There was naught but ashes left behind, as the gargantuan warship vanished just the way it initially appeared. The shield still held, safeguarding what remained of the City’s populace and a significant portion of the Alliance’s soldiers. Had the Behemoth remained on station, it likely would’ve suffered from the combined efforts of the coming storm and the harassment by the Coalition’s forces. But, in turn, the shield would’ve collapsed beneath the firepower the Dreadnought could’ve brought to bear - levelling what remained of New Adasta and killing everyone. Yet, for reasons unknown, the warship broke off its attack. It was but a momentary reprieve, however, as the coming storm refocused itself on the City proper.
Tycho watched as the sweeping darkness threw itself against the bastion of light, probing the projected shield and seeking entry with every blackened lightning bolt. They couldn’t penetrate the barrier, but with every strike - the shield’s strength began to wane. It wouldn’t be long until the projected dome collapsed and the darkness would have free reign on those that were once within the shield’s protective embrace. But, so long as the Combat Engineers could keep the generator working - there would be little need to concern themselves over such physical manifestations of the Force.
To make matters worse, those that were caught outside of the shield were subjected to horrors that Tycho couldn’t fathom. Through dark, arcane magics, the lightning sought out those who stalked through the ruins. Their bodies were subjected to rippling manifestations that accelerated cellular growth, causing their flesh - armoured or not - to sprout fangs and talons, alongside a hardened reptilian carapace. The ritual cared not for the person’s allegiance, as it turned allies and enemies alike into monstrous beasts. Tycho even had the perverse pleasure of watching a small contingent of Sith-Imperial Citizen’s Militia turned into these reptilian monsters.
While it was horrifying to watch, the Major knew that it was a moment of ironic and poetic justice. These people had devoted their lives to a star-spanning Empire that cared so little for their well-being. And now? They were naught but sacrificial pawns put to the sword in the hopes of claiming some form of victory from these acts of desperation. In truth, Tycho almost found himself laughing at the entire scenario. The Galactic Alliance had little influence here, and yet they were being seen as the heroic defenders - rather than the devils from the Core Worlds. They didn’t slaughter the populace because it served their goals, but rather gave them shelter, safeguarded them from harm, and even placed their lives above their own.
The Alliance was proving itself to not be the monsters that the Sith Imperial propaganda proclaimed them to be. Not through words and counter-articles, but through their deeds alone. Why would these devils place their lives beneath those of whom they were said to kill without mercy? Weren’t devils supposed to be selfish in their desires, caring naught for anyone besides themselves? There were so many questions that would undoubtedly arise from this tumultuous engagement, and all Tycho could hope for - was that they’d spread like wildfire. Those questions could sow the seeds of doubt amongst those who remained within the Sith Empire, being the very catalyst that would eventually lead towards their final demise.
While others would undoubtedly take their place, as the survivors scampered off into the shadows, a statement would be made through the Sith Empire’s death. Hope never dies.
It was with such thoughts in mind, that Tycho joined his comrades on the firing line. What remained of the Seventh Mechanized found themselves in similar positions to their Commanding Officer, as a majority of the Infantry was housed within reinforced trenches. Spools of monofilament razorwire, spikes, and all sorts of nasty surprises were situated afore their positions - as they initially expected the Sith Empire to take the City by deploying troops to the surface. While that eventuality was waylaid by the appearance of the Star Dreadnought, all of their best-laid preparations would finally come into play. Especially since the Sith Empire deployed their troops and began conjuring monsters from the unwilling flesh of those outside the shield’s barrier.
Tycho rested the barrel of his rifle on the lip of the excavated trench and pressed the butt of the weapon against an armoured pauldron. There were a plethora of targets that staggered into his sights, but as they were beyond the boundaries of the shield - they weren’t considered an immediate threat. He, along with the rest of the soldiers that surrounded him, would hold their fire. There was little point in wasting their munitions when the monsters and their Sith-Imperial compatriots didn’t advance. If they remained outside the shield, then there was little need to gun them down, as the coming and conjured storm would do it for them. Thus, they elected to wait instead.
With their weapons tracking every target that was presented to them, the combined force of infantry and armoured vehicles stood impassively while the darkness gathered beyond the shield’s protective embrace. They knew that it was merely a matter of time now. It wouldn’t be long until the first of these creatures plodded forward and breached the sanctity of the projected barrier.
