Dominion With Baited Breath [GE Dominion of Galantos]

[Redmond]

Post 2

From behind the DLT Norman provided suppressing fire for the assault team as they rushed in with a combination of grenades, shotguns, and unmatched aggression. The six man team sprinted to the south side of the wall surrounding the compound. In a practiced manner, one took a knee as they approached the wall, while the other five primed thermal detonators and cooked them briefly before chucking them over. Brilliant clouds of flame and smoke shot into the air and within an instant the assault team began bounding off the kneeling man's crossed hands, one after the other, while firing into the space behind the wall.

A series of shouts and whoops coincided with the scattergun blasts and the sound of ordinance being dropped in the distance. Norman smiled, he wondered if his great grandson was dropping any of it. The continuity of his bloodlines fighting spirit and loyalty to the Empire had both amazed and filled him with an intense pride. Evidently his wife and him had done a decent job raising their children, even with their duties, and so on and so on for nine hundred years. There were four of them on the field today. Norman and his spotter sprinted forward to meet the assault troopers at the now open gate as they collectively scoured the compound and secured the enemy wounded for transportation behind the lines and later interrogation, roughly binding them and radioing the nearest cleanup team to come and retrieve them.

 

[Alaric de Braose]

The sky answered before command could speak again.
A rising whine cut through the chaos, distinct from the screaming ground engines and vox chatter. The craft descended fast and low, disciplined and decisive. Precision strikes raked the ridgeline and concealed firing pits in a measured sequence, collapsing hardened positions and severing the insurgents' ability to coordinate. Even so, the enemy fire did not cease immediately.
It degraded in layers, deliberate and controlled, buying time as Imperial troopers surged forward to exploit the disruption and clear the scorched strongpoints within assigned sectors.

The battlefield reshaped itself in minutes, almost too fast for Ulnian to fully process. With enemy heavy positions neutralised, the engagement fractured into contained contacts rather than dissolving into chaos. Insurgent elements disengaged in bounds, falling back through pre-cleared routes or slipping into the surrounding habs at points chosen well in advance. Those routes were denied only where Imperial containment had been correctly placed. Elsewhere, the enemy vanished cleanly. Platoon commanders reasserted control as trained, reforming elements, re-establishing arcs, and advancing deliberately rather than chasing shadows.

Initial casualty clearance began while suppression fire continued across uncleared zones. The doctrine reasserted itself, the Captain thought. Contain. Clear. Hold. Slow, deliberate, inexorable. Medics were held back until lanes were secured, while fire teams pinned residual resistance that flared briefly and then went quiet again, as if on signal.

Victory revealed its cost as the noise ebbed.
As the aircraft withdrew on schedule, silence settled unevenly across the zone, punctuated by distant secondary detonations triggered by delayed charges. The control array smouldered, partially intact but rendered useless by targeted damage rather than random destruction. Wrecked carriers and shattered squads marked where the ambush had been most effectively placed, kill zones chosen for terrain and timing rather than desperation.
Available medics worked without ceremony, methodical and bloodied. Officers accounted for their elements, confirming effective strength and noting patterns in the losses. Ulnian walked the newly established perimeter, testing sightlines and fields of fire, aware now that the ground itself had been shaped against them.

Interrogation replaced gunfire as the next instrument of control.
"We have several insurgents captured," Caelis called out, a bloody streak dragged across his face. Ulnian spared him a glance, long enough to judge whether the blood was the lieutenant's own or simply the residue of the fight, explosive viscera from someone less fortunate, Imperial or otherwise. It scarcely mattered.

The captives had not been taken in flight but cut off by collapse or misjudged timing, operators caught when their withdrawal windows closed too early or too late. They were secured and separated, disoriented but not ignorant. Intelligence teams swept the control zone in disciplined patterns, locating weapons caches, pressure mines, and signal equipment left behind only where retrieval had become impossible. With hindsight, the array's output was reassessed and reclassified.
The signals had never been incidental. They were scaffolding for an ambush, deliberate, masked, and competently executed. The spaceport had not been a coincidence of terrain. It had been bait.

The operation concluded, but the campaign advanced. Ulnian's report moved upward through command channels, stripped of assumption and hardened by contact. This had not been an isolated cell but prepared ground, a layered defence executed by an enemy fluent in delay, denial, and attrition. The Companies entrenched and consolidated, establishing permanent control points as recovery and engineering teams worked the wreckage. Above them, the sky lay empty once more, indifferent and vast. The field belonged to the Empire, but the enemy had withdrawn by design rather than collapse, and the planet had declared its intent.

