Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!
Pau City Ground Level Allies: ORC and a Bettle Borg ([member=[/FONT]"Orn Pharr"])
"I will aid you. Any black I can mark on my tally against the red is welcome. And I have known a few of your people. I can appreciate your ways, even if they are not mine."
The voice was raspy even through the modulator, carrying memory and emotion of times when life seemed so much simpler and more pleasant. Somehow, even the presence of the Neti seemed to ease his mind and soothe his spirit. They were always like that, from what he remembered. With a steady hand, the shacklebolt rifle rose in a low carry, and he nodded to his new companion. With a rumble of thunder, Ijaat thumbed the weapon live and racked the slide, chambering the mass driver. A light blinked in response as his HUD and sensors synched to the micro-droid processor in the gun, and data streamed freely between the two. With that link live, it would be damn near impossible to miss, with the projectile firing so fast it would take a masterful sense of danger and reaction time, an apex user of both, to even have a chance. And parrying a tungsten rod at that speed would wind up with molten metal spraying your body. This was, without a doubt, his favoritest gun.
"No one is safe, Orn. Only the dead are. And I have been to the other side and came back, so in a strange way I am likely nearly the safest man in the Galaxy. Strange for the Force to call you here, it spoke to me once like that... I learned a number of things, but still not sure why it drew me to that place. Hopefully it is clearer to you why...I have a feeling there will be no place for either of us to weather the coming storm..."
Orar’uliik attack ship, in aft hangar of ME Rekr-class dreadnought
Utapau Orbit
Enemies: Mando Empire - [member="Vilaz Munin"] (area), [member="Silas Mantis"] (intended enemy)
Allies: ORC - [member="Fabula Caromed"] (right there), [member="Janick Beauchamp"] (flying around outside)
Connory snorted and sealed his helmet. "And here I didn't think I was your type," he said absently, deadpan. The Orar'uliik settled onto the flight deck. He'd lost stealth coming through the shield; the canopy offered an unmatched view of the hangar. Ahead, the back of the hangar yielded to an transport shaft which extended straight forward. Half a klick that way were the main hangars - potential targets or escape routes. The engines would be much closer to the Orar'uliik, with sensitive systems in all directions.
Connory flicked a switch. Anti-blaster aerosol smoke poured from repurposed vents. The goal here was to obscure visibility throughout the hangar.
“They say you're unmatched at breaking things, Miz Caromed. Back by the airlock, there's a power hammer, some shockboxing gloves, a Trandoshan maul and a KUT-42 plasma torch. Do what you do best.” Connory stood from his chair and toggled the programmable paint on his generic Mandalorian armor. He cycled through color schemes, a final test. Once he'd settled on unobtrusive green and shouldered a bag of gadgets, he tossed Fabula a nod and slipped out of the ship.
The bag held a variety of tools, a sonic servodriver, an individual field disruptor, a tweaked Bloodtrace Scanpack, data spikes, a comm set, a modified disruptor for making doors - not much. But enough.
Pau City Ground Level-->Crystal Mines Allies: [member="Ijaat Mereel"]
The man accompanying the old Jedi was deeply troubled indeed. Orn continued to smile, but in his heart he felt such sorrow for his companion. All that weight carried upon one being's shoulders, all that suffering for the lost and gone. Death was inevitable, especially for the younger species who would carry out their entire life before Orn's eyes, but for many of them it was a tragedy that they were taken in violence and strife. Orn was no stranger to war and battle, and yet he had never taken a life. "And I can understand yours, even if they go against my own. But our kind, friend, does not weather the storm. We stand between it and those that cannot." He offered the wisdom with a kind and gentle smile as they began making their way up the paths built into the cliff face towards the crystal mines.
"Strange indeed, but there is always a purpose to it. We just might not understand what it is. All too often we try to hard to rationalize its will and miss its intention." Though Orn had believed that he had come to the world to inspect its flora and fauna for his own simple amusement, it was possible that he had been sent to Utapau to help the people who lived here survive the Mandalorian assault. Or perhaps it was much simpler than that. Perhaps there was but one man he was meant to help.