It was during that brief interlude that something troubling transpired. Somewhere far away, the Alliance Brass made the determination that Ziost, and by extension New Adasta, was all but a lost cause. It seemed that through a combination of data and a series of possible outcomes, Command wanted to cut and run. They wanted to ensure that there were no more casualties within their hierarchy, as their losses were considerably difficult to replace - especially this far into the Stygian Campaign. The opposition they faced and the gross overestimation of just how desperate the Sith Empire had become were factors that undoubtedly influenced their opinion, and subsequent order to evacuate from the planet.
When the nearby Comms Officer relayed the Order to the Major, Tycho was dumbfounded. Despite everything that the Sith were throwing at them, the Alliance was holding onto the City and safeguarding what remained of the populace. They could hold out for a lengthy period of time, especially with the coming New Imperial reinforcements and the seemingly sudden appearance of a Silver Jedi relief mission. If they held their ground, the Sith Imperial advance could be broken and the tide would dramatically turn in their favour. There was a chance that the day could be won - and to Tycho - that’s all that mattered.
If they abandoned their posts now, the Sith Empire would sweep over their defences uncontested. They would steal into the People’s Tower and the Starport proper, and likely butcher everyone that waited within. They’d cleanse the surface of those they believed were naught but traitors to the cause and undoubtedly begin to rebuild. Their innocent blood would be on his hands, and that thought didn’t sit well with the Major. In truth, the man was sickened by the notion of withdrawing just because their future was dark and grim. Those cowardly milksops, Tycho mused. The Seventh Mechanized wouldn’t withdraw from the battlefield. There was a reason their unofficial motto was ‘Until the End.’
If the job was abandoned halfway through, what conviction would the Alliance Marines have to believe in? They were here to see the mission through till the end; whatever the outcome.
The man took the proffered comms device and activated the holographic projector. Washed in the shimmering hues of sapphire, Tycho’s armoured figure was transported through the arcane and encrypted technologies linking together the collective visors of the Alliance marines and even appeared on the command table of the orbiting Alliance Brass.
:: This is Major Tycho Dune of the Alliance’s Seventh Mechanized Marine Regiment. We have received the Order to withdraw and will comply with our Forward Command’s decision. ::
There was a momentary pause in the transmission, as Tycho’s eyes were drawn towards several Marines nearby. Some of them had sighed, heavily, knowing that in complying with those orders - their sacrifices were in vain. Others had taken to punching the walls of their trenches, knowing that their friends and even families would be condemned to die here. There was no chance that their remains, or if the fates were kind, any survivors could be recovered whilst they retreated. That was something that didn’t sit easy with the collective remains of the Regiment, and Tycho couldn’t help but sympathize with their situation.
:: However, :: the Major continued. :: Our present orders still stand. We will leave when the job’s done and the day’s won. No soldier of the Seventh Regiment will leave their post. We will stand, fight, and should our time come - die - in the pursuit of victory. We will not let the sacrifices of our brothers and sisters go on in vain. We will not acquiesce to desperation and disorder because the Sith and their crumbling Empire have no honour. New Adasta and her future stand with us, and we will not see the hope for her future extinguished. ::
Tycho’s words came as a surprise, not only to the man himself but those that collectively stood around him. The Marines felt a measure of hope take root, emboldened by the beacon that emanated from the People’s Tower, and the banner that was raised in their midst. They stood taller knowing that they wouldn’t abandon their comrades, and unwillingly leave the disparate peoples of New Adasta to their grisly fate. With the Major’s words sinking in, the Seventh Mechanized gripped their weapons tighter - and waited for the inevitable. The Alderaanian found himself doing the same after the connection was severed and the holoprojector casually discarded.
There was nothing more to say to those that had long abandoned the battlefield and favoured leading their forces from the rear. They weren’t the ones that threw their lives into the line of fire and hoped for the best. Their decision to defy a direct order would likely come with a string of consequences, but truthfully - at that very moment - Tycho couldn’t care less. Death was all but inevitable at this moment. Between the bombardment, the conjured storm, and the abominations that now stalked towards him? The man doubted that he’d live to see the future and inevitable Court Martial.
Thus, the Major braced himself against the edge of the trench as the first of the towering creatures began to claw their way through the projected barrier.
Jyoti Nooran
//:
