Tight Confines

[Tyrcas Pallopides]

The Bakura System​

Location Unknown​

​

The ferocity of the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium attack had been unbelievable.

The calculated strategies used against the First Order had been effectively perfect, hitting the faction right where it would do the most damage, removing the figurative - and literal - head of the military and leadership. The reptilian forces had displayed a shocking level of understanding and preparation, of knowing their enemies' weaknesses, and how to exploit them in the most efficient manner possible. Were it not for the insurmountable losses suffered by the First Order, it could otherwise be impressive.

Honestly, it still is impressive...

Seated within the confines of an escape pod, barely large enough for half a dozen individuals, a young Captain of the First Order naval forces considered his position. Tyrcas Pallopides was a Captain, having served as second-in-command to his superior on a now-destroyed vessel, before being ordered to abandon ship. Whether gallantly, or blunderingly, the commanding officer had gone down with his vessel. As it was, the rush to the escape pods had been hectic, with thousands of military personnel scrambling to escape the destruction rapidly approaching. Even now, some hours after safely ejecting with a half dozen other individuals, the explosion caused by the Resurgent-III Class Star Destroyer had been spectacular. A waste of resources, surely, especially considering Tyrcas had advised a retreat prior to full systems failure, but a spectacular end nonetheless.

"I believe it time to activate the emergency beacon," The Captain said suddenly into the silence of the escape pod, as his cool blue eyes looked about the small interior of the craft. "Several hours in delaying the broadcast should allow us to avoid any scans the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium might be performing until this point. But further delay might result in friendly forces leaving the area before pickup can occur."

The other occupants of the escape pod were troopers, of varying type, leaving the young Captain as one of the few officers. It seemed tense in the pod, regardless, likely due to the loss in battle and subsequent delay in beacon activation; but if it was one thing Tyrcas would have done, had he been one of the reptilians, it would have involved scanning for stranded enemies in order to clean up remaining forces.

"You, trooper [member="BE-183"], is it?" Tyrcas said, motioning to a stormtrooper opposite. "Activate the beacon."

A cursory glance to the enviro-meter made the Captain clench his jaw muscles, as the air supply was beginning to drop to concerning levels. Despite the air supplies the troopers had, which had helped admittedly in conserving oxygen, the fully loaded escape pod was beginning to come under strain. Unfortunately it seemed either external damage, or a lack of preparation by technicians, had hastened the seriousness of the situation for the occupants...

Realistically, we likely have several hours remaining before suffocation.

 

[BE-183]

There was a time that the Stormtrooper Corps had served as a spearhead, a mighty weapon to crush insurrection and expand the First Order's reach. Now, in this desperate time they were a shield, a bastion for their citizens. Hold the Line. It was a phrase every trooper had grown all too familiar with. It rang in their ears, echoed through their minds and was written on their hearts. It wasn't theirs to ask for how long, only to give all that they had, for as long as they could.

But this wasn't the front line. Far from it, this was running away to lick one's wounds or as the corps would sometimes call it, a tactical withdrawal. These lizards were unlike anything they'd ever faced.

So no chit, there they were hurtling through space, practically knee-to-knee in a tiny metal box, narrowly avoiding the rumoured agonising fate of becoming human batteries. The sergeant felt she should be down there in the blood and dirt with her brothers, not up here babysitting a CO. It wasn't the first destroyer she'd seen go down, but it was her first experience being on said ship at the time. The adrenaline of the past few hours still coursed through her system, giving her a surplus of energy with nowhere to go. Her mind raced, questioning every choice and action. Had she done enough? Force knows. There was nothing for it now.

She snapped out of it as the captain spoke up. Like many officers, the value of brevity was lost on him. He sounded like a narrator from the training vids, a thought which had made her blow air from her nose whenever his voice came through the intercom. It wasn't as funny now. To his credit, he performed well in response to the attack. And he remembered his detail's names.

"Aye, captain." She shifted and half stood, reaching for the console on her side of the pod. These things were all labels and failsafes, truly army proof. Just lift the latch, flick the switch and check the light for confirmation. "Beacon is up. Sierra Oscar Sierra." Thudding back in her seat, she tried to appreciate the moment's rest. They must've designed these chairs with uniformed navy in mind; they were, well, quite small. And if she had it bad, the death troopers no doubt had it worse.

The death troopers still creeped her out a bit. She imagined they were like her once. She was aware they were on her side. But there was something off about them. Throughout the military, generally convention ruled. Convention was good. You knew what you were doing with convention. Black ops was the exception to that. The garbled voices when they spoke to each other, the awe-inspiring size of them, as well as the lack of any concrete information about them rubbed her the wrong way. She understood the need for secrecy, but they still disturbed her. Didn't help that there were a couple them just an arm's length away. Despite her mirrored visor, she avoided looking in their direction.

 

[FN-999]

I should be dead.​

​

The thought flowed through FN-999's head subconsciously, without any filter. He should have stayed on the ship, and died valiantly where he failed to on Dosunn. Yet he lived. A primitive urge to survive had driven him to an escape pod, where he now sat in thought. He was used to the discomfort of the seats - he was a trooper, after all. But there was something more uncomfortable about the pod.

FN-999 and the others shared the space with death troopers. Some of the most elite soldiers in the Order, they were rumored to be genetically enhanced cyborgs. FN-999 had never heard a death trooper speak in any comprehensible language, or seen one die in battle. Consequently, a wave of fear hit FN-999. If even the death troopers hadn't pushed back the enemy boarders, then what kind of enemy was the Order fighting?

He brought his thoughts back to the present. Aside from death troopers, he shared his pod with multiple normal troopers and the second-in-command of the vessel that was just destroyed. One trooper seemed to be activating the pod's beacon, in search of help. FN-999 decided to make himself useful as well. Perhaps, he could somehow reduce the vulnerability of the fickle escape pod.

"Anything I can help with, sir?" asked FN-999.

[member="Tyrcas Pallopides"] | [member="BE-183"]

 

[Rexus Wenck]

The Death Troopers quietly quivered within the hulking shells of their armour. Although they sat still, Sergeant Rexus Wenck and Private First Class Dergan Twigg were not happy occupants of the pod. Rather, they were undergoing withdrawal. Their minds wandered without the guiding influence of the steroids and stimulants. The screams and battles of the past, replaying all through their shattered psyche's. Wenck silently contemplated the past. His sins, and all he had done wrong. The past, clawed and chewed at him.

His contemplation of withdrawal and suicide was only stopped by one of the stormtroopers. "There is nothing we can do." The Death Trooper snarled, shooting him down. "We're karked out here." He added, "Shoulda had the Ssi-Ruuk pick us up," He added, giving a jilted glare to the navy captain from behind his helm. "At least then we coulda given you lot a fighting chance." He paused and shook his head. "But 'ats all in the past now." He softly mused, "Save your breathes trooper, you're gonna need 'em."

[member="FN-999"] | [member="BE-183"] | [member="Tyrcas Pallopides"]

 

[Tyrcas Pallopides]

The Bakura System​

Location Unknown​

​

The beacon activating was a small comfort, even if the chances of a friendly force receiving it was low. The gamble had been made, a lower chance of recovery in favor of being hunted down by surrounding Ssi-Ruuvi enemies, yet it remained to be seen which paid off. The stormtrooper followed orders, which was a good start, considering the situation. Given the state of the First Order, the small escape pod group's collective situation, and the impending air supply issues, it was going to become tense.

"Thank you, trooper."

It was simply pleasantness, little more. Right now the Captain, being an officer, was outnumbered by grunts. That didn't bode well in his mind. Tyrcas cast a cold look across those gathered, assessing each one in turn, noting who could be used should the worst occur. Of the stormtroopers, two seemed largely physically well, with the last having been injured in the side. The way he held his gloved hand to the wound, despite the dressing, kept most of the blood from flowing - but there was still blood. And it wasn't stemmed completely.

