[Vanguard Campaign] Alliance Dominion of Karfeddion

[Marcello Matteo]

Location: ANS Intervention
Objective 1
Allies: GA
Enemies: [member="Ordo"]

Marcello's glacier-blue gaze peered out from behind errant locks of blonde hair as he strode purposefully across the deck of the hangar bay. Dressed in a jet-black flight suit, the Naboo native past by a number of other Alliance officials preparing for various objectives in support of the Karfeddion initiative. While Marcello would normally be found on the ground, fighting his way through swaths of enemies, he realized from the briefing there were plenty of personnel engaged in that particular objective.

As a result, Marcello had the blissful opportunity to do what he was really born to do. Jor'lan approached Marcello just as he reached the dark blue N-1T Interceptor. "Pre-flight checks out. I did a hot check as well just to be sure those new parts we installed were still meeting the grade. I did make a few calibration adjustments."

Marcello gave his friend and crew chief a 'look'.

Jor'lan smiled thinly and quickly produced a datapad. "Yeah I know. You don't like me tinkering with your baby."

Marcello accepted the datapad, managing his own slight smile. "So you constantly do it to prove that understanding?" Marcello finished reviewing the data quickly before handing the datapad back to Jor'lan. "Looks to be alright."

"You're going to double check anyways."

"I'm going to double check anyways."

Five minutes later, Marcello was ascending the ladder into the cockpit. His helmet sat on top of the console as he quickly began powering up the systems in the preferred order. Fortunately, the environment of the Intervention was maintained in a manner that was optimal for flight conditions. It wasn't like starting up on the surface of some jungle or desert...where you could fry your scanners by powering them up to soon. The last thing was avionics, which Marcello activated after retrieving his helmet and connecting it into the avionics suite.

As the repulsors came online at minimal power, Marcello depressed the switch to close the canopy and dialed in command tactical on button 1, squadron tactical on button 2, primary flight control on button 3, and emergency response on button 4. In short, four frequencies easily selected with a mere toggle of a switch on the vessel's throttle control. For now, his four-spacecraft section that he'd hand selected were all on primary flight control. "Control, Shock 6, flight of four, direct departure to alpha."

"Standby Shock Flight, traffic in transition."

Turning his head to the right, Marcello gave a thumbs up to his wingman. He waited as it was quickly passed down the line and back to him, indicating all vessels were ready.

"Shock Flight, clear to depart, immediate turn to alpha following transition."

As Marcello repeated the instructions to flight control, he gave a brief salute to Jor'lan who returned it before scurrying out of the way. "Cleared to transition with immediate to alpha, Shock 6." The moment the words finished leaving his lips, Marcello manipulated the repulsors and the sublight bank to quickly carry the N-1T out of the hangar roughly ten feet off the deck.

 

[Joy]

Objective: 3
Location: Rendezvous point
Allies: [member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Vexen"] | [member="Loske Matson"]

Abel crouched on the hard ground, knees bent, blue-eyed gaze drifting between the sky and the terrain. He kept looking up, searching for the Galactic Alliance strike forces in the skies above. The sight of so many ships shrieking through atmosphere was pretty darn stupefying. He couldn't help but gape a little.

War might not be glamorous n' all, but sometimes it was beautiful. Abel didn't like those thoughts. He'd been in battle twice now. Dirt, violence and moments of pure panic. In the middle of it, watching people carved up by bolts or blades, he couldn't imagine anything more horrifying, but from a distance - like now - he could see why people told great stories about battles. They looked on and saw the troop formations and the soaring fighters and they sang songs and wrote about it in the histories.

Once, Abel dreamed of being in those history books, but now he saw what it took to be that kind of person, that kind of Jedi. He didn't want that kind of blood on his hands. He was no masterful warrior, like Voidstalker or Starchaser. Just a padawan from Agricorps trying his hardest.

His eyes tracked back down. Out there in the distance were the slave camps. They were a mile or two away, but Abel could still smell the stink. Reminded him of banthas in a pen. Thousands of 'em. Except these were people, living in the grime and muck of their own refuse. He shuddered at the thought.

The others should be here soon. He pulled his cloak tighter around him and waited. Not like he was about to go stomping down into there all by himself. Unless nobody showed up...

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective One
Location: Hyperspace
Allies: GA
Enemies: Those big floating defense stations

It felt ... odd helping the Alliance on a more frequent basis now. The Republic was all but dead to her, just another customer for her company. Beyond that, it could burn and be torn apart by the Mandalorians for all she cared. However, after helping the Galactic Alliance on Lujo, she had gravitated towards the idea of joining the Alliance in a more permanent fashion in the New Jedi Order.

