Diplomacy Valor on Vulpter (High Republic and the Alliance)

[Cassius Callaesar]

This would be the easy part, Cassius knew. If the nationalists caught them mid-maneuver or managed to subdue them again afterwards, he knew their wrath would be exponential. It would be no easy task getting out of here, but the High Admiral would be damned before he bent for some these little green bastards.

With the senator's cooperation, Cassius begins to shuffle his legs to either side of his seat. The position was an awkward one, but necessary to allow him to rise straight up and over to get the chains over the back rests.

"Alright Senator. On the count of three we will both stand up. Slowly." He waits for Kaito's confirmation, then takes a single breath to prepare himself. "Three.. two.. one," on the final count the Admiral pushes himself up in unison with his Republic partner. Leveraging against one another, the two are easily able to stand and side-step the chairs they had been bound to. With the extra space offered in the absence of the back rests the chains go slack, allowing Cassius and Kaito to carefully and quietly slide them to the floor to free themselves.

"Kark," Cassius mutters to himself, taking a moment to gingerly paw at his own jaw and nose. It had been a while since the old man had taken hits like that. As much as it sucked, he couldn't help but hold some satisfaction for still managing to tough it out.

"Alright," his eyes look through the darkness, unable to spot anything around them "we need to figure out our environment a bit. See if we're in a closet or a damned brig. I'll go the direction I'm facing, you go yours. Try to find the door, or an access hatch. Something."

He takes his first step forward, "and if anyone does come through the door, I'll pounce on them. You're welcome to join in, Senator. You're a Corellian; I know you've got some fight in you." He offers a muted chuckle, straining once more against the pain brought on with each flex of his abdominal muscles.

Republic Engineering | Gala Geert | P Placeholder 018 | Maou
Maynard Treicolt | Ryv | Steve Holt​

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// LOCATION // The Radiance
// OBJECTIVE // Provide air support
// FOCUS // Cassius Callaesar | Maou | Ryv | Loske Treicolt | Steve Holt

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"Try not to get yourself shot down this time, May!" One of the other Saber Squadron pilots sounded out to Saber One, offering a playful jostle of his shoulder as he made his way to his own X-Wing colored in light grey and dark blue.

"Oh- who the hell said you could call me th- ahhh whatever, if I crash this time it'll just be my 'dramatic entrance' into the ground op." Treicolt remarks with a grin before he makes his way to the ladder leading up to the canopy of his starfighter, the Jedi slapping a hand on the side where his callsign 'Outrider' is written in aurabesh flanked by several kill marks, most of them resembling either Dominance class fighters or the feared TIE/SF.

Once he sat himself into the seat he received a thumbs up from one of the hangar technicians, the Concordian returning it in earnest before he begins to slide the thick flying gloves over his hands, the helmet featuring an intricate design centered around the emblem of the Galactic Alliance on one side and that of the newly unified Jedi Order on the other side - an overt display of Maynard's own mixed allegiances. Sliding it over his head the orange tinted visor slid down over his gaze, lighting up with the HUD before soon enough his BB unit newly lowered into the slot behind him began to sound out in enthusiastic binary beeps.

"Tell me about it, Buddy. So long as it ain't more of the damned nether...things or a whole damn star destroyer waitin' for us then I ain't too worried about it..." Maynard says as the cockpit slowly lowers over the canopy, sealing down with a low hiss - the last step before Maynard's vessel and the rest of the Sabers were ready to launch.

Peeling out of the hangar bay Maynard was joined flanked by the rest of Saber Squadron, each in nearly identical X-01s.

"Can always do with more company - good to be flyin' with you today, Holt." Maynard remarks through the comms.

"Now Blue you pay much better attention than I do, any clue what we're bound to be dealin' with out here?" Maynard inquires through the comms to Loske.

 

[Maou]

Free from his binding now, Kaito rubbed his wrists gingerly, the words of the Alliance Admiral hurting only his pride as a new Sith apprentice. If it hadn't been for the old man, he could have blown past these miscreants. Alas, his facade needed to remain for his goals to be met. Like his counterpart, he walked over to the opposite wall and sighed heavily.

"I doubt they would trap us in a closet, but I'm glad you're an optimist," he muttered, feeling his way across his wall. As he began sliding his hand against the wall he sensed two beings on the other side, danger sense tickling up his spine. He whispered a curse and looked behind him to see the old man searching. There wasn't a panel on this side of the wall but with his vision finally adjusting to the dark he could see that both sides had sliding doors, and his was about to be opened.

