Gods of Iron (GA dominion of Yag'dhul)

[Jorus Merrill]

It had been, all things considered, a long fething night. He'd burned the candle at both ends to get here from Q-27 at best possible speed, and his clothes were still damp from the archipelagic world's saltwater. Chilled and clammy, he'd dialed up the heat in the D'Lessio's compact bridge, but had succeeded only in making the air humid. His nether regions chafed horribly, he'd subsisted on snack foods since Pergitor, some wannabe feminazi Sith had parked in his backyard, and for the love of all that's holy he was retired.

Not his best white knight moment. Not remotely. But Mara was Alliance now, the Architects were no joke, the Silver Sanctum Coalition was here, and he'd spent too much blood and time defending old OP space to stop now.

The D'Lessio hit realspace a stone's throw from the enemy fleet. Massive Qektoth guns fired blasts that shields couldn't stop. Jorus considered comming someone and shrugged off the impulse. He could yeehaw if it worked.

[member="Monitor"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Friedrich Stahlmann"]

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

(1/20)
[member="Friedrich Stahlmann"], [member="Coren Starchaser"]


The heavy blast door opened with a snap-hiss, and the Protectorate's former battering ram entered the bridge of the Coalition of the Willing's command ship. Space as far as the eye could see and probably even further. Space potted with countless pinpoints of light that were distant stars, planets and other celestial bodies of note. The void would have been beautiful, almost serene.


If the serenity had not been so brutally shattered by the armada of machines that was tearing through space like a ravenous leviathan that had come for prey and considered Yag'Dhul a suitable hunting ground. For now the Coalition fleet was out of range of the Architects' enormous armada, but undoubtedly that would change soon. Personally Siobhan found herself wondering where the machines had gotten the fleet from. Presumably they did not have a second Star Forge stashed away, but no matter.


Encased in imposing beskar'gam, though she was presently carrying the beskar helmet under her arm rather than wearing it, she approached the admiral. Like many Coalition ships, the Elysium had been constructed by Firemane, so it was only fitting that she accompany it on its maiden voyage. Especially if the aforementioned voyage involved gate-crashing the harvesting operation of an army of violent death machines apparently bent on reenacting Clockwork. Is it too much to ask that Moira or Maelion be a part of this so I can crush them, Siobhan wondered to herself.


"Well, these odds are...invigorating. Maybe I should look for an asteroid to chuck," she said sarcastically. "Any word from the Alliance about the situation planetside?" she spoke when she had reached the admiral. Siobhan had wisely elected not to claim that she was in charge of the fleet. This was for the best because, leaving aside the fact that she had little clue about naval combat beyond boarding operations and occasionally crushing the bridge tower of a battleship, there was always the risk that she might consider ramming to be a valid tactic.

 

[Kix Tal'Verda]

Location: The Plaza

Objective: Get onto the Elevator

Allies: [member="Qyren Leret"] [member="Ijaat Akun"] [member="Rook"]


Up.

Kix lay against the statue panting. His chest rose and fell in a strained manner as he took in his new surroundings. It was just on time really, his shebs would have been cooked if these allies hadn't arrived. The Mandalorian never thought he'd be so happy to see Rook in his life and when the hand was offered he firmly grasped it. "Took you long enough to get to the party di'kut." His voice was stark with pain as he rose slowly and shakily to his legs, though the one that took the blast would obvious slow him down.

"I karking hate getting shot." The soldier rumbled and balanced himself before looking toward each individual around him. His visor looked particularly long on Qyren. He felt blinding rage run through his mind and snarled under his helm before reaching up to yank the bucket off.

"Bathrobe, why the kark are you here? I dove into this mess to hold them off so you could escape." His eyes, unguarded by his visor, now shone with pure hate and disdain toward the Force User. Old prejudices died hard. Mandalorian prejudices died particularly hard and as far as Kix was concerned every saber-jockey in the galaxy had done naught but hurt his Aliit time and time again. "This is a warzone, not a temple." Kix finished and shook his head before looking toward Rook.

