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Well, initially she didn’t scream, but as she was reeled in with a heavy repeater pointed at her head, Mirinda couldn’t do much but scream. It took several moments of fear induced terror to realize that her attacker was out of ammo, but it wasn’t until the pack smacked into the floor that it clicked with her. Then began the process of being dragged, as she caught the edge of a bulkhead with her helmet, making her furious as her helmet was now loose.
The Mandalorian wanted something, access to the computer core, yet the idiot was trying to lead her to it. Kicking and trying in vain to drag her feet just to annoy the Mandalorian. “You’re not even using the right name for it! Stop dragging me I can’t see anything! Are you listening to me! Knock it off, let me go! Hey! Hey!” She continued her trashing about, struggling all the while, intent on being as big of a pain as possible.
Their walking stops, a dark visor turns and looks down at the Zeltron.
"Are you wanting me to stomp your head into a paste?"
She growls at her captive, yanking the helmet off them so that they could see.
"There, now you can see better. How close are we to the room? If your answer doesn't please me I am going to beat the shit out of you, now quit squirming you idiot, the cord is going to stay tightly around you no matter what."
The two end up further down a hall, Venari started to get a sense of the place. Mirinda's helmet had been chucked aside a distance behind them now, the foundling takes a moment to calm down.
"If you are so scared then why are you here? You are.. Out of place, war is not meant for you, aruetyc."
The Harkenfang shook once again, though at this point Leandra could not be certain whether the detonations were coming from within or without her ship. As she had suspected, the Mandalorians had deployed their boarding pods the moment hostilities had begun. Her quick deployment of fighters and heavy defensive fire had only mitigated the boarding pods, though every single confirmed kill sent a brief rush of thrill through Leandra. Each pod destroyed meant several Mandalorians perished, and the sheer volume of the initial wave offered plenty of targets for the Imperials to eliminate. For a people on the brink of extinction, they certainly did not act like it.
"Captain, the frigate Redeemer is suffering under heavy assault. Boarding parties have overwhelmed several sections of the ship and they are losing power." A frown crossed Leandra's face as she looked out the viewport, though the positioning of the two vessels prevented her from seeing the stricken frigate. The Redeemer had not received the benefit of reinforcements before the battle began, and were likely struggling to deal with the Mandalorians on their vessel. In a split second decision, Leandra turned to the Commander still on her bridge.
"Commander, I want you to take a detachment of troops to the Redeemer. As much as I hate the idea of abandoning Imperial assets, that ship is lost. Save as many personnel as you can and get them back here. Once you have done all you can, see if you can set that ship on a collision course with the nearest Enclave vessel. It might get a bit more use out of it yet before the end."
Tayl slowly came to a stop amidst the corridor, glancing over her shoulder at Venari Krayt
Is that...?
It was... singing? Mando'a, even. Tayl seemed almost star struck as that little girl and childhood friend sang the song of her people with such righteous zeal. Truly, Venari had changed so much while they were apart. She had clearly grown into a fine young Mandalorian, and the young Ex-Crusader could not be more proud.
Perhaps the foolish imperials would find it intimidating, But Viper team found it... Inspiring. They stood more confidently now, feeling as if the Manda itself was with them.
A few of them shouting "Vode an" alongside Venari.
✱crackle✱
It was the sound of 1-3's shield being disabled by a heavy ionic disruptor that saw her attention back to the task at hand. The sky-blue heavy gunner's breastplate was immediately torn up by the extreme heat of particle beams and blaster fire, caving in a small portion of his inferior, non-beskar plates. He fell to the ground and was immediately pulled into cover by the team's medic.
It wasn't enough to kill, but he was out of the fight for the time being...
It became very clear to Tayl that the team was pinned here. Special weapons had already been used to disable their own defenses for the moment, And the hanger offered multiple angles while the exit to this corridor offered only one... They were being funneled in.
"Hunker down!"
She directed the team to take position on either side of the doorway while she got to work. The Model 39 Heavy Repeater, still on it's tripod, was remotely activated by one of the gunner assistants from cover, Immediately spewing more particle rounds in a sweeping arc toward the origin point of the previous ION disruption.
From there, it was continued to provide covering fire only in short bursts towards specific targets.
Without a word, Tayl held her wrist up and began using her heavy plasma-caster to burn straight through the durasteel wall separating the hanger from corridor. A fiery glow overtook the outer surface until a 10 meter beam of intense plasma popped out the end. From there, she was able to quickly quickly cut a small circular hole and then simply push the glowing metal out the other end.
"Eight & Two, On me"
She ordered calmly as ever. The Team's rocket gunner took cover just beside her as his wounded comrade was brought by the medic, and Tayl put her own wrist shield up to block the hole so that grenades couldn't come through. "Where?"
