Total War | The Confederacy Invasion of Galactic Empire held Tatooine Hex

[Kainan Wolfe]

[-SOUNDTRACK-]​

Attn: [member="Qymaen sil Jurai"] | [member="Galven Hansol"] | [member="Muad Dib"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Mythos"] | [member="Adron Malvern"]​

​

• 1st Fleet
  Entering orbit of Tatooine
  
  Allies: CIS & Allies
  Enemies: GE & Allies
  Mission Objectives: Crush, Kill and Destroy

Spoiler: 1st Fleet Roster

• 1x Invictus-class Battlecruiser
• 10x Adjudicator-class Star Destroyer
• 14x Valiant-class Star Destroyer
• 5x Storm Wolf-class Pursuit Star Destroyer
• 20x Admonitor-class Light Cruiser
• 10x Ardan II-class Flak Frigates
• 30x Chiselhead-class Assault Corvettes

Fighter Complement:

• 1x T-77 "Talon" Stealth Interceptor Squadron
• 1x RZ-110 Elite Starfighter Squadron
• 59x TIE/Reaper Starfighter Squadrons
• 10x RZB-12 Bomber Squadrons
• 10x TIE/ss Starfighter Squadrons

Tatooine was, by all accounts, a wretched world which throughout its history, has alternated between being under the occupation of one dictatorship or another, and succumbing to the lawless rule of crime lords. Yet it was fitting that this battle would be fought here, where the first Galactic Empire's downfall had, in so many ways, began, many centuries ago.

It was more recent events, that would be relevant here, however. Two years ago, at Krayiss II, the Sith Empire and its allies defeated the Dominion. A fleet of survivors and refugees, led by a previously unknown mercenary who went by the name of Kainan Wolfe, limped out of the broken nation. It should and would have ended at that, but the Galactic Empire had other plans.

Kainan Wolfe had offered the Empire peace. The Empire responded with a knife in the back and had not only tried to detain or kill the Overlord, but had hounded the nomadic fleet of the nascent Shrouded Republic for months, all the way into Commenori space. Countless thousands had lost their lives on that day, only because the Empire would accept nothing less than unconditional surrender and complete enslavement. But the Shrouded Republic lived and on that day, the survivors made a vow. We shall return. And all that they are, we shall scour away.

Two years have passed. Two long years during which the Shrouded Republic disappeared into the uncharted worlds of Wild Space and there, it had found allies, built a home and prospered. But a home was not all that the Shrouded Republic had built.

Space buckled and twisted, groaning under the pull of the hyperdrives until it ripped open. What emerged, was a behemoth. At a little over four and a half kilometers long, the Invictus, flagship of the Shrouded Republic, was a heavily armed and immense battlecruiser. For a mere half of a second, the Invictus stood alone, then space buckled and tore open again. This time, it vomited out a seemingly endless throng of ships.

The Shrouded Republic had come a long way since its days as a ragtag fleet of refugees. Dozens of Star Destroyers were joined by cruisers, frigates and corvettes numbering dozens more. Almost immediately, the massive fleet began to launch its complement of starfighters. Tens became hundreds, twinkling like swarms of fireflies as they took up positions and the fleet maneuvered into formation alongside the CIS ships. And this was only the first wave. Reinforcements were on standby, prepared to jump in at a moment's notice.

On the large, spacious bridge of the massive Invictus, a man wearing the crisp uniform with trappings of rank marking him out as Lord of Admirals of the Ancient Eye, stood watching a holographic projection of the battlespace, small symbols marking out the various ships and fleets. Over his shoulders, stood a fur-lined cloak which gave him an imposing appearance. "Open a comms channel," he spoke in a calm, clear voice. "All frequencies. I want the imperials to hear this, too."

"Brave spacers of the Ancient Eye, oppressed Inhabitants of Tatooine. I am Kainan Wolfe, Lord of Admirals of the Ancient Eye and Overlord of the Shrouded Republic. Two years ago, the Empire took our home and forced us into exile. Not content with mere conquest, they pursued us, seeking to destroy or enslave us and erase an entire culture. We offered peace and they answered with war," said Wolfe, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, flanked by five Wolfguards on either side.

"Today, we have arrived here with our Confederate allies, with the mission to liberate this world from the abomination that is the pretending successor to the Galactic Empire of old. To the inhabitants of Tatooine, I issue this appeal to insurgency. Take up blaster and vibrosword and rise up! Raise your weapons and spill the blood of your oppressors upon the sand! Know that the day will come when your people will be free! But first, we fight! Fight now, for the freedom of your people, for the future of your children, for all that is right and just!"

"To those wretches who serve the corrupt Galactic Empire and its vile rulers, I have only this to say: The day of reckoning has come! Your Empire has committed countless crimes against the galaxy and your sentence is complete annihilation! We are the agents of your righteous destruction! Your fleets will shatter! Your armies will break! Your worlds will burn and everything you love, will die! We shall erase your name from the history books! We shall hunt you down to the last one and we shall not rest until all that you are, shall be scoured away!"

"My fellow spacers aboard the First Fleet, for us, this day has another meaning. Today, we fulfill the vow we made two years ago. Today, we answer the Empire with war and terror! Stand fast! Fight hard! For, today, we enact our revenge upon those who would deny us our right to live! Show the enemy no mercy and grant them no quarter! Take no prisoners and accept no surrender! Go forth! And kill them all!"

The fleet responded with cheers that could be heard on every comlink within the system.

 

[Daxton Bane]

Side: Confederacy of Independent Systems
Objective: Task Force Windstorm (Team 3)
Enemies: The Galactic Empire & Allies
Post: 2

Spoiler

Gear: Personal battle armor, lightsabers, forearm needlers, wrist rockets, heavy blaster, anti armor grenades, personal body shields as well as his shield bracelet, heavy blaster carbine and ammo, assortment of alchemically treated blades hidden in different locations.

In the cramped spaces of the drop ship, Daxton’s thoughts began to wander, after all there wasn’t really much to do while waiting for their craft to land. What was the worst part of any invasion? Not the life and death struggle played out like a twisted chess game. Not the risk of sudden death or mutilation. Not even finding out good friends and lovers were among the fallen.