Regardless of her personal thoughts, she had heard about the operation at Karfeddion and had thought to bring along a little help. Reports stated Karfeddion was protected by two Golan Defense Stations. Those stations were just as deadly nowadays as they had been in the past, and they would be quite a detriment to any Alliance force heading to the surface. So, she was bringing along something quite suited to the naval role of artillery.

"Emerging in three ... two ... one..."

A single PulseFlare-class Heavy Cannon Cruiser dropped out of hyperspace, its purpose clear. To support the Alliance cruiser by providing long-range bombardment of the enemy stations with its plasma cannon and ion pulse launcher. She had brought some heavy firepower to a situation that seemed to call for it.

"Take us into range and then proceed to fire," she ordered. "All defensive batteries, be on alert."

 

[Asmus Janes]

[member="Poy Luroon"] [member="Dax Ragnar"] [member="Rekha Kaarde"] [member="Jamie El-Eison"]

Objective One
ANS Intervention

Asmus had been utterly thrilled to find out that the GADF was so stretched that they were offering a chance for pilots from the Merchant Fleet to join some experienced hands on a real mission. However, the message that they were also short on top of the line snub fighters had not been fully conveyed - at least in his opinion. Asmus had a tenancy not to listen.

Was he flying the iconic X-Wing? No.

Was he flying the heavy hitting B-Wing? No.

Was he perhaps getting a chance to test the unparalleled agility of an A-Wing? No.

Instead he was stood, with ill-fitting helmet tucked under one arm, at a clapped out old Y-Wing. Someone had attacked it with some orange paint to make it look like an Alliance ship, but it seemed they have given up half way through the process. Blaster marks pocked the underside and the nacelles had several clear dents. Nevertheless she had been declared space-worthy and outfitted with new cannons and ordnance.

Now all he needed was a copilot and he could fly this death trap out into battle. The sound of the main batteries firing was a constant beat. Pilots bustled as alarms blared ad ships were directed up and into line ready to launch. Apparently the temporary pilots would work underneath experienced GADF squadron leaders. Asmus sighed. It wasn't even a nice looking Y-Wing.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

LOCATION: ABOARD INTERVENTION
OBJECTIVE: THREE
POST 2/20

The girl's alternative to tapping her foot with impatience was to circle the ship a few times. Her knees bent to support her crouch while hands ran underside the vessel's belly. Gangly steps like this led her halfway around the cruiser when the data pad attached to her hip gave another wiggle indicating an update. Still somewhat trapped beneath the ship and the floor, she crouch-walked her way with big stomps to beside the ship where she could stand tall once more.

The message indicated that both her correspondents were already planet side. "Shavit!" She huffed angrily, a slight stomp sending ripples up her leg. The hangar's concrete was not a soft stomp pad. The frustration stemmed from the amount of communication that had circled her objective. She'd thought they were all rendezvousing in the hangar - it seemed, though, that she was behind in information. Was she late? She couldn't recall organization being this ad hawk in The Republic days. Her squad would already be assembling together, amped and raring to go. As it was, [member=Greyson] had already peeled away and it was her alone with the corvette. A corvette that was supposed to be filled with-----oh.

She then realized her role for this.

She was an evacuation pilot - the size of the craft likely to liberate the executioners from The Alliance and a handful of slaves should they want to leave the planet and not start a new, free life on Karfeddion. At least, that was the puzzle she was piecing together; Loske was still having trouble on who to report to.

"Alright, whelp, here we go." With a hoist, she tugged on the ramp's extension and swooped her way from the ground to mid-way up the ramp-- slipping into the sleek corvette's bod. Light steps carried her through the inside of the hull - and she quickly situated herself comfortably in the pilots seat. There was certainly more padding on this than any X or Y wing she'd ever flown.

It was uncomfortable.

The dashboard was also much larger, but she adjusted quickly to the foreign commands. Loske prided herself on her ability to learn things quickly; as if it were by pure osmosis. The engines hummed to life as she ran through system checks - uncertain what the corvette would run into once she broke the atmosphere.
Checks ran in the background while she buckled and corresponded with flight control. As of now--- no other ships were departing; but she still received the yellow light for other team members to rally to her.

BRUNO: GREEN WITHHELD UNTIL CONFIRMATION OF TEAM STATUS.
TEAM LIBERATING SLAVES TO CONFIRM RALLYING TO YOUR MARKED CORVETTE III.

Okay, well at least she wasn't late then. Still uninformed though-- bus driver though she was.

"You've got more ability to broadcast than me. I want that yellow turned green in the next 15 minutes. Issue a final call."

ALL ALLIANCE PERSONNEL FOR KARFEDDION PLANET SIDE, REPORT TO THE HANGAR.

