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Upon mentioning his eldest son, the old Woad’s entire being shifted in less than a second. She had to be honest with herself, she preferred the cold eyes of a killer at that moment. It made doing what she needed to do a lot easier than the kind eyes Erskine usually had towards her. The eyes of a father watching on with pride.
The look of a killer suited him far better.
”I saw him in the Maw. He’s the Mongrel’s successor.” She explained softly as her gaze shifted to his sword hand. Time was up. She tried her best, tried to convince him to leave and live in peace with his last years. He still had a good few of those left in him. Cutting them short was going to hurt.
'But I have no other option but to fight on as I always do, making it just another potential fate I march gladly towards. I'm sorry, Shai. But.... On the grounds of diplomatic and personal duty, I cannot accept your terms!'
Her throat tightened as a sigh escaped her, tears threatening to crawl from her eyes as she watched him. ”I hope the Manda guides your soul well, Erskine. I am sorry.” She muttered before she slid her helmet back on. She didn’t want him to see the pain in her eyes. The weakness. The cold gaze of a T-visor was far more appropriate, far more respectable towards him. Her left hand drew her short sword and came up to rest over her chest, before rising to hold the blade flat in front of her face, a final salute from one warrior to another.
She slid into a stance along the ice as she waited for him to get ready. Then, she moved.
A low strike to draw his sword, feinting into a swing at his chest before pushing forward to kick at his gut. There was no hesitation in her movements, no quarter in her onslaught of powerful, fast attacks. She made her decision, she wasn’t going to rob him of a worthy fight because of her own weakness. She was ashamed that she didn’t bring the Mongrel’s broadsword along for this fight. Erskine loved to find poetic beauty in even the ugliest of circumstances. He likely already found something similar for this horrific moment.
And she couldn’t help but indulge in that search as well.
Her off-hand served as another defence with her vambrace blocking his blows. Harsh, brutal strikes from her beskad against the clean and elegant movements of the Woad’s broadsword. Fire against water. He was old and weathered, where she was young and strong. But Erskine Barran was a far more capable duelist than her. She thought back to her duel with Valery Noble
on Kestri, how similar her movements were to Erskine’s. Even the setting was almost identical.
It would have been a beautiful thing to see them cross blades. A work of art, in fact.
"I already have decided enough is enough. But I also have decided the same for the Galactic Alliance Defense Force. The Galactic Republics failed, The Silver Jedi failed, and the Galactic Alliance all have failed. The Jedi and Sith fight an endless war. The Empire and its order is the cure to this everlasting plague."
So that was her choice then. Take the easy road, submit to the side with the greater visible strength and bully the rest of the galaxy into submission. Not realising that people would not just roll over and submit to someone with an opposing ideology. They would quest for peace with extreme violence and oppression. Naturally people would resist this with everything they had, breeding more resentment, misery and destruction.
The same society that then defined itself on such conquest would fall apart once the fighting was over, unable to restructure itself to a more peaceful existence. Such was the fate of all those who defined themselves by conflict.
Violence can grant one great power and wealth, but such prosperity was always temporary and could easily be taken from them by someone more violent. With the cycle continuing ever onwards.
People were quick to blame the Jedi and Sith for the state of the Galaxy, but such accusations were just excuses of people unwilling to take responsibility for their own actions. The Force never took away someone's agency or will. It simply returned to people what they gave to it. People make the choice to rally around the lunatics with lightsabers and magic powers. Or perhaps it was the mystic weirdos who decided to latch onto existing governments.
As Mira surged towards him, he simply flexed his palm, the detonator shooting into the air, well out of range of the Knight's strike as well as the electricity crackling from her blade. Again he refused to make this easy for her. If she wanted this, truly wanted this outcome. Then she would have to commit herself to this.
She would have to commit herself utterly to cutting down a man who wished to protect something important to him. To make the conscious decision to take a life because she thought it necessary. If she wanted that detonator, she would have to kill him.
Was she willing to kill over something so small? To take a life in such a manner? Aaran wished to know this, even as he moved to intercept her strike, his own blade intercepting the oncoming strike, halting the blow, taking all that kinetic energy into himself.
"So that's it then?" He asked, one hand on his blade as he halted her advance. The detonator still floating several metres in the air above them, suspended for now. So long as he could hold concentration on it. "In order for this eventual peace of yours. You'll fight the whole galaxy. You're not the first to try that. Half the Sith I faced give the same excuse."
"What makes this so different from the last?" He queried, wanting her to at least ponder the implications of what this meant here and now. If the Empire was willing to fight everyone and anyone in order to see their dream come to fruition.
Of course, he wasn't going to let her do nothing but ruminate. His free hand lashed out, the previously stored electrical and kinetic energy crackling on his palm as he aimed to slam it into Mira's midsection. Turning her own aggression back on her. Enough force behind the blow to send the much smaller woman flying backwards.
Sarge had readied himself for the upcoming onslaught, senses wide open against all three assailants, when an invisible hand yanked him forward. The trooper tripped, imbalance from the sudden pull, and nearly paid with the price of his head. A last-ditch effort, call it experience, untangled his footwork enough to keep his head on his shoulders. The blade, instead, carved through the shoulder pauldron of his rank and seared the flesh beneath. He groaned loudly and staggered back like a wounded animal.
Teeth and eyes squeezed in pain, he was merely able to glance at the removed pauldron lying scorched on the blackened ice floor. The pain subsided, devoured by fury. His pride lay on the ground charred by the blade of a Jedi scum. He had donned it once his special forces training had been complete, successfully elevating him from the rank and file of a Stormtrooper infantryman to an elite soldier of the Empire. A testament to his service, devotion, and faith in the Emperor and the Empire.
"Should've lobbed my head." Sarge hissed as his free hand tumbled a flashbang between his and the raven-haired Padawan's feet. A bright light and ear-splitting sound exploded aiming to blind and disbalance the Jedi, leaving the trooper safe behind the confines of his helmet and providing him with an opportunity to keep the Jedi away from their favored melee distance.
The wrist launcher whirred to life once more, but this time a large ball of fire streamed forward with a blast at the three Jedi. The carbine melted in front of him, along with the ice and snow and other foundation support keeping the tunnel intact. Rocks tumble down over their heads and the whole tunnel groaned ominously but still remained standing.
JUGGERNAUT SERIES CARGO TANK, 'Richter" UNTERNEHMEN KYBER STURM; Evacuation Protocol
53rd Sturmpioneer Brigade
Enemies: Justice Lesan
Sharad felt a certain queasiness as the convoy trundled along its route. The feeling of the great juggernauts' wheels lifting up and down, the suspension creaking Matt the auxiliary corporal feel vulnerable. Weake even. As he tried to enjoy his cigarette. The corporal took deep drags or the slender roll, attempting to ease himself. But after a month and a half on Ilum, he was happy to see the potential backend of the planet. Especially if the Auxiliary pulled it off, and gave Triumvir the crystals he desired. Sharad took a quiet drag as he watched his comrades settle into their place on the tank. The compartment they boarded was sterile, cold and lacked any real heating. Other than a half arsed unit which projected the occasional wave of heat. But otherwise refrigerated the tank’s hull.
Pathetic. At least that’s what Sharad thought as he took another drag. He could not wait until he was back on Prefsbelt IV. As close to a place he could call home as possible. Especially the Gastarbeiter district of Nova Avalonia. The corporal could already imagine himself having an awfully intimate chinwag with his favourite military police sergeant Gloria. Her gorgeous little button nose. Fine figure. The way she’d giggle at him fumbling for his leave pass. Sharad felt his cheeks beginning to glow a little as he thought about them. Perhaps even asking her out for dinner when he was back. But it was then, where his thoughts were disturbed. Not by the steady jumps of the armoured juggernaut over small obstacles, but an alarm. “Alert troopers! Alert!” The voice of Major Arturo filtered over the intercom, “Incoming Alliance fighter craft! Moving from sector seventeen! Loosen formation and move to battle stations!”
Sharad immediately stood up, and spat out the cigarette, extinguishing it with a callous stomp of his boot. He and the rest of sixth squadron had specifically drilled for this moment over four different times. Sharad felt his instinct kick into gear, and pulled up the hem of his bodysuit over his mouth. No need to freeze that little extra, “Right,” Sergeant Vales gruffly barked, “Fourth squad, let’s move!” Sharad reached down to his boots, and then clicked the magnetic switching. It wasn’t much, but it would hopefully increase the grip. “Dhavale, grab the MG!” Vale gestured to the gargantuan Masermaschinengewher, model 869. A huge squad automatic weapon. Sharad complied, prying it from its case and slinging it around his shoulder, right next to his VW-59 rifle. He grunted under the strain, but would not allow weakness to be shown in front of his colleagues.
