect our planets?!”
With a lurch Morgan grapped the Sergant by his shirt and lifted him with no effort. “I am no coward, Sergeant. My orders are clear, however. I am to delay, to protect the people behind me. To stop the spread. I do that from here until the Colonel arrives and changes my orders. I UNDERSTAND better than you can imagine, and I will do all I can. But my orders are right. I can't reach the survivors by rushing in. I just doom everyone else.” The pop of blaster fire could be heard in the distance. “This is bigger than us. We have to play it right until we get enough troops to push them back for good.”
He gently set the man down and turned to walk out suddenly. Eyes seemed to turn and he looked all around the area. He walked up towards the baracade and out of no where, pushed down one of the security force men, in that moment a blaster bolt rang out and slammed right into Morgan, who stood where the officer once had. His molecular shield absorbed the blast, and one of his blasters was in hand, and pointed to the side. Three pulls of the trigger in a direction he never once looked, and the gun men who attempted to sneak up along the side lay dead with smoking craters in their heads. “We have to stay safe, not dumb.” He called out. “Keep your heads down! Think of your families. We have no need for heroes here.”
Coat fluttered as he abruptly turned and went back towards the AAT. Morgan took a cigar from his pocket, cut off the tip, took out a lighter and lit it. A small port on his mask opened up, and he inserted the tip into it. A deep breath in, took out the cigar, held the breath, then slowly let out the smoke. “Damned Amateurs.”
[member="Keva"]