Great. Very specific.

In the meantime, she best determine what was needed below and inform herself for as much preparation as possible.

Her data pad was resting on a space on the dash, which she reached for and rested it against her stomach as she scrolled through the dossier. Index tapped her bottom lip in consideration of the listed members - and who had been recorded as issued planet side already. She didn't want to go in useless.

A message tapped through to the shared channel - no audio in case the situation was too tricky for that.

To: [member=Abel] / [member=Vexen] / [member="Micah Talith"]
"Transport from 'Intervention' preparing for departure to the rendezvous. Any need to knows yet?"

 

[Joza Perl]

Location: ANS Intervention
Objective: 2
Allies: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]/[member="Havock"]/[member="Trix Bastin"]/[member="Julius Sedaire"]

Exhaling sharply, Joza’s brows furrowed as she came out of her meditative state. It had been a short while since her bout of combat on Omwat, and she was still reeling from how poorly she handled the situation. The pink girl had taken to practicing her lightsaber forms soon after being patched up enough to move about freely, hoping that muscle memory would help her out if she happened to get into another tight spot. And maybe, just maybe she wouldn’t panic and forget her training. It was one thing when she was training with the other Padawans, but another thing entirely when faced with the threat of death.

Still, she was determined to keep her cool in battle. Even if she couldn’t manage the calm and collected state she’d seen Jedi Masters fight with, she could at least subdue her panic, right? Swallowing thickly, Joza pushed herself from the wall of the narrow corridor she was leaning against. She had a hard time finding a quiet place to think so she settled for wherever she could be without getting in someone’s way. She’d claimed a dead end near some infrequently used storage for a short amount of time. Stretching slowly, the Zeltron made her way toward the hangar while consciously steadying her breathing. Be calm. You didn’t die last time, and you’ve been training ever since then. Fight smart.

She recognized Ayme first—well, the back of Ayme’s head. The other Padawan had fought beside her during Omwat. Her eyes settled onto the other woman, a short-haired blonde. Joza contemplated her for a moment, coming up short in the end when she realized that she didn’t recognize her. Ah, and Master Voidstalker was there…along with someone else she couldn’t readily identify. As she moved closer, it looked like she was coming in on the tail end of their conversation, so she quickened her pace to follow the group onto the ship, giving a forced smile if she happened to catch eyes with anyone. She should have said something, maybe introduced herself? She felt awkward and unsure enough already, so she remained silent for the time being.

 

[Connor Harrison]

OBJECTIVE: 1
LOCATION: Above Karfeddion
ALLIES: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Loske Matson"]| [member="Havock"] | [member="Mordecai Tal'kyr"] | [member="Trix Bastin"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"] | [member="Marcello Matteo"] | [member="Asmus Janes"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Joza Perl"] All Fleet |
ENEMIES: The nefarious First Order and Sith Forces

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8pQYtmb-f0w

Dax checked his readouts on the T-70; all working and primed and set. Nothing beeping, nothing sparking – no problem for this pilot fresh from Lujo. Both hands fixed on the yolk, the swirling blue vortex of hyperspace guided him out as the stars streaked back towards Karfeddion. Running a little late to the party, his mind was partly distracted with that girl - [member="Olivia Durant"] – and what a peculiar sort she was.

Still, he had purpose for now and was grateful for the call to arms to help the Alliance take on the enemy forces at Karfeddion. He had an objective – escort Alliance fighters to take out the defence systems at all costs. Dax flipped the com switch.

”Alliance fighters, this is Dax Ragnar in the T-70 ready to take ‘em out and escort you to the bombing zone. Let me know you’re on the move or if your cruiser needs protection and I’ll cover you. Let’s show ‘em what we’re made of.”

A smile crept over Dax’s face as he saw the new fleet before him, small and large fighters and cruisers in position. A ship dropped out of hyperspace in the distance and on that note he activated his read-out across the HUD to paint a picture of the situation.

As usual, the army had their job of taking out the men in the white armour and those with nasty red lightsabers – nothing a few laser cannons wouldn’t fix should he have the chance. He who dares, wins. And in Dax’s case, he was feeling in a very daring mood today for some reason.

 

[Alkesh Vizsla]

LOCATION: ANS Intervention, En Route to Planet
OBJECTIVE: 2
ALLIES: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Havock"] | [member="Trix Bastin"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"]

Usually navigation was not one of the more difficult things Olivia was tasked with. She had a pretty innate sense of direction and only needed to travel a route once to have it cemented in her mind, one of the many gifts her wild home-planet of Hapes had left her with. Unfortunately it seemed this was the second time in recent memory she’d had to run pell-mell through an Alliance ship to get where she was going in harried fashion. She didn't even want to think what [member="Dax Ragnar"] would have to say about this development. By the time she’d reached the bay where several Jedi and company were gathering to board a drop ship, she’d nearly missed their conversation. She leapt on to the ship JUST before it lifted off, letting out a sigh of relief as she settled in next to a redhead that had joined the party late just like her.