"Admiral," he hiss whispered, "I hear them." A lie, but the man was too far from where he was to argue. There wasn't much time anyways. Posted on the side of the door Kaito waited and when the door hissed open, flooding the room with light Kaito sprang into action sending an elbow straight into the elbow joint of the guard's readied blaster arm. He squealed in surprise, dropping the blaster into Kaito's other hand. He pulled the trigger twice...

Pew Pew.

And they were both down. He turned back to give the Admiral a smirk.

"A little more than some fight. Come on," He slid the other blaster across the room and took the second guard's weapon. "Let's get out of here." And then the second door opened.

Cassius Callaesar

 

[Republic Engineering]

Vulpter Surface // Commercial District // Near Viper Tower
Sigma Squad - Half-Strength - Republic Commandos
Unit Commander: Lieutenant Gideon Raith.​

​

There was little that could be said after the briefing concluded as the plan was concocted and subsequently put into motion. The only thing that could be done was to follow through with the motions. He checked his arms and armour whilst boarding the dropship, and did the same for a second time as they proceeded towards the surface. His lips were pressed together during the transition from one scene to the next - as the man wasn’t one for small talk.

Hatchet, on the other hand, was more than talkative for the both of them. There was even a moment when the Commando tried flirting with one of the Alliance’s Officers as they made their way to the deployment hangar. Sadly, just as sparks were seemingly beginning to fly, Gideon intervened and pulled his Squadmate away. They had a job to do, after all.

All thoughts of the past were swiftly erased from his mind as the Commando felt the repulsorlift engines flared - slowing their descent before touching down. What transpired before this moment didn’t matter. Every moment that he spent with his head in the clouds, or stuck in the past, was a moment that his mortal coil could’ve been severed. Or, if the fates were truly unkind, someone under his command could perish on his watch.

That eventuality was unacceptable.​

When the blast doors retracted, revealing the dust-swept world beyond, Gideon leapt into action and rapidly disembarked. His rifle was shouldered the very moment that his armoured bulk kissed the ground, and with practiced ease - the Commando swept the weapon’s barrel across the newfound environment. He was searching for possible hostiles in the shadows. Seeing none, with both his eyes and the armour’s on-board systems, the man gestured to the others - beckoning them to disembark.

Hatchet did as his commander requested, and followed the man’s lead - double-checking the shadows just in case something was missed. However, this time, there were only two Commandos that departed the transport. It felt odd. Gideon did his best to ignore the rising sensation, but when Hatchet brought it up on their squad’s encrypted channel - it became all the harder to ignore. The man was right. It felt odd leaving Dynamo and Whisper to Guard the ad-hoc Corellian Senator.

But, she privately requested that a portion of Sigma Squad remained behind to enhance her security detail, and the man was compelled to oblige.

With their pack being shorted two hands, the Republic Commandos would have to rely on the skills of two outsiders to fill in the gaps. Gideon knew of Dak. They nearly killed one another during the Alderaan Debacle, but soon joined together to safeguard their respective representatives. The Green-skinned woman, however, was relatively new to the Commando. Sure, they introduced themselves to one-another aboard the Radiance… but she was still an enigma in his eyes. Perhaps, she would prove herself invaluable thrice over, before the mission was complete.

Pushing such thoughts aside, Gideon gestured towards their entry point some distance away with a forceful chop. It was a universal sign to advance, but with two different units from two similar governments? Who knew if it would translate.

Just to be sure…

:: Advance towards the Sewer Ingress and take positions on either side. We move with caution and sweep everything. I don’t want to get caught with our pants down. ::

| Gala Geert | Ryv | Dak | Raona Cadera | Steve Holt | Tristan Evore | Spirit of Hope | Maou | Cassius Callaesar |​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Vulpter // Atmosphere // x-01 Skyalker Class X-Wing
Maynard Treicolt // Steve Holt ​

The immense gratification that came from the infectiousness of May's nickname knew no bounds. The whole squadron had started to adopt it, and every time it got the mildest of rises. It was more used than Outrider at this point.

"Saber Squadron, standing by." Loske confirmed back to Captain Climshedis, before clicking the broadcast channel off and swapping back to the shared one between her wing mates. She adjusted in her seat, smoothing out a fold that had caused her pants to ride up uncomfortably during takeoff while the exchange between Saber One and Steve occurred.

She'd flown with Steve in the original evacuation of Brentaal IV, in little better than a bucket of bolts. With the upgrade, she suspected there'd be a bit more ease in the skies. "Good to see you in the skies again, nicer pair of wings this time. Careful with the shields on that thing, though. They're pretty poor" Friendly Blue offered through the channel. It was the same fighter she'd flown when reunited with Saber Squadron on Brentaal. She closed her mic once again while Frank sent forward a summary of the briefing that had happened on Radiance.

"Catching up on that," Loske admitted back to her friend "-Sounds like we're sitting pretty until called on."

I'll take the credit for paying attention. The droid interjected over the channels. She's just repeating what I say loude-- Loske cheekily cut him off from the shared channel to their internal one, so he finished his sentence to her ears only. HEY! He received a laugh in return before she opened the channel again. DJ Loske felt like a disc spinner, swapping and reversing channels around within seconds.

"Fiine, you can deliver the summary." She acquiesced jovially, and leaned back in her seat - still scanning the overview that was being shared across all their dashboards.

The Republic and The Alliance are sending in ground troops to lead an evacuation mission of two targets. Republic Senator Kiyoshi and High Admiral Callaesar. Once the targets are acquired, they intend to contain the fight around Viper Tower and run evacuations of those rescued. Our role is to provide protection for the evac shuttles from a potential aerial attack. We're not to approach the city until we receive the signal; stay at high altitude and out of sight.

Loske corrected her earlier joke: "Ok, so, sitting imposingly."

 

[Atsushi Ono]

Amos looked over to the younger Jedi Knight expectantly. Sitting cross-legged with arms folded across his chest he waited for word on the situation. The younger man had made a name for himself. Not even in his thirties, he had been named Sword of the Jedi and had been given the task to take the fight to the Sith. Quite frankly it was amazing, and a little disheartening. Amos had years to do good, and the only thing he had accomplished was moving a few people out of harm's way and not always successfully. He wondered if he had committed himself to his studies and work over the years since the Alliance fell if he would be a Jedi half as good as Ryv.

"Are we good to go, Knight Ryv?"

Ryv

 

[Ryv]

Ryv watched the duo he'd been tracking round a corner and disappear. A moment later, the same two radicals were joined by a few more, all of which were dragging bound captives across the balcony to a nearby room. He slipped the set of binocs away while taking a knee. Setting his bag beside him on the ground, he pulled it open and tugged out a blaster rifle equipped with an ascension cable. While his fellow Jedi Knight spoke, Ryv focused his attention on unclasping the latch holding the window in place. Once finished, the kiffar pulled it open and turned back to his companion, a sly grin decorating his face.

"Captain Climshedis is in position, along with his men. That means our spec-ops boys are likely mid-infiltration," Ryv turned back to the window and aimed at the building opposite the busy avenue. "They want us to wait until the Senator and Admiral are feed before taking action, but," he'd toss the electrobinoculars to Amos before pointing towards the group inching towards the separate suite. "Looks like they've got more hostages than just the higher-ups. Probably employees, if I had to guess. Puts us in a lame situation," he lowered the weapon before turning to face Amos. "I don't know about you, man, but I'm here to save lives. I think we can get in there, subdue the radicals, and ensure these other hostages are safe and sound. Whatcha think?"

Not waiting for an answer, Ryv turned back, lined up his shot, and pulled the trigger. The ascension capable soared across the air before embedding itself above one of the windows. He offered one more glance to his companion, combined with a wink, and withdrew a hook from his pack. He leaped from the window and slid down the length of the cable towards the opposite building. Ryv braced himself for the impact, bending his knees slightly as the window crashed inward. Trusting Amos was right behind him, Ryv drew the Blade of Ruusan from his side and ignited the weapon. A cyan glow dominated the room as Ryv surged forward.

The heavy hilt collided with the back of one vulptureen's head before he could turn to face his assailant. Another lifted a commlink to call for help, but Ryv focused on the device. Willing the commlink to be within his gloved hand, it complied, shooting across the room to his outstretched palm. He slipped it away quickly before deflecting a blaster bolt back at the weapon it fired from, knocking it from the terrorist's hands and across the room. As others drew their blasters, Ryv crossed a portion of the room towards the hostages. He batted aside another shot loosed his way before falling into a defensive stance.

A steady stream of shots pinned the younger Jedi in place, forcing him to focus on the innocents behind him.

"C'mon Amos, I know you've got this," Ryv muttered to himself, the cyan blade flashing left and right to knock aside bolts of energy.