"I can barely walk. Get me to the control room of a ship and I can do all I can. I'm not out of this fight yet." There was a steely determination plastered to his visage. It was quite obvious that being told to sit aside would be replied to with a curt no. The Mandalorian had business to finish, after all, and maybe his answers could be found aboard the ships in the sky.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Location: Elevator
Objective: Awkward
Allies: [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="Ijaat Akun"], [member="Spark Finn"], [member="Kix Tal'Verda"]

The message from Spark almost made Rook break the elevator glass and throw himself to a rather messy death. Almost. Fortunately, he could not afford to do such a thing, no matter how much he might have wanted to. These folks needed as many guns as they could get their hands on, and Rook certainly wasn't going to give up his. By that trail of thought, it only made sense that he needed to stay breathing, to some degree at the very least, for the moment.

"You've got a fetish for holonet messages, don't you Ijaat?" It was amusement mixed with a bit of annoyance, "I've got no idea what's awaiting us aboard that ship. I can only assume we'll be fired on the the moment we arrive."

Then Kix opened his mouth. Rook liked the guy -- as much as you could like a relative stranger anyway. But, he was insulting Qyren, and Rook wasn't the type to stand for that kind of nonsense. It certainly didn't help that the soldier had a bit of a past with the Twi'lek, however shrouded in nostalgia it was. He turned on the clone, disapproval lacing his words. "She's here now. Jedi are useful."

That was that. The ride up would have been an easy one then, had it not been for the nagging presence at the back of his mind. Qyren was here. He could not ignore her.

Shab.

"You're not hurt?" He asked as quietly as one could in a crowded elevator, turning toward the Twi'lek. He offered nothing else. There were more important things to deal with than unsaid words, and he needed his concerns assuaged before they arrived at their destination.

 

[Placeholder 0139]

It had taken the Monitor decades to build his armada. For a species older than anything else still trotting around the galaxy, a few hundred years was a blink of an eye. The majority of the Dreadnoughts had been crafted by the ASA on Drunkenwell before the planet was attacked by the Omega Protectorate. It was safe to say that the Architects had not been very pleased to find half of their ships torn apart whilst undergoing repairs.

Still, they had carried on. The Monitor had learned from that battle. The Architects had changed their ways. In the past ten years, they had made more progress than the last thousand. The true path to transcendence was not subtle political movements. Its power lay in the hammer, one forged with the blood and bone of the primitives that dared to call this galaxy theirs.

Those that proved themselves would be assimilated. Those that did not became nourishment for their smarter counterparts. Such was the way things had to be.

Unfortunately, at times such as this, the primitives liked to show their claws. An unrecognized fleet dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of the system, woefully out of range of the Dreadnought's cannons. Another ship appeared shortly thereafter, firing a form of weapon that shredded through the Dreadnoughts like butter. Fires momentarily erupted along the ships, then died as they were exposed to the vacuum of space. Two of the massive vessels caved inward, taking the lives of those few Servitors that lived aboard.

Unacceptable.

"Dreadnought two-five-nine and three-zero-one have been hit. Life signs are nil aboard two-five-nine. Three-zero-one has sustained excessive hull damage, but is still capable of operating at twenty-eight percent efficiency."

"So it is. Turn the ship about. Is three-zero-one capable of moving?"

"Power to the engines has been cut."

"I see. Forward all power to the vessel's forward guns. We'll allow three-zero-one to die with a war cry rather than a whimper."

The dying ship took aim at the D'lessio. Multiple turbolasers fired a single salvo before the entire ship fell in upon itself. No one aboard could have survived such a spectacle.

"Another grouping of ships have entered the system. Five capital ships, from what we can tell." The Bulwark turned his photoreceptors up to meet the Monitor's. "Continue with prior behavior?"

Another fleet. The Architects force dwarfed it, as it was meant to. What they lacked in sheer skill, they made up for with ridiculous numbers. These interlopers would need to be kept away from Yag'dhul so that the harvest might reach its end unmolested.

"Ships five-zero-zero through five-fifteen will go to greet our new friends," he snickered, "They have more range than we do. Move to firing minimum firing range, and tear their fleet apart."

"It will be done."

Meanwhile, the remaining thirty or so ships remained boxed in around the Harvest ships. Their purpose was to serve as a shield, and eliminate any resistance on the ground. So long as the Architects were busy with their harvest, the alliance and its allies would not have to worry about an unfairly overwhelming force falling upon them.

Meanwhile, on the ground, the Servitors shifted their purpose from capture to kill. The majority of the Givin had either found someway to escape, or were already aboard one of the massive space elevators. Everyone else planetside was resisting, and thus would need to be terminated. Teams were sent specifically to such locations that housed Omega Protectorate technology: individuals like [member="Canal"] and [member="First Daughter"] would find the Servitor presence switching from small, trivial teams; to a full blown invasion force.

Those who made their way aboard the Harvest ship had something else waiting for them entirely. A surprise that the Monitor wanted to see in person. Though he could not leave his post, the Monitor readied a proxy droid to greet the alliance soldiers.

They were going to have a little talk.

[member="Friedrich Stahlmann"], [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

Location: Elevators to the Harvest Ship
Allies: [member="Kix Tal'Verda"], [member="Rook"], [member="Ijaat Akun"]
Objective: Board ship, follow orders, save lives
Post: 7/20

[SIZE=9pt]The elevator filled rapidly, and Qyren stepped in, squeezing herself into a place just before being followed by the three soldiers who had begun ordering the evacuation. Hyper-aware of Rook's close proximity, Qyren rolled her shoulders to loosen the tension in them and opened her senses again. As she had expected, the soldiers didn't appear in her "sight" even though she was looking right at them. Force Dead, Alex had once mentioned. Now she understood what that meant. The absence in her Force awareness was an odd contrast to her personal awareness of him.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]With nothing else to do, she watched the soldiers in turn as they spoke, noting the strange intensity of the injured man just before he ripped his helmet off and starting shouting down at her. Qyren had heard derogatory terms for Jedi before and let it roll off her back, but the sheer heat in Kix's voice would have driven Qyren back a step if she had had the room. Obviously, there was more going on than him being upset with her for an illogical reason, and her logic accepted that, but her stomach roiled, adrenaline able to do nothing against a natural aversion to being on the receiving end of verbal conflict. Though she knew her choice hadn't necessarily been the wrong one, guilt still swelled in her.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]She wanted to tell him there was nowhere else to go. She wanted to tell him Rook had ordered her and everyone else aboard. She wanted to tell him she had never been to a temple. She wanted to point out that Jedi were warriors, not civilians, and should absolutely be on a battlefield.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]She swallowed her tongue instead and looked away as Rook offered a pale defense of her role as a Jedi; the movement was designed to try to control the discomfort rolling through her, to avoid prompting another wrathful attack in a situation already fraught with anxiety and personal confusion. In that moment, Qyren felt her certainty of Rook's identity waver.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]At the low sound of his voice, she forced herself to look up, if only to see if he was addressing her. The visor of his helm prevented her from seeing his facial features and therefore any indication of his level of concern outside of the tone and volume of his voice, but it was enough. Her belief steadied itself, and she allowed it to become fact and ease to the back of her mind for now. It was his voice; whatever questions, confusion, and general awkwardness that would be between them would need to wait.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]"Nothing I won't survive," she replied equally quietly, emerald eyes direct though her few blaster wounds burned intensely at the reminder of their existence. The scars on her lekku had been more painful when they were fresh than anything she had sustained today thus far. Her gaze flicked to Kix, and then she looked back at her own reflection in Rook's visor.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]"I can fight. I won't stay with the captives if I can help find a way out of this situation." The assurance that she would come with him whether he wanted her to or not went unspoken; she wondered if he remembered her well enough to hear it. Hearing her own resolve aloud also helped steady her and reminded her that she was no longer a backwater teen with no combat skills; perhaps she didn't have the experience of the grizzled warrior with the vendetta against Jedi, or Alex-- Rook-- with his past as a Dread Guard, but she could handle herself in a firefight and had in the past. A different skill set couldn't be unwelcome in a combat scenario from a strategic perspective, no matter the personal opinions of those in the squad.[/SIZE]

 

[Kyrana Gould]

[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]
2/20

The Admiral turned as Siobhan entered. She frowned slightly, not quite sure how to handle that second last remark. In the event she ignored it.
“Nothing solid, but it’s not good. They’re trying to harvest the people down there, and there’s not much we can do about it except take potshots from here.”

She waited for Coren’s reply. She needed intel before she committed her ships to battle. The last thing she wanted was to have half the enemy coming at her and having no way to effectively fight them.

 

[Spark Finn]

Harvest Ship


Stomach finally lifted to a normal level from her gut as the lift slowed before stopping completely. Panicked cries, sobs, and murmured prayers filled the small box as the doors whooshed open. The passengers were physically pulled from the ship by droid...sentients? In the chaos, she did two things: she disappeared into the folds of white current and stretched her mind forward, picking tentatively into the edges of the ship and into the Architects on-board.

It was nothing like she ever felt before, even the mechanics that comprised their 'upgraded' bodies were...sticky, elusive.

Screams and groans echoed from the crowded corridor ahead. It was enough to chill a hardened commando. [member="Rook"] and his team would be on board soon. Her mission was intel. Converse-clad feet carried her through the ship's maze and toward the control center. She would find the data there. Get the intel the GA needed. Just because her mission was intel didn't mean she couldn't mess with the ship's systems a little, like flipping off the gravity in the harvesting chambers.

Hopefully that would buy the people some time for Rook's team to get on board and really start causing some chaos.

[member="Qyren Leret"] [member="Kix Tal'Verda"] [member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Space Elevator
Allies: [member="Kix Tal'Verda"], [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="Spark Finn"], [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Rook"], Others
Objective: Resist Urge To Hum or Whistle
Post: 3/20

With the elevator on the way up, Ijaat shifted from one foot to the other almost awkwardly, servos and synth-muscle whining on and off. Others talked, and apparently most everyone knew each other but for him. Seemed like some sort of giant reunion in a space elevator during an apocalypse brought on by sentient machines. He swore he had seen that somewhere on a holo-vid before this, but he couldn't quite place it. Shrugging his massive armored shoulders, rolling them as if stiff, he performed a cursory weapons check, systems blinking and cycling as he grinned a bit beneath his helmet.

"Heh... Resistance is to be expected... However, they won't last long... I was killing droid armies when you pups were still chewing on buirs' teet..."

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Space
5/20

His ship had some time before he would arrive at the rendezvous with the Tiburons. He shook his head as he heard the message come through. The trick was? Now the Architects had some fighter support. “Lexi, I need your skills here!” He ordered as the turrets opened up, targeting the incoming fighters and making work of them while he rolled, his implant giving him just the extra control he needed over his ship.

Lexi was pulling in data, but at the moment? Coren had to deal with the flight group coming at him. And that meant rolling, and firing the turrets at the fighters, a spin and rotating the ShortFin on its lateral access and dropping the main drive, allowing the ship’s momentum to carry it away. A quick thought and the vessel opened up one of its pod doors. A scatter missile was fired and it broke off, scaring the fighters before making short work of two of the four.

Varying his speed and bringing the gunship about, he locked onto the target and opened fire with his triple blasters, breaking the shields and melting hull until the fuel cells exploded. Right, he was in a conversation.

“Sir, the D’Lessio is in the system.” Recognized by the guns? Coren nodded and tagged it as friendly, he’d get to that man in a moment.

“Sorry Gould, had some company. Still unknowns. My resident expert is on the ground. The ships… they seem to flock, overwhelming numbers, Imperial tactic.” Because Coren used to be a wing commander there. “Hit them hard, and fade, they can’t take us one-on-one.” He didn’t think.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]
[member="Friedrich Stahlmann"]
[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]
[member="Monitor"]

 

[Kyrana Gould]

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Monitor"] [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]

3/20
The Admiral digested the words Starchaser said to her. At the same moment the comms officer called to her.
“Admiral, fifteen of the enemy ships are approaching!”
Gould hesitated, looking at the odds. She had that many ships total, but the escorts were vastly outgunned. She analysed the enemy. Slow but steady, and when they got in range they’d be able to concentrate firepower and pick her off one ship at a time.
There was however one glimmer. The enemy had fighters, but no escorts. If she could move into the right position she could hurt them.

“Prepare the fleet for combat. Dispatch the Sentinels to flank the enemy, but stay out of range. All attack wings prepare to engage enemy fighters. Once the path is clear we will unleash the bombers, coming from above and behind them, sweep down. Capital ships will circle to keep the enemy out of range.”

She looked to Siobhan. “I can’t promise access to the surface until this enemy group is driven back.” She would have suggested boarding, but even the Butcher of Roche could not take a capital ship alone.

 

[Eldaah Aderyn]

Location - Capital City
Objective - Observe the invasion more closely
Allies - None
Enemies - None

While the GA forces were pulling back, she had another temporary goal. Her probes were showing that more and more of the enemy droids were on their way to this area. Hmm now that could be a problem, but walking slowly around the plaza, she kept a close eye on the feed as she pulled a scanner out of her belt.

She looked towards the space elevator where [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="Rook"], and [member="Kix Tal'Verda"] were evacuating from. An interesting crowd if those three were any indication, something to keep an eye on. Bending down at a destroyed droid, she scanned the remains of the droid's processing unit and other systems. Fascinating design.

"Exterminate all remaining organics," an electronic voice filled the plaza. Sighing internally, she slipped down a side alley and used the Force to leap back up to the roofs by jumping from balcony to window sill to ledge. Perhaps it was time to be leaving herself, there wasn't much more an invasion of droids on the Givins could show her. However, that did not mean she wasn't curious just how much force the Galactic Alliance could muster right now. Could they stop the invasion or would they only mop up after these droids had left? It would be something to observe and glean some useful information on this new galactic power.

 

[Roth Tillian]

Space!
1/20

Roth shook his head as the Wild Knights dropped out of hyperspace. This was insanity. What in the Force's name was going on? Massive fleet operation, that was what, and it looked like the Silver Sanctum Coalition was involved here, plus some ship he didn't recognize but was marked as friendly. So droids. That was what he was up against. Loads of droids with massive amounts of weaponry and nigh indestructible. He scratched at his forehead beneath the helmet.

"Alright, Knights. Not sure what's going on here, but blow up the droids." He shrugged and hit the comm to [member="Coren Starchaser"]

"Commander, Wild Knights have just arrived in realspace. What d'you need and what's the enemy tech?"

A squad of droid fighters came barreling their way and Roth dove while the rest of the squadron split apart to let the attackers part through them, weapons blazing. Now things were about to get very interesting.

 

[Aston Jacobs]

Location: En Route to Elevators
Allies: Galactic Alliance-Hope
Objective: Survive

Aston twirled his blade around deflecting the array of blaster fire as he moved back. A rocket was launched his way and Aston aided by the force leaped out of the way, but the force still from the explosion had shoved him forward a little more than anticipated as he rolled on the ground and then finally came to a stop. Aston took a deep breath to settle himself, the padawan rose to his feet shaking his head slightly as his hand extended outwards and his lightsaber was brought to him by the power of the force. They were closing in and Aston took off again, in a sprint. Looking to catch up to the Jedi that were in the area. He knew they were being ushered towards the Elevators, Aston wasn't sure how he felt about that particular deal.

But it was either that or stay here and keep fighting, or board the Elevators and protect those on the contraption from whatever fate would befall them onward. If he died here it would be a waste, and he couldn't let that happen. Aston came to a sudden halt, when he heard whimpering and crying nearby. Aston moved towards the alleyway and there was a little girl of the age 3 if his intuition served him correctly. Aston moved over to her, and picked her up in his arms. "It's alright. I'm gonna get you out of here." The Padawan then sped off again and thus the Elevators that were taking people up could be seen. While he felt this was a bad idea, he boarded one anyway, slightly cramped with everyone else. His hand just lingered on the back of the girls head as she cried.

"Don't worry, everything is going to be alright. I believe that, I know that." Aston said as the invisible spectrum of light was shining from him.

 

[Djorn Bline]

Location: Capital
Allies: GA, [member="Rook"], [member="Kix Tal'Verda"], [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="Ijaat Akun"], [member="Spark Finn"], [member="Coren Starchaser"]
Neutral: [member="First Daughter"]
Enemies: The Architects
Post Count: [4/20]

Despite the fact that the Architects' ground forces overwhelmed the resisting Givin and the Alliance they were spread out in divisions to do the bidding of their masters. The Capital wasn't the only hot zone occurring on Yag'dhul and it wasn't the only place where inhabitants resided in. If it was then Canal and his company wouldn't last less than half an hour. With the platoons rallying back to Canal they overwhelmed the small teams of Servitors that were patrolling the Capital finding victims to capture and send them off the high hierarchies of this fiendish organization. In truth, the clone was impressed by the forces of the Architects but he wasn't impressed by their tactics and strategies. If there was one important lesson that the soldier learned than firing a blaster rifle was that the mind was the most powerful weapon in war. Minds won battles, not weapons.