"Tell me if you are willing, what stains your heart with such grief. Why do you seek to end your life here?" A sensitive subject to be sure, but Orn's curiosity was piqued. He had a desire to help this man and understand what pained such a veteran, to help him find a new path or take up an old one he had fallen from. The old Neti recognized the markings he wore, 'True Mandalorian' a term not used widely in many years. To most it was a symbol of war, but to many it had been the symbol worn by men who acted like shields to the innocent as often as swords to the wicked. The nightmares and horrors such a warrior would have seen were beyond anything Orn could bear to think of, but to seek death? That was not something that kind of man did lightly.
Fabula eyed the scan on the screen as her partner listed off toys he'd left in the rear. The one that caught her eye was that delightful plasma torch. Probably too much weight for a normal person, but Fabula was anything but normal. That thing looked like it could cause some serious pain if left unchecked. And a ship full of unblooded support staff and web-footed pilots? Oh, that would be a delicious smorgasbord of revenge.
"Thank you, Mister Connory. Jate oya'karir." She replied simply, reaching for her own cross-visor helmet. "I'll try to make some noise. Clear the area."
Looking at that scan of this particular ship, Fabula noticed she was closest to the engines, but reasoned that Connory would be doing something about that, himself. What she needed to do was move to the other hangars and deal with the fighters there. The interior of a capital ship was much less armored than the exterior, which meant that she'd be able to do some hilarious damage if left unchecked. And judging by how the ship seemed to be primarily a support carrier (at least in this instance), she didn't expect to face a whole lot of resistance. Well. "Resistance." For Fabula, these weren't lives. They were tallies. And she would mark one for every single sister she'd lost to these psychotic vermin.
After a minute, a second fully-armored Mandalorian exited Connory's ship, carrying a bulky contraption on her back and a power hammer in her hands. Her primary goal wasn't really to cause as much damage as possible, but to get as much attention as possible. Cripple the ship by making it have to deal with her, rather than by removing its personnel or fighters. Secondary goal? Remove its personnel and fighters. Personally, and with entertaining amounts of prejudice.
Fabula strolled up to a blast door and took a deep breath, her helmet's filter doing literally nothing to stop the sheer, vivacious life of the Force from filling her lungs. She stretched her arms back down into a slow Wrruushi stance, using the motion to help temper it into something more usable. Something much greater than any human, trandoshan, or wookiee should have been rightly able to sport. Then she took a swing at the door with her hammer. Then a second one. By the third, it flew off its supports and down the corridor. "Now, who's first?"
Pau City Ground Level Allies: ORC and a Bettle Borg ([member=[/FONT]"Orn Pharr"])
As they walked, Ijaat listened and absorbed what the other had to say. The direction of conversation didn't take a clairvoyant to predict. Concern rolled off the Jedi in waves, and Ijaat knew it came from a pure place for once. Others had concern out of hate, jealousy, rage, revenge or other things. Orn wanted only to heal someone he viewed as hurt and sick. For no gain, and no purpose of vengeance. His mind was clearer now, as it would get from time to time. But his life had shown him that, especially since Coruscant and the destruction of the Sith Temple there by his hand, that events had widened cracks in his psyche to painful levels. Unstable levels. Good intentions would cause terrible acts.
Turning, he nodded to Orn as he kept pace, and drew in a weak breath.
"You might think differently of me, Master Jedi. I was the one, along with an accomplice, who made Mandalore burn. I helped to destroy my home. In a fit of madness, I took pure intent and put to horrible deed. Most live their lives killing none. Some dozens. Rare few may kill hundreds. I have killed a thousand thousand souls by my actions. My mind has been unwell for years. An accident on Coruscant while destroying the Black Temple damaged it. And even through death, the damage has only become... Worse... So I seek death before I create more tragedy. And seek to undo some of what I caused as I do so."