To certain degree, you controlled your role in the mayhem. Although if fate or blind luck goes against you then you were pretty much screwed. So in reality, with a little care and the right company, you could rather safe.

The hardest part was the waiting, stuck in a cramped vessel designed for half the current ocupancy, you were literally elbow to elbow with your fellow warrior. You could see every nervous tic, every eye twitch, the sweat poring down their faces and soaking their clothes, you could smell the fear knowing any second could be your last.

What drove men to risk their lives, their very existence for an ideal? Certainly not the blind loyalty demanded by the leadership of the Galactic Empire. This went beyond loyalty to a flag or creed, this addressed the core values of each and every member of the Confederacy.
To stand for what was right, to never let injustice prevail.

The ship shook violently once more, a sure indication that they have entered the atmosphere. Daxton welcomed the pain as they were pushed and pulled hard against the straps that held them in place, soon the wait would be over and once again prove without any doubt what it means to be a citizen of the Confederacy.

 

[Mythos]

Objective: Finish FOB/Begin Recon
Allies: CIS/AE/SR [member="The Matador"]

Mythos and Matador Theme Song

Spoiler

Magnus Legion- Forward assault operation team.
Nubian Strike Force- Special Operations Task Force
1st-2nd and 8th Infantry Division
46th Cavalry Regiment
The Anubian Scout Force
Total Force: 4,000 Strong.
Troops En Route: N/A
Troops Hailed: 1st Armor Division
Personal Equipment: In signtanure
Troop Equipment:
M-400
XK-40
CARGS

(In reserve, for personal use) Wampa

Walkers:
Centipede X4

OPERATION KING'S FALL

"Oh they will be Matador, The Empire does not have skilled fighters but they have the credits to purchase them. Expect bounty hunters, would be soldiers and Sith who think they owe the Empire something. If we are lucky we might even kill one of those 'Knights of Ren' I have heard so much about. I will be gloating about that kill to [member="Veiere Arenais"] for the next decade." He said while closing up his holographic feed and turning to signal his troops to begin digging foxholes and hasty fighting positions. This was going to be 'FOB Rockwell' and Mythos was going to build it to be as best as a military operation base as he could get given the short amount of time and the short amount of troops. Suddenly his holoreceiver lit up with a familiar image. [member="Kainan Wolfe"]. A smile crept on to his lips hidden by the hood and brown cloth over his entire body. His message was exactly what he would expect, a great and powerful representation of The Ancient Eye and it's presence here in Tatooine and a statement on how [member="Darth Metus"] and Mythos shared a solid, unbreakable alliance that was both powerful and cohesive in tactics and diplomacy.

"Way to represent Kainan, patch me up to to his Invictus"

What Rockwell FOB called a long range communications array was something so archaic and dated that at this time could not even be tracked because the technology to even track such a radio signal was unknown only to historians. It used the same frequencies as old transmitters of wire and dish arrays but with the knowledge of old things that Ankhypt was so famous for, it was effective... though it sounded more like a garbled mess... but an understandable garbled mess for the purposes of it. "Viper Alpha This is Paw Paw Specter. Requesting Bird Sweep at Coordinates Six, Faor, Eight, Fife, Niner, Niner. Gulf, Alpha, Niner, Two. Break." He paused, letting the numbers go in before continuing. "Tree, Tree, Fife, Moloch, James"

He awaited for confirmation before signaling his troops to prepare transport and load his X-99 Wampa Sniper rifles, one for him and one for the Matador so they could do their point scouting mission and see if they could find some targets of high priority to take out before the invasion began. The vehicle was the largest single vehicle that Mythos had for personal use here but it was not even the size of a light tank. It carried one XK-40, Two infantry men, driver and seats for himself, The Matador and his cargo. "Let's go shoot fish in a barrel."


Summary of actions:

Spoiler

Finished construction of FOB Rockwell.
Called for a sweep of Talons for Reconnaissance from Kainan

 

[Dalton Kenway]

Side: Confederacy of Independent Systems
Objective: Task Force Windstorm (Team 3)
Enemies: The Galactic Empire

As the shuttle was in flight, Dalton looked up at the rather Sithly looking form of one [member="Daxton Bane"] and chuckled slightly at his comment. Intimidating to some maybe, but not to Dalton – beyond how one looked, Dalton didn’t care for what labels the Force users applied. This one was a worthy ally and on the good fight.

The ride through wasn’t a comfortable one, but it wasn’t nothing to be expected heading into a place peppered with Imperial forces above and below the atmosphere. It was down to the pilot to get them through. The Confederacy forces inside rocked in unison as the craft flew through. Dalton glanced around and saw a few faces looking a little worse for wear, obviously not used to this sort of travel.

He caught the glance of [member="Amadi the Banished"] and shrugged slightly.

"Have we got any direct contacts on the ground?" Dalton asked to stir conversation and take their minds off the journey. "I assume the second the Imperials know we are on their doorstep, they’re going to make a bee-line to secure the palace if they expect us."

He leaned back against the seat and looked this way and that for any indication who had the information.

[member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] | [member="Katria Vekarr"] | [member="Rapax"] | [member="Darth Saethus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member=BX-25233] | [member=Akabane] | [member="Chalim Vern"]

 

[Jorco Czeku]

​

Objective: Support landing part
Location: Space
Allies: CIS
Enemy: Galactic Empire

Spoiler: Theme

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qjzjhl-QztE

Once the announcements were hear the message was clear Null Company was ready to join in the troop transport, going in along with there own ships. Pouring out of the hangers. There were not nearly as massive as the droid army, but they didn't need to be, they were more specialized and Tatooine was their environment. Moving into his B-Wing's cockpit he readied up his ship. Eager to get into the action and support his troops in the air. Jorco just hoped this wouldn't turn into another Jakku situation. Not because it was another sand pit. He just didn't want the storm troopers to draw this out into a long guerrilla war, where the troopers wore war paint and had nasty traps at every corner. But only time could tell.

After a good bit of set up, him and his team of 20 K-Wings were ready. Yeah they weren't the norm for confederacy starfighters, but that's what he had, plus they'd do good against ground targets. With his command him and his team shot out of the hanger, he only hoped that he wouldn't be shot down, then he'd be real screwed.

