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The Prodigal Sun entered the space above Ziost, greeted by the pandemonium of battle. Ships rushed about as laser fire filled the area. Arcturus couldn't believe the plethora of ships that their forces had scrounged together to combat the threat of the Sith. They must have pulled every ship with arms into the fold, just to hold the Sith back. It was admirable, really. Arcturus felt a sense of pride as he assessed the current situation. The odds may be stacked against them, but they would see this day through.
As the other three ships arrived, Arcturus wasted no time throwing them into action.
"Commander, scramble all fighters. We need them in the game immediately. All ships are to get shields up asap, we don't need to be met with a broadside straight out the gate. Tell our frigates to hold back until the fighters engage. And get me a line to our people on the ground. We need an update on the situation as it stands."
Quintus nodded, turning to comms as he relayed orders. Arcturus closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts as they prepared for attack. He hadn't fought the Sith since he reunited with Quintus, and that meeting had left scars on them all. He had never suffered a defeat until then. And he never would again...
"Sir,"
"Yes commander?"
"Fighters are scrambled and shields are up, what's our move?"
Arcturus cracked a smile as he spoke.
"Simple, commander. For our cruisers, it'll be full speed ahead. We are going to punch a hole straight through them."
Quintus looked puzzled for a moment.
"Without the support of our frigates?"
Arcturus turned to meet him with an excited look in his eye. He had learned from his previous fight with the Sith, and was ready to give them a fight worth remembering.
"Precisely, Quintus. We use the superior speed of our cruisers to push through the blockade. We catch a ship or two in a broadside if we can, and draw their fire toward us. They won't anticipate the delayed commitment of our frigates, and will likely see us as easy targets. Once we make the breach, our frigates will move in, and we'll catch 'em in a crossfire."
Quintus smiled in admiration at the stratagem. He was a member of the old guard, and held traditional tactics in high regard. Arcturus, on the other hand, was not one to adhere to tradition. It made him seem reckless, but Quintus knew better. He gave him a quick salute, and got to work.
Arcturus took a moment to address his ships one last time.
"This is it! This is where we prove our mettle! Stick to your posts, and give 'em all you've got! Today, Ziost will be ours!"
The engines roared into action as the Prodigal Son made its way to the Sith fleet. Arcturus would see this day won. He would prove his place among his peers, and assert his position as a member of the Tal family. Today he would see the Sith burn.
She was here. That same darkness that burrowed into the maw at Felucia, the shroud that enveloped her. Her fury came in the form of the tempest bearing down toward them all. No matter. They'd have to deal with that all when the time came. For now, it was time to hunt and kill. The Sith came down in a crushing assault on New Adasta, continiuing the flood of dropships and troopers from their position in orbit before letting iron rain fall down upon them.
He didn't stand the bareness that came with riding the open topped swoop bike. Certainly not after the first battle of New Adasta, where an errant artillery strike sent the bike flailing into a blazing inferno, his arm gone, his body permanently marred from the battle. Just as his mind was.
The coming of the storm did little to dampen this ailment. If anything, it seared the realization of what was lost into the forefront of his psyche once more. Loske. He felt that immaterial tether rebuild in that moment of realization. The feeling was painful and it wrought a tangible, searing pain to his temples. He could feel an identity, a person, a soul split right in two. One in torment, clawing it’s way back to control, Loske. The other cold, enveloped in darkness, Shursia. In that link, he reached for her again.
“I don’t know...how much you can hear me...or feel me...but I haven’t given up.” He willed through the Force, wielding that long buried sentiment left for reclamation in the black cauldron of New Adasta in the wake of the first expedition to this hellish place.
His mind snapped to the reality of what was, the here and now. It was all but impossible to ignore now as the artillery sought to the valiant sons and daughters of the Alliance once more. Shades of the initial assault on New Adasta. He only sought now to hone in on what would allow him to weave his way through the heavy metal that buried itself into the twisted streets. Refaced and remapped by the Galactic aAlliance marines to create a venue to war that they could hold and maintain a means of a defensive advantage.
In spite of all the chaos within New Adasta, the Sith sought to shred it all apart at their hands. As he should've ever expected of them, the Dark Creed. Peace was a lie and as much as they claimed to promise that to their people, it was seemingly so easy to rip away.
His commo snapped a bridge with the 1st Company of the 7th Mechanized, Kal Ostan
. For the Galactic Alliance's doctrine of defense on New Adasta to work, the Sith need be led into the deeper heart of the city instead of being confined to the outskirts as they were. Maynard might have the hope of beckoning them further, having set the 104th into several small skirmish units. However, if the Sith had the impression there was nothing of worthwhile to take within New Adasta, this plan became a tricky one.
Regardless, he needed to piece together a scheme that at the very least, planted and twisted the dagger into the stomach of the Sith beast.
<"Checkmate, take the 1st Company on the 104th and regroup with the 7th's light armor. Take what you need and wither down whats ever left of the Sith armor. Move to envelop if possible. I'll bridge contact with the Galidraani, see if we can start pulling the Sith to where we want them."> Maynard commanded the way of Kal 'Checkmate' Ostan before his comms reached DECEASED Erskine Barran
.
<"Brigadier General Barran, this is General Maynard Treicolt of the 104th Marine Raiders, Galactic Alliance. I have fast attack and armored elements ready to move. Our best bet is to pull the Sith as deep into the city as we can manage we're our positions are ready to hold out. What's the status on the Galidraani assault? Their artillery strikes on the city are telling me they might not bite on the plan but hell, worth a try."> Maynard spoke, his voice still bearing the tints of a rural accent to his voice, shared among Wild Spacers and other outlier settlements. As it pertained to Treicolt, the backwater farming settlements on Concord Dawn.
<"Regardless, I want coordination established to use our fast attack to get Sith units sent down to Galidraani choke points, the 7th have Adasta locked up pretty good, we just need the Sith where we want 'em, gonna take both elements to manage it if that's a possibility, set up killing fields for these Sith f*cks. What ever we can manage, Force be with you all.">He patched through. His unit was on the move still through these perilous streets.
Alliance One continued to quake under the withering barrage from the Sith-Imperial blockage. The commanding admiral was furiously consulting with his navigation and intelligence staffs, desperate to block a clear route through the enemy lines and on to Coruscant. While their advanced defences were keeping the enemy’s attacks at bay - for now - their small and largely ceremonial fighter escort had been ineffective against the swarm of Sith boarding craft which now dotted their hull, disgorging all manners of horrors into the pristine hallways of the dreadnaught.
A glimmer of hope presented itself in the form of an Imperial Knights shuttle which docked and deployed a contingent of the armoured NIO protectors. “Impeccable timing,” Tithe replied to Rurik Fel
via comlink. “I am sequestered in the bridge, my colleagues are decanting to the escape pods and safe rooms.” A security officer brought up a vidfeed of Fel, Areyon
and Kainan
, who had linked up with Jedi Senator Jak Ross. “The crew are endeavouring to break the S-IMP blockade, though I fear it will be a prolonged delving.”
“Sir…”
Tithe turned his attention to the bridge officer who had just spoken, then found his eyes drawn to a nearby holodisplay.
He involuntarily stepped back.
Tiss’shar!
Days earlier, Tithe and a delegation of Alliance and New Imperial senators and businessbeings had travelled to the Sith occupied world of Tiss’sharl in a ploy to convince the greedy reptilian inhabitants to switch their allegiance in return for untold riches. The Aargauun and his colleagues put forward a case that would have seen the therapods reintegrated back into the wider galactic economy and usher in a new age of prosperity.
But the tides quickly turned against them. Representatives from the Sith Empire had somehow convinced the Tiss’shar to stick with the status quo, and while Tithe and his friends had been allowed to leave unharmed in the spirit of good business, the message had been clear - the next time the lizards meet Tithe outside of a boardroom he would not be offered the same courtesies.
The Vice Chancellor felt his chest and throat begin to tighten in uncanny mimicry of the panic attack he had suffered during the height of the negotiations. He turned to draw in a deep breath and bring his focus back to the present as he’d been instructed, but the looping image of the menacing Tiss’shar boarding party refused to release its chock hold of him without a fight.
As she stood in front of the bridge and wondered how to enter, she also surveyed through the Force what would be waiting for her inside. Unfortunately there were many inside, too many. Among other things, people she had met before, so she recognized the Force signature on these people and sensed the life forces as well. The Force around someone did not work, she did not yet know who this might be, but their presence was betrayed by the lack of Force. But the Red Witch already knew what to do.
Since there were so many inside, you will have to “kidnap” Tithe; it can't help her go in and start talking to him, especially since Rurik Fel
was in there too. And the man might know the woman. Even so, Ingrid now had a different Force signature; she left nothing to chance. However, because of these, she had to act as follows.