She didn’t know a single one of them.

It didn’t bother her too much. Her upbringing in the social culture of Hapes made communicating easy - but still, she had a lot to prove. She’d left the Republic behind because she hadn’t liked what she saw, and she was eager to make a home for herself in the Alliance, to show them she was here to help protect the Galaxy.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, catching her breath. “I’m Olivia. Nice to meet you all.”

Despite how disorganized she felt on the inside, she was the picture of well-prepared on the outside. Hair pulled back in to a short ponytail, a lightsaber hooked on each hip, she was in a simple beige tunic accentuated with light, flowing brown pieces of fabric wrapped elegantly around her chest and shoulders. Parts were reinforced with armorweave, just enough to protect her from stray blaster-bolts. With a smile and a nod, she settled in, trying to calm her racing heart. She hated flying, but it was a necessary evil to get where they were going.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

LOCATION: Landing and engaging
OBJECTIVE: 2
ALLIES: [member="Olivia Durant"] | @Jacen Voidstalker | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Havock"] | [member="Trix Bastin"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"]

Jacen had a broad smile on his face as he turned to face the newcomer. "Good leap, but next time check with one of the deck supervisors before pulling that off. Don't want any of my Jedi cut in two by an A-Wing. I’m Master Voidstalker, that’s Master Sedaire. These are my Wardogs,” he said, waving towards the GADF commandos in the rear of the shuttle. The other padawans could introduce themselves, but they all needed to learn the voices of command for this sortie.

Sergeant Chart gave a guttural growl at that and flashed Olivia a smile. At least he didn't bark or howl. They'd done that before when meeting new padawans. The Special Forces operatives worked with Jacen’s Hounds on a regular basis. They knew their trade and – more importantly – they knew how to fight side by side with Jedi.

Jacen reached into a container and pulled out more comm earpieces to hand out. “Voice is king on the battlefield people. Those of us lucky enough to have developed a bond through the Force by training together,” he said, flashing a look towards Ayme, “might be able to hear each other’s thoughts. That doesn’t help our friends with the very big guns here. You listen carefully, if myself, Sedaire or Sergeant Chart there give an order, you do as you’re damn well told. Some of you might be used to the philosophical Jedi lessons, but this is not one of them. Do not run off without letting us know where you’re going, do not run in front of the Wardogs without telling them or you may well end up with a hole in your back.

“Now hang on tight for a short, sharp and very bumpy ride,” he called. The shuttle lurched as it hit atmo and several times more along the journey as laser bolts lanced across the sky towards the approaching force. Alliance fighters streaked ahead of them, leaving the transports in their wake. Precision ground-to-air ordnance silenced those cannons and left their approach clear.

There was a resonant thrum as the repulsors kicked in to arrest their downwards momentum. In one of the docking bays the LAAT came to over a few feet from the ground. Rather than a lightsabre, Jacen held his rifle in his arms. With eyes closed he stretched out through the Force to take in their surroundings. The subtle eddies in the Force told him that dark presences lingered nearby.

“Welcoming party at eleven o’clock,” he relayed. “There are Dark Acolytes from the Vanguard out there. Kept your wits about you.”

The doors slid open and within a fraction of a second Jacen had called on the Force to leap out into the open. CC13 came up in one smooth motion and there was a ‘wump’ as he fired the underslung grenade launcher. He didn’t even see the blockade of Vanguard Stormtroopers, he simply allowed the Force to guide his aim. The grenade exploded in mid-air and the noise of the blast was quickly followed by screams. Having made the opening, Jacen ran for cover as the Wardogs filed out and started putting down covering fire.

 

[Micah Talith]

LOCATION: Southern Continent: Dark side of planet
OBJECTIVE: THREE -Slave pens cover huge swathes of territory. Bring down the slave masters and assist in the humanitarian effort to set up camps and get then returned to their homeworld.
ALLIES: Micah Talith | @Vexen | [member="Loske Matson"] [member="Abel"]
Enemies: [background=#1a1a1a][member="Cameron Centurion"][/background]


[ Good girl, Vex! ]

There was notable pride in Micah's voice at the Defel's success. In his HUD the transmission began plotting out guard positions and paths in her tablet. The diagrams would be synchronized with any other Alliance personally in the vicinity, including [member="Abel"].