As he flew down to the planet he thought to himself. He didn't like sand, not much at least. It wasn't moist, wet, swampy, not like Rodia.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
[SIZE=9pt]Tatooine Orbit[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Southern Systems Business Bazaar - Arceneau Trade Company Headquarters [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Within Galactic Imperial Jurisdiction[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Security Control room [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]The response from [member="Galven Hansol"] to Baron Administrators Oolong Ben’s tentative customer service inquiry was met with a few sighs of relief. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“They state that they require nothing, Baron,”[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] Cheika Pa, a Twi’lek comms officer along the vast bridge of the Southern Systems Business Bazaar Station relayed to the Devaronian Baron. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]None the less, it was the subsequent message that set the tone. That is, the sudden revision of a vast flagship that even at this vast distance, appeared to tower along the line of Confederacy ships. The Droid General [member="Qymaen sil Jurai"] ‘s fleet was a piercing arrowed line. From the Subjugator II, to the Prividance II Carrier and Destroyers. When the Lucrehulk II battle ships came, there was no denying just what the orbit above Tatooine could face. When [/SIZE][member="Kainan Wolfe"]'s message was heard through open comm, there was no denying it further.

[SIZE=9pt]With the Southern Systems Business Bazaar and it’s trade stations between it. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“B-Baron?”[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] a Neimoidian Merchant Communicator swung his large, bulgy eyes over to the Devaronian. While he had been prepared on what they just might face, seeing it in real time, being witness to it, was a completely different story. Especially when the fighters began to deploy. Within the vast behemoths of the Trade Stations, those citizens and merchants pressed themselves against the viewport to see the events unfold.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=9pt]“Wha.. what is going on momma?”[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] A child would ask her mother. Nervously, the woman bent down to pick her up in her arms. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“Ain’t nothing to be afraid of Ame, come… let’s go find your daddy.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“We gonna leave now?”[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] there was a little sense of disappointment, there was a really nice carousel at the carnival sector they had told her they’d go to.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“Just gonna find your daddy.” [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] but there was a sense of finality to the woman’s tone that indicated that indeed, their little pit stop was over.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Back at the Security Control Station, there seemed to be a collective holding of breath. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“Are any heading towards any of our stations or fuel ports?” [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]the Baron would ask. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“None have indicated a trajectory towards our direction” [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] Small blessings. Oolong Ben’s throat gave an almost comical bob, his orange eyes widening and he gave a nervous sweep of his crimson hand over his right horn. Finally, he snapped his fingers.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“Comm, COMM, give me the comm nitwit!” [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] He gestured to the communications officer. In a rush the toggle was switched on and a nod indicated that the Baron could speak.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt][ Good Sir, well received. I must say, that’s quite the large fleet you have! ][/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] compliments were good right?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt][ With such size, I can only hope you can agree that travelers here might be a bit… [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]awed [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]by the sight, honorable customer.] [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Yes, lay it thick. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt][ I will be relaying information for our civilian and merchant ships to redirect their traffic. Please note, the following flags will indicate our customer civilian and merchant base. ] [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] They were specific transponder codes that would indicate just which were considered under Arceneau Trade Protection. This was a neutral area, the Bazaar had always been. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]A quick, almost frantic gesture indicated that they cut the comm. Swinging his gaze around, the Baron Administrator took a deep breath,[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] “Commence the protocol for the rerouting of traffic, send word to the rest of our stations along the Mara Corridor and the Corellian Run -- we cannot have any of our merchant ships or travelers come here.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“But that is -”[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] they were talking of thousands of ships that came by daily. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“Yes -- do it.”[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] it would be a severe loss of credits, but it had to be done. [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]“Reroute them to other fuel and trade depots along the Corridor. Anywhere but here.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Within minutes, the communication began to transmit across the Mara Corridor, commencing the redirect of any incoming civilian or merchant ships. There might be a few that they would not be able to reach in time, but the goal was to prevent as many as possible from coming to Tatooine. [/SIZE]

 

[BX-25233]

Objective: protect the over weight slug
Allies: The Great CIS
Enimies: The Not As Great Galactic Empire
Equipment: A lovely tomahawk, A simple Vibrosword, A poisonous vibrosword.

BX-25233 would be with his fellow droids in the shuttle. The droids we're discussing their parts in this escort mission and about how some of them would be forced to actually enter a sandcrawler, to an organic they would not see any problems but for droids the sandcrawlers were scary with tales of how cruel the jawas that ran them were to droids. Of course the droids were glad that the sandcrawler would be operated by b1s and not but jawas but still the tales scared them.

"Oom 82-f why do you think the CIS would waste our time guarding one of those giant slugs" BX-25233 would ask one of the oom droids on the shuttle who would probably riding in an AAT when they get to the sandcrawler.

"25233 why would I know. The organics do weird stuff that doesn't make anysense any way I heard they will be giving oil baths to any droids that don't lose their heads so we don't need to worry"

Before BX-25233 could continue the conversation the shuttle had emtered atmosphere causing it to shake and making some of the less coordinated b1s fall over but since BX-25233 was a commando droid he was able to keep his footing and found the b1s who fell quite amusing. Once the shuttle stabilised BX-25233 quickly activated his comms unit.

"All units, All units prepare for landing, once the shuttles land please head to your platoon in a calm and orderly fashion and prepare to head out. Units assigned to AAT duty please await outside the shuttles for your assigned AAT to be dropped off. STAPS will be provided to units assigned as reconnaissance duty.

Once BX-25233 repeated the message a few more times he signaled the BX units under his control to head to loading bay of the shuttle so that once the shuttle lands they could get out of the shuttle and secure the LZ as quick as possible


[member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] | [member="Katria Vekarr"] | [member="Rapax"] | [member="Darth Saethus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Dalton Kenway"] | [member="Akabane"] | [member="Chalim Vern"]

 

[Riggs]

​

Location: hangar, then transport ship
Allies: CIS
[member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] | [member="Katria Vekarr"] | @Rapax | @Darth Saethus | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Dalton Kenway"] | @Akabane | @Chalim Vern
Enemies: GE


Standing in the hangar he watched the bustle of preparation. Battle was soon to be joined. The anticipation was in the air. So was fear. It permeated many with it's aura. Nervous laughter echoed across the hangar. Sordid jokes. Tearful goodbyes. Rough pushes between comrades. And the constant hum of pregnated expectation.