Amos Orno ​

 

[Dak]

Vulpter // Hpaq // Outskirts of Viper Tower
Gala Geert // Republic Engineering // P Placeholder 018
Maynard Treicolt // Steve Holt // Ryv // Tristan Evore ​

The brief transit would be a silent one for the droid. Unfortunately, his old model of auditory receptors were unable to selectively block sound, forcing him to listen to the Commando's attempts at charming an Alliance Officer. Seeking a distraction from the display, Dak opts to lower the pick-up volume altogether and focus his attention on the status of his Sabrewasp carbine. The intricate internal mechanisms of the droid's receptors shift and whir, magnifying and scanning the surface of the weapon of signs of missed debris or damage. However, aside from the odd speck of new dirt, he knew there'd be nothing to clean - the droid was always thorough when it came to weapon maintenance. A distraction, nonetheless.

At the flare of the repulsorlift engines Dak too breaks from his bubble, internally raising his auditory pick-ups to their normal levels and standing from his seat to prepare to disembark. Lining up with the Republic Commandos, he turns to look behind him and offers a nod to Gala. Dak follows in formation as Gideon and Hatchet depart the craft. His photoreceptors remain locked dead-ahead on the objective marker, yet he remains aware of the details around him through his multi-function sensor suite.

Using an integrated fusion cutter, Dak quickly cuts away a small portion of the fence separating the parking lot they had landed in and the construction site. As he does so, he can't help but consider his distinct lack of pants in response to the Commando's choice of phrase. A passing thought.

With the last wire severed, Dak carefully releases the mag-locked cutaway next to him, being conscious to avoid unnecessarily loud sounds. <<Perimeter breached>> he confirms over his internal comm-link without the need for vocalization <<Advancing.>>

Dak is the first to enter, crouching to pass through the hole he had made. The workers were absent from the site, likely due to the threat at hand. This meant there would be no one to directly avoid on the approach, but also that anyone with an advantageous view of the site might easily spot their movements. Confident with the lack of threat within his visual or sensory range, Dak presses forward - moving guardedly from the cover of concrete slabs and durasteel to dormant heavy machinery.

Coming to a position behind a large boulder-dozer, Dak aligns the barrel of his carbine with the subterranean entrance a few meters ahead. <<I have a visual on the waypoint marker>> his receptors rise from it to the looming presence of Viper Tower <<There is not much cover for the approach.>>

 

[Cassius Callaesar]

Shielding his eyes from the sudden influx of light, Cassius misses the details of the brief scrap between the Senator and vulptereen. He lowers his arm, squinting against the harsh illumination of the outside hall, but gives Kaito a nod of approval. He stops the blaster with his foot and bends to pick it up, giving the old Glie-44 a quick once-over as he moves to the doorway opposite of the Corellian.

"Nice to see that the Anaxsi aren't the only Core Worlders who know how to throw a punch," he follows his words with a nod as Kaito suggests the move on.

Then, the door.

With his lucidity and senses returned to him, Cassius is much quicker to act this time. He snaps himself around as fast as his body allows and fire two quick shots through the doorway as it slides open. The first connects with a vulptereen square in the chest, forcing out a squeal and sending him tumbling back. The second shot misses, colliding with the wall outside. A few other voices can be heard in reaction.

Cassius makes hurried steps to the opposite side of the room, throwing himself to the side of the second door before a second captor rushes inside. With a quick reaction, Cassius tackles the diminutive figure to the floor and easily wrestling the blaster from it's large hands. "No sudden movements," he demands hushedly, pressing the barrel tightly to the insurgent's throat.

"What level are we on? And how many of your friends are out there waiting for us?" the insurgent lets out a series of spits and squeals, prompting Cassius to apply more pressure "I know your kind can speak Galactic. You're in the Core."

Letting out a final grovelling quack, he concedes "Aye. Fine, fine. Jus' loosen da grip, I beg." The High Admiral glares down on him unapologetic, refusing to comply with the request. The vulptereen lets out a nasally cough, "Twen'y-four, damnit. Yur on floor twen'y-four. N' dere's about twelve ov 'em out dere."

Maou

 

[Gala Geert]

Vulpter Surface // Commercial District // Approaching Viper Tower
Republic Engineering // Dak // P Placeholder 018
​

As if they had a reason to roll their pants down. Gala couldn't suffocate the eye roll that came after The Republic Commando gestured and proceeded to reaffirm the universal gesture with direction. Did he not think the Alliance sub-ins understood basic sign language? It was almost as clear as galactic standard.