[ Okay... I'm going to start moving towards the first guard. Knock him out. Be careful up there. Be our eyes. ] that was an important job. With the Defel in the guard booth, they were able to tell what was going on and who was coming.


[ If anyone catches you. I want you to leave okay? Don't question it. Just run. ]

Alex's hovering form would lightly float above Micah's head. She was in stealth mode, with her humor cut down to 85%.

[ How quaint. Into the Nexu's den we roam.] Ahh Alex, as amusing as ever.

[ It's what we do, Alex -- sweetling. It's what we do. ]

Just then, another crackle shot through his HUD.

[ Transport from 'Intervention' preparing for departure to the rendezvous. Any need to knows yet? ]

[ Alex, transmit the data locations of the guards and the layout over to the transport. They need to know what we are hitting. ]

[ Roger that.]

Within a few moments, the transport form the 'Intervention' would plot out guard positions and paths. The diagrams would be synchronized with the Alliance personnel.

 

[Asmus Janes]

Objective One: Heading for platform 2.
[member="Taeli Raaf"] [member="Dax Ragnar"]
OOC/ If anyone wants to claim co-pilot on my Y-Wing just jump in before my next post!


“Ragnar, this is Gold Four, if you’d care to divert your eyes port you’ll see the miraculously floating hunk of scrap falling into line,” Asmus called over the comm.”

“Cut the kriff Gold Four,” came a voice from a GADF pilot higher up the food chain. “Alright all wings. Keep your eyes on the firing solutions of our cruisers. Do not stray into the red zones.”

“Roger,” Asmus replied, slightly adjusting his heading. The Alliance cruisers were putting the pressure on those stations to test their shields and create an opening for the fighters. It was a marvellous lightshow as a myriad of colours crossed the space between the two small fleets.

“Here they come!” came a shout and immediately Asmus’ display lit up with red tracks.

“Ragnar, I have two TIEs on an intercept course. I’m going to drop as they cross weapons range, can you cut across them?” he called.

 

[Connor Harrison]

OBJECTIVE: 1
LOCATION: Above Karfeddion
ALLIES: [member="Asmus Janes"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | All Fleet
ENEMIES: The nefarious First Order and Sith Forces

Dax looked at his HUD and then looked port - left - at the voice coming through his comm and grinned at the chit-chat he picked up. Seems he had a target to keep on.

”You got it Gold Four.”

It was only moments later when he brought the T-70 around that again he had word of the TIEs incoming. Piece of cake.

”I see 'em Gold Four - as soon as you're in position I'll take 'em out. You just focus on where you're heading, I'll do the rest.”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

LOCATION:

• Beginning of post - ABOARD INTERVENTION
• End of post - SouthSIIIDDDEE

OBJECTIVE: THREE
ALLIES: [member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Vexen"] | [member="Abel"]
ENEMIES: [member="Cameron Centurion"] | [member="[/B]TR-8R "Hunter""] -- In the distance
POST: 3/20


Sitting in a seat for like, fifteen minutes, when there was so much more to be done was way beyond Loske’s patience level. She wasn’t responsible for the tardiness or interest garnering of others — she was only responsible for herself, and the duties she had to the people below. So!

The girl leaned forward in her seat, elbow propped against the dash as she tapped her cheek. Like a racehorse at the gates, she was anxious to lurch from the mouth of the hangar into the stars that beckoned.
“How’s that golden turning, FC? Green yet?”

There was nothing but silence for a solid two minutes, which caused the girl to groan and slump in her chair.

“For jeeper’s sake man, this is—“ she stopped though, when the speaker indicated some sort of communication attempting to breach her channel. There was success, and flight control gave a halfhearted acquiescence to her launch.

“Yessss, baby!” The girl grinned, thrilled to make the Defender-Class Corvette purr. This was a ship that had been built exclusively for Jedi, and the first of it’s kind Loske had ever been inside. She was, needless to say, excited to be navigating the 94 meter beauty into the unknown.

“Alright, alright alright, shields -“ a heavily fortified system "Up 75%. Canons? At the ready..” she ran through the checks, obsessively, once more. It didn’t hurt do double check, especially since it was just her on board, and she didn’t have a little droid to do the dirty work.

“FC, this is Bruno, ready for takeoff! Going to Mark-125!”

The response this time was quicker “Negative, Bruno. Adjust for Head-125 — there’s a dogfight brewing out there. Gold squadron is hot — avoid as much interference as possible.”

“Copy — launching for Head-125.” It was a slight adjustment in her angle to mark the Flight Control’s words, and it didn’t take long for the nav computer to respond to the plea to the thrusters. A low whoom cooed from the engines in the hangar, flooding the immediate area with its purr. Scooting forward at first, the Corvette hovered in place, moving meter by meter while Loske avoided random ladders and whatnot scattered in the vicinity of the hangar, grumbling to herself about the mess.

