The call to war had been sounded. And like a good soldier Keva had answered, with boots clicking against the metal floor of her Frigate and a cloak billowing behind her: the Chiss briskly has made her way to the landing craft waiting to lash out against the Imperial world below.
Maybe, she should have felt some sort of inner hatred for these “Jen’ari” interlopers. But she did not. There was a coldness to her approach, the calculations of a woman who quickly was spending more time around Droids than people once graduating Academy. A sad fact, for regardless Keva had kept her long standing disgust of Droids: even now as she marched as one of the CIS’s many commanders.
It was still her army, and watching the droids move in a unified march into the main landing crest, the low hum of tanks lining up, and the impressively slow but powerful rumbling of the J-1 Proton Cannons she had acquisitioned for the battle. A massacre more like it though. And all these things gave her a sense of silent pride. Coming to a halt to watch the organized and steady march of the machines, Keva clasped her hands behind her back. Puffing her chest ever so slightly as the pride filled her meager form; inevitably it would become a weapon used against the enemy, such a thing unknown to the Chiss herself.
Though her time to simply observe the slow churn of her army was cut short when Keva’s T-Series walked up and greeted her with a slow nod of it’s metal head. An over glorified translator and secretary droid was what the Chiss had turned it into:
“Forces are loading at an average of 83% efficiency, at current rate we will be able to make landfall in approximately 6 Galactic Standard minutes.”
Keva nodded her head: the droid was as unnecessarily wordy as it always was. But that was good, they would be landing behind the main force, striking the Imperial trash while they tried to focus on the Confederates storming the center.
“Bun. Ch'ah ch'epasahn to sakn bazehn lishe'ah ror to Buicaci vim to ch'at'uhah can cssin'rt'ust”
With that, Keva didn’t bother continuing the conversation with her droid. Instead going to join the rest of her forces on the massive Lava Skiff she had been able to requisition for the conflict as well: it seemed she was the only Marshal actually bringing any droids to bare against the Jen’ari (in any sort of conventional sense at least)
With her boots clicking, and the droids marching. The army of Keva’Sol’Loro loaded into their landing craft. And with a mighty growl the doors shut, and they made their descent to the planet below.
Fighting roared throughout the city, and hell rained from the skies above as the Droch pods unloaded their murderous cargo against the Jen’ari aggressors. But through that tumultuous choir, those who listened closely could hear the low hum of Keva’s slowly approaching craft. The massive Lava Skiff ferried practically the entire invasion force Keva had been allowed to command, the menacing looking J-1 Cannons leering over the front edge, patiently waiting for some sort of target.
The Chiss herself stood in the practically starcraft sized vessel’s command bridge. Slowly watching the smouldering fires of both this world and the city that slowly, but assuredly, would be leveled in the coming inferno: be it by the Dauntless or herself. Who inflicted the blow mattered little.
Not to say she wouldn’t be hunting for glory, military politics were still politics. And the Chiss were oh such masters of the violence of politics when the need arose.
As usual, the clockwork thought processes of the woman were interrupted by the T-series. Useful as it was absolutely, unbearably, annoying. That mechanical voice speaking as it always did:
“Fortifications approaching. We will be unable to scale them.”
Keva grinned, perfect. She had wanted this, expected it even. It was time to show the confederates what her mind was capable of creating.
“Lower the cannons and fire.”
Clasping her hands behind her back, Keva turned to watch the light show that was about to show itself. The J-1s slowly lowered, their rather underwhelming cannons turning to face the pitiful wall the Imperials called “fortifications”. And with a thunderous shake, that caused the Skiff to rock backwards some even, the Proton Cannons fired. A dozen cannons that could even destroy a landing assault craft, their spent shells crashing down onto the metal floor of the skiff.
And for the wall?
A massive hole of rubble and ruin remained, a clear breach into the proper fighting. Keva could only imagine the thunderclap the combatants had been given at her entrance. And so did the slow advance come to halt when the Skiff thudded against the breach it had opened, and out poured the army of Keva’Sol’Loro.
What had been a low hum had now grown into a thunderous roar. The implacable advance of the Droid Army had arrived, Keva herself finding a comfortable spot shouting commands from her AAT. Occasionally shaking as the mighty cannon buckled to topple another building, or demolish another infantry formation. It had become bloody carnage, a relentless march of droids backed by tanks and gunships to utterly shred whatever stood in the way of the Confederates.
This was a sort of warfare Keva could get behind. No need for restraint or mercy, truly the mettle of these droids could be tested. Chains throw aside in favor of the pure, utter, and total annihilation of the foe.
And that is exactly what happened, another buckle from Keva’s AAT sent a building toppling down to dust and ruins. The unrelenting pound of the Droid advance turning into a thunder across the horizon of war, a singular, and utterly unified march. All under the command of one woman and her tank, their objective was rather simple. They would be holding the southernmost portion of a bridge leading to the main complex, child’s play.
And that’s what it was like, some destructive child on a rampage. Of course, if the child was an entire army of droids, backed up by artillery and armored support. The Jen’ari had crumbled under the combined Confederate attack, and Keva suffered little of a full brunt of the defense force. Divide and conquer, a respectable strategy. Though she had quickly become fascinated by some of the defenders, who wildly swung around glowing red rods the color of blood: she vaguely remembered hearing the word, Lightsabers she believed?
Whatever it was. She wanted one.
Against her better judgment, Keva rose from her command post within her AAT and leapt down to the battered ground below. Brushing off her uniform ever so slightly, the dust and ash in the air was not kind to keeping a pristine appearance. Dumb rock. Pulling out her pistol, Keva made her way through with the battle droids surrounding her.
A stomp of her foot having a handful of B2s form up around her as a shield. And so did the relentless legion of Keva advanced, the bridge in sight. To some extent, the fighting felt far too easy, a waste of her skills. But it mattered little in the end, she supposed. She would have her trinket, and then the Empire would be no more. Simple, brutal, efficient. It seemed to be the montra of the CIS’s forces: a respectable outlook, to say the least.
At the mouth of the bridge, the advance finally slowed some: a red whirl of blades hacked through the infantry. Pointless in the end, of course, as the tanks unleashed their brutal ordinance and shredded the Marauder into little more than burned rags and shattered armor. It was an impressive display either way, Keva could acknowledge that.
Slowly clicking her way through the rumble, the sounds of war distant now. Keva reached down, plucking one of the Sabers from the ground. Briefly studying the weapon before hooking it onto her belt. Clicking her comm to briefly inform command.
“Southern bridge secured.”
And with that, Keva turned to rejoin her wall of metal.