War was always so.

The man rolled his shoulders to loosen the muscles under the chest plate and floor length trench coat. The dark leather of his clothes made him wonder, not for the first time, the intelligence is wearing the article of clothing to a desert world. Yet it was a part of him. At least until battle was joined and he removed it.

As the transports began loading he moved for one of the ships, his long gait eating the distance quickly. Walking up the ramp he paused and turned to see the Hutt/slug crossing the hangar with several members of Windstorm accompanying the massive, bloated flesh.

He took a seat in mild disgust, face expressionless.

Leaning his head back against the cold walls of the interior of the transport he closed his eyes. Most individuals felt a sense of the unknown as they entered battle. But the dark haired man merely relaxed. He was a warrior, born of warriors. Life and experience had taught him that you prepared for battle, readied yourself for combat. Then whatever happened was left to the gods until you entered the manda.

His blaster rifle rested between his knees as the transport loaded, the crush of bodies both uncomfortable and familiar. Then the ramp closed and the ship began it's mission.

His nose wrinkled slightly at the close proximity of the Hutt. Nearly overpowering the senses. Yet another scent permeated from a figure near the man. Vanilla toffee wafted from the armored figure. Arching a brow he closed his eyes once more and listened to the talk among the allied force. Battle strategies, complaining about sand, prayer to gods ... These all reached his ears. Shrugging as the ship shuddered slightly he grimaced.

"Winged Goddess watch over your children. Ner vode, give me strength. May the Force guide my hand."

His words were low, yet clearly audible. He was ready. Now all to do was wait.

 

[Fidelis]

Affiliation || Allegiance - CIS & Friends; The People of Tatooine
Location - Bestine, Abandoned Warehouse
Mission Objective - Keep Tytos Ardik from pissing off the natives during 'negotiations'
Traveling With || Interacting With - [member=Fidelis] and [member=Tytos Ardik]
Posts So Far - One


Nine out of ten people would, when you asked them about Tatooine, adopt a disgusted expression and complain extra loudly about the planet and its countless downsides. The gritty oceans of sand (there are worse things to walk on, people, so much worse), the scorching suns and endless, parching heat, the many critters and wasteland creatures just waiting to send you to hell around every desert corner. 'And wait 'til you hear about the people!' they'd dish with an eye-roll. Words like 'scum' and 'villainy' often made the cut, 'the lowest of filth' and 'full of crime-riddled miscreants' to follow. And it was true. All of it. Tatooine was, for most of the galaxy, just a massive ball of hot rock waste where you either went to hide, sell your soul to the nearest devil, or die.

Maybe it was just Lyla Quinn's weird, stubborn determination to look at everything as positively as she could, but the smuggler captain just couldn't quite surrender to all the hate. Like all things as they age, the planet had gathered a pretty thick layer or four of crap, crime oriented and otherwise, and there were plenty of wrinkles, battle scars and deep flaws even before the 'ancient' status had kicked in. The high crime levels weren't all that original, Quinn could count twenty or so other worlds off the top of her head with equal or higher percentages.

But where everyone else saw the scum on the surface, Quinn saw the simple, worn-down people underneath just trying to make it by another day with breath in their lungs. She saw the thick backbone of the small moisture farm towns and villages, strong but disfigured by forced submission, bent heavily under the harsh heel of both local and off-world oppressors. She saw Tippi Ven, the Twi'lek merchant covered in burn marks at Wright's Corner in Mos Eisley who sold dried fruits at extra low prices for tired workers, and 'Kejina', the withered old mute lady who hobbled from her modest home seven blocks away to the Sisters of Syrne orphanage every week to give the children the wraid bone animal toys she carved herself. She saw the brave women who served drinks at the dirtiest bars quietly put up with the most heinous harassment from all manner of patrons so they could afford to feed their four children waiting hungrily back home, saw men of all ages toil in the burning sun, beaten and bruised under the cruel gaze of whatever crime boss they'd ended up enslaved to. She saw Jawas murdered for sport (yes, they get pushy and annoying, but that's no excuse to boil them alive), children with no futures hiding in doorways or begging for food and adults haunted by the futures they'd lost.

And that's why Quinn was here, in the sand and the heat among the 'scum and villainy' everyone hated so much. Not for the glory, not to stick it to the Galactic Empire (although that was a huge plus), not for blood or battle or credits. She was here for the real people of Tatooine, the enslaved and the free, the bold and the meek, the kind and the vicious. They'd been living under too many cruel boots for too long, no choices in the matter, no way out. By no means did Quinn think their liberation of Tatooine from the domineering Empire would solve all the planet's problems, and she'd had a thing or two to say (okay, rage about passionately in the faces of any CIS member willing to listen) about the Confederacy's plans to install a kriffin' Hutt as Viceroy. But it was a step in the right direction.

Because everyone deserves the freedom to live how they want to live. Everyone.

Unless you're a womp rat. You've got two choices there: kindly screw off and avoid all cities forever or die in one of seventy-two colorful ways dreamed up by the locals.

Speaking of steps in the right direction, the Twi'lek awkwardly swerved in a kind of hop dance to avoid a large pile of whatever one very large bantha had for dinner as she and her crewmate, Fidelis, made for the warehouse. "Just—let me do the talking, 'kay?" she said, voice low as she pushed her goggles back up on her forehead and adjusted her leather top a bit. Sand coated her bare arms and clung to her lekku, dulling the glimmer of her rose-gold skin. She left it there, unconcerned. "Didn't get much intel on who this guy is, exactly, but word down the grapevine is he's kind of a hardass, although apparently he's a magician with words in these kind of situations. We're only here to add smiles to his proposals. Well…I am, at least." Fidelis Smiles were rare. Not that she had a problem with that. Quinn reached for the door after a quick look around for watchers. "Let's hope this goes as planned…"

It took her a brief minute to adjust to the sudden darkness inside after a long walk in the blinding Tatooine sun. She took quick note of the nearest Syndicate Shockers and heard Fidelis roll the heavy door shut behind her as she moved with purpose (and a charming smile) towards the man near the crates. Pale skin, sharp, wise chin, shoulders level atop a straight back, and she couldn't tell how tall he was but she guessed it was quite tall enough.

Surely this was him.

"You look a lot like I pictured you," the Twi'lek chirped, pausing in front of him with her hands on her hips as she surveyed him. "Yep. Very…diplomat-y and wise. They were probably right about your negotiation skills, too. Anyway, I guess I'm your 'backup', Lyla Quinn. This is Fidelis, my crewmate. And you are… Titan Urdik? Oldik? No, that's not it.."

AFFILIATION: C.I.S.
LOCATION: Abandoned warehouse, Bestine, Tatooine
MISSION: Secure Captain [member=Lyla Quinn], secure allegiance of [member=Tytos Ardik]
POST COUNT: 1


Well, Ma'am, Fidelis thought, we're off to a bloody tremendous start...

Standing by the door he'd just closed, Fidelis had eyes only for their contact's soldiers. A handful, scattered about the warehouse, each one packing decent armor and armament. The door that he had just rolled shut appeared to be the only way in or out of the warehouse, less one smaller door near the back that may or may not actually exist and would be concealed by various crates if it did. Very few windows to spot any incoming hostiles. Fidelis would have appreciated a night to recon the area, but Captain Quinn had shut that down immediately; something about this being a diplomatic meeting and not one of their usual less-than-legal operations. Never mind the fact that unseating a government and making alliances with crime lords and smugglers to do it was - by definition - less than legal. And in bringing him along, Captain Quinn was at the very least anticipating trouble of some form (despite having strictly forbidden the former Stormtrooper from bringing grenades).

Of all of Captain Quinn's crew, Fidelis was the only one with established military combat experience. That sort of thing was invaluable in a gunfight with criminal goons, of which they'd had several. His particular brand of military combat experience was doubly important against the Galactic Empire; while he had been born and lived in the First Order's Stormtrooper Corps and not the Empire's - that secret silently given away by his choice of an F-11D blaster, tight black clothing and a short, cropped haircut - their tactics and materiel were not terribly dissimilar. Should the Empire come crashing through that damn heavy door, at least one person on the inside had a battle plan. But most importantly of all, Fidelis was a field medic. A damned good one, if he said so himself. Once the blaster bolts started flying - as he knew they inevitably would - Fidelis was the guy making sure his team made it back in one piece (or, at the very least, few enough pieces to be rejoined at the earliest opportunity).

Fidelis fought the urge to grimace looking at the Umbaran standing in the middle of the warehouse, waiting for them. It might have been his conditioning; FN-9114 had always been taught that any authority beyond the First Order was temporary and misguided at best, and years of separation had not been quite enough to shake that sentiment. It might also have been the glaringly obvious hypocrisy; Captain Quinn had touted the importance of freedom for all sentient beings, and the soldier had a sneaking suspicion that freedom meant tremendously little for the people of Tatooine if what little he knew about the Confederacy's plan was true. Either way, something about their contact put a bad taste in the Stormtrooper's mouth. The sooner their part in this was over, the better.

 

[Anse Tahvo]

​

Location: Mos Eisley
Objective: Hunt CIS & Company as per contract
Enemies: CIS
Allies: GE
Interacting with: [member="Esmond Morcus"]
__________________________________________

The bounty hunter entered the cantina, garnishing a few side ways glances from some of the disreputable types that wondered if the hunter was there for them or not. It was survival instincts for them to keep a close eye on the known Duros, and they would ease their own anxieties in a few once they figured they were not on the menu this day. Anse had his eyes on the private both settled in the far alcove of this infamous backwater dive. The one with the old man that looked highly irritated while impatiently tapping his finger upon the booth's table.

Anse moved towards the designated meeting spot. His tall lanky form moved through the crowded sea of drunken patrons with ease as most parted way wanting nothing to do with the dangerous gunslinger. He tilted his head, tipping his large brim hat towards his would be employer before taking a seat directly across from him.

"Anse Tahvo at your service Mr Morcus!" The Duros' low resonating voice breached the void between the two, his left hand reaching for his data pad. "Best you transfer the five thousand credits. From the looks of things I will need to start work right away!"

 

[Kurt Meyer]

Mos Eisley

Kurt arrived In Mos Eisley to what he could only describe as a flurry of activity.

Though usually the small city was abuzz with half a dozen different things at any one time, this all seemed a bit...more. He frowned slightly as the speeder pulled into a small open spot on the outskirts, his eyes wandering over a small band of Stormtroopers who seemed to be setting up some sort of heavy blaster cannon. He scowled, not exactly enjoying the sight of Imperials in his hometown. Still, they weren't exactly an unusual sight around here lately.

The Empire had 'taken over' Tatooine, though mostly they just left everything be. Once in a while you'd see Stormtroopers running around, talking to some cantina owner or doing one thing or another, yet this time they seemed to be a bit more...serious. He glanced at them again as he hopped out of his speeder, eyes lingering as he wandered into the town square. "Ceela!"

He called out to the shop owner he saw rushing towards his stall.

The little Dug was surprisingly nice for someone of her species, known for her sales of fresh Nerf and other meats that were a bit harder to find here on Tatooine.

"Is something going on?" The Dug stopped in her tracks, spotting Kurt and frowning at him. The alien had always liked him, even though he and the other kids had caused her a load of trouble while they were growing up. They'd always made up for it of course, but...not always by their own choice. The Dug shook her head and motioned for him to come over, Kurt giving her a curious look as he quickly closed the distance between them.

"There's a fleet in Important, some sort of ships...rumor is it's the Confederacy."

Kurt frowned for a second. The Confederacy? "What the hell do they want with Tatooine?"

To be fair, he'd said the same thing about the Empire.

 

[Sol Damerin]

​

LOCATION: En route to Mos Eisley
OBJECTIVE: Secure GE outpost
ALLIES: The CIS | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Muad Dib"]b
ENEMIES: The GE | [member="Zesiro"]

​

The call had come from Srina Talon this time. He had twoish friends in The Confederacy of Independent Systems and both had made a habit of calling him up when there was fighting to do. That was fine, he was a mercenary fighting is what he did. Sitting placidly in a troop transport he waited to make ground.

Once upon a time, he'd hidden his Force talent to avoid notice but these days it seemed everyone and their dog knew he was a Force wielder. As such he hadn't been put under anyone persons specific command. Oh sure, he should listen to the generals if they decided to contact him but unlike in the past, he wasn't assigned to a specific squad. "You are on Task Force Hurricane, you will be with the ground forces help us secure the surface." That was the extent of his marching orders thus far.

So he sat and waited on the transport, legs crossed breathing deeply in and out. Inhale, exhale. His mind relaxes as he communes with The Force sending ripples out into the ether and observing the response he got back. There were a lot of other Force users in this battle he could tell that already. Some were familiar, friends or acquaintances he didn't really make enemies, but one stood out among them. There was one particular presence in The Force on Tatoonie that certainly shouldn't be there.

Sol's normally stony expression changes ever so slightly. His lips quirk downwards almost imperceptibly downward in his version of a scowl. His apprentice was on Tatooine and from what he could sense she was not fleeing. Which meant she likely planned to fight on the side of The Empire. Sol didn't really care who she fought for, sure The CIS and The Empire were enemies and sure he mostly did jobs for The CIS but he was still a mercenary. While he took jobs based on his morals he didn't view The Empire as entirely evil so if Zes wanted to work for them he didn't care about that.

What bothered Sol was that the idiot girl was still only half trained. Sure stupid kids went off and half-cocked and half-trained to fight in wars all the times. But those stupid kids weren't his apprentice. He'd told her to stay safe while he went off for a bit to do a few jobs and now she'd gone and plunked herself in the middle of a war zone. She was in trouble. He was going to find her and he was going to drag her off the battlefield by her ear if he had to. Then he was going to put her through training so hellish that she wouldn't even think of pulling a stupid stunt like this again.

Not until she was properly trained anyway.

Reaching out with the Force he focuses his attention on Zesiro. She would be able to feel his presence as though he standing right next to her, she would be able to feel the weight of his disappointment and displeasure. Within that connection he places words into her head, he wasn't the best at telepathy but with someone, he was familiar with he could manage. "We are going to talk young lady." Within the space of the mind, his normal lack of tone vanishes and he sounds like a stern father figure that just caught his underage daughter drinking.

 

[Darth Atrox]

OBJECTIVE: Infiltrate the Imperial Garrison
Allies: The Confederacy
Enemies: The Galactic Empire
Equipment: See bio

​

24 HOURS TO OPERATION KING'S FALL​

INFILTRATING IMPERIAL GARRISON​

Unease bubbled deep within Darth Atrox as his transport rumbled towards the desert planet, the ship almost flawlessly cloaked with both technology and the Bogan which shrouded it in a penumbra; a darkened aura which protected the craft from prying eyes and unwanted attention. The Epsilon-class shuttle, naturally piloted by droids, the ship touched down gently upon shifting sands, which swelled and morphed beneath the great shuttle's weight. From the back came a figure, pushing a speeder bike onto the surface.

The Zabrak was swathed in a thick, black cloak which protected him from both the unrelenting twin suns of the planet and the sand which bit at his ankles like an agitated nexu. The Sith Lord quickly mounted his speeder bike, and ripped away into the sandy wasteland, and once he was at a suitable distance, Karak depressed a small button on his wrist - the shuttle tore open in a fiery explosion, debris flying into the sand, as if the ship had simply crashed into the wastes of Tatooine, concealing the Sith Lord's presence on the planet.

A small smile etched its way onto his concealed face, eyes darkening behind rudimentary goggles. The Imperial Garrison was just detectable in the far distance, and the roar of his engines was the only sound the infiltrator could hear. The Dark Acolyte was quite content with this isolation, as it meant that he could complete his orders effectively and flee without any distractions before extraction from the desert planet following the Confederacy's invasion. Atleast, that was the plan.

Atrox's orders had come from the Vicelord himself. Infiltrate the Imperial Garrison, find the commander and silence him. It would be no easy task, as Darth Atrox had come to realise upon his silent meditations en-route to Tatooine from deeper in Confederacy space, and even from this distance the Dark side of the Force tugged at him from the garrison. A practitioner of the Bogan was inside, it had to be.

 

[Esmond Morcus]

Location: Mos Eisley, Tatooine
Objective: Await the Bounty Hunters
Allegiance: Empire

The news of Confederate invasion were indeed surprising, but Esmond's face didn't show it. The Empire had been expecting an invasion from them since Dagobah, it was no surprise that they were attacking Tatooine either. It was the most valuable planet in the sector neighboring CIS space. Home of Arceneau Trade Company, most of the merchants in this sector came through Tatooine at least once on their journeys. It angered Morcus, but he kept his cool, he still had bounty hunters to deal with, and now he would need a new mission. Before he could activate his communicator on a channel to High Moff [member="Adron Malvern"], Morcus was met with the company of his bounty hunters, each arriving within moments of the other. He responded to each in respective order,

"Indeed I am.

There is no conversation, sit.

It seems you will."

Esmond presented a data pad and gestured for all of the bounty hunters to take a seat. He said,

"Now, it seems the situation has changed, we won't be hunting two bit gangster, instead Confederate officials."
The datapad whirred to life once Esmond pressed a few buttons, and a list of prices were opened. Esmond held it up for the bounty hunters to see,

"Along with your upfront fee, you will be paid these amounts for who you kill. Provided they are confirmed. No disintegrations."

Esmond set down the datapad and crossed his arms, "If you are still interested, I'll wire the money, and we can get moving." Esmond opened the datapad, and transferred the upfront fees to each bounty hunter who accepted, once they told him so. After they got that out of the way, Esmond activated his communicator, on high emergency channel to High Moff Malvern. He spoke matter of factly,

"High Moff, I have a team of, bounty hunters, on hand. Is there any suspicious Confederate movement on the planet? A force not heading towards Imperial strongholds?"

[member="Anse Tahvo"]
[member="Koenrad Neistov"]
[member="Digam Merith"]

 

[Vrapir Detta]

Location: Mos Eisley, Tatooine
Objective: Patrol
Allegiance: The Galactic Empire

Vrapir and Jax rushed through the scum city, being joined by other Imperials, mostly sandtroopers. Vrapir didn't pay too much attention to who joined, not paying mind to [member="Zesiro"] despite her status as an exile from the Empire. As the Imperial soldiers broke from the outskirts of Mos Eisley, it was a true sight to see. Imperial sandtroopers, support staff, and speeders, all rushing towards the outpost nearby. It was unorganized, and unorthodox, but every stormtrooper and every personnel and every speeder had a place to be, a duty to fulfill. By the time Vrapir, Jax, and many other sandtroopers, he was out of breath, but he didn't stop. Vrapir and Jax knew their positions, and rushed for them, knowing also that the muster had already been dispersed, and every Imperial had been sent to their general station.