Once at the cusp, she engaged the thrusters — belching from the hangar into the darkness of space. The immediate area threatened to be ablaze with the light show beyond if the gold squadron didn’t key up. She considered a bolster of camaraderie, but interfering with that channel would do more harm than help. Star fighters twisted with the nefarious forces from the First Order, engaging with the Alliance’s far-more-skilled pilots. It brought delight to the teen’s face as she stayed below the cover of plasma, angling deeper toward the atmosphere below.

Her datapad buzzed once more, new information being uploaded to her dossier. Pulling out the dock, Loske placed the data pad to the nav computer’s downloading area; streaming the information directly to the map she was using to reach the rendezvous area.

“Drop offence to 50%, keep shields at 75…." the girl murmured, voicing out her actions as she took them.

It took only a handful of minutes, maybe just over twenty, to voyage from the Intervention’s hangar to the designated rendezvous. Even more considering she had to reduce the thrusters to prevent noise and attraction, enabling whatever stealth modes the ship had.

Worst case scenario, she drew unwanted attention her way and relieved the intensity from the team in the actual slave rings.

Landing a ways from the marked area, Loske reduced the engines to sleep mode - ready to activate on her command when she frantically boarded the ship once more. Or calmly. She had no idea how this was about to go.

Fitting her arms into her jacket, and ensuring she was appropriately armed with her blasters on each thigh, the girl departed via the Corvette’s ramp; locking it behind her.

There had been readings of blood nearby, heat radiating from a person; this information was continuing to translate from the data pad she brought with her. Light eyes fixated on the screen until the red human blob became huge.

“Oh.” She mouthed, actually able to visibly view [member="Abel"] in real life. “Alliance Personnel?” Loske queried, taking no caution around the question. If they weren’t, she could handle herself.

“Loske Matson, evacuation pilot.

What’s up on the ground?” Her brow quirked "You're..not supposed to be here yet. Aren't you with the team at the pen?"

 

[Joy]

Location: Southside
Objective: 3
Allies: [member="Vexen"] | [member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Loske Matson"]
Enemies: [member="Cameron Centurion"] | [member="TR-8R"] (not engaged yet)

Abel plucked at the coarse material of his cloak. One of those bright stars up above came a little closer. And a little more. Right on top of him now. The descending ship kicked up a spray of dirt from the wash of the repulsers. He held up an arm to shield his eyes and took a few steps back. Got some in his mouth. Nose wrinkled. He rubbed his lips with a sleeve. Not the first time the farmboy got a lil' dirt in his face. Won't be the last neither, I suppose.

The ramp lowered with a hiss of hydraulics and a slim figure stepped off. Hair the golden glow of healthy wheat. Raindrops for eyes. A brace of pistols strapped to her thighs. She talked and walked with an air of confidence, like one of those young heroes in the great books.

A shy smile peaked out from the corners of Abel's lips. Rays of sunlight just before dawn.

"Don't rightly know if that's the case. Not much for the sly work. Job was to wait here, meet up with the other operatives, then come in behind the other team if they needed back up."

He hooked a thumb back at the small freighter some distance behind. Two pilots lounged in front of it.

"Split 'em between the two of us and make sure they get somewhere safe. That was the plan anyway, but things get bungled. Name's Abel, by the way. Jedi Agricorps."

The clothes he wore didn't look like much. Some casual daywear beneath the traditional brown cloak of the Jedi. The dented and scratched hilt of a lightsaber hung from his utility belt. Seemed to set some folks at ease n' others on edge. He just hoped he wouldn't have to use the thing, though he knew it was a foolish wish.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

LOCATION: Rendez Vous Point - 5 Clicks from Slave Action!
OBJECTIVE: THREE
ALLIES: Micah Talith | Vexen | Abel
ENEMIES: Cameron Centurion | TR-8R "Hunter" -- In the distance
POST: 4/20

Loske listened, untangling the accented words from the youth as he delivered them. A slight squint poked her eyes while she focused on the content. She’d always been a little rough at sifting through accents (Lie. Engineered memory).

She nodded, as if understanding. She too, had been a victim of organizational misunderstanding. The fact that [member="Abel"] did’t seem to know where he was needed seemed to mirror her confusion back at the hangar.

“You’re a Jedi.” Loske repeated, almost dumbfounded by his words. She had only been exposed to, really, Jedi in stories. She’d caught a glimpse of [member="Ryan Korr"] once, a legend from the Republic days back on Sullist. Awe-struck, she’d heartily agreed about the dumbfoundery of docking fees with him — but to actually be working with a Jedi? This was the real deal now. How cool!