1-2 shook his head while peeking out the newly shielded hole, which was luckily just the right height to peek or shoot through, but not too low as to diminish cover once the shield might be removed. "Two-two-four, there!"He winced.
"Roger, clear back blast!"
Luckily, 1-8 was able to push the rocket launcher through the one-way shield, acquiring the bearing of Private Horun and firing an RPS-6 rocket at their last known position.
As soon as the rocket had been fired, They all ducked down or swerved away from the newly fashioned murder-hole, with 1-8 fetching a new rocket to load, Stitches and 1-2 resuming medical treatment, and Tayl going to cut more murder holes...
And with each new hole cut, Another member of the team takes position to fire from it.
To Mirinda’s relief, the dragging came to a stop, and she foolishly thought she’d be allowed to escape. Only to met with a rather violet threat that made her go quiet. She felt the man violently tear her helmet off, leaving a very stunned looking Zeltron looking up at them.
Hearing another threat be issued to her, she swallowed, nodding slowly before setting her head back on the floor. They were clearly just going to kill her regardless. But she also didn’t want to get beaten up. “You could have said please. Take a right down the corridor three lengths up.” She muttered to herself, having to elevate her head to keep the back of her head from dragging.
She spent the rest of the time quiet, mulling out what she could do, but the sound of her armor skidding against the deck was rather obnoxious. To her surprise, her captor began to talk. “I’m just here for the benefits. I’m not supposed to fight anyone. It was either this or jail so….yea.” She sighed, trying in vain to fiddle with her bindings. Not that it did much good.
FATE OF THE REALMV: THE COST OF HUBRIS - PART THREE
GRAND MEETING HALL, WARDEN QUARTER, TOR VALUM, KESTRI (AUTUMN OF 877 ABY)
Oh, great.... Here we fething go.
'I am sorry, lady, gentlemen, but I'm afraid that neither Maji nor that naval commander are going anywhere after that broadcast we just heard.'
The most-agreeable of the diehard Enclave caste was standing with pistols drawn, aimed directly at both Braxton Holst and Ignacious Korvan specifically, and in his haste continued,'I suggest you start giving explanations why we have Imperial infiltrators in the heart of our city or there's going to be a lot of folks dead in this room before it's done.', unwittingly revealing developments of which the Lord-Regent himself was entirely unaware until that moment.
'Pointing guns at a diplomatic mission is hardly an honorable way to get answers to your questions. If you want to kill us than I say go ahead if you are prepared for full blown war with the Empire. Our deaths will be quite meaningless because we are easily replaced by the dozens of others awaiting their chance for power.'
But it wasn't the Mandalorian who wished to point a gun at the COMPNOR Commissioner, and in the process of speaking out of turn, Lord Erskine quickly realised he desired for his own gun to point in Vethres' direction instead, as there was much and more that was serving to further-infuriate the old Woad as the the situation continued to spiral out of control around him. However, pushing Barran over the edge would be the concluding outburst of,'Well? What are you waiting for. Kill me and end this farce!', and with Rook's eyes turning to the Lord-Regent for his reaction, he would find Lord Erskine's eyes darting manically back and forth between Lord Ignacious and Lord Kanollic II. However, Vren would be fortunate in the regard that his turned gaze was noticed at the edge of the Lord-Regent's periphery, turning his own gaze in turn to address the warrior directly as all watched on, transfixed on the situation as it cannon-balled even further into mayhem.
'You there with the pistols.... If you would be so kind, I need you to carry me to the spot between those two - then you can dump me on the table and resume your offensive stance. Doped to the gills so the gut-pain won't be too bad.... Besides, I have questions for these fellows specifically.'
The old Woad was certainly beyond the point of reason, but in a way that differed almost entirely to everyone else in the room, though many in Barran's position would surely have felt the same way, there would likely be a cost to thinking his fellow Tarkinists were trying to steal the GA's thunder in supposedly gifting him a second death-by-Mandalorian. Though fortunately for Lord Erskine, Vren was compliant enough to know what the old Woad was driving at, and also acquiescent enough to the situation that he appeared to be fine with carrying Barran over his shoulder, dropping the Lord-Regent sitting where he asked and standing back for a moment to see what would happen next. But what none expected was the fact Lord Erskine fully intended to draw his own pistol, but much to the trend of the unexpected, none could ever foresee the Lord-Regent drawing the pistol on his own subordinate.
'For starters, Rook. You can clear Holst of any wrongdoing straight away, but as for the battle in the air....'
With attentions firmly fixed on the Grand Moff, both Korvan's and Erskine's eyes would do the talking, with the latter looking to the former in a questioning glare as if to ask,"Was the naval battle in Enclave-space your idea, perchance?", only to receive a slow, wide-arcing headshake in confident response. This silent, though no-less vehement response was all that the Lord-Regent needed to know that clique's latest addition was telling the truth, seeing a defiance in Korvan of the likes he hoped would show face at some point, seeing the self-actualisation of the man Ignacious was needed to become; and if he hoped to survive his own ascension to prominence, Erskine knew that his student in leadership needed to lean into his journey along that path, for no stumbles or missteps would be permitted of his sort in the following years.