While Dak operated, Gala, Gideon, Sylvanan and Hatchet covered him so he could focus on the task. There was no noise over their comms; professionalism deemed chatter unworthy of making it to their ears. Making short work of the temporary barrier, the three soldiers maneuver through to the other side, backs pressed against an impressive Rendili machine. Absently, Gala liked the idea of using one of these on a Vulptereen Nationalist to make a Vulptereen vapour.

She follows his gaze upwards, then flicks around. One of the benefits of travelling with a droid was the lack of extra accessories she had to carry -- no need for binocs with his visual receptors operating at a higher performance rating. "Not much cover the longer we stand here, either. So, you've got our backs?" If it weren't for the abandoned piece of machinery they were pressed against, they'd be completely detectable. "Thanks Dak.

Lietenant Gideon, I assume you've got some night vision capacity in those fancy helmets? Let's go." She reached out to give a pat to the droid's metallic shoulder plate, before nimbly slipping away from the earth-bending machine with impressive grace that could only be attributed to the fluidity and speed of a Mirialan warrior.

Dropping below ground level, the sunlight that baked the dusty planet above was no longer available. Her hands hovered above her swords strapped to either hip. Squinting into the darkness, she frowned while pressing on: "I can't see a fethin' thing."

 

[Steve Holt]

Ship: sf-58-thunderbird-class-star-fighter
Location: Among Saber Squadron
Objective: Air support when needed.
Known Relevant Allies Spirit of Hope , Maynard Treicolt , Loske Treicolt

"Glad to be here." Steve responded to Maynard Treicolt , before retro-actively adding in, "Well...you know, for as much as I can given the situation."

Didn't need to make it sound like he was excited about what was happening. Sure he was all fine with flying, but the situation was serious. Joking was one thing, but he had to keep in mind just what was going on. He had a tendency to get distracted sometimes, so it was important to remember. Loske Treicolt was also with them, he remembered her. That was a really weird day, definitely one for the memories. "Heh, yeah. This time I don't have to worry about it potentially locking up or something. You never know what happens with ships that aren't maintained right. Hopefully shields won't be a problem, if I do my job right, I won't get hit much, if at all." he said shaking his head. They'd turned out fine when using those old ones, didn't mean there wasn't reason for concern about the ships systems. But this one was much better, faster and more properly equipped for a real battle. He was intending to actually upgrade himself to do even better in space combat, but he didn't like the idea of implants near his brain. He was working on a different type of system to make things work.

Next came an overview of the situation. Something that Loske summed up pretty well as "sitting imposingly." which immediately reminded Steve of a slightly more amusing term which he mostly muttered to himself, though his comms did happen to be on, "Stand still and look pretty. So it's roll call." he joked. That was essentially what the boy thought about military order. He didn't criticize it much, didn't mean he wouldn't make jokes about the need to "stand straight!" and "Hold still!"

 

[Maou]

Kaito followed the admiral through the door, whistling at the man's handiwork. Listening in from the sidelines Kaito crossed his arms over his chest and glowered down at the small creature. The species always surprised him, mostly because of their diminutive size. Only barely over half the height of the Corellian senator it was an utter failure and embarrassment that he had to allow himself to be captured by them.

"We have what we need from him...Just kill him and be done with it," he said coldly.

Cassius Callaesar

 

[Atsushi Ono]

Amos sighed and caught the electrobinoculars in his right hand and peered through them as Ryv continued talking. More hostages? This mission was getting more complicated by the minute. Amos grimaced. Taking action without consulting the commando teams would look bad on the Jedi if something happened to those hostages in their care. But as Ryv said, they were here to save lives, and if they could do this while the commanders did what they were paid to do then things would work out better in the end. He lowered the electrobinoculars to say as much when he looked down and saw Ryv putting together a zipline. The young man gave him a wink and he was off, leaving Amos behind dumbstruck. Sure he was the Sword of the Jedi and suuuure he agreed, but it would have been nice to at least pretend he cared about others' opinions!

He didn't have time to worry about that now though. Fumbling with his utility belt he withdrew a clip and followed Ryv out. Muttering Thyrsian curses all the way down he landed beside Ryv, crunching glass beneath his boots and his own white blade coming to life with a snap-hiss. With most of the Vulptereens' attention on Ryv, Amos was able to concentrate long enough to reach into the Force and shove, tossing the attackers to their feet and into the surrounding walls, their weapons scattering to the floor. With the barrel-shaped aliens groaning and moaning on the floor Amos swiped his hand to the side, sending all of the blasters to the other side of the room. With a satisfied smirk, he deactivated his lightsaber and dusted his hands.