That could be something, later, if required.

"No, I don't believe there is much to do at this moment, [member="FN-999"]," Tyrcas said, before looking toward the Death Trooper that suddenly spoke up.

The hulking suit of armor, or more accurately the voice within, sounded somewhat erratic and perhaps too abrasive. Especially following the pointed glance in Tyrcas' direction through the visors. That wasn't something the Captain appreciated at all, especially if the super soldier decided to breakdown or otherwise break conditioning. In the current confines, a Death Trooper deciding to go haywire would not be conducive to any of the other occupants... he needed calming.

"Our situation isn't ideal, no," Tyrcas began, his voice smooth, his gaze cool. "But the likelihood of being able to overwhelm a frigate with of lizards would have been infinitely less in our favor. Not to mention we all received direct orders from the Commander, and while the Order may have suffered numerous setbacks, authority and control must be maintained... to do anything less would make our losses, all the deaths of our fellows, in vain."

The Captain looked back toward the wounded stormtrooper. Reaching out with the Force, the touch and influence subtle, Tyrcas gently encouraged the human within the armor to ease the pressure on his wound, to let some more blood escape, to relax and take a moment to rest. For now, it was simply a precaution, as the young officer caught sight of the oxygen count once again...

"What's your designation, trooper?" Tyrcas asked the mouthy Death Trooper. "And are you really so willing to give in? Especially now that we need men like yourselves, all of you, more than ever?"

[member="FN-999"] | [member="BE-183"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"]​

 

[BE-183]

As medic, it was often 183’s job to take care of everyone. The training left its mark having imprinted an instinct, or intuition in her. She couldn't explain it to an outsider. It was a kind of unspoken dialogue. She looked around the pod and saw a broken bunch; irritable, shaken, unstable. Of course her forte was physical rather than psychological wounds, but she was of the mind to do what she could to support the unit.

She had heard some Death Troopers' actual voices before over comms, one of the few humanising traits she could assign to them. The man who spoke sounded different from that time. His expletive-ridden tirade lacked the cold, lethal discipline she had come to expect. It was raw. Untamed, like a caged animal that they happened to be locked in with; one that the Captain seemed to be poking right now. As respectfully as she could, she had to dissuade him.

She glanced quickly between the supersoldiers and the Captain; the first time she properly looked at them. They were bigger up close, almost the size of one of those blasted lizards and probably stronger. Certainly within neck-snapping range, if they were so inclined. "Uh - I'm sure you would've given them hell, sir," she agreed, "but if we lost our best here, we'd really be in for a world of pain." Live to fight another day, right? She'd rather they spent their lives on something worthwhile.

"We just have to sit tight until CSAR picks us up," she added, hoping to reassure 999. And she was sure they would come, she was optimistic like that. It helped that they had the CO and Death Troopers, valuable assets which would push them up to high priority.

As if on cue, her head swivelled around to the injured trooper onboard and she started fussing over him, worried to see or pre-empt loss of consciousness. It was that instinct kicking in. Call it a bad feeling. "You alright, Private?" She quietly asked, "more bacta? Keep pressing on that wound until we get you to a medbay." She fished the canister out of her small kit, lucky she had it before evac, and busied herself administering treatment. It was far easier to deal with the injuries you could see.

[member=Tyrcas Pallopides] | [member=FN-999] | [member=Rexus Wenck]​

 

[FN-999]

FN-999 was silenced by the death trooper's reply.​

​

Truthfully, he was afraid of the trooper, with his great height and black armor. But they were both on the same side, even if they were in separate branches of the Army. If it could even be considered an army any more.

He turned his focus to the other stormtroopers onboard. There seemed to be mostly rank-and-file stormtroopers, along with a medic, the two death troopers, and captain. Being relatively healthy and unharmed, FN-999 had little need to see the medic. But he didn't want to be useless - he could still help the medic with his current patient.

"Is there any way I can help?" asked FN-999 to the medic.

[member="BE-183"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Tyrcas Pallopides"]