'Korvan.... If you catch my drift, it could be my turn this time. We'll just have to wait an' see though.'
And to the extent that not even the hands of Fate could allow such falterings to pass any more.
'Now, as for the Midtown Infiltrators.... Before I forget an' all.'
Pulling his pistol away from the ribcage of Korvan and into the temple of Vethres, and in one fluid, effortless motion, Barran stared deep into the COMPNOR-delegate's eyes and inquired,'Tell me - what clandestine karkery are you trying to have me killed with, Commissioner? Who in their right mind would even put such a high-ranking delegation at risk like this?', breathing heavily through his nostrils as a certain dizzying nausea began to wreak havoc on his coherence. The Lord-Regent's eyes may have started rolling if it wasn't for his pet tigress growling at the other side of the clandestine Commissioner, keeping Lord Erskine as lucid as he needed to be as he concluded,'Tell me.... Who was it? COMPNOR? ISB, perhaps? Or even something you've got under wraps, maybe? Either way, I really - really need to know.', in his iciest of spoken tones yet.
He well expected the Captain's apprehension to answer an inspection conducted by someone in the Army, special forces or not. The crew was fresh. New blood was sourced from the myriad of Naval Academies dotting the Empire. The remark of her own institution implied the Harkenfang was not also getting the absolute best of graduates filling in the ranks of the Imperial naval machine; Sarge had heard, off-hand mostly, of the various rivalries and 'classing' of naval academies. The disparity between social classes was something that existed in both the Navy and the Army. Perhaps more prevalent in the former due to its rather, ancient aristocratic legacy of inception.
None of it mattered now.
A laborer's son or a noble's daughter -- they were all to be baptized in fire today.
What barriers may exist between either would be torched to ash by the flames of war.
Sarge had never been on the bridge of a vessel during combat; he'd always assumed it to be a rather boring experience but such conjecture was quickly demolished as the first blasts of turbolasers and boarding pods shook the Harkenfang. It was far more daunting than he'd expected. Trapped inside the confines of a can of steel in the void with only a few feet of durasteel between you and the cold embrace of space was nothing short of unnerving. On the field, in the trenches, the sweat and blood peeling off your flesh served an exhaust for the dread and panic that stubbornly clawed against one's mind. But here? They had none of that. Their minds had to be steeled more than that same few feet of durasteel separating them from a frigid death. The instinct to survive would itch their feet to move, to do something that was other than sitting in front of terminals. The commander could only admit to himself that he wouldn't be cut out for this particular job, that was for sure.
Orders changed in the blink of an eye; from being commanded to repel the boarders to being sent as a boarding party to salvage the Redeemer from the Mandalorians' perfidious hands. The Harkfenfang would persevere with the industrious mind of the Captain; the crafty hands of Jaida Tess of the 181st; the unyielding bulwark of Ruaridh Aodh
's STRIDERs and the surgical scalpel of Castor E-196
.
"Yes, m'am." the SCAR commander saluted the Captain and hurried towards one of the bays of the ship that were not yet contested by the spreading plague of the Mandalorians. Orders were quickly issued on the way to a detachment of stormtrooper marines, assuming command of their unit with the authority given to him by Leandra Brax.
Strapping himself to the harness of the pod, Sarge pushed back the sour thought of being launched through the crossfire of turbolasers in space aboard a cylindrical tin can. SCAR was the elite of the elite but even they were not impervious to the dreaded confines of space but the rigorous training was instilled into them as muscle memory and the oath sworn to the Emperor was seared into their existence to fulfill His Will whatever it may be.
Adjacent to where the Mandalorian pods had punctured the hull of the Redeemer, the Imperial's own pods cleaved through. The hiss of depressurization resounded within as the hatches slid open and Sarge lunged out first to take point, away from the unnerving hums of turbolaser fire that had passed too close during their journey. The Imperials swarmed into the confines of the ship from the rear of the advancing Mandalorian boarding parties sweeping ahead. They were here to reverse their fortunes and rescue the frigate's crew.
:: Suppressive fire, keep them pinned!! Protect any shuttles still operational. Squad One on me, we need to cleave through and secure the escaping pods area! :: he barked through the comms as he cocked his own TL-50 repeater and sprayed the enemies' positions with a violent torrent of blaster fire.
Braxton was calm and collected as he sipped at his tihaar and munched on his bread, listening to the delegates go back and forth as he waited for his chance to step in. A chance to provide an agreeable solution to both parties.