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Khamul Kryze Redmond DT-9197 @Keres Sid Berik Doctor Afic Otker

WITH BAITED BREATH
IV

​

Black Hammer Spaceport, Gal'fian'deprisi,
Galantos, Galactic Core Frontier (904 ABY)

'Alkh, relax! They're giving the Mandos their space now.'
'Fair enough, Ulusar. So what do we do now?'
'You & I go for a little stroll.'
​

There was much for the Aspirants' cadre to discuss, but to ensure that they stayed out of trouble, Arriochus was right to assume that his friend would need to be brought up to speed. and to hash out the awlward questions and answers for the sake of the majority. A matter of which the young Sharptooth was going to great lengths to be discreet, thinking of the authority he did not yet possess as he started,'We've got far too many elites on the ground today.... And we both know what that means, in the grand scheme of things.', trailing off as they passed the east gate, nodding toward the sentries as they kept their mouths shut just a little longer.

It was not until they hit a side-street deep within the grander green-zone, not until the abandoned shanties were all-encompassing when Arriochus finally continued,'Now, with so many of our elites here, we can guarantee they're not here for any cleanup operations. I mean, you heard the way my old man was talking back there, did you not?', looking to his closest friend for concurring extremes of agreement. To which, he was met with an apprehensive shrug of acquiescence, that which was only being seen to agree for the sake of getting to the point, but that was enough for Batu to conclude,'Don't you think they're mobilizing for something much worse? Some-one much worse? Think about it, man!', though that apprehension subsided quick when he understood what Batu was trying to say.

'I get it.... But tell me, just how karked are we?'
'Well-'

'It depends on who you ask, Arriochus.'​

'And who the feth might you be?'

 

[Nigel Redmond]

Alaric de Braose
Post 3

Nigel and his squadron continued the climb, well out of reach of any portable AA the enemy might possess. They established a holding pattern in upper atmo, at the thin line between the planet's atmosphere and the dark void of space. The run had been successful, excellent execution and exit. "Good job fellows, take five. We'll hold till called." He relayed to his team as they drifted in the wispy clouds. Nigel prayed briefly for the dead on both sides. After the enemy was destroyed he never bore them further ill will, no reason to. Conflict was the nature of the galaxy and he couldn't blame them for a difference in perspective, though he would continue to enforce the Imperial will, as order was preferably to the chaos those elements brought.


Order had a cost, and it was bought by the blood of friends and foes alike. The Redmond ethos echoed onward. Nigel hoped his nephew Lee was fine after seeing the convoy. He'd have to wait to find out. Years of sacrifice on part of his family to the GE and it's values had made his stoic enough to continue effectively commanding even if his subconcious was preoccupied with worrying about his kin. He gave a smile. His ancestor, Norman, had returned to them recently, a stark, wild eyed man from beyond time. He didn't worry about him. Norman enjoyed this sort of thing.

 

[Lee Redmond]

Alaric de Braose
Post 2

Lee continued his grim work as the world around him continued to explode. A testament to the intensive training given to medics by the Stormtrooper Corp. The trooper he was tending to had caught a slug in the soft portion of his armor behind the right leg. After taking off a small section of armor above it, Lee applied a tourniquet above the wound. A stray bolt found itself striking his left hand, burning a hole clean through it. Lee cursed and shouted as the plasma exited his hand, sizzling the flesh and bone before hitting the durasteel behind him. Lee took his own helmet off with his good hand, using his teeth to pull the device tight as he held it in place with his right hand.

He ignored the burning in his hand best he could as he continued to silently work. Around him some of the companies began pushing up the gentle slop towards the now smashed defenses. Taking a casualty here and there but mostly annihilating those unfortunate enough to have survived the initial bombardment. Lee didn't envy their last moments.

 

[Lucius Redmond]

Post 1
3rd Fleet
St. Thomas Barran Alaric de Braose
Lucius and the compliment of warship's he commanded sailed through the darkness of space silently. Large voidtreading vessels that pierced through the veil and shown light onto a chaotic galaxy. At least, that waa how the Admiral and the thousands under his command saw it. They were each fanatically loyal to the Empire, handpicked by Lucius and his trusted Commanders and NCOs personally. The tactics of the 3rd required a Crewman of unique fortitude. Capable of both great technical proficiency and doubling as shocktroopers. Each and everyone of them as skilled as Stormtroopers in ship to ship combat and ground assaults.