Squad four clambered onto the top of the juggernaut. It was the best efforts of the tanks engineers was frigid. With a sleet layer of ice having established itself on the hull of the tank. Squad four moved across the exposed hull, crouching, and positioning themselves toward sector seventeen. Sharad clambered up, feeling the harsh, cool air scorching his lungs. He continued forward, spotting the gunners nest. Open. “Move it Sharad!” Rickard snapped, “Move, move, move!” Sharad felt spurred on, feeling his body, even beneath the tunic, the wintercoat, helmet and bodysuit, aching against the cold.
“They’re comin’!” Private Tjarn Guiar snapped, her eyes fixed as the distant rumble of fighter craft. Sharad moved toward the nest, panting as he did so. The little gunners nest was set into the hull. With a sort of raised railing, to attach weapons systems to. Sharad made a final run toward it. All the while, his squad raised their weapons.
“Open fire!” Rickard snapped, “Don’t let them through!” The squad opened fire, their blaster bolts soaring through the icy atmosphere, by the dozen thanks to their automatic weapons. These followed by the the roar of blaster fire from the gunports aboard the juggernauts. The passengers aboard taking it on themselves to try and thin the numbers. Sharad for his part moved to the put, and jumped in. Strapping the MMG-69 in. He slipped into the seat. It was cold. Freezing. Even with the insulating bodysuit, jacket, tunic and trousers, Sharad shivered.
He flicked back the bolt, and then began to press his feet down on the peddles, checking how they were. Before feeling them twist and turn. Excellent. He was in business. He flicked back the bolt of the huge weapons system, his own small arm digging into his back, “Speerfeuer, coming now!” And let rip. Rausgeber’s buzzsaw cutting through the craft as they strafred the kyber convoy’s escorts. Sending the haggard, and destroyed speeders among other escorting craft, into the wheels of the tank.
---^>^>^>^>^>^>--- Major General Bex Tarring
Bramber Division Fourth Brigade Mobile HQ
1st Battalion IMPAF Controlled Territories
ILUM
The tactical headquarters was rife with comms chatter, tactical display updates and the general miscellany of scattered personnel, running back and forth in some well-choreographed ballet, designed to keep the streamlining of information as efficient as possible.
Captain Polegate watched as the screen showed the updated positions of the various elements that were engaging, Imperial forces taking a beating suddenly from all corners of everywhere and nowhere.
"The 181 is engaged. Tracking multiple GA targets."
Polegate tapped his fingers together as he held them clasped behind his back, his greatcoat stiff in the cold, damp air. He was thinking. He knew that any such assault made by his battery would change the face of the engagement, the risk all artillery commanders knew. He took his right hand to the main tactically display, the surrounding staff hugging it tightly with their fronts as they reached onto it to bring up various units and positions doing so with increased speed.
"Sir, we have the location of the GA landing zone. Within optimal targeting range."
Polegate looked to where the new spot on the map had illuminated with a small yellow pulsating icon, to demonstrate a new POI had been placed on the map. It would do this for ten seconds before turning to the stable red hue typical of all permanent emplacements on the map. Any updates to any icon would turn it yellow once again. Their own icons remained green.
The icon showed the confirmed location of the GADF LZ, the hub from which reinforcements and, more importantly, any safe evac of enemy units would be made possible. Striking it directly would cause immense disruption to their efforts in this sector. He nodded to the young Lt. present and made his way out of the makeshift centre, headed towards the battery some five hundred metres away.
Infantrymen watched as he made the lonely walk towards the gun line, no doubt wondering if the moment they had been anticipating was upon them.
Polegate took one final look at the tactical display on his datapad and activated his comms. He spoke.
<4 Company, this is 4-4. Adjust fire, over>
The relay of responses came swiftly.
<Grid reference DF 363 367, over>
The whirring drone of the activating emplacements cut through the otherwise cool silence that had pervaded this end of the line, light flickering on consoles at their side. Though controlled remotely, the missile emplacements could still be managed with some manual control if necessary.
<Target is LZ, dropships and enemy buildings, over>
A high-pitched sound began to emanate from the battery, the firing mechanisms priming to launch the heavy payload of missiles. The ordnance, once launched, would make contact only a few minutes later, sure to create havoc and bring a level of destruction to the proceedings not yet seen on the battlefield yet.
<Danger close, two clicks>
He noted as the operator called through to the 181 specifically.
<This is 4-4 HQ, for 181 HQ, over. Fire for effect operational. Danger close, two clicks.>
He was warning the Imperial forces that might be underneath the path of the ordnance to be aware.
Polegate once again looked at the datapad, sure in his calculations and those of the tactical support team.
<Missiles in effect, 2 rounds out.>
The batteries awoke, slinging two missiles each from their large mounted silos into the air with an enormous burst of compressed air, a wall of supersonic might and terror set to drop onto the heads of the GADF forces some 2 kilometres away.
<Shot, over>
He waited a moment before hearing the reply.
<Shout, out>
Polegate ran forward, picking up his scopes to see as they landed in the distance, each of the battery leaders doing the same, a strange line of Imperial soldiers watching in the hope that their weapons would almost certainly kill and destroy countless lives in their undertaking.
Jas had to admit that a security job onboard a snazzy new weapon was a big step up for them. But then again. the Hellions had a revered reputation already. From fleet engagements against the Eternal Empire, to a full blown war against the Maw in open fields, they made a name for themselves as dependable and capable soldiers. The Director was certainly very happy with that.
Though the idea of a super weapon didn't sit right with Jas. There was no good reason, apart from shock and awe, for any superpower to have such a weapon. It was ludicrously expensive, required too many bodies, and only managed to draw fire quicker than a shaved wookiee running through a battlefield. But he wasn't paid by the Empire to give tactical input, him and his men were only onboard to deter boarding parties.
Something they were very good at.
:: We got more on the right! ::
:: Get the repeaters set up! ::
Jas withdrew his bayonet from a Mandalorian on the floor as he picked up his rifle. Why did it always have to be Mandalorians? "They know what they are doing. Keep pushing!" He barked out as he opened fire against the Mandalorian invaders. It was heated and brutal fighting in the halls of the Reckoning, but the Hellions rose to the challenge. :: We have reports of them moving through the barracks! I need ten men! :: He ordered as he pulled back and tossed his spent energy cell aside to slot in a fresh one.
Once they were set, Jas led his men to the other part of the ship, looking for any other intruders as they moved. He could feel their presence onboard. Jedi. He hoped to find one.
Silas attacked the soldier with swift intent, thrusting the saber forwards to try and bring her down to size. The padawan's eyes opened and snapped to her quick hands that suddenly parried his saber, along with a metal fist that came flying towards his temple. He blinked and didn't hesitate in throwing his head back, just about avoiding the blow. However, right after her shoulder barged into his body to send him stumbling back. That was close... the soldier certainly knew her stuff.
Raising his saber back up, his eyes widened slightly as she aimed her weapon towards the woman "Watch out!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, his hand raising and gripping the woman with the force. Although, it was too late. By the time he had flung her back first into the rocks, she had already let loose. Silas turned around and checked to see if she was alright, thankfully she managed to avoid them and grab him by the arm unharmed.
The teen didn't seem to have a say as she pushed him into the direction of the tunnels, his body turning to deflect the blasters that were shooting after them. Compared to their last position, they had less room but easier ground to defend. If it wasn't for Kara dragging him out of there they probably wouldn't have been able to last much longer. To say the least, his head was all over the place.
"Thank you..." he said finally with a sigh, their steps making echoes throughout the daunting tunnel system as the blasters continued to fire from the dark "What now? some of them still seem to be hot on our heels!"
"Get your shebs in gear," a commando shouted over the constant din of the Couregous' claxons and the roar of the vessel's uncontrolled rapid descent through Ilum's atmosphere. He was ushering people into gunships and troop transports. With the escape pods damaged or destroyed in the blast from that Imperial superweapon the surviving crew had little other choice. But the vessel did not come equipped with nearly enough transports to escape a burning ship. Pa'Kar Sang listened, his eyes now lost to him, and reached out in the Force. He knew there were Jedi on the ground. He needed to impress on them a sense of urgency.