The way he received that position was via a blaster pointed at both him and Korvan.
The Director blinked as he looked directly at the barrel of Vren’s blaster, a faint smirk taking hold at the sight of the situation. He didn’t move a muscle, aside from continuing to sip and eat his meal.
”I believe the expression is: ‘Have your cake and eat it too', mister Korvan.” He quipped as he glanced over at the man. He kept quiet for a moment longer as they all voiced their grievances with the whole situation. The easy solution would be to hit his panic button and let the team of Hellions outside storm the room.
But that would not do anybody any good. A price he was not willing to pay for this acquisition.
One of the Imperial Delegates stood up and made his way directly towards Vren.
"Pointing guns at a diplomatic mission is hardly an honorable way to get answers to your questions. If you want to kill us then I say go ahead if you are prepared for full blown war with the Empire. Our deaths will be quite meaningless because we are easily replaced by the dozens of others awaiting their chance for power."
"Well? What are you waiting for? Kill me and end this farce"
”I think you might be underestimating the weight of influence on your side of the table, mister Vethres.” He commented as he set his empty glance aside and leaned back, finishing his bread.
He took note of Erskine’s killer look extended to his two colleagues. At the request of being carried over to the table, Braxton carefully rose and held a hand towards Vren as he walked over and helped his friend to the table instead, before he returned to his seat. He would have helped him out with a weapon too, but with the grip he had around the old man, he could feel the piece pressed against him.
The old man was crazier than a Nexu with a toothache.
Feeling rather outdone by his crazy friend, Braxton reached into his jacket and produced a weapon of his own… ironically trained on Barran. A smirk formed before it shifted away. ”Made you jump a little there, didn’t I?” He quipped, instead pointing his gun at Korvan.
”My fellow delegates… have any of you ever heard the story of the Fathier and the Nexu?” He started as a leg draped over the other, his gun-hand resting on the edge of the table.
”We are, right now, caught in a situation where everybody wants to kill each other. We all have weapons, soldiers, starships, all those things for a grand ol’ time of beating the snot out of each other. But why did we all come here today? Let us iron out the truth of the matter first. I wish to ensure the safety of my investments in both Enclave and Imperial space as a businessman… but I also believe that peace is good for both sides. Lord Barran will certainly agree with me there.” He glanced at his friend and then at Vren, staring at him right through his iron sights.
”But, mister Korvan and Vethres, what is it you came here for? A justification for war? A chance to stab your friends in the back? What we all should have come here for, is the opportunity to hammer out an agreement and acquire peace. Now, my dear delegates, what price are you all willing to pay for peace?”
His grand plan collapsed for a moment as his personal commlink came to life.
:: Director! There’s an Imp Knight with her troopers coming at the door. The Mando Elites have engaged and the rest of us are standing by as well. ::
A sigh escaped Braxton as he slipped his pistol back into his pocket. ”You might want to point those big irons at the door, Marshall Rook.” He quipped.
It was a bloody battle, and Mac was down to half the Mando’ade that came with him. Up ahead though, was the engineering section, Blast Doors shut. “Anyone ‘ave any breec’ing c’arges?” The others just shook their heads as a young Mando in plain armor began to fiddle with the door panel.
“Forget it, t’at will take too long.” Mac holstered his ripper, and gave a mighty swing of his warhammer into the seam of the doors. “We’ll do t’is t’e old fas’ioned way. Grab a side and pull!” Mac’s muscles strained as he pried with the weapon, and a crack began to open. The rest of his vode joined in, and the doors began to slowly give way. The Imperials inside opened up on the Mandos, and a stray bolt came through only to hit Beskar. The young mando spoke up, “Looks like we found their crack troops.”
Mac reholstered his warhammer laughing at her joke, “Yea’, more dangerous to t’emselves…” Seeing a concussion grenade hanging off the kid’s belt, Mac casually grabbed it and tossed it into the room.
BANG
They charged in, opening fire. In moments, all the opposition was down, and Mac noticed the young vod on the ground, a fresh blaster wound to the leg. “You alrig’t?” She just gave a thumbs up in reply, just a flesh wound. ‘Good, battle scars are a right of passage.’
Mac began to take the weapons systems off line from the main console as the team took up defensive positions. “‘mmm, let’s see, weapons down, internal security systems down…” It was then he felt the ship shudder with an impact. Boarding Pod. Using his buy’ces tactical sensors, he quickly eliminated more Mando’ade, “Looks like t’e Imps want t’eir s’ip back. Get back to t’e boarding pods, and leave me all explosives!”
As the others left, the young girl limping, Mac began to set the charges. ‘They want this ship, oh, they’ll get it.’ He had more than enough charges, so he used them liberally, over kill? Nah, underrated… Keying up his comms, Mac broadcast on the tactical channel they all switched to as they boarded. “Minerva, looks like t’e Imps want to retake t’e s’ip. I’ve set c’arges in engineering, t’ey can ‘ave a crippled pile of junk. My team is ‘eaded back to t’e pods. See you t’ere!”
Finally some cooperation, part of Venari felt pity for this woman.. Reminding her that in her own past she used to scream and run away from danger.
"What did you do to end up almost in jail? I guess I can relate to that, well partly... Big difference is actually being stuck in a cell verses the chance of going."
Venari proceeds as directed, finding a handful of doors now. A small group of four or five troopers are frantically making their way through the halls as well, the foundling quickly lifts her catch and holds them close as they both hide around a corner in a little storage room.
"Don't you dare scream, unless you want more lives wasted today. Let them pass and I won't harm them, my time is not something you want to waste right now."
Venari whispers into Mirinda's ear, and despite the threats, no gun would be pressed against the Zeltron's head... Was this out of niceness or was it simply a test?
Romul was about to answer Barran's question of price with an insurmountable sum of his own when all hell broke loose. He had meant for Dragr to take care of it, damn it, not to let loose Vren Rook like some rabid dog. This wild display would've never been allowed under the Quartermaster's watch, that was for sure. But she was gone. It was now up to Romul to hold the house together.
This was not a play of politics; it was a play of strength. Romul knew that he and the Guildmaster did not see eye to eye, and perhaps Dragr coveted the seat that Romul sat at. But it required more than suave words to have the strength to lead a people as strong-willed as the Mandalorians. And to be unyielding when enemies called at the door.
"Barr the doors," Romul hissed, and Si'kayha commandos moved from the rear to the front to seal the doors that entered the chamber. Behind, more warriors -- these bearing the red and gold colors of Clan Saxon -- marched in to reinforce the Mandalorian numbers. The massive Warmaster rose to his feet, towering over the rest of the party as he stood nearly seven feet in his massive beskar'gam. "No Imperial shall leave nor enter this hall while I draw breath," he declared. "Your actions betray you. We show the Empire hospitality, and in return, you dare attack us over our own skies? And you, Barran. How do we not know this is some plot behind which you are its chief culprit? Do not think a show of outrage will spare you the consequences of this slight."
His condemnation laid bare, he raised his comms to give orders to forces in the city. "Mandalorians of the Enclave, this is the Akaan'alor. All Imperial Forces are to be detained or killed if they resist. No entry to any facility is to be permitted, I repeat, no entry to any facility is to be permitted."
As she fiddled away, she had to wonder what the hell whipcords were actually made of. This stuff just did not give. “I stole files from the planetary governor, something about profiting from the erm….exotic dancer market. Anyways he didn’t like that, so I ran, used his secretary’s name to enlist in the military, and now I’m tied up being threatened by you. So how was your childhood?” She said with an unusually bored tone now. She gave up on theatrics, and frankly this whole thing was just too much stress to even bother with.
Frankly she wanted to just find an escape pod and get off this hunk of junk, she never planned to die for the empire. Hell, she wasn’t even willing to die for herself. Well, maybe if it was for something worthwhile.
To her surprise, the Mandalorian stoped, and hoisted her up to be face to face; not that impressive of a feat, still message was clear, and she found the threat super unnecessary. “Did you just assume that because I’m a woman I’m going to scream? Wow, could have just said please.” She whispered back, more annoyed at her situation than scared, which was why she was just going to be annoying in kind. As if she was going to care about a few nameless grunts? In her mind, this guy was like her, in that they both just wanted to do their job and get the hell away from everyone. Long as he didn’t point a gun at her they’d be solid. Maybe. Frankly after Zoraya broke into her house she sorta stopped caring about who she considered a friend. Most of her friends were dead, well save for Doonie.
A plated hand covers Mirinda's mouth, shutting her up as the group of troopers went by. Once the area was clear, Venari holsters her pistol as they both exited the storage room.
"Childhood was dandy, now let's keep moving."
The last thing she wanted to talk about right now was how she grew up in a box, and how her mother lived in her head.
"No, I assumed you would scream to waste my time. Even though you have screamed in fear already, I was ready for you to do it again to try and get a rescue or just waste my time more, I figure you could give less of a chit about the people you are meant to fight side by side with."
The door the foundling was seeking was now right in front of the two, what looks like a usb drive sticks out from the underside of the Mandalorian's wrist, about to stick it into the panel on the door.
"If I recall the whipcord, will you unlock this door for me? If you try anything funny I can promise you that you will end up as ash on the floor this time."
So much had happened in such a short amount of time.