Pau City Ground Level--> Crystal Caves Allies: [member="Ijaat Mereel"]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HcZ9kQ1h-ZY
"Ah, I see Young One." Orn's tone did not waver or change, his kind smile remained on his face. "And you think your death will bring those you've taken back to life? Or perhaps you believe others will find comfort in it? I understand your desire for an end." He turned his wooden head to face Ijaat, an unknown name to the Master Jedi, "But death needn't be the end you seek."
Orn's fingers found themselves on Ijaat's armored shoulder, a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "Death does not bring light or comfort to others my friend." Death brought on only darkness with it, for even the cruelest being with the most hatred in its heart had someone whose life was made better for their existence. Indirectly or directly, light sprung from the deepest and darkest places just as it was brought forth by the sun. "Only life can bring comfort to those we care about, and to those we honor." How many had died because of those words said to others Orn did not know, nor did he know how many others had lived and how many fathers had returned home to their sons and daughters, and how many small acts of kindness they had caused. Such matters were unimportant.
"All life is sacred young one. The fish in that pond, the beetle upon the ground. Even yours. Even your brothers and sisters who seek to do us harm." The wizened Jedi turned his eyes upward to see the clouds thick with the descending force full of ill will and evil intentions. "They all deserve life, despite what you may believe, despite what will happen." And they would not return the Jedi's kindness and would not share his beliefs when they arrived. Each and every one of the descending horde sought to destroy and decimate the people living on this world. Orn would fight to stop them and to save the people of Pau City, but he would not kill them. "If one act of good can come from something so vile and heinous, should it not be fought for?"
Three lumbering steps carried his mount to the edge of the cargo bay, and violet eyes scanned the chaos below.
His brothers and sisters, his vode, swirled and howled down toward the city, and the city rose up to meet them; as yet unbowed by the ferocity of their assailants.
Given time, that would change. He'd seen it before, and knew he would see it again. He had even witnessed it in the eyes and hearts of his fellow mandalorians, those that sided with the betrayer and fought against Ra to retain her seat on the throne. In the end, they had either bowed and accepted their fate, or fled to find refuge elsewhere. The Empire of Mandalore had no room for weakness.
Another step propelled the droid out into the open air and into a freefall, and he let its own weight carry it downward. Rather than guide or slow his fall as many of the others did, he simply plummeted. His weight and velocity making him an exceptionally difficult target as he closed the distance between himself and the child that had led the charge.
LOCATION: Pau City, Upper Landing Pads, moving towards Old Droid Factory
ALLIES: Trash Pandas
ENEMIES: Bucketheads
The sudden flashes of light that originated from orbit forced the duo's side glances into swift turns of the head, first to the sky, then to each other. Those weren't just pirates...not with that kind of firepower. Someone much bigger and badder had come for the Rim. The Rogue spoke with calm, even tone, but a sense of urgency was conveyed to the Soldier, "Halzyn, go back to the ship, gather your men, meet us at the factory...and bring Athena. Its startin' to look like we're gonna be in our element after all.." The man nodded and set his helmet upon his head, the black visor suddenly alighting blue as the HUD booted up. The man quickly turned and walked away, until he rounded the corner where he broke into a full sprint. Lights split the sky, there was no time to waste.
The Confederate dignitaries disembarked from the craft, gawking at the skies above as light lanced across it. Dax took steps forward to meet them, "Welcome to Pau City gentleman. I'd love to make introductions but right now, I need to ask you to follow my lead, it seems we have some uninvited guests." The Marshall put his fingers to his lips and blew, a loud whistle piercing the air. A moment passed before excited yipping echoed from below, and suddenly giant lizards burst from underneath the platforms, landing atop the landing pads, "Get on these, now." While the military men of the delegation did as they were told, knowing full well what the light moving back and forth between the shapes in the skies meant, the businessmen and politicians attempted to argue. Finally manhandling the various individuals onto their steeds Dax gave each a firm slap on the rear, and the lizards took off running, their yips mixed with the startled cries of the CIS delegation. Dax mounted his own lizen-creature and muttered to himself, "Hope that didn't put a dent in the deal..."