"Well, that's that," he said. Walking over to one of the still groaning terrorists he gripped the blast vest he was wearing by the collar and hoisted the creature up with one hand. "Where are Senator Kiyoshi and Admiral Callaesar being held? I won't ask again." Menace filled his deep voice. Standing at two meters tall with square shoulders and a tower of locked and braided hair Amos painted an intimidating figure. Little did the Vulptereen know that Amos was nothing but a big teddy bear. That didn't mean, however, that he was oblivious to what his visage could do. The Vulptereen began mumbling then sputtering in his native tongue and Amos gave Ryv a shrug and a helpless look.

"Do they not speak Basic?"

Ryv

 

[Ryv]

The Blade of Ruusan flashed out, smacking aside each bolt that flew too close to those behind Ryv. Before the radicals could overcome him by the sheer number of shots sent his way, Amos entered the fray. The senior Jedi defeated the hostiles in an impressive display of skill, freeing both Ryv and the hostages from the threat posed to them across the room. As the thyrsian approached the downed aliens, Ryv turned on his heel and moved towards the frightened workers, beginning the slowgoing process of slicing through their restraints one at a time. By the time Amos finished his failed interrogation, Ryv had turned from the now-free group and met his companion's gaze.

"When we've encountered em in the past, some of their people were able to communicate with us. If I had to guess, the radicals either don't speak it or don't care to," Ryv answered while standing. He looked towards the former hostages with a grin. "Hey there, guys. Name's Ryv, this is my buddy Amos," he motioned to the far more imposing Jedi with a wave of his hand. "Can anyone here speak basic?"

One of them shakily pushed through the crowd, waving a hand above their head.

"Y-Yes, Master Jedi," an effeminate voice answered back.

"Great!" Ryv exclaimed as he cleared the space between them and knelt before her. "The Alliance and the Republic know what's going on here, you don't have to worry anymore. We're currently undergoing an operation to free this location from the clutches of the terrorists who've taken it. Some friends of ours were captured and locked somewhere in this building. Do you or any of your co-workers know where they are, by chance?"

"Let me check!" she turned away and began translating what Ryv told her. A small discussion transpired between them all, with many visibly relaxing. Some retained a sense of unease, while others appeared frightened. She eventually turned back, shaking her head. "We don't know about your friends, but more of us have been taken captive in the board of directors hall of discussions. Torperg claims explosives were armed somewhere near them, and they are supposed to be some kind of backup plan. Please, master Jedi," her pleading eyes look to both Ryv and Amos. "You have to help them."

Ryv grit his teeth, a sense of urgency surging through his body as the news reached his ears. "Tch, that's not good," he straightened and turned to Amos. "What do you think, man? We gonna do this?"

Amos Orno ​

 

[Cassius Callaesar]

If the Senator were not a Corellian the blunt attitude toward executing a captive might have caught the Anaxsi-born by surprise. Instead, Cassius nods in agreement before standing to full height and firing down on the cowering insurgent with two carefully placed shots. While Corellia and Anaxes were polar opposites when it came to the stereotypes of their citizens; gruff and rugged scoundrels vs. stratocratic nobles, they found common ground on a willingness to 'do what needs to be done.' The High Admiral had even demonstrated that sentiment on his own son, afterall.

"Twelve more on this floor. Twenty-four floors to ground. It's unlikely we'd make it, especially since word of our breach will certainly spread," he raises the blaster to aim down the corridor "we should try to find something with long-range communications and try to hail our forces."

He glances at the blaster in Kaito's hand, "Then hold out, I suppose."

At that he presses forward, keeping the pistol at the ready but held close to his body, allowing him to move around corners with without exposing himself too early. The halls were lined with numerous doors; likely offices and meeting rooms this high up, as the labs and testing areas were almost certainly closer to the ground or subterranean. Nonetheless, it forced a great deal of vigilance while moving.

Finally, after reaching the end of the hall they exited on and taking a single turn, Cassius overhears echoed voices speaking in vulptereen. He presses himself against the wall, though there's nothing really useful in the way of cover in his current position. Fortunately for him, their voices sound stationary; the hushed conversation carrying tones that imply preparation for defense rather than seek-and-destroy.