For now, the Admiral was responding to a summons by his new duties as Adjutant to Harald. As his new taskmaster was on Galantos, that was were they traveled. The sphere of it approached as his fleet hailed the already arrived 4th Fleet. "Nigel." He said as he looked ahead, a wide smile on his face. His brother would be somewhere down there, either delivering troops or raining down fire on the enemies of the Empire. The 3rd positioned itself ominiously over the planet, near the chaotic battlefield but far too high up to be properly attacked by the Fian or GA defenses. They targeted their batteries on gun emplacements and positions further back from the line of fire created by what radio chatter soon informed him was his brother's squadron. He sent a communication to his new boss as his naval infantrymen suited up, preparing to drop in an airborne assault on the positions being hammered by the SDs and corvettes hanging above.

 

[Harald Wulf]

TAGS
Alaric de Braose Lucius Redmond Reiner Ghadi

WITH BAITED BREATH
I

Western Battlefront, Gal'fian'deprisi,
Galantos, Galactic Core Frontier (904 ABY)

'You can call me,"Serpent", in the open, but saying as we're the only ones-'
'Out with it already!'
'I am Count Harald, of the Wulf dynasty.... And my patience is one that you avoid testing.'
​

The very air around the Count, blowing hither and yon of it's own accord before, seemed to shift as it magnetised toward his own silhouette, almost coming to a complete standstill as the young Sharptooth studied it's tension. The Serpent did not mind this, however, as it was a mark of attunement to the urgency of any given matter, and any matter pertaining to Harald's quiet workings would certainly require their due respect before long. Before long, the lad would sense much of the familiar in the Serpent's emanations, and when Harald finally queried,'Your father also wields this power, does he not?', the young Barran could more-easily discern why Wulf's power was no mystery.

'Yeah, but his is different.... And whose Will did you inherit? You don't seem like the type, no offence.'
'None taken, but do bear in mind - many different souls will challenge Fate in their own way.'
'Fair... Now answer my question, Wulf.'

​

One thing of which Harald liked about the Barran boy, though he would be loathe to admit it outright, was the differing behaviours from those of his father; the lad was a thinker, and though there was much of that instinctiveness that permeated down to his soul, there was much that had grown in the bloom of a new, wilier generation. It was a surprise enough without the parents considered, but owing much to the truth of the matter, the mirth would prove difficult to contain as he answered,'Relax, Barran. For my Inherited Will was bestowed by a soul far-removed from that of our Emperor, for that soul of whom I speak has been dead for forty-three years by now.', but in a tone that suggested the one who perished had died at no great loss to the Serpent.

'Alkh, head back to base.... I'll come see you after.'
'You sure?'
'He'll be fine, Nomad boy. Expect him within the hour.'

​

Waiting until Alkh was out of earshot, Harald would leave nothing to chance, nor to the ears of the undeserving; as his plans were always kept discreet, always tucked away until a higher power forced him to spill out with the truth, and no such exceptions could be afforded for Foederati of Barran's sort. As his gaze then turned to that of young Batu, Harald stepped to within striking distance, and only then did he utter,'You were partly right before, and correct enough that we'll all be exfiltrating from this planet soon. Likely before the end of the day, but we'll see.... I'm currently awaiting the final word from the Grand-Vizier.', and all at little more than a whisper.

'And when that word filters through, you, young Batu, will be leaving with me.'

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Khamul Kryze @Trent DT-9197 @Darth Keres Sid Berik Doctor Afic Otker

WITH BAITED BREATH
V

​

Black Hammer Spaceport, Gal'fian'deprisi,
Galantos, Galactic Core Frontier (904 ABY)

'Does my father know?'
​

With one simple glance, the Serpent left no room for interpretation, even alluding to an unseen contest of willpower and fighting prowess, made all the more apparent by his mentioned knowledge of the Khan's Inherited Will. This man (as much as the young Sharptooth distrusted him) was doubtlessly a force to be reckoned with, but his distrust would only increase in the secretive, murderous way Wulf suppressed it in plain sight; and as much as the lad wished to learn such methods, Arriochus was still smart enough to think about increased likelihood of perishing to cutthroat whims along the way, as such was a way of life for many other princelings of his ilk.

'Looks like word filtered down the line.'

As the silhouette of a giant starship passed overhead, Batu would study the responding expression of his new mentor, and judging by the shaking of his head in dejection, it would be clear before long that it all occurred just a little sooner than the Serpent preferred. Likely hoping for more time on Galantos, (or at least, more freedom to finish their little chat) Wulf was appearing to be a man who detested half-measures, endeavours made in short, managable chunks, though it also denoted an inherent lack of tolerance that could not be ignored. But despite the unveiled truths on Harald himself, and against all the warnings not to ask, young Arriochus would not falter in the effort to inquire,'So who won? You, or my father?', to which, the silent reaction was priceless to behold.

'No surprises there.... Even the Darkhans could only ascend so far to meet his power in the middle, the feth were you expect-?'

[THUD]​

Without warning, without prompt or tell to read in action, what occurred next would surprise the young Sharptooth, and in a way that told the lad an entire story in a short instant. As if it had appeared out of nowhere, Wulf's left knee had surged into an impact upon Batu's upper torso, thudding with enough force that it even sent the lad careening into a cautionary, poised backpedalling motion; and then the responding downward slash was avoided every part as illusively, and before the lad could raise his glaive again, the pain would eventually catch up with him. Taking a knee then, Arriochus could feel the dull, debilitating ache across his ribcage, such that exceeded the pain-threshold he brought with him to Galantos, a pain of humbling purpose.

A pain of which the lad was quickly learning to understand.

 

[Harald Wulf]

TAGS
Alaric de Braose Lucius Redmond Reiner Ghadi

WITH BAITED BREATH
II

Western Battlefront, Gal'fian'deprisi,
Galantos, Galactic Core Frontier (904 ABY)

'Nothing personal, Barran. Its just - your father also lacks the ability to shut up when it matters.'
​

The Serpent was looking back to the exfiltration flotilla in the skies at the time, quite satisfied that the young Sharptooth had not yet carried the same risk-factor as the Khan, though Harald could not deny that the lad was testing his patience, and almost every part as aggravating as the father in this regard. It irritated Wulf in ways he had not anticipated, stirring up a malice he thought was impervious to the arrogance of others, but for all the potential violence he was envisioning in silence, there was something in the lad's defiance that baited the Serpent's begrudging respect. After all, many youths of his age would have flinched long before the knee-strike landed, and after the fact, many more would have wilted in defensive regret.

For all that his prideful inner-self tried to deny it, Wulf could see for himself that the lad had a rare, unshifting obstinance that marked mettle where it lacked in so many others of Batu's generation, and this all but guaranteed the merit of his choice to find the lad in the first place. Visions had been assailing the Serpent for long enough, assailing his dreams for years before the truth of his visions was revealed upon catching sight of the Barran Khanate's dynasty, a chance sighting that occurred by accident whilst studying the Battle of Atrisia. First it was the crest, but then all it took was a chance sighting of a sharptoothed prince stealing a giant, four-legged AT walker, then it all began to click into place.

Given no other option when the revelation found him, Wulf simply committed to his goal, and though the Khan bested the Serpent, the latter would be graced by good fortune in giving enough of his all to impress the former. A seemingly-flukish outcome to an otherwise soundly-accepted defeat, and though this verdict would irk and vex Harald in perpetuity, he would find himself sharing a very-particular trait with his opponent; as neither were ones to look a gifthorse in the mouth, and neither were ones to turn away from opportunities they sorely needed, thus the grace Wulf never wished to show was given all the same.

​

'Psychological warfare.... You should've s-'

[THUD]
[THUD-THUD]​

'You, however, will learn to do so, you insolent little -'

[THUD]

 

[Lucius Redmond]

Post 2

"You and the 4th are to move to Aldeeran to assist in the efforts there." The holomessage went to his private communicator. Signed by the Naval High Com. Too important of an order to spend time wasting a conversation back and forth on.

Lucius gritted through his teeth, privately, not allowing any of his crew to get a hint at the private frustrations that bounced through his gray matter like an aggitated pinball. He'd wished to scour the planet with the Fleet, demonstrate the full power of the 3rd Fleet, on both air and land. Orders as they say, are orders, though. "Radio the airborne assault, tell them to pack up and come home, we'll give another volley as cover but command is being insistant." The Admiral said to the comm operators as they plugged about their various stations, a chorus of "aye sirs" replied, obeying the directions as they were given by their superior. A well functioning machine, gears seemlessly rotating in a familar environment, worn into fitting through constant friction.

"Helmsman." The Admiral said as he fiddled with his command chair. "Sir?" Came the familar voice of his Helmsmen, Telemachus. "Direct us to the exfil area please, we'll be playing taxi to Aldeeran to assist efforts there."

"Aye sir." Came an immediate, stoical reply from the aging Chiss. As the order was repeated to the two other SDs and several corvettes that were in low orbit. The winds of the world whipped about as the massive vessels moved in low atmo, flattening a few of the reb structures as they went, picking up their men and the nearby wounded and many of the embattled troopers. They could be transferred back to the 4th after they were out of the fire.