This wasn't his fight, it was merely voluntary. Just another opportunity to get on the Alliance's radar but in the wake of the aftermath on Thyferra was a good enough excuse as any. The Mandalorian Empire weren't reliable but the betrayal set a trail of anger coursing through his veins considering that they had been allies with the whole ordeal on Hex-L,49. It was proven to be ineffective because of their losses and the First Order still won. The time to enact vengeance would come but he would have to get through these bucketheads first who were more likely less intimidating under their beskar armor although always lethal. Maybe his confidence was over exaggerated but the Rogues were the pilots for the job and with this new Resistance growing, it was mandatory that their reputation was kept intact.
Jax let out a sudden yawn into the back of his gloved hand. These hyperspace jumps could be so draining but it only occurred to him just now that he had only gotten three hours of sleep straight. It wasn't something to worry about, once they got into the thick of enemy lines then that adrenaline would kick in and he would cooperate with the given mission. Leaning back in his seat, he let out a heavy exhale to calm his current vital signs which were less hostile than expected. He had been with the Rogues for a while now and knowing what to expect he wasn't going into this apprehensive. His astrometch droid sounded off a warble that made him smile a little. He had decided to name it 'Snapper' nicknamed 'Snaps' for short given it's chirpy and rather truculent nature.
"Shouldn't be long now Snaps." It was more of a reminder to himself to not fall asleep because the results would be catastrophic. In a matter of seconds the blue and white rays unveiled a vast array of stars and the remote planet of Utapau in his view. Gripping the stick firmly, his TR-20's ion engines powered up and accelerated at an even pace towards the approaching alliance forces.
People she wants to kill: Bucketheads [member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Yasha Mantis"] [member="Malika Mantis"]
People she has to kill: Trash Pandas Armour
Calina’s face was hidden by the black visor, hiding the hatred that glinted in her hers. Her jaw was tight, teeth gritted in fury that pulsed off her hot powerful waves. She was always surrounded by enemies, that had been her choice, but this? This was something else entirely. Another test, another push to see how much control Calina had perhaps? Fists balled at her sides as the mandalorian war song filled the hangar, she closed her eyes and bowed her head.
Every instinct made her want to remove the lightsaber from her belt and cut as many of them down as she could. She’d collect their helmets too and send them gift wrapped to Mara and be paid well for it, not that she’d need the money. The sheer satisfaction would have been enough. But no, she couldn’t, not today. She drew in a breath through her nose and exhaled slowly, trying to push the anger back down, to squash into a store that was so close to bursting as the song began to quiet down.
Eyes slid open at the Dark Lord’s words and she looked up at him, not bothering to hide her disgust at what he was making her do, he couldn't see her face but he would feel it. “Yes master.” She managed through gritted teeth. They were the only words she could form as she followed him to the hangar edge, glimpsing the world below for the first time, as he dropped from the hangar.
Calina’s stomach went ice cold, colour draining from her face.
This was Utapau.
This was Coalition territory.
She looked round as six transports hauled past her dragging three great walls between them that shimmered out of sight as cloaking devices activated.
Bral.
She’d need to land before they did. She jumped, using the bes’uliiks ahead of her to catch up with her master, face set. Jaw tighter as she levelled with him. She didn’t look at him, she might give something away if she did. She had to focus. This was just a fight, these were another enemy. To hesitate, to show mercy would not only earn her Kaine’s wrath, but would get her killed.
Her stomach tightened.
I’m so sorry, Mara…
She drew the force around her slowing her descent, lightsaber hissing to life to bat away incoming blaster fire from the ground.