Teleports in to the bridge, assesses the place, approaches Tithe, touches him, and teleports out with him. All of this, of course, invisibly and by hiding her aura, which happens anyway, thanks to her amulet, but she did so anyway, double security.
She did so, reached out to the Force and was in there after a short concentration. Ingrid didn't know who her spy was, but she was sure that everyone would come after them. Now she could see who they were here and knew that Tithe was the one who had something to block the Force with. Felt his fear and maybe panic; true, she can see on him too. Luckily because of the gland it had no effect on the red-haired woman.
After a quick look around, she even set off, completely silent. Felt The Shaper's presence as he approached, causing enough chaos on the bridge. And the woman followed Tithe's movements and path as a predator. Along the way, she was already starting to concentrate. And when she arrives at the man, tries to touch him, anywhere, to grab his shoulder, arm, or side. It didn't matter.
When she succeeds, she teleports with the man to a more deserted corridor through which she came to the bridge. However, after the teleportation she was already visible, the invisibility ceased, the woman in her helmet and long blue jacket, with the sniper rifle in her hand, stood in front of the man; she was just pointing the rifle at Tithe.
"Bang!" said this time in a changed voice, not in her usual.
//OOC: the touch and teleportation took place with Tithe's consent. ^^ //
Zaavik's hand clasped around hers as he pulled upwards. The size difference briefly accentuated as his metallic extremities enclosed hers almost entirely. As soon as she was on her feet, Zaavik wasted no time having his hand abscond back to his side. In and out, the hand made an odd phantom-gripping motion inflecting his uneasy feeling for physical contact. The gesture was what it was regardless, and he'd bottle any further articulation for the apprehensive sensation.
A vague gesture was mirrored with either hand, fingers stretching out pacifistically at his sides, palms flashing outward for a moment. Afterwards, they'd slither into either jacket pocked as his azure regard drifted to the floor. He'd scan over the surrounding area, in part due to paranoia, and otherwise out of a lack of verbal sentiment to offer. After a moment, his gaze would return, now devoid of the prying expression he'd accosted her with previously.
"Yeah, I gathered that much." He'd instinctively shield his mind as the image of the lifeless gaze of the opposing Zeltron manifested in his memory. Yet another group of TIE screamed overhead. Sith or Imperial? He didn't bother to look up to find out. Nor when a second pass came in the opposite direction, even lower this time. A third managed to pull his gaze toward the sky. "We should probably move," he suggested in a vacuous, aimless tone. He walked stiffly, moving to a covered area away from the atrium without giving time for protest or obliging acknowledgment.
Dagon cursed under his breath. Kaska was as stubborn as an eopie; there was no fighting that. Fine, he conceded with a mental response; at the least this would not be another Korriban. The stinging feeling of helplessness as he watched Jedi fall under the sword of the Sith still burned at the back of his mind. This time he could, no, he would stay true to his oath. No matter the cost.
The Light willed it.
Seeing the rounds of cryoban fired at his companion enflamed the fervor further, darkening his scowl and strengthening the swing at the Sith's wrist; the gauntlet's gadgetry melting when the blue blade found purchase. The Sith returned in kind - a salvo of sonic blasts from point blank range. Kaska's invisible barrier rippled before him soaking enough of the blasts not to rupture his ear drums completely but enough to root him in place and draw out a wail. The warm sensation of blood trickling down from his left ear.
He only spared a glance at the Sith, a zealous gleam burning in his eyes. The taint of the dark side emanating from her psyche trickling down the threads of the Force. Its corruption dragging in the fresh memories of Dagon's clash with his brother. Never again. The Force quivered in an instant in his hand sending forth a violent Force push at the Sith. There was no precision behind it, only pure raw power. A product of his recklessness and suicidal will to deliver retribution. The tap at Sardun's Light turned to a gluttonous reach. Reinforced by the sudden surge of the empyrean, he once more lunged at the electromancer. The searing pain in his knee, the cracks in his bones and the past injuries from the duel with his brother, all impeding his control over the ethereal, his footwork and his balance creating openings where otherwise there shouldn't have been any. Yet, further pulling him into the erratic currents of the Force - a necessary price to pay for the power that engulfed him.
Aided by the Force to close the distance at an unnatural pace, Dagon brought down upon the Sith a relentless onslaught of strikes and swings, aiming to push her further and further away from Kaska and into a corner.
ECLIPSE TEAM
76TH PATHFINDER REGIMENT
GALACTIC ALLIANCE ARMED FORCES Suri Vullen
Major Stazi swept his A300 rifle across the street while he covered Suri's advance. When she reached cover the rest of Eclipse Team melted from the frontier and into urban concealment. Pathfinders were wilderness fighters but cities were just another kind of duracrete jungle. Between them they were carrying enough thermal detonators to level a cloudscraper...or a small strike group bound for orbit as the case may be. The duros preferred to think of it as 'force recon' rather than sabotage.
"Camo cloaks," he reminded the others.
Their capes weren't just useful for forest concealment. Woven from sensor scattering fabrics, it wasn't foolproof but should delay detection long enough for the Alliance special forces to breach the Empire's outer security. Morale was low and his troopers were exhausted but Sol was in good spirits. After raiding the fringes of Sith space for so long he was glad to be fighting in the Caldera. Then again it seemed like the worse things got the happier the major became.
"Cheer up, captain." Sol grinned at his second, "I'll let you press the detonator."
He pulled out a grappling spike launcher and fired it above out of sight. Duros eyes could see into the infrared so Major Stazi was confident that the cable line was secured before handing it over to Vullen.
Leon waited several moments for a reply. In the void, with battle raging nearby, the seconds stretched on. Still no response, not even an acknowledgement. Had he forgotten to turn off his stealth so the Phantoms could actually hear him?
“Oh, I’m an idiot.”
He hadn’t. With his hand stinging from smacking his helmet in exasperation he sighed. The Jedi reached for the buttons to shut down the stealth systems. But he stopped, just shy of the button. A tingling in his mind distracted him, as if calling elsewhere. Leon looked to his right, staring towards where he’d felt it. With a gentle pull on his controls, Saber Seven broke off.
The Saber Class rose above Phantom Squadron’s formation, then peeled off towards the calling in the Force. With his S-foils still folded, the X-wing hit full speed in moments. The nimble craft darted across Ziost’s uppermost atmosphere. Meanwhile, Leon reached out--both with the Force and with sensors. The sensation had gone, replaced with the nearby sensation of Fear. A group of X-wings were calling for assistance, a Sith fighter had attacked, easily out flying them. That was his target.
As the skirmish neared, Leon slowed from his full speed to dogfighting speed. The ship’s S-foils extended to attack position, displaying the fighter’s iconic X-shape. With his stealth systems still active, Leon reached out with the Saber-Class’s telepathic systems, hoping another Jedi was near. Silence responded to him. The Jedi picked out the strange fighter attacking the Alliance squadron.
A deep breath, and he was into the fight. Leon moved to intercept the Sith fighter. An adjustment here, a slight nudge there, to match their darting maneuvers. With any luck, they wouldn't have the sensor systems to detect him through his ship’s stealth systems. The opportunity presented itself, and Leon played his hand. His short squeeze on the trigger sent a burst of ion cannon fire screaming into the Sith’s path.
Cara was distracted, an expensive luxury this close to a warzone. Reality didn't care, treating her like it did most others in the galaxy. No amount of providence in her wallet could have prevented the inevitable. There was no bribing time to roll back on itself, no way of returning words to being unspoken. Standing in the the midst of Sorzus's rubble Cara--skeptic and pragmatic-- found herself palming an old tome of so called "magik." Frayed and caked with grime its linen jacket crumbled with a light brush of her thumb, the parted threads revealing a leather cover titled in the Sith alphabet. Din from Ziost's ongoing battles were little more than murmurs as she turned the book over.
I do not give two karks about any empire.
Blue eyes, set in a determination familiar to the young, shined with unbridled emotion. Cara winced with the memory then jerked her attention to the fellow few who would be aiding in the restoration and salvaging of Sorzus. Shamira's muffled words threatened to return, parts of the encounter trying to play simultaneously. Cara didn't need the remake, she didn't even like the original.
Why can you not accept--
She barked a quick order to the legionnaires, forcing the thoughts to pause.
"Get that transport ready! We've prepped the schematics and shall return at a later date. Tell Lady Raaf it'll be a simple--" near the transport, a legionnaire received orders over holodisc, "...operation. Legionnaire Marc?"
The legionnaire snapped to attention and gave a nod of his helmeted head, "Doctor, we're being rerouted. Dunno if it's the 'storm' or jammers ma'am, but from what I heard two sections got chitty comms and lost contact with their forward unit. They were keeping things tidy near Lady Raaf's locale. An abandoned comms tower in Adasta can be rigged to boost their signal ." "And that of our opposition."
"...yes doctor."
"How grand," with the sarcastic answer she turned from him. "We will do as they need."
--that maybe, possibly, you...
Another memory. One hand wrapped around her forearm, the other tugging at the sleeve of her coat. She tried to shoulder the scene and move on, just as she'd done with the young woman.
...are the most important thing in my life. That I need to help protect you?
It hit as raw as it had the first time. Cara sighed, her head bowed as she massaged her temple. Turning back she started another order to the legionnaire, paused to regain her voice, then continued,
"But we will not pursue combat. Set up communication then leave, nothing more."
P U N I S H E D _ S N A K E NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ZIOST | NEW ADASTA
TASK FORCE IMPERATOR | BATTLEGROUP ‘SNAKE’ ARMOR | PRIMARY | SECONDARY | MELEE | GRENADES
The entire design of New Adasta was a far cry from its former glory as much of the city's infrastructure was in ruins. Debris from toppled buildings littered the streets, perfectly constructing some sort of maze as there was no clear line to simply advance forward. An insufferable task for the armor and mechanized units to maneuver in, and slightly so for the infantry. An ingenious strategy from the Alliance tacticians to weather out their besieged position from the Sith, although it did act as a double edged sword for the Imperials to make any sort of progress towards the perimeter of the inner city.
That and whatever resistance they found from the SIMPs with firefights and skirmishes prolonging their advancement.
The Imperial commando had his own fights along the way, as his unit of Scout Troopers and Storm Commandos encountered a mix of militia and professional soldiers from the Sith. Firefights he knew he withstand, and not anything out of their capacity.
However, his ire wouldn't be prejudiced towards those that raised arms against him and his men. No, his orders were to kill on sight anyone that wasn't a confirmed ally and that extended to the civilians that lurked around the outskirts like rats. Was it wrong? Cruel? To others, yes. To him? It wasn't. He remembered Dantooine quite well. An operation that was nothing but humiliation to him as they couldn't oust the Darkness that leached onto it, recalling to the unapologetic tactics the Sith employed of arming civilians and doing nothing to evacuate them, an effective way to impede the New Imperials as those with a moral conscience followed the rules of engagement set by Irveric.
And it costed them dearly.
He wouldn't let that mistake happen again, his only reasoning on indiscriminately killing anyone that wasn't part of the ranks of the Iron Sun and the Starbird. To Djorn, they were nothing but a plague; an infestation that did no favors for the Galaxy. They indoctrinated livestock that pledged unwavering fealty to the Sith, going above as worshipping them and poisoned with lies that compromised their sense of reality. A false truth, a false peace. Anyone living and preaching those kinds of ideals were scum, and deserved a blaster bolt between their eyes. It was necessary, didn't matter if it was a necessary evil or a necessary good. It just had to be done.
Snake was already thrown to hell, but he was going further. No doubt, his orders and how he engaged on the battlefield would be frowned upon, but he did it for the future. A future without a demented Empire that existed from countless acts of atrocities.
<"Snake! There's a distress call from one of our comrades nearby, Commander Kor from Demon Company. We are one of the closest units to him, apparently he's leading the charge in the front lines.">
<"Rally the men, we'll give him a hand. Let's move out and not waste time.">
Fighting on the front lines wasn't something he was keen on, much preferred to be a thorn in the side of the enemy and ambush their weaker flanks. Fighting on the front was just rubbing one's face into dirt and blood, but that didn't bother him.
A neutralized droid presented themselves to Snake, firing a salvo of particle bolts at the machine that exploded and tore the droid.
<"Kor, this is Snake. Kept you waiting, huh?">
<"We're gonna need more arms than what we've got, who else we got backing us up? The Boss?">
//: Captain Save a Corellian //: Jyoti Nooran //:
//: Enemies //: TSE //:
"LC! They're back!" A voice echoed over the civilian chatter. Allyson quickly received the message and shot her coordinates through the secure channel.
<Safety to Velvet - Got lots of civilians able and hurt with a small unit of commandos. Hurry.>
Pushing herself upright, she grabbed one of the snipers she had procured from a dead Sith Imperial. Slinging the weapon over her shoulder the best she could with her able hand, Allyson used the force to push down the pain she was feeling. Already she felt tired, but running on the fumes she was - she didn't know how much longer she could last. The small group that she had collected depended on her to lead, which wasn't a position she immensely enjoyed, but here they were. "Gunner, get your guys to the northern part of the building and cut off the attack." She issued the order quickly while turning to the medical commando. "Get the civilians into cover, use the rubble, anything - this one sounds pretty bad, but help is almost here." The woman nodded and started to gather the able bodies to help cover the wounded with the tables and loose rock. If anything, that would protect them from anything more.
Allyson pushed her way through and took the western front of the building. She knew the Sith had been attacking from the north, but with the break between the constant attacks, she figured they had done some reconnaissance to see where the small compound's weak points were. Using one of the window pains, Allyson set up a remote camera feed that would loop back into her cybernetic eye. After settling the sniper on its tripod in the doorway, she removed the cloth eyepatch from her implant. The feed bounced between the window and her own sight as she waited.
It seemed her assessment was correct. A small band of Sith Imperials had moved towards the west and attempted to ambush. A grin spread across the woman's face as she quickly fired the first couple of shots. Each burst of the weapon impacted the troopers' heads; they fell instantly and caused confusion with the others. Their formation tightened, and she waited till they drew closer, mechu deru flowing through the weapon; she increased the power the shot would pull from the power source.
Another shot fired, this time the beam bursting through two of the troopers heads cleanly. Both fell, and chaos ensued, their ranks breaking for just a moment.
It was needed; Allyson needed to give the rifle time to recover from its overpowered shot.
//: 'Partner - in - Crime' //: Marcis Sorr
//:
//: Allies //: GA & Friends //:
//: Alliance One //:
The deep baritone voice continued singing in the background, "My FIRST my LAST...MY everythaannngggg"
"Stuff me in a closet?! That's rude." Viers continued on the bed as she moved about it making sure she never lost sight of the Echani boy. He seemed determined to shut her up for some reason. Maybe he was an assassin assigned to kill the person that this room belongs to. A part of her wondered if she shouldn't have interfered with someone with this odd of taste might be better off being crossed off. The very out there room, along with the half-naked photo of the man that she had missed entirely when she entered, she nodded.
Yeah, it might have been better if she didn't interfere. Still, whoever this room belonged to, they weren't there, and she was here with a sith assassin. "You stay where you are." Viers quickly grabbed one of the thousands of pillows on the bed and started to throw them rapidly at the boy. As she threw them, she quickly came upon an ornate box.
The pillow onslaught paused for just a moment as the padawan grabbed the box and shook it violently. Doing so must have activated whatever was inside as the box started to make a low humming sound and shake. Viers dropped it and let it be as it bounced and vibrated on the bed. Maybe it was some sort of weapon inside, but she wouldn't bother with it for now.
Another flurry of pillows was launched towards Marcis until she heard a metallic clank. Her face lit up as she grabbed the fuzzy animal print handcuffs. Showing them to her opponent, she cackled and shook them.
"Ha! You're the prisoner now! Gonna lock you up in a deep dark dungeon, with shackles and stuff!" The bed continued to rotate as Viers attempted to try and find a way off of it. Whining as she continued to be foiled by the rotation, she looked at him and shook the handcuffs again. "Just come over here so I can lock you up to this bed or something?"
Blaster bolts filled the dusty streets of New Adasta as Marxon shouted over the roar of his rotary cannon, a hail of azure bolts scattering motes of dust and smoke that clouded the space between him and the enemy as he laid out a suppressive field of fire. He still had yet to determine who the hell it was that they had been assailed by and their numbers, whether it be Sith military, angry local, or perhaps some combination of other things; regardless it was a danger to his men. Marxon widened his stance as he tilted his head to the side, just narrowly avoiding getting shot in the face by a blaster bolt as it grazed his helmet, the captain letting out a growl.
A trooper continued to drag his injured friend to cover as Marxon was holding their retreat down, the troopers in the squad taking up defensive positions. The armor had taken most of the damage, but the wind had still been knocked out of him with a direct blow to the chest. A familiar beeping sound was heard as a thermal detonator was thrown, bouncing past them as the squad medic watched it roll a distance away. He'd lean forward as he covered his injured friend, wrapping his arms around them and covering them as the detonator went off. Rubble and debris would be sent flying as they grunted, a chunk of duracrete bouncing off their back, having been just barely out of the blast radius.
Marxon winded his rotary cannon down as he turned to the nearest trooper and spoke, " Alert command, let them know Nexu has engaged hostiles and require immediate assistance. We'll funnel them further into the city to funnel their approach. " One of the troopers would nod as they got on the comms and started to relay information to command before perking up as they spoke, " Command acknowledges, reinforcements from NIO are present and deployed, proceed to bait and snare. General Treicolt is also en route to intercept the enemy. " Marxon nodded as he thumbed the trigger to his rotary cannon firing a few seconds of fire before lowering it and raising an arm up to gesture to the troops presently with him, " Move it Nexu, on the double! Pull back so we can blindside these Sith karks. "
Perhaps with the arrival of friendly reinforcements things would be different this time around. Even then Marxon was deadset on killing as many of these Sith bastards as he had ammo for, and he had plenty to share.
“I’m not surre how much guarrruntee there is that we’ll live.” Maijan offered, smiling without humour while the other lady laughed. It sounded necessary, but the Task Force operative found nothing particularly funny about the direness of their situation. Maybe because she hadn’t been living in it as long as Captain Giraan.
Whether she lived or died was of little care to her handlers, and how much information she chose to give was...entirely up to her. If she said the wrong thing, that little bomb in the base of her neck would erupt and reduce her to a smoking heap of flesh, guts, and bones.
The fallanassi maestro gave a slow nod, indicating she heard the captain.
With a gentle twitch of her index and middle finger, there was a swell of light from the location Teica had indicated. As if the weapon systems of the illusion were fully online and had acquired a target to fire on –– to draw the attention as something that needed to be disabled by the Sith’s fleets as a distraction. The luminescence gathered and grew, blossoming into an emerald spectacle before firing into the opposition. It would do no true harm, but she’d do her best to replicate the skittering of the plasma across shields; with no recorded damage.
One golden eye opened when she felt the silhouette of the captain maneuvering through the folds of the White Current. Just in time to see the invitation to follow. Something in her gut shifted. She’d never held an illusion this complex while mobile –– and this was not a wise man’s practice ring. This was high stakes, high pressure. If even the faintest undulation happened out amidst the stars, the Peacemaker could be further compromised.
A risk Maijan took for her own hubris.
Slowly, with an exhale, she clothed herself in confidence and rose. One foot after the other, keeping a slow pace. Her eyes were closed again, fully immersed within the White Current’s ebb and flow.
The reality of her illusions remained uncompromised, and she felt a swell of pride grow behind her ribs and in her throat. Then it tightened in warning.
“I can’t go any furtherr.” She admitted tentatively, upset with her own constraints. “Not if the rreality of these arre to be upheld.”
She shouldn’t have dropped out of school at Carratos.
DT-0800 pressed the attack, knowing his primary target was within the walls of the building Nonetheless, his finger did not cease from the trigger. As it went from firing blaster bolts to ones that had packed in more heat, close to incendiary rounds. His vision scanning the support beams of the building. She could do her best to hide, but either he would get her, or he would bring the building down on top of her. Either one would have gladly sufficed his mission parameters. For all he knew he was the only one standing on the battlefield, the rest must have started to move deeper into the city. Regardless he kept up the attack.
The Amalgam herself was not easy for anyone to kill. At least those that used the Force, for the Dark Trooper he looked forward to testing himself against her, confidant in what the Trade Federation, and Republic Engineering had designed him for. If he couldn't meet his primary function this day, he would become useless, there would be no reason for him to exist if he couldn't kill high-priority targets such as the one he was unloading his chainblaster on this very moment.
His vision magnified, the sensitive information being sent through his HUD of all the data he could see within the vicinity of his firing range.
Scanning for possible tactics and solutions...
Building integrity at 35% Support beams critical....
Tactic found: Close encounter initiative 101
Activating Pocket Dimension...
One of the greatest design strengths added to the Dark Trooper was able to manipulate space around him, where he could appear at someplace a little far from where he was standing but not at a great distance. Making the Dark Trooper a more dangerous threat to appear in and out at will. Although a limited tactic and at times with glitchy effects.
The pocket dimension opened with sparks of lightning and in a flash DT-0800 was gone from where he was, and when the lightning resumed, be it inside or outside the building on where his target had been. He emerged only a few feet from her. The chainblaster still within his hands. He spoke to her only once. "I've been waiting for you..." He said as he didn't want to give her a second of more time than he already did. Walking with a heavy step yet quick pace.
He raised the chainblaster, but rather than use it for a ranged attack. He acted as if it was a blunt instrument. Using to with such harsh power to bash against her skull, then onto her torso, in an attempt to knock her down and gain the upper hand.
When the transmitter was replaced, after having stolen a unit from the returning Command Juggernaut and replacing the burnt-out wiring, the Strategy Centre came alive with countless transmissions. Until then, the Alliance relied solely on their Outriders and short-range communicators to keep the defence perimetre alive. It was an archaic practice, but it was enough to keep the Marines and their counterparts in the fight for the time being. The transmitter on the People’s Tower was only strong enough to transmit one data burst through the Sith-Imperial armada before fusing the connector ports and firing the entire system. Such an outcome was expected, as the Sith Warships previously attempted to jam any outgoing transmissions from the surface.
But, as a single transmission managed to punch through? Well, that resulted in the events unfolding before their very eyes. The Alliance was reinforced by the forces of the New Imperial Order. Instead of facing their almost inevitable demise - there was a chance they could triumph against the odds. That alone was enough to collectively lift the spirits of those within the Strategy Centre, which in turn, was communicated throughout the entirety of the Alliance detachments on the surface. For days, Tycho had told his soldiers that help was coming. That all they had to do was hold their ground until the end. And, for all his lack of being a skilled orator, the man’s words and promises came true. Help had come, and the tides were slowly turning against the Sith and their Empire.
As the Major answered the first incoming transmission, Tycho became aware of what was transpiring outside the City Walls. The Sith were setting up artillery lines and seeking to carpet the Outer Districts with hellfire. Considering the damage wrought upon the City nearly three weeks ago, it wasn’t surprising that they’d seek to flatten what remained. They’d likely replace the slaughtered populace with a fresh batch of strand-casted patriots who knew nothing but unswerving loyalty to the Empire. Not only that, but every building would be printed in their orbital factories. Making the Alliance’s efforts to reshape New Adasta in their favour all but a distant and forgotten memory. It was even more likely that the bodies of his fallen soldiers would likely be reclaimed and broken down before being injected into the foundations of those newly erected spires.
Just another evil deed to add to the Sith Empire’s ever-growing tally.
However, as such unspeakable evils had yet to transpire, Tycho quickly rifled that evil thought into the recesses of his mind. It was far from healthy to let such dark thoughts fester, especially when there was a war to fight. With such notions cast aside, the Major cycled through the incoming transmissions. He watched as the relayed data was uploaded to the holo-table before him. The New Imperials were making good progress against the Sith-Imperial forces. Their flanking manoeuvre left the Sith Empire in a terrible spot, as they were almost virtually surrounded by hostile powers. With charging soldiers on the northern approach and mechanized units to the south - the Sith were seemingly trapped upon the western front.
If everything went according to plan, which everything so far had surprisingly done so, the Sith Empire would be forced into the reshaped labyrinth of New Adasta. It was the only place that was really safe for them now. There were roving elements of Sith Milita that stalked the Outer Districts, which would likely give their Imperial cousins a much-needed boost in numerical superiority. Not only that, but those advancing hostels would then benefit from the cover that the sundered City could provide. They’d be able to establish a more effective defensive perimeter as they pushed deeper into the ruined metropolis. But, that would be a risky tactic - as who knew what ‘improvements’ the Alliance made to the City in their absence? If the Sith Empire’s ground forces were commanded by a competent officer, they would undoubtedly recognize the terrible situation they were found in.
If they remained outside the City, they were leaving themselves open to attack. Not only from the New Imperial forces advancing towards their flanks but also from whatever assets managed to break away from the ensuing Orbital battle. Tycho smiled as his thoughts gave way to the idea of the Sith Imperial forces being the targets of an orbital strike. It would be petty in the grandest of senses, but such tactics mattered little when it expedited victory. But, if the Sith Empire moved into the City… well, it would be much harder to coordinate with their spatial reinforcements. As one wrong turbolaser strike could level an entire district if they weren’t careful.
“We’ve received word from the Graug Hunters,” a nearby Adjutant stated. “They’ve finished sealing up that massive sinkhole near the Inner District. With their long-range comms restored, they’re asking for redeployment orders.”
Tycho nodded before pulling up their transmitted telemetry. With a tap of his armoured finger, the man’s mind worked out all of the potentials and where those soldiers would benefit his mobile defensive lines the best. The soldiers along the western front were taking a pounding as they were subjected to enemy fire from both armoured units and artillery. They wouldn’t hold out much longer if they remained where they were. Even reinforcing them would do little good, especially with those artillery pieces still online. But, if the Major ordered that those units withdrew - they could rally at a nearby waypoint with additional support. Not only that, but the Sith Empire would likely capitalize on the withdrawing opposition.
While the enemy commander was an unknown variable to Tycho, there was a chance that they’d see their opportunity as one they couldn’t refuse.
“Dispatch the Graug Hunters to District Three. Have them link up with the Infantry and the Fourth Company and their Outriders. I’ll be ordering them to fallback momentarily, and I want our Troops to be there when they arrive. Order the Seventh Armoured Platoon to relocate to District Three as well. Our Fighter Tanks and Walkers moving into position would be a welcome sight to the Fourth.”
“Aye, Sir!” the Adjutant answered before delegating his officers to communicate their commander’s orders.
“Any word on those relief ships?” Tycho asked the room, knowing that someone within his Staff was seeking to coordinate with the newly arrived reinforcements. A moment of muffled silence passed before a nearby Officer spoke.
“They’re waiting for a safe transit corridor before making the trip planetside. With the Sith Imperial forces arrayed in high orbit as they are, it’s unlikely they’d make it through unharmed. We need those ships to take off after they land.”
Tycho nodded once more. “Very well. See if we can coax the New Imperials or any Alliance forces remaining in orbit to punch through the Sith Imperial lines. We need that transit corridor open, lest the Sith bomb their own civilians again.”
It was then that the Officer twisted a few dials and allowed his fingers to dance across his station’s terminal. The man sought an open channel that wasn’t rife with the static of jamming or spatial interference. Once found, the Officer hailed both an Alliance Vessel and their New Imperial counterpart with focused, tight-beam data bursts. As the connection encrypted and stabilized, the man spoke to their respective comms officers, relaying the information that the Major requested. :: Attention Alliance and New Imperial vessels, this is the Alliance’s Seventh Mechanized Regiment calling from what’s left of New Adasta. The Seventh requests a- ::
Tycho stole himself away from the hololithic display and approached the nearby Comms officer with all the alacrity his armoured form could muster. Something else came to his mind as the officer opened the channel and couldn’t allow his words to be mistaken or mistranslated.
:: This is Major Dune of the Seventh Mechanized. Requesting Sit-rep on the orbital battle. A transit corridor needs to be maintained to evacuate the populace from the Starport, as the Sith Empire are starting to saturate the Outer Districts with artillery. We need these non-combatants out of here as soon as possible. :: He paused, partially to wait for a response, but in truth - it was to gather his thoughts. Once attained, the Major continued. :: Also requesting a danger-close orbital strike on soon-to-be transmitted coordinates. I want those Sith Imperial bastards driven into the City by any means necessary. Outer Districts are controlled by Alliance Forces, with New Imperials converging on the Western approach. Be sure to double-check your targets and watch out for any interference from the coming storm-front. ::
When finished, the Major handed the headset back to the Comms Officer, who stared at Tycho blankly. “ We can’t even be sure that all of that got through,” the man said as he accepted the headset.
Tycho’s eyes narrowed in response. The man was right, as there were elements of disruption in play. However, with the newly reinstalled transmitter - there was a chance that his words could’ve made it to the starships in orbit. If they did? Well, they could likely offer him some much-needed support and drive the Sith Empire into the guns of his redeploying forces. That would not only expedite their victory - but ensure that the surface would be cleansed of hostile combatants.
“Do what you can to make sure it was,” the Major snarled with a pointed finger. “If the Sith Empire’s taken to flattening their own City, I want to make sure they’re inside when it all comes down.”
With that command given, Tycho returned to the holo-table. They’d have to do everything they could to keep those citizens alive. Through them, the future of the Sith Empire was likely sealed. If they survived the coming battle, their stories would spread throughout what remained of the Empire. They would detail how the Sith Empire callously sacrificed them to garner some form of victory and how the Alliance gave everything they had to save them from such a grisly fate. The stories and propaganda that the Sith spewed would be viewed with great disdain and treated as nothing more than desperate words from a crumbling Empire. Who were all too eager to grasp onto whatever tenuous grains of power remained.
From there, the fires of rebellion would spread - sparked by the catalyst that the Alliance sought to nurture. While such a future was uncertain, the possibility of wide-spread upheaval was too good a chance to pass up.
As the rest of his Command Staff set themselves to the task, Tycho inserted a new directive into the mix. The coming storm-front was a danger to all present. Situated as they were - it was unlikely that anyone outside of a shielded bubble would be able to defend themselves from the coming darkness. While there were Jedi on the surface of Ziost, who knew what they were doing? The man could only hope that they were rising above their station and seeking ways to combat the coming storm. However, it was his duty to have a contingency in play should they fail.
Thus, the Major began to think of all of his options. That was when it struck him. The Alliance managed to punch through the City’s defences long before their shield generator had a chance to activate. Something that should’ve triggered a red flag in his mind nearly a month ago but was pushed aside in favour of alacrity. Who knew what state it was in now, especially after the Sith used both their orbital laser batteries and their kinetic mass-drivers to stitch the surface. But that didn’t mean his Combat Engineers were karked-out of luck. There was a chance that it’d be salvageable and serviceable in some fashion.
“Get me a secure comms line to Captain Kale. I’ve got a Sith-Imperial shield generator for her and her people to bash into shape.”
~-~*~-~
The Command Juggernaut, previously regulated to evacuation duties, had finally returned to the Central District and the People’s Tower thereafter. The vehicle and her crew oversee the departure of a couple hundred civilians that were reclaimed from one of the few remaining underground shelters and were directed to join the masses at the Starport. From there, the long-range transmitter was scavenged so that the fused emitters and circuits of the People’s Tower could be replaced.
The 7th Regiment on the Western Approach - Outriders with Recon Walkers and infantry units start to withdraw deeper into the City, leaving room for the Sith Empire to advance in their absence.
To be detailed in the next post, but as per Valen’s last response - the Sith Empire is making in-roads towards pushing through the sundered outer walls.
The Graug Hunters, having sealed up a massive sinkhole with carbonite weapons, moves to redeploy to the City’s Western Front, where they’d link up with the Seventh Armoured Platoon and the withdrawing Fourth Company. The preparation’s for the Sith Imperial advance into the City are being laid, and all that remains is to force a majority of their forces into the City - so one of their many traps could be sprung.
The Transmitter in the People’s Tower is fixed, giving the Strategy Centre back its access to Long-range Comms. They acknowledge the presence of New Imperial forces and seek to do everything they can to coordinate with them. All-the-while Major Tycho makes two-fold requests from the New Imperial and Alliance Naval assets engaged in orbit.
He requests a sitrep on relief ships, as the people in the Starport become agitated at the news the Sith Empire’s shelling the City. They likely believed their people would continue to support the notion that the Sith Empire was here to save them, but after the events that transpired in the last invasion - they remained within the Starport.
The Second Company does what it can to calm the populace and reassure them of their safety but doesn’t open fire in any capacity as Alliance Marines don’t kill civilians. Save for the Sith Imperial Citizen’s Army, as they’re classified as Hostile Combatants in unmarked uniforms, which is another war crime to tack onto the Sith Empire’s ever-growing tally.
Tycho also requests a danger-close orbital strike on the Sith Imperial artillery from both a nearby Alliance and New Imperial warship. Their sensors are powerful enough to know that a ship’s there and it’s friendly but cannot determine anything more than that. Due to the interference of the coming storm-front, however, it’s possible that the spatial disruptions - and the inevitable jamming that’s present in most space battles - might cause some details to be omitted.
I was awoken to Spits kicking my leg. He wanted me to get up, and I had realized that I had dozed off during the brief. We had already unloaded the transport, and we were about to start moving in. We only had a couple of hours to move, so we couldn't waste any time. The other guys in 1st Company were loading the extra munitions on the lifts so we start heading out, but there was something for me.
During training, I had randomly chosen "Communications Private" as a specialization I would like to go into because I didn't know what I wanted to do. It was my third choice. They still made me take the course. It wasn't too challenging and I figured the ins and outs of proper comm network communications, so it was useful, to say the least. But once we got out into the field again, I thought I would never use the junk I just learned because it was never brought up again. But from what Spits was telling me, my skills with the comm network were needed. It wasn't hard to operate, so I didn't understand why I needed to do it, but nevertheless, I did it anyway because I needed to get off my ass. Stepping up the transmitter, I waited for the identification of the caller. From one of my fellow soldiers, I learned that it was General Treicolt of the 104th who was summoning me. What did the 10th want with us? I opened the receiving end of the channel and the General spent wasted no time giving the orders.
<"Checkmate, take the 1st Company on the 104th and regroup with the 7th's light armor. Take what you need and wither down whats ever left of the Sith armor. Move to envelop if possible. I'll bridge contact with the Galidraani, see if we can start pulling the Sith to where we want them.">
"Understood sir. It will be done." I replied, and his voice was out of our ears.