With his brain and his HUD Canal did his best to conserve ammunition, men, and energy by taking routes that led him to the least amount of hostiles. He wasn't just looking routes to avoid Servitors, but he was also looking for routes to get to a military facility just to secure Protectorate technology before the Servitors could reach them.

After running through the streets of the Capital they finally arrived at the military complex. Gladly, once entering the building there were no Servitors within the perimeter. Good, the bastards haven't beaten us to it. He gave his attention to remaining men of his company began giving them the following orders. "Alright, men, a majority of us are going to secure the perimeter while a small division is going to secure the tech from this base. And I want someone to contact Commander Starchaser so we can get some ships to get this cargo. Otherwise, the Servitors are going to take this technology by one way or another." After giving orders to the company everyone began shifting to their positions, including Canal who took a route that would led him to the rooftop of the base. Many would begin reloading their weapons and equipping themselves with grenades and other weaponry. What would he do on the rooftop? Simple, be on snipe position with other snipers in his company. They were determine to hold the front as they made their preparations around the perimeter, both the exterior and the interior.

No retreat, no surrender.

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

(2/20)
[member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Friedrich Stahlmann"]


Siobhan watched the space battle unfold before her eyes in the vast blackness of deep space. If this had not been deadly serious, then the light show could have been considered beautiful entertainment that would make any Holowood director green with envy since holovid special effects could simply not match the real thing.


A cluster of droid battleships was advancing towards the small Coalition fleet, tearing through space like a pack of hungry leviathans out for blood. Speaking of the aforementioned sea animal, Siobhan remembered the Protectorate battleship of the same name that had been constructed while Tegaea was Lady Protector. It would have been very useful now! Joining the warships were swarms upon swarms of agile droid fighter craft intent on falling upon the Coalition ships like a massive horde of locusts.


Much as Siobhan disliked the idea, there was not much she could do to affect a space battle. Someone far more adept at the art of mentalism could have perhaps helped out via the mystical art of battle meditation, though since their enemies were machines obviously only bolstering one's own side instead of messing with the minds of the enemy would have been possible. However, that required...considerably more prowess in mentalism. Besides, Siobhan was not the type to spend her time meditating more than needed!


"I'm heading down," she declared. "Get me an update on the location of the remaining Alliance forces." Without a further word she turned around and quickly headed off the bridge. Within a short amount of time, she was seated in her Adril-class starfighter and it shot out of the hangar of the Elysium into the void of space.


Pushing the engines as much as possible and accelerating, she shot towards the planet. It was just one fighter among many, but nonetheless it did not take long for droid craft to take an interest in her. Soon her laser cannons were blazing a trail as she single-mindedly. A torrent of crimson laserfire tore through a droid craft, but where one fell, there were always more. More to the point, Siobhan was not a particularly great pilot and she grit her teeth when like a giant swarm of angry insects, the droids tried to swarm her.


The computer informed her that her craft had sustained damage, she narrowly avoided a missile shooting her way, though some debris crashed against her craft. Fortunately there was space magic. Her mind reached out and her power crunched down upon some of the craft with stygian might, crushing them. In space there is no sound, though it is often depicted as if there were since otherwise things would be boring, so she was rewarded with brilliant flashes of light and loud explosions.


Her fighter penetrated the atmosphere of the planet, shooting towards the capital. Beneath here was the sight of an inferno. The city was a devastated war zone, buildings turned to rubble, ablaze in the flames of an apocalyptic invasion. Judging by the number of machines her scanners were registering, the droids were winning. The sky was set alight by a hailstorm of flak fire. Perhaps they were aiming specifically at her, perhaps at other forces, it did not matter. She tried to weave a path through the mayhem and keep her craft intact. One missile shooting her way was gripped by her power and deflected, exploding prematurely. However, her craft did not fully escape the shockwave and thus was shaken badly. As a matter of fact, judging by how badly the craft was shaking it seemed a wing had been damaged badly.


Well, this was annoying, but she could deal. As anti-aircraft guns unloaded upon her craft and she struggled to retain control, she suddenly changed gears and suddenly descended rapidly, driving the fighter right towards a battery of antiaircraft guns. Then she ejected from the pilot seat, just before the heavy guns began unloading on her kamikaze craft. For a change, Siobhan had decided to actually wear her jetpack and make use of it, for while Force Flight was terribly cool and made her feel like Dark Phoenix, it was extremely tiring.