As the meeting’s momentum appeared to be shifting into the Empire’s favor, Vren Rook
had done something truly unexpected - the single action that would lead to a series of events that would completely and totally derail the meeting irreversibly, and likely result in a degradation in political relations between both the Empire and Enclave for years to come. As the Karjr moved to rise from his seat, Korvan’s instincts moved his fingers below the table to immediately (and quite surreptitiously) activate his personal energy shield just prior to the helmet being put on and the blasters being raised. A slight shimmer would occur, but would quickly fade beyond normal perception. While it would be no replacement for armor, it would prevent a repeat of the last time an unexpected threat had gained the drop over him.
Despite the countermeasures Korvan had in place (understandably so given his past), as well as the Mandalorian Enclave’s accusations in the face of quite circumstantial (but compelling) evidence; Korvan had nothing to do with anything they were talking about. This would be evidenced by the momentary, and exceedingly rare break in Korvan’s chilly expression - with his eyes widening ever so slightly upon the circumstances leading to Vren’s rise from his seat and the leveling of his blasters upon the Grand Moff. Almost instantly, the 12 Death Mask operatives that had thus far spread out throughout the chamber would raise their blasters at the entire Mandalorian delegation, and would have instantly and decisively put down the threat Vren had posed had it not been for Korvan’s almost equally as quick motion for them to hold off from doing so. They kept their blasters leveled upon the Mandalorian delegation - especially upon Vren, but refrained from opening fire.
The situation would again evolve as the Commissioner rose from his seat and attempted one last time - seemingly in vain - to deescalate the situation. It was in moments like these that men demonstrated who they truly were, and the Grand Moff made a silent mental note to keep in mind the selflessness in which Vethras acted. Hopefully he would live long enough to be of use to the Grand Moff after today. Hopefully they all would be.
When Erskine leveled his own blaster at Korvan, it would seem that for the second time in this meeting, Korvan was once again surprised. But by this point, his expression only hardened in the face of what amounted to a diplomatic and political clusterfeck. But despite the hardening of his features, there was no lie in his eyes when Erskine directly asked him if this was his own doing. Another oddity had presented itself in that Korvan did not know what the hell was even going on. He had hoped his previous glance to Erskine would indicate the need to leave, but the situation had thus far devolved so quickly those hopes were soon dashed.
Apparently convinced by Korvan’s honest nod of denial of any knowledge of what was going on, Erskine’s blaster trained upon the Commissioner himself. Ignacious let out a sign reminiscent of a man witnessing everything going wrong that could possibly go wrong. “While I can understand why this looks... very compelling to you all... have you considered that perhaps this is a well orchestrated ploy to disrupt our attempts to meet together? Surely, my reputation would demonstrate that I would not be so daft as to organize a series of operations during a political summit!” Korvan’s voice was low, and directed to everyone in the room.
But it would appear his words had fallen on deaf ears. Whether it was due to the rise of everyone’s hackles, or merely the disbelief that clearly had settled in amongst the Enclave, the final step was taken to completely crush any hope of salvaging the situation. Romul Saxon rose to his feet, and bellowed the fateful words that would set in motion the contingency the Grand Moff had in place for the rare, but clearly possible chance something like this could happen (he may not have been responsible for what was happening thus far, but he was not so daft as to not have a plan in place at all.
Romul’s voice would rumble with barely contained anger. But, despite the commanding tone of his voice, his orders would never occur.
As much as Korvan did not want to resort to his contingency, he would not allow everyone here to become prisoners of a foreign power. He pressed the panic button on his wrist, and exchanged a glance with the commander of his bodyguard. ‘Now.’
Just as the Si'kayha took their first steps to comply, the Death Mask bodyguard of the Grand Moff acted in concert.
One of the Death Mask troopers, positioned behind Vren Rook, would unleash upon the Mandalorian with a full-bodied tackle into the man - his super-sized girth coupled with his inhuman strength intent on heaving the Karjr up and off of his feet to crash upon the table unceremoniously.
Simultaneously, a pair of Death Mask on either side of the ‘Imperial’ side of the room would tilt their rifles a mere few inchces in line with the Si'kayha and unleash with their particle beam rifles. Even the legendary armor of the Mandalorians would be hard pressed to resist the extreme stopping power of their rifles, and whatever the end result - the attack would categorically prevent the Si'kayha from barring any doors under any stretch of the imagination.
Again simultaneously, two more of the Death Mask troopers would open fire upon the entrance that the Saxon troopers would attempt to enter within, their highly accurate and deadly fire all but certain to kill anyone who dared try to push through. The remaining troopers would pull back the dignitaries of the Empire, placing themselves between the Mandalorian warriors sitting on the other side of the table, opening fire upon them all within a matter of seconds between the first action being taken.
There was a reason the Death Mask were a force to be feared - a lesson even the proud Mandalorians would learn the hard way given their inordinate hubris.
Two more troopers would shove through the double doors, opening fire almost instantly on whatever guards resided on the other side of them, and would set about moving out to rendezvous with the rescue teams that were en route to the meeting hall. While the group of troopers that had immediately acted against the Mandalorians within would attempt to pull back as the main bulk did so, the bulk of 7 remaining troopers would move in tight formation, scanning their surroundings as they acted to fulfill their prime mandate - preserve the life of those in their care.
While Korvan was not responsible for the events that had led up to now, he most certainly would finish it.
As the chaos was unfolding in space, the Imperial diplomatic fleet had begun opening fire on both the Imperial traitors and the Enclave forces - though their primary effort was to divert as much energy to shields as possible. Rear Admiral Feros was contemplating dispatching a rescue team for the delegation, but was navigating the orders he had received from Korvan prior to it all.
The last thing he wanted was to be the reason for diplomatic breakdowns (for he was entirely oblivious to what was occurring in the actual summit. All such fears were eliminated when he saw the alert come through from Korvan’s panic remote.
‘Execute extraction - Code Red.’
“DEPLOY THE EXTRACTION TEAMS! IMMEDIATELY!” Feros commanded, his words exploding through the bridge even as the Ave Imperator rumbled from the firepower being thrown against it. The readied gunships and fighters ordered to be on standby would instantly emerge from the hangar bays of the capital ships within the fleet, their pre-set coordinates making a bee-line for the landing zone.
“All Imperial Vessels, Rear Admiral Feros again. Reform in defensive formation and prepare for immediate evacuation from the system. The lives of our leaders depend on you performing your duty.”
The ships of the fleet would begin moving into defensive positions, their weapon system concentrating on keeping the Mandalorian fleet back for as long as possible. As for the Ave Imperator herself, several of its dorsal armaments would train upon the city of Tor Valum - awaiting the command to unleash upon the city should the need arise.
The Rear Admiral would make one last attempt to... salvage whatever he could. Grand Admiral Vemric Keldra would receive a hail notification from the Ave Imperator. If the connection was established, the Rear Admiral would waste little time. “To the Enclave Fleet Commander - This is Rear Admiral Paulon Feros. We are not responsible for the ships that opened fire upon the Enclave defense fleet. I suspect they are enemies seeking to provoke a rapid escalation to war. While I have sworn to fight for the Empire, and intend to do so if the need comes to that - I beseech you to believe my words and cease fire on myself and the ships under my immediate command. I will transmit their ident codes to you immediately. We shall in turn direct our firepower to the traitors who started this. But, you should be advised that I am also seeking the extraction of the Imperial delegation, and under the orders I’ve received, I am prepared to open fire on the planet itself should that be rendered impossible. From one warrior to another - I hope honor shall prevail.” With a salute, the Rear Admiral would await a response.
He meant what he had said too. If the Empire’s delegates did not survive their extraction... then no one in the city would be left alive.
Mirinda scowled as her mouth was covered, glaring into the Mando’s face. Well, least Mando cultural practices were still as abrasive as ever. Rolling her eyes as the Mando went back to being all gun toting and what now, Mirinda let out an undignified sigh. “Making a lot of assumptions about a girl you just met. Guess I shouldn’t expect a Mandalorian to have common courtesy.” She stated, still wiggling in the cord, growing more annoyed than ever now about the restraints. “Galaxy doesn’t revolve around you wasting time, do it smart and you won’t waste peoples time.” She muttered, knowing that it would quite literally go around the warriors helmet.
Much to her surprise as she followed the warrior, she was offered freedom from her bonds, which made the Zeltron raise a purple eyebrow. “I mean, I ‘can’, but you could sweeten the deal by saying ‘please open the door’. But sure, I ‘can’ open the door.” This person needed to learn manners like crazy, and Mirinda wasn’t about to start being their humanities teacher. Giving a wiggle for emphasis, she rather wanted to be free.
The foundling chuckles, tightening the cord to emphasize the uncomfortable feeling.
"How about, please stop trying to ruin my home? Not going to work, we are past manners at this point. Either you agree to open the door or I can just always take the ID card off your corpse, how does that sound?"
Now Venari started to get more agitated, pulling out her revolver and aiming it at the Zeltron's head.
"Open. The. Door. Now."
The cold end of the barrel presses against the engineer's head.
"Do it smart and you won't waste people's time."
She says in a sarcastic tone, flipping the previous comment right back at the Zeltron. It was clear that the raider meant this threat, their plated finger starting to skim along the trigger.
Kanollic II was awaiting the sweet embrace of death to overtake him yet the moment never came as Vren Rook
didn't take the shot for the time being. His gaze followed from delegate to delegate within the room until finally laying upon the Lord-Regent DECEASED Erskine Barran
said his own opinion on the matters that had transpired. But a single pistol pointed towards him and he was certain that he would take the shot in apparent blame for the Imperials within the Mandalorian Capital City. Kanollic had to think for a moment but realized that COMPNOR had no jurisdiction to approve this mission and certainly not without going through the proper channels within the Hierarchy.