As soon as they reached their situations, they nearly fell down from exhaustion. Running hundreds of meters in the hot binary suns in plastoid armor was no doubt the hottest experience Vrapir ever had. He set down his T-21 and put his hands on his knees, taking huge breathes. After a minute of relaxation, he picked up his rifle and raised it on the fortification he was defending along side Jax and two other sandtroopers. It felt silly, with the enemy coming down from dropships above, but the large hypervelocity guns would keep the enemy from just coming down right on top of them. Vrapir almost asked whether or not Confederate transports had been spotted yet, but his question would be answered by the grand sound of the hypervelocity guns firing into the sky. Now it was only a matter of time before the Seppies reached the surface, and Vrapir was ready.

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

Location: Bestine - Abandoned Warehouse
Objective: Criminal Collusion
Allies: [member="Lyla Quinn"] - [member="Fidelis"]

Tytos smiled as the Twi'lek bungled his name beyond plausible recognition. It was meant to appear congenial and friendly, but the gesture did not reach his eyes - which blazed with the sort of irritation that implied that this had happened at least several times before. "Tytos Ardik," he said, attempting to help her along as he extended his hand for a shake. "A pleasure to meet you."

Or it might have been, if she said his name right on the first try.

Well, no sense dwelling on missed opportunities. He glanced over at the tall, clean cut fellow that had followed Lyla in. Mentally, Tytos compared his posture to a First Order Stormtrooper. Having previously served as the governor of Bakura on the First Order's behalf, he was more than familiar enough with them. But his mind was on other matters, and he remained blissfully unaware of the apparent accuracy of the comparison. He was more focused on the fact that Fidelis was an unknown variable - someone he had not been expecting to be here. Quinn was purported to have a crew of her own. Perhaps he was part of it. Tytos had not bothered to look into any of them, something he would undoubtedly come to regret. There was always something.

"We may as well get started," he continued, stooping down temporarily to retrieve two datapads that had been waiting on the ground near him, presenting them to Lyla. "I wasn't told to expect your companion over there, but I've already read up. He can use mine if he intends to participate. It is a dossier on the relevant locals we will be meeting with today. Once their support is pledged, we can formally evict the Imperial garrison."

It would be apparent from the dossier that Tytos had a very different idea of which people on Tatooine mattered to the grand scheme of things - the list was a parade of criminals who had sunk their claws in or around Bestine, spreading violence and corruption like disease. Tu Mai, the ruthless and so-called Smuggler Queen of Mos Entha - a mean spirited and elderly Weequay woman. Then Ghelko Fex, the twitchy Muttani who had cornered the illegal spice trade in Mos Zabu despite chaffing under the Imperial boot. And then there was Wetjat, a one-eyed Jawa and declared Warlord.

Most of the detail fields on him were filled simply with N/A.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Team Two: Outpost Assault
Allies: CIS [member="Mythos"]
Enemies: GE​

​Date: [member="Varas Kyrel"]
Objective: Troop Leading. Establish a FOB. ​

The Theme
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

​

​The Matador followed the Monarch like a mechanical dog, slowly at the heel and ready to pounce. However, more maniacal thoughts gathered on the edge of his brow; feeling the wasteful fear of enemy.

​"Can you smell it Monarch?"

​The Matador stood hunched, looking to Mythos as he was handed the X-99 Sniper; the weapon looking like a black mould of blues and a lack of heat to the infrared animalistic vision of the Chieftain, his head anchoring down as he found his pincer like hands wrapping around the weapon in his right hand; holding it like a trooper would hold an E-11, dangling loosely across his waist, resting against his hip as the other remaining loose. Seeing his Monarch look quizzically at the Matador.

​"The fear. The Empire, they may not know what is about to happen. Soldiers, men and boys sitting around a holo-screen with no idea what is about to happen. But still, the Gods have chosen us for this crusade. The wind carries the totem of war. Khaemt sends us upon these curs."

​The Matador used his on-board neural interface, linking up with the Bellator Battlenet. A localised private military server linked between the Bellators for himself, allowing them to use their on-board neural links to feed information and reports instantly to each-other. Updating the Matador on their positions. The special operation units were in place, two squads of three keeping a 1klick distance from the transport.

​"They have no idea, but the force connects all beings. Somewhere, deep in their subconscious. They know they are going to die today. Bellator operatives in position."

​As both the Matador and Mythos arrived, the transport grinded to a halt as the broad side shuttle door slid open, allowing the two stoic warriors to exit the vehicle. Followed by two Tol Varen Militia men.

​"If we are doing recon, it'd be best if you were to go first Monarch. You are...well, smaller."

The Matador could feel, something.​ It made his heart beat a little faster, as if he was looking for someone. ​A strange familiarity in the scent of the air.

 

[Lyla Quinn]

Affiliation || Allegiance - CIS & Friends; The People of Tatooine
Location - Bestine, Abandoned Warehouse
Mission Objective - Keep Tytos Ardik from pissing off the natives during 'negotiations'
Traveling With || Interacting With - [member=Tytos Ardik] and [member=Fidelis]
Posts So Far - Two


The more she scrolled through the collected information in the dossiers, the further her eyebrows rose into her forehead. "This is, uh…quite the list here, Ardik…"

The top dogs of almost everything that was rotten about Tatooine? Definitely not what she'd been expecting. Wasn't this exactly the kind of crap they were working to eliminate? Then again, this wasn't her area of expertise. Maybe there was a bigger plan at work here. The CIS knew what it was doing, she'd seen the positive fruits of their labors on other worlds touched by their influence, and she could already tell Tytos Ardik had his shiet together. Guess it was time to have a little faith here. Even so, she was glad she'd asked Fidelis to join her on this mission. With names like these in the mix, having a medic who knew their way around battle on her side was a plus. (Besides, she did enjoy his quiet company.)

That said, there was a small problem.