I chuckled. Surprisingly he knew the nickname I was given during my training phase. Everyone else called me by my proper last name, so it was nice to hear the alias again. The captain had overheard the transmission and already was barking orders at the company to get squared away to move.
My hands started to shake and my brow started to sweat. We were finally going to see action. The only action that I had experienced before this was the practice simulations. The vets always remembered to tell us after each round of the sim that no simulation would prepare us for the real deal. I called it poodoo and kept moving but something inside of me told me he was right. It wouldn't. The death of a fallen comrade, the smell of tibanna and corpse, the fear of running out of ammo. It could be recreated in a simulator, but it would never emulate the real battle. I came to terms with that fact a while ago on the transport. Some of the guys were still hesitant to form up, their fear hadn't subsided just yet.
The captain pulled me aside. He told me a couple of transmissions had to be made to high command because of the runner that had magically appeared to the forefront. "4th Company is being hammered and they need some reinforcements to back them up. My plan is to split up 1st Company and give them some relief, but we need to let the Major know first." He told me. I nodded with no words as I got the channel linked up. As soon as the line was clear I relayed the message.
"Major Dune. This is Private Ostan reporting that 1st Company is being split into 2 parts in order to reinforce 4th Company's retreat. The other half of the 1st Company will rendezvous with General Treicolt and the 104th."
The Major gave us the approval to split the company and wished us good hunting, and the comms went silent. The Captain then told me that Sergeant First Class Osciella and Sergeant Dorgan were to take control of our half of the split, and I was to take charge if anything went south. He stepped off and without questioning I went to both Sergeants to relay the news. By the time I got there they had already been given their orders and were getting the squads in line. I fell in with Spits and Kipler and they both gave me a shove as they noticed my "important role." We waved a final goodbye to the first half of the first, and then we made our way towards the 104th.
We had been walking for hours when we saw the first sign of contact from the 104th. We gave our friendly signals but they recognized us instantly. Our Sergeants beckoned for me to come up to the front of the formation as it was me who the General had addressed the first time. I dragged my feet as I walked. As soon as I got to the front, we all got a good look at Treicolt. The Jedi General represented a shining beacon of peace for the Galactic Alliance Defense Force. He was the ideal leader.
With a salute, we greeted him.
"Sir, we got your message. Let's go kick some ass."
As the cruisers jetted past the Sith fleet, Arcturus never took his eyes off of the prize. He knew that the Sith were cunning, and he had to remain on his toes. Several Sith cruisers were now within range, and he would waste no time. He called out as they rushed past the enemy.
"All guns, fire on those enemy ships! I want them reduced to rubble!"
Gunnery crews snapped to action, and a hail of fire began to rain down onto the enemy cruisers. One cruiser took extreme damage, large chunks breaking off and drifting into the endless abyss of space. Another cruiser was completely disabled, left to be a sitting duck. The rest of Sith fleet began to reposition, readying to fire on the two ships. Arcturus couldn't help but to smile...
The Sith took the bait.
"Keep pushing forward, don't slow until we make it all the way through. We don't want to become a stationary target until we have the support of the frigates."
The engines continued to roar as they moved through the Sith fleet. To their luck, the Cuirassier-class cruisers were fast ships, keeping them just ahead of the incoming fire from the Sith. Onward and forward, they pushed... until finally, they made it through. The crew of the Prodigal Sun cheered at their success, only to be quickly silenced by a movement of Arcturus' hand.
"The fight is not over. Bring us about, I want us able to keep these Sith busy while our frigates move into position. Once we get confirmation, we will unleash our fury upon them."
Quintus approached his side with an urgent speed.
"Sir, we may have established communications with our ground forces. Looks like comms have been shaky, but we just might be able to get through."
Arcturus felt a sense of relief. If he could reach through to someone, then they could finally coordinate with the rest of their forces and assess the situation as it stands. They could begin to act, instead of reacting to what was in front of them. Arcturus was anxious to see it done.
"Very well, open a channel to the ground. Our people need to know that we are here."
Quintus immediately got to work, prepping their transmitter for the outgoing message to the surface. As the channel was opened, Quintus gave a nod to Arcturus, signalling that he was free to speak.
"To all forces on the surface of Ziost, this is Commodore Arcturus Tal. I am in orbit at the head of a small fleet. We have broken through the Sith lines. I repeat, we have broken through the Sith lines. Requesting an update on the situation as it stands, and awaiting further instructions. Give me a target and we'll give them hell. Until then, we will continue keeping them busy up here. Tal out."
As the transmission ended, Tal couldn't help but to wonder if it would reach anyone on the ground. If communications had been shaky, then there was a chance that no one would know they were there. In the end, it didn't matter. However things played out, he was finally in a position to make the Sith pay. And pay they would...
Ziost Academy | The Aftermath. Zaavik Perl
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The Jedi had come with purging fire.
Why?
They spoke of hate. And murder. And evil. They accused her of these things as they-- . . .
She wondered if they ever bothered to look in the mirror.
She hated them.
A noise caught in her chest as she fell to her knees, the battle scarred remains of the Academy gates in pieces around her. Dust coated the crumbled space in a thick layer, turning the once vibrant place into a wash of melancholy gray. She swallowed against her dry tongue and took in a shaky breath. There were no sparks of life within the abandoned structure.
Jedi were heartless creatures.
Her fingers coiled into the debris around her. Her vision blurred. The space became assaulted with the sudden noises of a pained animal, rickashaying off the structure in a chilling echo.
It took her a moment to recognize the noise came from her. It took another breath for her to feel the dirt press against her face. Her grief overruled her, breaking her down and curling her up.
Why did she care?
What did she expect?
Twenty-four lives had been saved that day because of her treason, and it still didn't feel like enough.
Repulsorengines roared as three Sith-Imperial TIEs flew overhead. Zaavik dove forward, landing shoulder first against a slanted bit of war-rubble, and ideally out of sensor view of the passing aircraft. His head followed their pass with a high arc, eyes settling on the horizon as they grew smaller against the sky. Zaavik remained behind cover until he could no longer hear the bellow of their engines.
Once he was certain they hadn't noticed him, he brought one hand up and vaulted over his cover. Boots crunched into the dirt and grime beneath, the toe of the left knocking against something hard. The sensation drew his gaze; a corpse of the GADF color. The face, or what was left of it, was beyond any attempt of identification. A quick tug snapped the tags from around his neck, which Zaavik quickly pocketed.
There was a ripple in the force, a phantasmal lead that'd he'd unwittingly facilitated. Yet again he found it tugging him along, even now in almost direct opposition to what he should have been doing. Here was Golden Starbird Recipient Zaavik Dagoth, War Hero of the Alliance, and Shadow of the New Jedi Council, blatantly defying orders. Few people familiar with him beyond name would be surprised, but it certainly wasn't a good look.
Not like that that had ever stopped him from doing anything.
The distinct sound of a footstep suddenly overtook every other sensation as a precognitive sense of danger washed over him. Emerald plasma ignited, elbow bent, and crimson clashed over his shoulder with defensive viridescence. He whirled, sending strikes forward as he advanced. An opening presented itself, and one upwards strike sundered both the assailant's hands at the wrists. The followthrough sent the greenish blade sinking into the cest, incinerating the heart with the contained heat of a sun.
As his eyes met his assailant's, he finally actually noticed the person before him, rather than the red, glowing danger. Zeltron, female, about his age. The look on her face was unbearable as she experienced her last agonizing moment of life. Zaavik avoided her gaze and brought his foot upwards as she fell to her knees. His boot pressed against her upper breast and collar bone, forcing the now limp cadaver from his blade and slumping onto the floor with an extension of his knee.
He looked down past the wisps of smoke that rose from the hole in her chest. Like him, so very young, but unlike him, so very dead. She'd thrown any immunity their shared youth might have offered when she assumed the intent to kill. The lifeless, pinkish irises stared at him, aimless and devoid of intent, yet still staring right at him. He averted his gaze sharply, squeezing his eyes closed with a closed-mouth grimace.
It took a moment for him to muster the strength to unfreeze himself, but he eventually managed to press on. It was far from the first life he'd taken, but as if adhering to some intangible, alien logic, it had managed to affect him. Perhaps the look on her face reminded him of the Senator. Maybe it was the turbulent ripple he followed leaking some kind of secondhand aguish into his shred of empathic capability. It was morbid in the context of only just taking a life, but he wondered if he was losing his grip.
This is a real bad time to get soft, he thought to himself. Any life lost was a tragedy, but it was the unfortunate reality of war that death is callous, sudden, and brushed aside unceremoniously. At least until the battle was over. Many cried in outrage at these realities, others sought to minimize their existence entirely. Few of them were had ever been present to witness them. Fewer of them were forced to be haunted by the fact that they were the last thing some people would ever see. Those who had to live with both, fewer than Hutt's teeth they were, yet still somehow naive.
Zaavik envied them, those whose spectacles would not allow them to stare into that abyss. It had gone beyond staring, or the staring back commonly associated with it. It was now a listless drifting in that abyss, indifference as a sail. A slow and insidious usurper was apathy. Altruism's throne in Zaavik's heart had never had a legitimate claim to oppose it until now. For as long as it could last, the only thing keeping the seats as they were was spurn and stubbornness.
A noise like something dying caught his attention as he had trekked deeper. The spectral sensation reverberated the sound in a sense beyond the real. He shifted course toward it, skulking through what remained of an atrium. The sound continued, sounding more human the closer he came. Emerging from behind a shred of metal and stone now unrecognizable, he was greeted to the sight of a familiar, red-headed figure curled into the dirt.
Zaavik stood a mere two meters away, devoid of any verbal sentiment. An empathetic grimace seized his features, but he didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say? He could easily cut her down now, taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Yet, he didn't, or more accurately couldn't. Not even apathy could drive him to snuff someone out in the literal fetal position. But, truthfully, it went beyond that in its own inexplicable way. Anti-climax to their menagerie of encounter aside, it just didn't feel right.
Even with all this consideration, he said nothing.
A familiar presence washed over her, their energy burning like an inferno inside the force. She sat up with a gasp, the eyes of Zaavik Perl
emerging from the wreckage that had undone her.
"What are you doing here?" She accused, her words harsh with sudden embarrassment.
She knew what her Master would have said if she had found her like this. Her peers. Her instructors-- The weakness was seeping out of her eyes and she couldn't stop it. At some point it had all just become too much.
Something in this place made the slivers of stress exploded into cracks. She could feel it-- The wild edges to her thoughts that she didn't care to reign in. Was that the darkness, or was it her? She didn't care anymore. She had had enough.
The distant sounds of the invasion echoed over to them, the ground vibrating under her hands. She hastily wiped the moisture from her face, smearing around the dirt and dust of a battle she hadn't even fought. She was painfully aware of the lit saber at his side, the vulnerability of the moment sending adrenaline pulsing through her. Sweat joined the snot on her upper lip.
"They got to you, didn't they." A set of blood shot eyes leveled on him, the sky blue swimming with betrayal. She forced in a breath, trying to relax her seizing diaphragm and maintain an ounce of dignity. She raised her chin.
A good question. One Zaavik wouldn't be able to truthfully answer himself, even if he took the time to consider it. He stared blankly down at Aradia, dour and unblinking. The only sound apart from the distant fighting was the undulating hum of the emerald death he held in his left hand. Neck twisting one side to the other, he looked around with a sharp ejection of air from his nostrils.
Another group of aircraft soared overhead, kicking up dirt and dust with an accompanying gust of wind. Stray hairs that had escaped his tie and the unzipped brim of his jacket over the strike suit all fluttered in tow. Several steps closed to distance, deliberate pace conflicted between assault and concern. Plasmatic blade crackled against dust particles in the air.
The surging green at his side was now close enough to project its glow across the diminished Sith's face. If ever there was a time to strike, it would be now. A loud, sudden droning of the saber in motion reverberated through the space around them. A sudden fizzle and the sound went silent as the blade disappeared, leaving only empty, dusty air before an unactivated hilt.
A harsh click followed, the apparatus returned to his belt coupling. Before her eyes manifested a cortosine, aluminiferous hand, fingers outstretched in offer. "Get up," he said with sincere, yet somehow still begrudging empathy. The source of the mysterious despair he'd picked up on was now clear. Aradia's sullen display was far too similar to a reflection.
Sith or not, enough exposure had proven to him that she was human, all too human. In some respect, they all were. Few had chosen alternatives to malice when put before him. Time after time she had opted not to kill him, as he'd done for her. Zaavik had lost track of the score by this point. This was either breaking even or giving her a debt. Assuming they hadn't yet gotten past the murderous friction, that was.
Aradia could feel the tension in the Force as he considered it. Killing her. The air felt electrified as her very life hung in the balance. She didn't care. For a moment, a painful spell, she was ready for death.
She wouldn't of resisted. The loss of all the wars had compounded on her thin shoulders. She no longer saw any light at the end of any tunnel. She only saw the struggle of her past and the hopelessness of this never ending war. She felt incapable. She was done.
The crackle of his saber bit through the moisture of the air. She squeezed her eyes closed, braced for the blow that never came.
"Get up."
Her eyes snapped open. She balked in confusion at the hand leveled before her. "What?"
"Come on, get up," he repeated.
It was not the response she expected from the Jedi that had been her most passionate adversary for the better part of a year. They maimed each other-- hated each other. One cease fire for the sake of survival changed nothing. And yet he had put his saber away. She hadn't even considered taking hers out.
Common sense screamed in the back of her mind, but in the forefront was this nameless ache that anchored her in place. She took the hand, her body coiled in anticipation as she rose to her feet.
"Don't look at me like that." Her words were tight, biting back the display of emotion he had stumbled into. She was too distraught to blush, but she did possess the sudden urge to knock him on his butt and make their embarrassment mutual. She had never shown him anything but anger before.
Zaavik's hand clasped around hers as he pulled upwards. The size difference briefly accentuated as his metallic extremities enclosed hers almost entirely. As soon as she was on her feet, Zaavik wasted no time having his hand abscond back to his side. In and out, the hand made an odd phantom-gripping motion inflecting his uneasy feeling for physical contact. The gesture was what it was regardless, and he'd bottle any further articulation for the apprehensive sensation.
A vague gesture was mirrored with either hand, fingers stretching out pacifistically at his sides, palms flashing outward for a moment. Afterwards, they'd slither into either jacket pocked as his azure regard drifted to the floor. He'd scan over the surrounding area, in part due to paranoia, and otherwise out of a lack of verbal sentiment to offer. After a moment, his gaze would return, now devoid of the prying expression he'd accosted her with previously.
"Yeah, I gathered that much." He'd instinctively shield his mind as the image of the lifeless gaze of the opposing Zeltron manifested in his memory. Yet another group of TIE screamed overhead. Sith or Imperial? He didn't bother to look up to find out. Nor when a second pass came in the opposite direction, even lower this time. A third managed to pull his gaze toward the sky. "We should probably move," he suggested in a vacuous, aimless tone. He walked stiffly, moving to a covered area away from the atrium without giving time for protest or obliging acknowledgment.
Aradia stared at the ghost of a boy in front of her, hardly recognizing him without the anger and vindication drawing lines across his face. His expression was smooth. Blank.
Unresponsive to the war zone around them.
Her own pain caught in her throat. She stood there, stunned as he turned to hurry them out. "...That's it?" She chased at his heel, debris kicking up. "That's all you're going to say? You figured? There are bodies in there, Zaavrik. Kids. Our age. And they sent you back to--"
Bombs landed close by, their earsplitting explosion masking her scream. The ground shook violently, bringing down a rain of dust. It brought her to her knees. She clamped down tight and cradled her head, her elbows digging painfully into her shins. Fear pulsed through her chest. The rapid sound of her heart blocked out all else.
She might just get her wish after all, came the bitter sentiment. They could die here and neither side would blink.
A BARRAN WASTELAND - The Hour of the Stormchaser I
Seeing Cotan running off into the dust beyond, into the burning hell that the Blue-Hearts' first wave of attack had created, Erskine was left with shivers running up and down his spine; even in the warmth of the wind in his face, Barran pulled up one of the sleeves of his deep-blue jacket to find every hair standing on end, from the knuckles all the way up under the scrunched up sleeve. Of all the outer-rim's many iconic moments, none had yielded such shivers; even after all the years his mercenary-status put him in clear sight of all their suchlike visual wonder, the Brigadier-General would soon reconsider these memories to the unforgettable experiences he'd been experiencing against the greatest Sith powers of the age. Been stormchasin' since Hoth it seems, like some mad thrill-seekin' adrenaline-junkie. Does war really agree wae me - that much?
He'd foreseen the endless wars when he was on Hoth, but with a small sense of apprehension that seemed to completely evaporate at some point, with most suspecting that moment to have occurred during the old Battalion's fight for survival in the Second Battle of Bastion. Whether it was the fighting retreat to the Maximillian Heights, leading the multiple bayonet charges on the Sith-spawn monsters littered around Fort Imperator, the smell of the undead, or the timely rescue of Vostok and Karelin from certain death, none would know for sure; not even Barran himself knew what the catalyst could have been, but by the time he'd noticed the pre-war anticipation had vanished, Lord Erskine was running through the jungle on Generis with his basket-hilted vibrosword unsheathed, following Lord Dooku's Myrmidons to the Amalgam's Shadow Dome.
As much as he wanted to stay and enjoy the show, the Brigadier-General needed to keep the siege-breaking assault on the Sith-Imperial's assault contingent moving forward, sending hold-position orders to Captain Gowrie's datapad so the second wave could keep the general-advance moving without obstruction. He knew he'd see something just as amazing, perhaps even more amazing than the explosive display that all the first-wave envelopment had seen for themselves, but Barran ultimately knew that there were still allied units yet to be found within the New Adastan outskirts, and in much-greater need of Taskforce LIONHEART's assistance than Sar'andor ever would.
<<grand marshall wants to fight in the crucible let him
i think he can handle himself but don't ask how i know
moving on with the second wave
so the lightsabre duelling is all yours to study and enjoy
but please be wary gowrie expect every possible outcome>>
Turning back to the still-approaching armoured column, the newly-promoted Brigadier-General hit send on his data pad as he watched the AT-ATs veering southwards to make room for the smaller, faster-moving vehicles behind them, delighting in everything that was unfolding before his very eyes; from the effectiveness of the feigned-retreat, to the folding line's completion and the accompanying depth-charge detonations heralding in the beginning of movement-order: Antiquity's implementation, it was seeming ever more to Barran that every single piece in play was out to work with the flow of Erskine's strategic thought-process. Whoever had been sent out to lead the Sith-Imperials had been left alone to push against the New-Imperials' entire offensive line, whatever unlucky soul had been chosen for such an ill-fated, forlorn charge, such had been chosen by their masters with little regard for their life-expectancy, giving their doomed commander so little forewarning of what was being asked of them that the charge on ACV One (and on the Blue-Heart's faux-weakened center) itself may have been doomed to fail before they had even deployed to fight on the ground.
<<get moving milord
other units to assist out there
we can handle your "riot of lightsabres" from here
move east
covered south by first wave cataphracts>>
Just as Barran was finishing on,"cataphracts>>", the sky above the entire city landscape, and all around the hemisphere they were fighting over, grew black with ominous gathering clouds. Something was afoot and Erskine knew it, but he looked up regardless (and just in time) to see a giant bolt of lightning crashing across the sky towards the inner-city itself; flashing with the brightness of the sun, but carrying a residual purple glow as it subsided for the deep, booming thundercracks that followed. This was no natural storm that brought rain or the likes, everyone present knew it to be the work of a Sith's conjuration; a perfect cue for the Brigadier-General to turn back towards the command-vehicle, and one taken as if Barran were snapped from another daze.
'It's time, Sergeant-Major! We veer along the southern envelopment line this time, so let's get this ACV into the fight again; we've got the second wave backing our approach now, a two-battalion convoy wae us leadin' it fae the front! An' rest assured the Grand Marshall can handle himself just fine without us, you'll see what ah see, an' just easily; Gowrie's keepin' 'im safe for noo an'aw, just in case an' aw that.'
<"Myles to Blue-Heart Bravo! Moran's walkers are clear an' the the Cataphracts are rolling through at pace, standing by for further orders">
A BARRAN WASTELAND - The Hour of the Stormchaser II
The intensity of the storm was proving to be troublesome in some places on Ziost, though the worst of it was drifting past the northern side of the envelopment in an eastward trajectory, veering away from Taskforces SNAKE and IMPERATOR in another violent approach towards the very heart of New Adasta's crumbling inner-city districts, exactly where the former second-wave of the Blue-Hearts' offensive frontlines was headed. As expected, their approach to the inner-city's southwestern road-entryway would be fraught with flashes in their thermal-or-nightvision lenses or scopes, so Erskine decided it would be safer to keep his LMG-gunner beneath the hatch until the storm subsided, or until it's originator has been turned to pink mist.
Driving to link up with Major Strasza's Watchmen, with the intention of advancing on the sterner Sith-Imperials still defending against the NIO onslaught, the Brigadier-General understood that a swift, but heavy sweep of the lower-northern flank was out of the question, (due to increased friendly air-traffic beneath the atmosphere) so their linking up would most-certainly result in reinforcing the general southern Sith-Imperial rout with a new angle of corralling pressure. What was to be a breath of fresh air for those infantry remnants of the mechanized-oblique majority that redirected westward, was expected to be the last straw for the flagging rear-guard actions of the Sith-Imperials' southern flank; already being hounded for every squared-metre by the ghoulishly-relentless advance of Tiberius' Gladius Company, and hounded almost just as intensely by the bloodied, thrown cadavers of their fallen comrades.
<"Brigadier General Barran, this is General Maynard Treicolt of the 104th Marine Raiders, Galactic Alliance. I have fast attack and armoured elements ready to move. Our best bet is to pull the Sith as deep into the city as we can manage we're our positions are ready to hold out. What's the status on the Galidraani assault? Their artillery strikes on the city are telling me they might not bite on the plan but hell, worth a try.">
The comm-link had been alive with aimless background ambience since the ACV One advanced from 200 metres in front of the white blip, deleting a marker they'd set less than an hour before the Tuath Engineers' depth-charge detonations as they pushed forward, but as the marker was being moved to the deletion-folder, a Galactic Alliance comm-link had suddenly patched directly through to the comm-link unit behind Lord Erskine's head. The Wolfpack's commander, already a famed bastion of warfighting hope for his people, his subordinates and his peers, and with equal-measure, a ceaseless stalwart-given relief for the Galactic Alliance's senate, ever grateful for one who continually acquitted himself valorously for the sake of the senate's future.
<"Regardless, I want coordination established to use our fast attack to get Sith units sent down to Galidraani choke points, the 7th have Adasta locked up pretty good, we just need the Sith where we want 'em, gonna take both elements to manage it if that's a possibility, set up killing fields for these Sith f*cks. What ever we can manage, Force be with you all.">
Hearing the sound of aircraft above the thunderous clouds for a brief, though sustaining moment before great, flaming explosions to the far southern and far northern enemy flanks, intermingling with the lightning flashes in the far-reaches of their convoy's left-flank horizon, the Lord-Major knew exactly who had ordered the high-altitude bombing sortie on the Sith-Imperial flanks. The Lord-Protector's aeronautical wunderkind of a nephew was finally representing the family in space-and-aerial combat, and for no other faction than the New-Imperials Lord Willan fought tooth-and-nail to protect. This was an auspicious moment for House Tal, and the long, tall burning terraces of napalm corralling the enemy in full-rout was a jaw-dropping sign in and of itself, revealing the full power of North-Galidraan's greatest noble house in threefold combative unison.
'General Barran to General Treicolt! Good to finally hear from the 104th, as I'll admit our taskforces were beginning to wonder if your contingent had survived or not. An' funny-timing in mentioning,"Taking the bait", just there, as I can only imagine how that friendly bombing-run would've sounded on your end. I've seen that the Sith-Imperials are rather psychologically an' physically averse to fire an' such, even before that - beautiful napalm drop, so I have something of a plan for you already.'
Looking through the front viewports with his Nightvision-set rifle-scope, Erskine could already see Major Strasza's squad were successfully stealing a few AT-HAs from dismounted operators who'd dropped down with their wounded to offer first aid. Roughly four walkers in total were kneeling in neutral-engine settings, and Noel's Watchmen were making quick, brutalising work of the ATs' previous occupants, so Brigadier-General Barran was quite happy to assume the enemy units would be under the strategic control of the squad whom Lord Barran often dubbed as,"The Prodigal-Ones", by the time his second-wave column was expected to make passive contact with the Watchmen's close whereabouts.
'Spare no expense on your rockets, incendiaries or any other sort o' destructive ordnance, General Treicolt. You'll need to pick it all up an' meet me at the eastern corner of the Southern Napalm-Line, we don't want our already-routing opponents even seeing us to fancy their chances against us, you'll see the fires from the inner-city by now. And If the 7th Mechanised still stands to fight on, have them hold position in the north with all their incendiary ordnance as well. But first, I must pick someone up on the way there. Be sure to avoid the lightning and stay out of sight until you see us, Blue-Heart Alpha out!'
Almost 200 metres away from Noel's squad, Erskine noted a few of the Watchmen were musing over the Sith-Imperial decals on the left-sides of the idled AT-HAs, and watched as they burned and peeled away whatever they could on all four of the walkers they were about to steal. Seeing this as his final chance to get in touch with Major Strasza without having to jump out and shout on her, Brigadier-General Barran switched channels to address the woman who'd saved his life just weeks before,'Barran to Scout Leader! Those ATs only fit two-at-a-time, mate. Hop in the chonky ACV at the front of the friendly column to your west, an' before you ask; aye, this is ACV One, the same command-vehicle we were racing to reach on Generis. Side-door's on the right. Blue-Heart Alpha out!'