Maou

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// LOCATION // X-01 Skywalker-class X-Wing
// OBJECTIVE // Provide air support
// FOCUS // Cassius Callaesar | Maou | Ryv | Loske Treicolt | Steve Holt

"Well Loske- if you don't know then I certainly don't know...you're supposed to be the one with the brains n' all that." If Loske was allegedly smarter and allegedly the better ace, it was tough for Maynard to continually justify himself as Commander of Saber Squadron though he would never let this insecurity ever see the light of day.

"Well let me tell you, Holt. These damn 'Skywalkers' a fitting name if I might add, are one of the finest vessels I've ever flown aside from The Renegade, but I mean when you spend years tricking out one ship I mean- not much gonna compete with that there's just no which way about it." Maynard states, clearly proud of the handiwork of his smuggling craft.

"Oh- well here we go boys and girls we're pickin' up movement on our sensors now aren't we? Looks like- ah son of a- looks like a Vandal backed up by a few of those damn birds we whipped around on Kaikielius...not ideal but hey- it never is ain't it." Maynard says clenching his teeth before soon enough he catches visuals of the bogies, his left hand slamming down the s-foil controls.

"Alright Sabers, s-foils in attack position let's send you evens out to dance with the birds. Odds on me let's see if we can't give that Vandal trouble." Maynard says before soon enough he leads the break from the squadron, pitching down from the wedge formation as he tags the corvette in his HUD.

"Now these things aren't the toughest or the most agile but they pack a helluva punch so lets not get too cocky." Says the famously cocky pilot.

 

[Republic Engineering]

Vulpter Surface // Commercial District // Hpaq Sewer System
Sigma Squad - Half-Strength - Republic Commandos
Unit Commander: Lieutenant Gideon Raith.​

​

Lieutenant Gideon, I assume you've got some night vision capacity in those fancy helmets? Let's go.​

The Commando offered an inaudible scoff in reply to her words, as the Mirialan peeled away from the Rendili-made vehicle. He wanted to be snide and say something in response, but what would it prove? They were supposed to be working together and such derision wouldn’t do the ad-hoc unit’s morale any good. Any distraction, no matter how small, stole their collective attention away from the mission at hand.

It wasn’t worth it, despite the moment of smug satisfaction it’d bring.

His mind snapped back into the moment as Hatchet’s armoured glove tapped his pauldron, signalling the Commando to advance. Driven by years of training and instinctive reflexes alone, Gideon dashed across the exposed ground as swiftly, and as silently, as his armour would allow. The weapon, that was resting between the textured grips of his gauntlets, was swung in a multitude of directions. It searched for targets or signs of hostility. When none was found, the man moved onto the next possible vector - confirming the data that his armour’s systems presented with an experienced eye.

They were operating in a realm of infinite possibilities, now. It was only wise to narrow down the uncertainty as they proceeded into the sewer system.

Yet, the man needed to be quicker. Some sacrifices needed to be made for the sake of alacrity, and the Commando missed something. Something that one of his Commandos - who was now stationed aboard the Radiance high above - would’ve been in a position to see, and subsequently handle. Alas, as their collective attentions were situated on what lay before them, it was inevitable that something would be missed.

There was a distant glimmer that went unseen by the ad-hoc unit advanced towards their second waypoint marker.​

A Vulptereen spotter, situated on the upper levels of the distant structure, contacted his comrades. The Insurgents were digging in as the Enforcement presence arrived, and continued to do so when more Dropships trickled down from the heavens. They were expecting trouble, that much was true. But, what they weren’t expecting - was that those dropships contained an Infiltration team set on rescuing their hostages.

It was by chance that the Spotter exposed the Infiltrators. The squat creature was scanning the horizon with his quadnoculars when he spotted the distant flame of a fusion cutter. At first, the creature thought nothing of it. He studied the layout of the Viper Tower and the surrounding districts. He knew that area was a construction zone, where some friends of his were scheduled to do some upgrades to a portion of Hpaq’s sewers. A team must've been working overtime.

Yet, what drew the Vulptereen's eyes back to the sight was the outline of a dropship, hovering on its repulsors nearby.​

~-*-~​

As the light from Vulpter’s primary star faded, Gideon’s visor shifted into the programmed low-light settings - washing his retinas with ambient infrared radiation. In addition to this, the visor mode was also programmed to offer a tactical overlay, which showcased his comrades with a dark emerald outline, marking them out as friendlies. He saw everything with a measure of clarity.

