He scrawled over maps, overlays and models of Galactic City. Coruscant.
It was a planet he'd waged war over decades ago, though with far different banners flowing in either direction. He was a platoon leader then, serving at the head of a tough nosed formation of Stormtroopers in 'Iron Will'. Black Platoon, 'Hellraisers'. Back then, it was a fight against Sith, it always was. Now, they returned, ankle deep in the mud and refuse of a Galactic Senate and power structure which couldn't smell their own shit if they were neck deep in it. For as long as the war of light and dark reigned over the Galaxy, so too did the war for control. The Galactic Alliance had staked its pay on being a better future for the Core. That future had come and passed and like all democracies had seen its foundations corroded and corrupted from within. Detached senators, corporate interests, perverted elites and false virtues. Every charity gala was a stone's throw away from a homeless veteran. Every proud, virtuous Jedi a strident beacon of light passed the bloated corpse of a wastrel, veins thickened with spice.
It was a rotten cesspit. In the Empire, power came from where it belonged. Respect was earned, toil was rewarded. In the Alliance and all Republics that came before it, power came from the pitch you could sell, who you could smooze. Respect was nonexistent and hard work meant nothing if it wasn't a tick in the green of the Galactic Market. Even if Kroeger led men to war to defend it, he wouldn't shed a tear for Coruscant. An altar to decadence that needed to
burn.
A plume of herbal smoke fluttered from the ember tip of his cigara, he peered over to his subordinate commander across from him at the table. Anton Cassel. A man who earned his stripes as an Imperial Officer at about the same time he had. Borosk native, proud 908th, a patch which he still wore, stitched into his right shoulder just as the First Armored Assault was affixed to Kroeger's own. He was good man for the job as this would be, like Teta, a
breach. It was an urban assault as bloody as they could get and the Iron Legion was headed for the crown. Though, hardly by his own want.
The Sith held providential value in seizing relics, landmarks and governing buildings as if it was the high court of a Dejarik game. The Senate. A military target, in a way, yes. But in the same way air-space defense assets were. Industrial sectors, spaceports, transportation networks all would've dealt a harsher blow than the objective that the Dark Empire prized. Oh well, as high ranking as he was, still a pawn.
"I think fifty percent is a generous estimate...this is Coruscant. The Alliance usually airs more on the side of taking their people out than defending it to the last but here? Their backs are against the wall...there's no choice." Cassel said to Arminius, a hand scratching through his hair in anxiety.
Explosive flak rattled at the Iron Legion's dropships as they descended the atmosphere of Coruscant in rapid ingress. He sat in the troop bay with his command squad in attack formation, wedged up with the rest of his direct commnad company. Another cigara was between his lips, the gunship rocking with the ordnance smacking against its hull. As veteran as a vast majority of these men were, there was still shakes, anxiety. Like waiting to get that first hit in a Nuna-ball match. The weight of anxiousness was heavy among them as Kroeger's eyes danced between them. One of the troopers, a corporal, hunched over before vomiting unto the floor, looking up only to find the highest ranking man in his formation peering back at him.
Kroeger hardly bore any judgement to the sight, merely flicking his dead cigara unto the floor as well, already dirtied by the man's stomach waste. Eventually he pulled his helmet over his head.
<"Demon this is Banshee, approaching dropzone aurek one minute."> The pilot said to which Demon nodded to himself.
<"On your feet!"> The General sounded off, standing up with a groan of wear and tear on his joints. The rest of the troopers joined him. He flicked away the overlays that bogged down his senses in his heads up display before he peered to his tacpad, the countdown timer to landing taking precedence over all other notifications.
He looked to the left and right, his expression concealed beneath the foreboding image of his commander's Stormtrooper helmet, decorated with the grey rectangular patterning of the Iron Legion.
He nodded his head a few times as he scrolled his gaze across the opposing rank, the troop bay doors slowly opening, the beaming red bay lights shifting to a cool green. Time to go.
<"We've got a city to burn! Dismount! Move!"> Arminius ordered, the first few troopers grabbing the rappel lines that extended from beneath either wing, slipping down the length before Arminius took hold.
He was half way down when a rocket slammed into the cockpit of the ship, sending it into a violent death spiral as he ripped his hands away, rolling violently into the tortured, urban war wastes beneath. A low groan of pain left him as he slowly managed his way to his feet. Nearby, he saw the comms pack of his communications operator perching up above a durasteel barrier.
<"Sergeant! Get me on the net with-."> He pulled him by the shoulder away from the barrier only to find his bloodied visage caved in by the blunt force trauma of the impact, teeth, broken bone, bloodied skin and wide, fearful dead eyes staring back at him. He grit his teeth, aggravated before he threw the man back down.
He a thunderous pass of an X-wing beat down nearby, killing at least half a section of Stormtroopers as they scrambled for cover. Teams with any crew serviced weapon making way for overwatch positions in buildings to provide covering fire as others bounded forward, Kroeger's eyes slowly scrawling up to take in the view of the Senate dome. Close enough to be in its shadow but far, far away from the gates.
He turned back to see a platoon of Cataphracts, somehow successfully dropped in as they laid down a brutal hail of scunion unto the enemy. He made his way back, his blaster rifle slung over his abdomen as he crouched down, running between jutting bits of cover before he saw the first man with a commo pack we could find, pulling him by the shoulder.
<"Trooper! You're with me now, do as I say and keep up, you'll be fine."> He said, pressing the man's head down with a strong grasp on his helmet as another hail of heavy laser bolts struck the city streets around them. He peered up to see the trailing purple engines of another X-wing in passing. He cursed under his breath, peering about his surroundings before looking back to the trooper with him.
<"We need to get comms with The Long Night so we can get a lay of the land and I can start to unfuck this nightmare, understood?"> He asked, referring to his flagship in short hand.