“You got more of a briefing than I did, must be a luxury of The Force.” Loske smirked at her own humour, she was her most appreciative audience. “I’m still in the bungle. Here..” she pulled out her data pad, offering the angle of the screen for his vision to see the information [member="Micah Talith"] had patched through. The layout of the guards, and the slaves.

“There’s more opposition than two people can take on in there. I think they might need some back up.” Loske was really no expert on who needed back up or not, she just was a terrible spectator — and she was excited to start getting involved with The Alliance in a helpful way!

She paused, glancing him over quickly. His lightsaber wasn’t readily visible — and she assumed all Jedi had those at the ready! Maybe it was beneath that traditional cloak of his -- ancient wizard garb: “Are you a … good Jedi?” So as not to offend him, she removed one of her hands from holding the data pad and gestured with her pointer finger a miniature engagement between blades. Although it looked more like a swirling conductor to an absent symphony.

 

[Joy]

Location: Five kilometers from the slave auction as the crow flies.
Objective: 3
Allies: [member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Loske Matson"] | [member=Vexen]
Enemies: [member="Cameron Centurion"] | [member=TR-8R] (not engaged)

Eyes the pallor of the wide blue yonder stared at Loske's dancing fingers for a slow, uncomprehending second. The light bulb moment came in spectacular high-definition relief.

"Oh."

Abel flushed a deep crimson and glanced down at the dirt under his boots. Dirt wouldn't judge him for being an incontestably terrible duelist. The same could not be said for the New Jedi Order's saber instructors. "No, I can't say that I am. Just a padawan really. Not even a full Jedi. Better at planting things than killin' 'em." He looked up, frowning thoughtfully. "Though I'll do my part."

Nobody wrote songs about the gardeners. And Abel didn't really want to listen to stories about farmers neither. Tell us more about the great warriors, like Voidstalker and Starchaser. He smiled sheepishly at the thought, then pointed at the pistols strapped to her thighs.

"I'm guessin' you'll be a sight more useful with those blasters than I'll be with the glowstick."

From the way she held herself, Abel guessed she would be. A pilot, huh. Most of 'em were hotshots n' heroes. Living life at hyper speed. Well, the Force blessed everyone with some sort of talents. It just so happened that his weren't really all that useful in wars n' such.

"Well I guess we should get goin', if you think they'll be needed help soon."

 

[Cameron Centurion]

Location: Southern Continent
Objective Three
Allies: TR-8R "Hunter"
Enemies: [member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Abel"] | [member="Vexen"]

A familiar ripple, a pull directed the Sith Lord's gaze to the distant, darkened horizon. Yes, he had sensed the arrival of the Alliance, but he'd been content to pay them very little mind until now. Narrowing his eyes for a brief moment, Cameron eventually allowed a warm smile to touch his features. As he did so, the Sith Lord allowed his presence to swell and roll over the terrain in the direction of [member="Micah Talith"].

Just as Cameron's own presence was about to touch that of his nephew, a soldier approached and spoke a report. "First transport is ready to depart, sir."

A single finger raised to indicate the man should wait as Cameron spoke to his relation. Ah the young explorer... Come, child. Endure your next test. The pressure of Cameron's presence would swell against Micah's very existence, a chilling cold sweeping over his immediate vicinity until...it receded like a dying tide.

No sooner had Cameron's presence retreated from Micah's mind than he turned to face the soldier that had approached him. With the finger he'd raised at the man, Cameron motioned it casually to the left, watching as the soldier's next snapped. There were a couple of other soldiers in the distance. "Begin the departure sequence immediately. These slaves make it to the First Order. Direct the rest of your personnel to prepare for an assault."

Clasping his hands behind his back once more, Cameron kept his gaze leveled in the direction of the approaching Alliance forces. He certainly hoped they weren't discouraged, they'd done a good enough job at being silent. Well. No. They'd done a decent job at being unimportant. The presence of Micah, however, had piqued the Sith Lord's interest. The fact he'd only just now realized was very much to the boy's credit.

After all, he'd learned much of his stealth tricks from Cameron himself.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske smiled genuinely at [member="Abel"]'s comments. Bright eyed and tight lipped. The idea of his vulnerability in an action-situation wasn't comforting in the slightest, but his earnestness was. And she supposed that's what counted. She'd been in countless dog fights with pilots who boasted before they could blast and it never went well. (Lie. False perception of reality cued by desire for association. Implanted memory from [member="Marcello Matteo"]'s RAF days with cocky pilots that thought they could out maneuver him). She also liked the sentiment of making something grow, rather than kill it. It appealed to her innate desire for family and development. A slow nod manifested as she began to understand what she would be working with.