Pau City, Utapau, Tarabba Sector, The Outer Rim Territories
Allies: The Outer Rim Coalition, Galactic Alliance Volunteers
Enemies: The Mandalorian Empire, [member='Koda Fett']
Officially, the Alliance hadn't had the numbers to spare any major forces as reinforcements when they had learned that the Mandalorians were en route to Utapau. Of course, when the Supreme Commander of Alliance Forces had heard the official decision of the Chief of State not to risk the Alliance's troops who were still undergoing redeployment and reinforcement following the numerous assaults on their territory, he respectfully told them to shove it. [member='Rayf Vigil'] and the rest of Blue Squadron had jumped at the opportunity to assist the Coalition, and Aryn's own 26th had been more than willing to follow the Supreme Commander after the betrayal at Dagobah.
The Supreme Commander however, had a more personal goal in hunting down the newly appointed head of Clan Fett. Aryn had kept a close eye on Koda Fett for some time since the bounty hunter had brought him to the Empire. While he knew the man was no longer in the pocket of the Empire, he knew that Koda had risen through the Mandalorian ranks in an almost meteoric fashion. The 26th had their own objectives in supporting and securing Pau City itself, but Aryn had a visit to make to his old friend the bounty hunter.
As Blue Squadron and the numerous U-Wings which made up the Alliance expeditionary forces made their way down into orbit, Aryn felt the ship lower down into the sinkholes which made up Pau City proper, landing among the ORC lines as the troops rapidly began to filter out and into the city proper. Stepping off the transport, Aryn searched among the troops for anyone who had seen the ship of his target, but it seemed none had, he'd gone to ground. Irritated, Aryn made his way out into the city proper, if he couldn't find the man in question, he was sure that Koda Fett would find him.
Every man had to pick for themselves what the line was.
When they'd say: here and no further.
Elijah didn't care about the forcers- in fact, he had always been rather apathetic about them. But there was one thing that Rekali had always cared about and that was family. Dathomir, Yavin, they were family, Rekali, witches, all part of blood. He wasn't a forcer himself, but this Empire had gone off the deep end. Decided that the only way they could regain what Monroe had broken was through hurting their own. How often had the Witches of Dathomir heeded the call of Mandalore? How often had the Rekalis under the Warlock of Yavin called the banners for the cause of the Mando'ade?
And now?
Betrayed.
No, Elijah did not care about Connory's child and, in fact, the old engineer was just as suspect as his wife had been prior to her death. But he cared about his Clan and the bonds that his uncle had forged with the Witches years ago.
"I will do my best to stay out of your way." Eli commented dryly to Fabula as the bulk-door crashed out of its hinges and flew through the corridor. Fethin' forcers. "Let's see about some vengeance." The Mandalorian stepped on through and the revolver was already out, Tenloss-made, beauty of a thing. The first rabid dog had already come around the corner, visor red and black, Vizsla. He started shooting- no, this wasn't about justice, justice was dead.
There was a loud clink, a shift of metal plates, a knock of his hammer against the heavy Beskar that clung to his back. For a moment he peered around in the silence of the place, his gaze shifting through the massive cavernous expanse of the sinkhole. This planet was spotted with them, dozens, hundreds. They were naturally occurring, and from what he'd been told the locals took advantage of them in every way. He couldn't imagine living in a hole, but then again to each their own.
The Massive Togorian hoisted himself up, digging his claws into the cliff face. The cracking of rocks and the splintering of stone resounded as the massive alien continued his clime. A dozen or so of his best men followed along, each of them with climbing gear furled around their beskar'gam. They moved quickly, eyes set in determination.
Then they reached the plateau.
With an exasperated grunt Aryn hoisted himself atop the natural platform, digging his claws into the ground and pulling himself up. A powerful wind pushed at him, a gust strong enough to throw a smaller creature from it's perch. He growled slightly, stepping towards the massive cave opening that sat at the end of the plateau. One by one his men came up behind them discarding their climbing gear and drawing weapons.
"They won't know what hit them."