Especially since she was not getting any younger. Her fighter was torn to shreds by the anti-air fire, then the air twisted into strange shapes as the power of the Force thundered towards the antiaircraft guns. Artillery was crushed or sent flying, the ground was warped and shuddered as if hit by quakes under the force of the shockwave. Taking a deep breath, Siobhan shot through the air. As if by chance or the will of the Force, her path would take her towards the military base where [member="Canal"] and company were currently busy.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Space
6/20

Coren and the Tiburons at it again. And they were split, he knew [member="Rook"] and [member="Spark Finn"] and [member="Ijaat Akun"] could handle themselves on their objective. What was it they were doing now? Riding the space elevator? Terrific. He did his best to get a word out, textually speaking, to the other Commander and his girl. Simple, two words. “Good luck.” And that was when he started to make sure his shields were up. Tiburon Squadron was starting to rejoin him and he nodded.

“Glad to have you boys and girls here. Keep those fighters away from the fleet until the Admiral can find a weak spot. Friendlies being transmitted now are on foot, and heading towards that enemy ship. Lets try to keep them alive too.”

He saw the fleet moving to engage, and the Architects moving to meet with them. He shook his head. “Flight three, keep an eye on anything going for the friendlies on the ship…” He then heard the call coming in from the Knights. Great, he needed more people. Tyrene was moving to help out the Admiral and they were going to make a push for the planet. Saving the world, they could recover Protectorate gear then, the fact that this world was hit so hard? The Protectorate was starting to ramp up, but the surprise was evident.

He was about to respond but was interrupted and had to throw his gunship into a low roll, Lexi using the controls to throw the composite beams at the incoming fighters, and then Tiburons Two and Three came in to fly flank. Perfect timing. They were sticking on him, and the fighters were more tuned for the high G and low friction movements of space combat, rolling like he did, the ShortFin was getting clear of the enemy.

“Welcome to the party, Tillian. The enemy is… they’re AI, networked, I think. My expert is out of reach right now. Take the fighters down, they’re abducting civilians into the harvest ships, the… ones not moving to engage, with the space elevators. Keep those alive, but disable engines. Keep them busy, its all stalling now.”

Until the Omega Pro was moring. Was [member="Aeron Kreelan"] or [member="Sarge Potteiger"] even in the system?

He could only assume that [member="Canal"] would be receiving Pyre help shortly, as they got mobilized.


[member="Monitor"]

 

[Kyrana Gould]

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]

“Enemy fighters incoming, sir!”
“Let’s clear a path. Let them come…ready the Guardians and prepare the Vortex cannons, Maelstrom Rounds.”

The swarm of droid fighters could be seen as a mass on the scanners. As the two flak frigates moved forward to intercept, it was finally time.
“Fire Vortex Cannons!”

The Vortex Cannons could fire a single shell per battle which would break in to hundreds of guided bomblets which would seek out enemies and destroy them.
And so it transpired that the shells broke up and sent several thousand guided missiles into the ranks of the droid attack craft. Many found their mark, but just as many missed or were shot down. Still, the droid numbers were heavily thinned, and that is when the Guardians arrived and added a continual volley of laser, flak and point-defence cannons into the fray.
“All fighters…engage!” the Admiral ordered, and the waiting Coalition fighter squadrons swept in to engage the now badly depleted droid fighters.

One crisis had been dealt with, but there was still the matter of the 15 advancing dreadnaughts!

4/20

 

[Malok]

When charged with the defense of one's flock and crops, a farmer is expected to face certain dangers. Some are as miniscule as common serpents buried underneath the earth...while others area a terrifying as a hungry pack of wolves. As he sprinted after the woman in white, Jaren was vividly reminded of how it felt to face the most ruthless dangers of the past. As his heart thundered away...as his stomach flipped and churned...he remembered what is felt like to be utterly terrified.

But unlike the days of old, it was not mere wolves that were out for his blood; but rather demons born of metal and violence. They wanted nothing more than to reduce Jaren and all the panicked masses to little more than memories. They had to get out. Salvation was not far out of grasp for the survivors the Vulture had fallen in with; as claimed by the Givin leading the way. Jaren hoped that he was correct in his reassuring words...and sincerely hoped that more of the droids were not awaiting. However, despite these hopes, it seemed as though fate had different plans.