He turned towards the Lord-Regent and exclaimed "I can assure the Lord-Regent that COMPNOR held no knowledge of this scheme and will promptly move to investigate immediately. Although the list of suspects can be narrowed down to the only person who has enough high enough clearance to order such an operation beyond the Commissioners in the Director of the Imperial Security Bureau." to ease Barran's worry for the moment. The speech from Braxton Holst
brought little comfort to him as another weapon was withdrawn in the direction of DECEASED Erskine Barran
. This meeting was turning into a battlefield and the Patriarch of the Vethres Bloodline would not cower in fear.
Even as Warmaster Romul Saxon
moved to entrap them within the hall for suppose insults towards the Mandalorian People. Fighting their way out was the only option moving forward if all of them wanted to survive. But lucky that Grand Admiral Ignacious Korvan
had a backup plan in the form of his personal bodyguard and moved to comment on the matter. It would seem that no one had any information on what was happening at this time.
"If anyone wants to live, let us go."
Kanollic said to the rest of the delegation before anything else happened.
The Mandalorians and Korvan's Bodyguards engaged one another in a series of firefights within the room. Kanollic and the Imperial Delegation were being withdrawn from the hall with all due haste. CompForce was also engaged in fighting within the room and moved to single out the commissioner for protection alone. A single pistol was withdrawn from his own pocket to protect himself from direct harm as his group moved through the hall.
And Juno yanked it free, her strength bolstered by the exoskeleton she wore beneath her suit. There was a bit of a shuffle; the woman aimed a heel kick at Juno's knee, but she checked it with a quick counter movement. She was on the back-foot when the woman pulled her blaster free, arm rising to guard her face as her energy shield flared to life to catch the golden bolt. She quickly shuffled her feet to keep her balance, jet-pack engines letting out a soft whine as they stirred.
The smile that stretched across Juno's face beneath her buy'ce was viciously savage.
"Not just a knife."
She aimed her free hand at the false Mando and fired the repulsor integrated into her gauntlet to batter the woman's shield, even as a chorus of screeching whistles exploded from a compartment in her boots, the micro-missiles sailing in the wake of the kinetic blast.
TASK FORCE SCARIF
ENCLAVE SPACE
IN ORBIT ABOVE THE PLANET
->-<-
The Bridge of the UES Pathfinder
The caf he had spat out across his desk had turned into an excellent sludge, a diligent droid working as rapidly as it could to remove the stain from the display screen. Its programming ensured that it would not allow it to become a sticky residue. Oldo stood and coughed, the wind knocked clear out of him by the audacity of the unfolding. He listened as Keldra gave the succinct orders that a lifetime and a half of command would produce, confident in each of them was to be found the quickest solution to the unfolding crisis.
Why was he yet again floundering under Imperial fire that was unprovoked?
"Gentlemen! You are weapons-free until otherwise ordered. Use specialised weapons at your own discretion and only when necessary."
Oldo went to respond before taking a moment. Was he being dressed down? He could hear the inference in the voice of his senior officer, the call for hesitation and reserved response evident. He thought on it and metered his own call to arms.
"Arm all weapons. Have the fleet begin movements towards the Imperial forces. Get us between them and the planet."
He was certain the delegation would have been disrupted by now, with the unprovoked declaration of war now lingering between their two sovereign nations.
"Is she ready to go?"
The response was slower than he'd wanted.
"She'll be ready shortly, sir."
Dammit. The Antioch-class was majestic but a little sluggish to respond. She would need more trials to get her to complete efficiency,
"Don't give me excuses, Lieutenant. Get me ordnance."
His fingers hovered over the console, ready to call upon the impressive firepower of the Solar ion cannons. He knew that if the full might of the Line opened fire, there would be no salvaging what, if any, misunderstanding had occurred in the last few minutes.
The batteries of the Task Force opened up, aiming for several Imperial TIE fighter squadrons that had emerged, the flak turrets spitting with fury.
She was a bit concerned when her captor began to laugh, which spiked into fear as she felt a blaster being pressed against her head and her restraints tightening around her body. She had no idea what the man was so worked up about, but the wincing she did was genuine. "Ow, hey, calm down, I said I'd open it!" Why did they have to be like this? No reason for it at all.
She attempted, and failed, to flick hair out of her face, looking very much pouty as she eyed the man before her. "You're the one about to kill one of seven people that has the voice code to the main computer, so you tell me who's being smart." That wasn't entirely true, but, she doubted the Mandalorian knew that. She shook against the code once more, grumbling. "I'll open it, just lighten up, come on." She pleaded, unsure if this was about to be the end of her deployment.
Ruaridh Aodh
Tae'l Vizsla
/
Venari Krayt