Someone said behind him, causing Aryn's head to turn. The old Togorian shifted his weight for a moment, looking back at the man with a snarl on his face. Unlike the rest of them he wore no helmet, his disgust with the notion of a 'surprise attack' still more than plain. He had agreed to lead the early strike force, and he would do so without complains, but he would do it his way. Without a word Aryn wandered forward, his face a mask of sheer rage.
Slowly he stepped up to the entrance of the cave, and then gave a thunderously loud roar.
Battle was in his blood. Literally, his species was created on a whim to serve the Sith, a shackle his people had thrown of long before he was even a twinkle in his mother's eye. And yet here we are again, at the heel of the Sith. The young Gerosian mused to himself as his helmet fell over his rounded, scaled head. Being a Mandalorian was becoming harder and harder for him. First, with their "Cure" that had nearly killed him and still ended unsuccessful he was always under high scrutiny by his peers, and second with their allegiance to the Sith. But Mandalore was his home, and Ra his Mand'alor. He could only hope he survived long enough to see the great future Ra had in store for them.
"Pah!" He was getting sentimental. He picked up his Keldabe Cannon and headed to the hangar to meet his battle group. What he found instead was a dropship, a woman with a hammer, an angry looking Mandalorian, and their pilot. Mandalorians were already moving to engage the deadly trio.
The crystal caves of Utapau. He had been told to come here to fix the unstable weapon he called a lightsaber. Encased in beskar and with a cracked Heart of Fire focusing crystal he was told that he could mend the family crystal using the Force...And Kyber Crystals. Whoever told him that was probably insane, but he had believed him. But even for Davin it seemed there would be no off days.
He cursed under his breath as the familiar scream of falling Basilisk war droids pierced the air. A freighter was already engulfed in flame and tumbling down. The Mandalorians had brought their war party here, but to what end he couldn't guess. Maybe Dorn had bit off more than he could chew rebuilding Keldabe and that new city and they were here to steal what they couldn't produce on their own yet.
The Mandalorians had been reduced to nothing but petty raiders and scavengers with guns too big for them. He looked at his blaster and then to his war droid, still covered with a burlap cloth hunched in the corner of his transport. Fire with fire. Iron with Iron.
Location: Utapau, Pau City streets
Enemies: ME, their allies and [member="Tal Vizsla"]
Allies: ORC and their allies
Objective: Work
For the last three years or a little longer, Zesiro had found a home within the Coalition. Without even knowing it actually. A time came when a missing she was working on had her cross paths with somebody chasing the same target. Wrapping up that mission, she became aware of the Coalition and a part of them. Now instead of staying on just one planet, Zesiro had found a reason, purpose and a living.
What was coming this day was going to certainly surprise her.
The sounds and sights of the city around her took on something new. Utapau was getting invaded. She knew the sight and sounds from when she herself was on an invading side. Who was? What did they want?
Not one to shirk her duties or job, Zesiro went to find out what was going on. Her blond hair almost flying out behind her as she ran to the nearest post to check out any security footage it might have. Pulling up a live stream, she let out a sigh at what she saw. There was no mistaking the mass amount of armor and who these people were.
Warriors trained almost from the time they could stand or hold a weapon. The Mandolorians had come to Utapau.
They heard the transmission they received from the patrol of squadrons that greeted them first, but that wouldn't stop them or have them turn back. In the past, Mandalorians had become so...soft and caring for the lives of others, and wanting the Galaxy to view them as something more the warriors and pillagers.
But why?
Why had they cared for what reputation they carried in this realm? They owed nothing to any outsiders and no one else had done anything for them. The Ilum Raid, and a glorious one too, caused so many Mandalorians to apologize and pay for the damage they had done. All because they were acting as a Mandalorian should? However, the Mando'ade had sympathy for others and not for their own? Looking back on that made Vilaz disgusted and irked of the Mandalorians before the cataclysm of their homeworld.
"Send them to the depths of hell," the Akaan commanded to his men once hearing the transmission to which they all acknowledged and obeyed in fast response. Soon batteries and cannons of the dreadnought fired at the two squadrons with no mercy or remorse. They had evolved beyond after Ra became their Sole Ruler. No longer would they weep for the lives the reaped.
"Have the shields online and make this behemoth a bit more faster, and maintain the Dreadnought in orbit above Pau City. Have all pilots to their fighters," the Munin again commanded to his warriors on the bridge which quickly relayed. They were relatively close to Utapau's atmosphere, but they needed to go faster. The battle before them couldn't wait much longer.
"Sir, an Orar'uliik has been scanned and is inside the rear hangar. We have tried contacting it, but no response," a Mandalorian officer informed. It couldn't be Yasha. It just couldn't be? Who else could it have been? And how they managed to get their hands on an Orar'uliik? Rogue Mandalorians that were the remnants of Monroe's insurgency? And then music that offered insult to every living being aboard the Rekr could be heard in every corridor and hallway of the vessel.
"We're picking up three unknowns. They seem to be in....Mandalorian Armor."
Insurgents. They had be. Who else could it be with facts presented?
"Have everyone else focused and prepared. I'll deal with these pretenders," the warlord said before leaving the deck and heading towards the rear hangar as he strolled through hallways for its location. Anger flew in his veins as false Mandalorians that dared to call themselves that appeared and fought against their culture, but Vilaz would make them bend the knee
or
be
destroyed.
The rest of those inside the dreadnought would board their fighters and depart out for the cold vacuum of space to engage whatever remnants of the patrol squadron was left and whatever else of hostiles were inbound. Others would go to the hangar in the belly of the vessel to board shuttles, basilisk war droids, and gunships at their disposal. Some would engage the trio of intruders that had boarded. Bold and brave of the intruders to do such an act, but foolish. Their lives would be the cost of what they had done.
The trio had not made a quiet entrance, and with their intrusion came confirmation the Silas had been right, someone had been ballsy enough to come onto their ship. When it had been them storming the vessel of the Supreme Leader it had been thrilling, and now the shoe was on the other foot, and that was frustrating to say the least.
Regardless, within the confines of the vessel Silas was wholly in his element, where the enemy could not escape his sight or his grasp. Anger welled up inside him, he didn't need to hear the number boarding, or anything about them to know that they were Mando'a, traitors.
He would hunt them, end them, stomp out the last vestiges of the Liberator's filth from history. But again and again his mind seemed to come to Rel Connory, and if the father of the butcher's child was here, who was really the hunter? If that man was here, Silas knew why. Perhaps he'd finally decided to do things properly and come for Silas himself.
Racing towards the hangar Silas turned sharply down the vessel's halls, closing the distance between himself and the boarders as quickly as he could. Reports of only three boarders furthered his suspicions, his mind again suspecting Rel. Fear did not strike Silas, but anticipation, guilt, and rage. With every corner he rounded, every bulkhead he crossed he kept himself alert unless one of the infiltrators had decided to take a less direct approach.
If Connory wanted Mantis, he wouldn't have to look hard. Death or Famine he was not, but he was every bit a wolf. He would kill all those who stood against Mandalore, to hell with the second thoughts about the child. There was no time for that here.
Anti-blaster aerosol smoke had filled the hangar by now, cutting visibility to five meters at best. Mando helmet sensors could pierce the fog, but every little bit helped. The fog shuddered and rippled with each boom of Caromed's power hammer. Thing of beauty.
Behind Connory, a squat hexagon, like a small bunker, floated out of the Orar'uliik. A droid dispenser, it was called: a heavily-armored canister of compressed B1 battle droids. In short order, roger rogers filtered through the smoke. He'd armed the droids with automatic slugthrowers instead of their usual blasters, because that smoke would eat blasterfire alive before it reached the target.
For his part, Connory slipped through the smoke with minimal fuss. The hangar's gear and structural elements offered decent cover to reach one of the corridors. A slow grin formed as he saw a single lifesign ([member="Silas Mantis"]) charging toward him, not quite visible yet. Right where the corridor met the hangar, Connory fired the modded disruptor he used for breaching or creating doors. A swath of the deck turned to slag, maybe enough to slow or burn the charging man, maybe even enough to let him fall through softened metal to the next level down.
"Alchemist Actual, pull up!" Wololo warned her over comms, as Janick was flying dangerously close to a sinkhole wall, almost scraping it even at that reduced speed. "Are you all right?"
"That was too close for comfort" Griet commented again, while still climbing out of the hole.
As the all-too-vivid visions of the Pellaeon on Dagobah triggered in Janick's mind were taking their sweet time to fade, she was pulling up on her yoke, making the whole squadron fly nearly vertically in its wake. Close call indeed: now I have more of an idea of what kind of tricks my memory, my mind can play on me, when I'm having those visions, and how dangerous they are, she thought, while the nature of the hostile contacts became clear in her targeting display: bes'uliiks at short range, and another Mandalorian frigate in orbit, as well as a dreadnought. Meanwhile, at the top of the sinkhole, about half a dozen SAM batteries opened fire at those very Bes'uliiks, with low-yield concussion missiles on their tails, supported by half a dozen quad-lasers, so whatever bes'uliiks were not already being fired at were now fair game for the squadron to engage. So the squadron had to be careful not to find themselves into the flight path of those SAMs, and also not to be flying on collision courses towards friendlies either; now she knew that there were more than just SAM batteries for friendly contacts. Two pilots ([member="Jax Rhane"], [member="Rayf Vigil"]) and their respective wingmen, and also another force, containing U-Wings and other craft ([member="Aryn Teth"]). But she knew that, unlike an admiral in a CIC, she couldn't just have someone else open a channel to those allies.
"Wololo, start flooding Mando frequencies and just repeat Wololo once those frequencies are open"
"Roger, Alchemist Actual" Wololo acknowledged, before tuning to the band of known Mandalorian communications frequencies. "Wololo, wololo, wololo..." he chanted once he was tuned on the Mando frequencies he knew.
"Attention all allies in Utapau airspace: this is Janick Beauchamp of the ORC Starfighter Corps. Your assistance is more than welcome; there are two priority groups of targets. The bes'uliiks headed down to the surface and the enemy frigate in orbit" she signaled to Jax, Aryn and Rayf, as well as to the ATC station responsible over Pau City, before returning to her squadron-specific frequency. "All craft, on me; accelerate to attack speed once clear of the sinkhole, fire ion torpedoes at the engines of any bes'uliiks not already fired at; also make sure you're not all firing at the same bes'uliik - we only have one pass before they turn around and fire at us. Use your guns to take out the pilots if you can"
"Roger, Alchemist Actual"
While Wololo was repeatedly chanting Wololo across Mando frequencies, it was clear that firing ion torpedoes at the bes'uliiks could only achieve so much. With the ground support under the form of SAMs and quad-lasers, and also realizing that she was trembling in fear that another vision may throw her out of her headspace, as it previously had, her craft began to enter erratic maneuvers, which, to an outside observer, made it feel that she might have drunk too much Asop tihaar prior to takeoff, but not so much that she couldn't actually fly at all. The bonus was that it made herself harder to target for any enemy pilot, even though her wingmen had to keep more of a distance between each other as a result. She began locking into a bes'uliik whose engines were in view, and once the lock was established on its engines, the ion torpedo was launched, out from the bomb bay, arcing towards a bes'uliik's engines, edging closer and closer to the beskar-plated monster's engines at every step. She still had to stay on her guard, provided that she could limit the amount of erraticism in her maneuvering, yet it was easier said than done, given the unforgiving realities of dogfighting that just put her on edge all the time she was aloft.
Had Wololo repeatedly chant Wololo on Mando frequencies
Contacted other friendlies in Utapau's airspace
Had the squadron fire an ion torpedo at each bes'uliik