See, she'd been trained to fight. Simulation after simulation. And that was real.

She shrugged at his gesture "We'll see." At this point, she titled the screen of the data pad and pointed toward several Crimson dots peppered in proximity to the yellow (slaves) and blue ([member="Vexen"] and [member="Micah Talith"]). Of course, this was not dynamic and was only as reliable as the last upload from the contact on the ground. Which was twenty some odd minutes ago. "Our guys are blue right now, and the ratio indicates yeah. Let's get moving." She held the data pad toward Abel, coaxing him to take it "I was looking at it on the way down here. We should both be familiar with the layout. We've got some walking to do. Afraid I didn't bring speeders. Too noisy anyway." Loske had a habit of talking a lot. "You probably already saw the main perimeters and whatnot, especially since you're on the ground. But.." While she walked, she continued to lean and invade the privacy of Abel's potential memorizing the situation by poking at things while she spoke "See? We got someone in poking dart holes in people already. That's why this map is so good I'm guessing."

She then stopped jabbering and wrinkled her nose. Finally cognizant of the ripe scent of the pens ahead.

Gross.

They had some time to kill while they advanced nearer to support their fellow Alliance personnel.

"So, Abel. What makes a full Jedi then?"

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

Post: 2/20
Allies: [member="Olivia Durant"] | [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Havock"] | [member="Trix Bastin"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"]
Objective: Fight his way to the GA forces

Pew!! Pew!!

The Mandalorians moved on, their blasters a blastin' and their enemies falling. Without missing a beat the fought their way through the halls. The sound of battle was everywhere outside. Above he could hear starfighters zooming and blasting away. GA and First Order voices alike cried out in pain and agony.

This was where he belonged.

On the front lines, there was no stopping him, a behemoth of war, literally bred to fight and kill. As he blasted away he wondered what [member="Rave Merrill"] was doing now. Last he heard she had died, that was after all how he had been able to find and rescue Gil, his biological father, albeit unknowingly at the time. Rave had been a strange girl. Created him with the intent to give him a younger body and then cloned the old one just in case he didn't work out and he needed new organs...Which he did, and a lot of them. Now here he was, fighting for Gil's pay, blasting away stormtroopers.

"Mordecai, the GA Assault team is making its way through," That snapped him back into reality. They were in a large room now, spotlights turned to face the large double doors ahead of them. Had they made it to the lobby? Had he blacked out for that long of a time, just fighting blindly? It seemed that he had. He turned to the other Mandalorian,

"Reach out to them, don't want them thinking we're hostiles." He knew the GA commanders had gotten the briefing on the Shriek-Hawks, but rank and file tended to shoot first and ask questions later.

 

[Trix Bastin]

LOCATION: Landing and engaging
OBJECTIVE: 2
ALLIES: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Olivia Durant"] | [member="Havock"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"]


Trix pulled a deep breath in through her nose. Blew it out. Pulled another breath in and eyed the commandos arrayed at the rear of the LAAT. Vets all, they would likely be worth their salt in a storm.

Her breath streamed out her nose as she flicked her gaze to the Jedi. They were bunched around Voidstalker, most carrying sabers slung from belt and hip and more than half wearing the ridiculous weave and robe ensemble.

Might as well cover themselves in tea cosies and paint a target on their foreheads.

Trix was itching for a drink to wrap her shaking fingers around. It was the same before every fight, the nerves, even though she’d managed to walk away breathing dozens of times. She’d used to care that her hands trembled in front of her crew. Had even made a point of pulling apart and reassembling her weapons until the last second just to keep her hands busy.

After the first few scraps she’d stopped giving a damn. Didn’t matter if a man shook, vomited, or shat themselves from nerves. A fearful man was more likely to respect their enemy, to keep their head down and get to killing when told. It was the men who didn’t shake, the cocky, the young, and the green, that retained their pride at the cost of their lives.

The roar of the repulsors signaled their arrival and the abrupt end of her reflection. Trix pulled in another slow breath, adjusted her earpiece, then snapped both of her blasters free of their restraints.

As the LAAT levelled Voidstalker launched himself into the air. The commandos followed immediately, Trix riding on their heels on a wave of hot air kicked up by the ship. She bent her knees to absorb the impact as both boots slapped onto the concrete, then sidestepped smoothly to the left and rear of one of the commando squads to insinuate herself in their ranks. The wall of heavily armoured marines would take the brunt of enemy fire and give her enough time to pick her shots.

Trix flashed her teeth as she felt her hands steady around the worn grip of her blasters.

Time to get to work.