Just as the group drew ever closer to an escape, their hunters rose up against them. Blaster fire rained down upon their position, prompting the woman in white to jump into action. She bought the group time. She gave them room to breathe, but it came at a high price. They had to seize the chance to flee...but in the process lost the sole source of their salvation. Jaren, while as strong as any man his age, was no superhuman. He couldn't fight off the demons as the Woman did. Regardless...hesitation would get them killed, so the Vulture urged his fellows forward "C'mon! he said, motioning for the group to keep pace with their guide.

And before they departed, the Vulture chanced a glance to the warrior that had gotten them that far. "Stay alive." he breathed, then hustling along with the Givin survivors. Their guide lead them down the paths that circumvented both the masses and their attackers. In time, it seemed as though life was in their grasp, for the further they moved, the quieter the devastation became. Finally, the guide uttered words that send sweet relief rippling over his fellows.

"There! All we have to do is get through that tunnel" he exclaimed.

At once, Jaren and the survivors took off with vigor; and all they could hear were the sounds of their footfall alongside frantic breaths. They breached the tunnel, descended into the darkness, and made for the exit as swiftly as they could. That was when the clank of metal meeting pavement stopped them dead in their tracks. A single servitor descended into the darkness, blocking the way forward...almost as if it were waiting for potential escapees all along. "Surrender or be destroyed." it said.

Chills raced down Jaren's spine. The survivors around him dismayed. Some dropped to the ground, finally robbed of all hope of making it out alive. The others were just as stunned as the Vulture, staring in disbelief until It raised its Blaster.

This can't be how it ends.

The defiant thought wormed its way into Jaren's mind as he dropped to his knees. This can't be how it ends. Again, the thought challenged the reality of the situation. The thought...inspired an ember to spark in the pit of Jaren's stomach. The utter despair. The newfound defiance. Both worked in tandem to grow this ember into something more. They kindled the budding blaze. They stoked its rise and fed it fuel. In but the span of mere seconds, Jaren began to feel more than fear and defeat. He began to feel an inferno, raging underneath his skin. This fire...this power urged him to think something purely delusional.

I won't let it end this way.

The vulture looked up into the lifeless photoreceptors of the droid and bared his teeth; raising his hand up by the urging of the fire. In that moment did pure instinct make power manifest: the droid was met with something its scanners could not detect. A wall of unseen defiance blasted forth from Jaren, crashing mightily into its chassis. Torn off was its head by the sheer bite of the Push, and down did the enemy fall.

And just as quickly as it came, the inferno was gone. In its place was fatigue and relief. They were safe. They had escaped. And Jaren? He had but one thought stuck square in his mind.

Was that...the Force?

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Location: Harvest Ship
Allies: [member="Ijaat Akun"], [member="Kix Tal'Verda"], [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="Spark Finn"]
Objective: That thing at the start of episode 3 with the droid general guy and the ship, but with less chancellor.



"I know you can."

The words were out of his mouth before he could give them much thought. The last thing he needed right now was for Ijaat or Kix to start asking questions about Qyren. Things were complicated, to say the very least, and he would quite likely find himself tongue tied. Now certainly was not the time to be fumbling over everything.

Then Ijaat spoke, and that helped to take his mind off things. The old bloke was bragging again. What was it this time? Droid genocide?

"Eh-heh," he grumbled, "I don't really know what's ahead. What I do know is that Spark is on the elevator above us. She'll figure out where we need to go." Then he was looking at Qyren again. They really needed to have a talk. Unfortunately, an elevator full of people did not afford the best privacy, and the current task at hand was far more important.

Ding.

The elevator's were two-thirds of the way up now. Fear gripped Rook's heart. His mind hammered against itself; limbs tensing up to break into a sprint. The adrenaline was coming back now, and focus came with it.

He could do this.

Spark's elevator arrived first. Rook's sidled up alongside it as they both entered the harvest ship on some form of conveyor belt. The room was massive, and quite empty. There was nothing besides the elevators, a single door across the way, and a mass Givin running for that door. The sudden force of them all made him stumble, though he managed to stay on his feet by grabbing the side of the elevator door.

"Spark!" He called out, stepping out of his elevator, "Over here."

I'm shooting Coren for not teaching her how to deal with a panicked crowd.

He tried to look through the mass of the Givin for his team, but that was proving a little difficult. Fortunately they'd all be through that little hole in the wall across the room soon enough.