Lyla Quinn was on Tu Mai's poodoo list.
Well, Rylana Tualin was.

The smuggler was familiar with all three of the names as the Lylek Rim Rippers had done 'business' with them in the past, although Wetjat was as shrouded in mystery as ever. To her knowledge, the Lylek pirates were still on decent terms with them. But after a few attempts to personally bring down Tu Mai's corrupted little empire not long after she broke from the Rippers, Quinn certainly wasn't. She'd earned the shriveled Weequay 'Smuggler Queen's' personal hatred for her last stunt. But it had been almost seven years since then, the galaxy was a large place full of rose gold-skinned Twi'leks, and Mai wasn't familiar with the persona Lyla Quinn. As long as she stayed out of the main conversation, she could probably avoid any…unpleasantness. This situation seemed complicated enough without adding her personal problems to the mix.
She thought for a moment about bringing it up, wondering if maybe it would be better to prepare Tytos and Fidelis just in case, but decided against it. Best not to start her first real shindig with the CIS as a liability.

The captain glanced quickly at her crewmate as he read through the same dossiers, but as usual there was no evidence of what he was thinking on his face.

With a slight stiffening of her lekku, Quinn frowned at Tytos, tucking the datapad under her arm and leaning on one hip. "And exactly how are we gonna get their 'pledged support'?" she asked, maybe a little heavier on the 'disapproving' scale than she'd meant to be. "You've got a lot of toxic people on the roster. What're we offering them in return?"

 

[Fidelis]

AFFILIATION: C.I.S.
LOCATION: Abandoned warehouse, Bestine, Tatooine
MISSION: Secure Captain Lyla Quinn, secure allegiance of Tytos Ardik
POST COUNT: 2


Captain Quinn might as well have howled out.

The small twitch was all it took to catch the soldier's attention. Both sharp blue eyes immediately ripped away from the dossier to give the Twi'lek CO a once-over. Even if he hadn't known the captain for an especially long time, even if they had made similar meetings several times before, Fidelis had never seen Captain Quinn react quite like that. It was minor and she played it off like a soldier, but there was no mistaking the small stiffening of her lekku or the almost unnoticeable hitch in her breath, silently screaming that their situation had just gone very south, very fast.

Fidelis had seen both two years ago, when he got word that his platoon was being left to die by the very order they'd given their lives to.

"Moreover," the stoic Stormtrooper said in a deep voice, looking the Umbaran right in the eye, "what can we expect if they decide our offer's not good enough?"

Fidelis knew he was under orders to let Captain Quinn do the talking, but whatever had upset her clearly hadn't been planned on. No plan ever really survived contact with the enemy, of course, but things had taken a turn before the first shot had even been fired. A plan that didn't take contingencies and variables into account was a plan for defeat. Were this one of their normal operations, Fidelis would not be terribly worried. Deals fell through just as often as they were struck, and most of the time everyone simply walked away from the table without hard feelings. But this was something Captain Quinn had believed in. Something that - if the Confederacy was to be believed - a great many people were counting on. Fidelis remembered what that feeling was like. He thought the entire exercise was pointless, given who they were dealing with. Given the circumstances, he thought Captain Quinn was outright delusional in even considering what they were doing here, let alone actually making landfall, let alone doing so without proper bloody reconnaissance...

...but Fidelis wasn't a diplomat or a counselor. He was a soldier. And soldiers didn't complain about their missions; they accomplished them.

Given the rapidly-evolving situation, what little he knew of Captain Quinn led Fidelis to believe she'd forgive his brief disregard for her orders.

 

[Aya Clarke]

• Commanding Officer: General "Ser" [member="Aya Clarke"] of the "Iron Crusade"
• Invasion Fleet: Five Lucrehulk class Battleships and Three Providence II Destroyer Carriers
• Wearing: Knightly Armor (in sig)
• Carrying: Knightly Sword, Gifted Lightsaber
• Allegiance: CIS
• Currently: In Space
• Post: 2

The quiet before the storm was always the worst, even more so from the perspective of the attacker. Always she had been waiting on the other end... how did people do this? For a moment, the knight almost began to question the wisdom of this move, of this large of an assault on the dusty planet. This would be shattered however, by the shelling of Hypervelocity cannons. Such powerful cannons could easily pierce into orbit, and whether they were the target or not the shells began to impact against members of the Armada's forces. The strikes were silent from her perspective, which was fortunate as they surely would deafen her were she to hear the impacts against the fleet's shields, and hulls. There was no more time for deliberation, they were fully, truly committed. The ships were as close as they were going to get safely, and there was little time to begin launching the C-9979 landing craft.

Opening a channel once more, her voice would be heard by the likes of [member="Sol Damerin"] and [member="Kurenai Yumi"], along with anyone in the invasion fleet awaiting the order. "If you're not in a transport I suggest you hurry along now! C-9979's are to finish flight checks and begin launch as soon as possible. Hypervelocity cannons are hammering our ships and we best get out there before we die up here. Now move it soldiers!" She cut the transmission quickly and glanced out the viewports again. The Lucrehulks were sitting targets for these things, being hammered by the cannons. Those involved in the invasion itself anyways, as they had to stray closer to the planet to begin launching the landers. The Providence classes on the other hand seemed to be more secondary, taking more glancing blows than the slower, bigger targets. That wasn't to say they weren't being hit, but they didn't seem the priority.

Didn't stop the bright flashes as one of the Providence class ships took an almost certainly fatal blow to the engines. The ship began to plummet slowly, while a Lucrehulk under it began its own cascade of explosions. Both ships were doomed, not to mention a number of the landers that simply ended up between the cannons and them. Aya sighed quietly at the sight, and turned to one of the droids. "Have my personal shuttle preped by the time I reach the hangar. And don't you dare retreat until not a single landing craft remains to protect." The roar of 'roger roger' faded behind her as she made her way to the carrier's hangar. An unremarkable small shuttle rested there, a disposable, generic craft she'd had put on the ship to save expenses for herself when her track record of being shot just out of the sky and with fortunately little fall time followed behind her.

Stepping in, strapping down, she took a deep breathe and muttered her prayers. The ship itself began to leave, and join the landers in their route down. With such a generic, unassuming craft, at least there were no 'hey look at this important person' signatures.