The lumen-strips that were set into the arched ceiling were inactive and starved for power. Stripped wires spilled out of several sockets, and over a dozen bulbs were missing - giving the Commando the impression that they were being worked on before the hostage crisis began. That impression was later confirmed as they came across a handful of crates, and dozens of electricians tools littering their surface.

Gideon’s hand shot out and firmly clamped onto the green-skinned woman’s shoulder, beckoning her to stop.​

“One more step,” the Commando whispered through his armour’s annunciator, “And you’ll walk into a crate.”

“Let Dak and Hatchet take point,” Gideon continued as he eased the pressure of her shoulder, and returned the hand to his weapon. “We’ll take up the middle, and if you keep close - I can act as your eyes.”

| Gala Geert | Ryv | Dak | Raona Cadera | | Tristan Evore | Spirit of Hope | Maou | Cassius Callaesar | P Placeholder 018 |​

 

[Atsushi Ono]

While Ryv had been conversing with the prisoners, Amos had been shaking each of the terrorists furiously to get information...To no avail. When the younger Jedi asked about moving forward he shrugged, having caught the tail end of the conversation.

"Bombs?" He hummed in deep thought, still gripping one of the terrorists by his collar between both of his large hands. He shrugged again before tossing the man to the ground like a rag doll he'd grown uninterested in. The man fell to the ground with a squeak of a gasp.

"Do you have training in removing bombs?" He asked, walking over to Ryv. Amos had, back in the old Galactic Alliance days, but he was definitely a little rusty. It would be helpful if there was another that had the training to handle the bomb. If worst came to worst though, he doubted between the two of them that they'd be able to fling the explosive far enough into the air where it wouldn't do as much damage to the surrounding area. A gust of wind blew through the gaping hole they'd left in the window, sending a chill down Amos' back. Unconsciously he rubbed his hands together to keep his fingers warm before moving a lock of hair out of his face and back to its rightful position in his bun.

"Regardless...I think this might be a development our commando friends might want to know about," he muttered thoughtfully.

Ryv

 

[Dak]

Vulpter // Hpaq // Sewer System
Gala Geert // Republic Engineering // P Placeholder 018
Maynard Treicolt // Steve Holt // Ryv // Tristan Evore
​

​

Dak takes a position next to Hatchet without question or acknowledging the suggestion, choosing to remain focused on the information being received and processed through his multitude of sensors. The world was indescribably different for a droid; an awareness built from an amalgamation of countless data inputs, many well beyond the scope of organic perception. So much so, in fact, that he often wondered whether his notion of sight and sound were even comparable to that of those around him. For better or worse.

Suddenly, the DAC stops and raises a fist to signal those behind him to do the same.

<<I'm detecting trace signatures,>> Dak's voice comes over the team's personal comm-channel <<I believe there is movement ahead. I will amplifying my auditory pick-ups.>>

Internally adjusting the sensitivity and volume configurations of his audio-sensory suite, Dak quickly deciphers the sounds of equipment being shuffled and moved, along with hushed voices among the blaring ambient static <<Hostile presence confirmed.>>

The droid shoulders his carbine despite the group being a significant distance <<I believe they are preparing for something. Perhaps our arrival, if we have not gone undetected. Alternatively, it could be workers. We are too far for me to be able to determine the details.>>

 

[Gala Geert]

Vulpter Surface // Commercial District // Sewer Systems
Republic Engineering // Dak // P Placeholder 018 ​

"Thanks." Gala admitted, her trajectory halted by the grip on her shoulder. She released her tension and gave a small nod to the helpful offer to assist where her biology failed. Maybe after this she'd sign up for armour, too. Despite it's clunkiness she could appreciate it's usefulness; which was truly the lesser of two evils?

Maybe they also had filtration systems, because nobody seemed to be bothered by the foul odour that assaulted her nostrils. Curling them in protest, she lifted a hand to waft the air immediately in front of her with a short huff.

Hostile presences confirmed? She tensed, reflexively dropping her hands to the hilts of her blades. The brief pause in motion suggested they were all rationalizing what to do next, but going backwards was not an option. It was moreso how they'd press forward.

Feeling the need to use an undertone, she leaned dropped her voice over their comms - at the same time, adjusting her own output volume as hers was less insulated than the helmets: "Let's get close enough for you to determine how many there are, and their relative positions. If you can give me a summary, I can start the attack without gunfire -- catch them a little more unaware if they are hostile and once they know something's wrong.." she shrugged in the blackness "You can light them up. Let's just try and keep surprise on our side as long as we can."