"It's been a while since I've needed you," Pa'Kar muttered, "But if ever I needed you now is the time." He closed his eyes, a force of habit, and reached out with his hand splayed out. The Force was tumultuous here. The Imperial Knights were doing what they thought was right, what they thought was protecting Order in the Force and for their Empire, their homes. Some though, were edging ever closer to darkness, and he could feel the heavy shadow. But the shadow didn't just come from them. Desperate padawans were fighting for their lives, a space few Jedi Knights and Masters rushed to their aid, their feelings for their padawans clouding their judgement, or their feelings for others. And just beneath the surface was a raging storm so close to being unleashed on the world it was a wonder the other Jedi hadn't sensed it yet.
Telepathy, true telepathy, was a rare and powerful gift. For one such as himself, trained for a decade in the Force before he left that life behind, it was all he could do to project feelings, images, and sensations through the Force. He didn't have the control or the connection to any one Jedi in particular and so he let the message go to any and all who would hear him.
Destruction. Images of the superweapon flashed, the red hot prow of his vessel as it screamed through Ilum's upper cloud layer and burst into view above the crystal caves. Fear. The sounds of the Claxons, screams of the dying still not found on the ship, the desperation of the surviving crew as they tried to fit as many as they could into transports and other vehicles for safety. Caution. A warning telling of the destruction the Courageous would cause as it crashed into the ice below.
"May the Force be with you all," he muttered opening his eyes. The wide hangard doors creaked open and transports began flying out. A pair of arms gripped his tightly and lifted him from the box of blasters he'd been sitting on.
"C'mon Admiral. Need to get you on one of these transports." He did not fight. He was not of the old stock, the die with your ship brand of commander. That was foolishness. He would live to fight another day. The Courageous though? Well. She would find her final resting place somewhere on the surface of Ilum. Hopefully on the backs of Imperial invaders.
As soon as the Jedi conceded, Zoraya quickly got back to her feet, expecting retaliation that she would need to defend against. However, the Jedi seemed to remain consistent in her stance of being unwilling to engage as she offered one last chance.
One more chance than the Empire would offer someone in her position.
Although Zoraya had taken a defensive stance, it became somewhat less confident after hearing the Jedi's words. She hadn't known the reason for the other's presence until now.
"There are Padawans here?" She questioned. It wasn't something she had considered but it wasn't entirely improbable too. It did bring her to wonder how the Alliance could paint the Empire as such an evil threat to the galaxy while they were sending children into warzones.
”They’re here, sir!” The second officer shouted out as he looked up from the navigation terminal just in time to see a dozen or so expendable heavy freighters emerge from hyperspace above the Imperial fleet, plunging down towards them. Each one packed to the gills with rhydonium, liquid tibanna, and just about every other type of highly explosive material. With nothing more than a handful of droids on the bridge to navigate, they were a very cheap means to disrupt the enemy fleet’s position.
”Then our Beroya counterpart is not far behind.” He spoke with a smile in his voice. It was time to move in and finish off that machine. ”Get our ships out of that blockade and be ready to move underneath the fleet. That moff thinks he’s fighting a new kind of war. He sits on his shebs and expects us to be happy about it. Let us give him a hearty Mandalorian greeting.” His officers grinned like animals as they scrambled to relay the orders and move the fleet out of harm’s way. Once those fire ships went off, all hell was going to break loose.
:: All allied forces, this is the Vhipirheim. Be advised, fire ships in the enemy position. Repeat, fire ships in the enemy position. Steer clear. :: The broadcast was sent to what remained of the Alliance fleet and their respective officers as the Mandalorian ships and all of their support broke off their attacks to fall back for the moment.
:: This is Captain Iago Rekali of the mining corvette Balac speaking -- we need to immediately dock for repairs, repeat -- immediate dock for repairs. Our vessel has been crippled by an upcoming Imperial flotilla and our life support systems are on the brink of complete failure!! Repeat -- requesting immediate dock for repairs. Please respond! ::
Jos paused and glanced at his comms officer as he worked to clear up the broadcast. ”Mandalorian or just coincidence?” He asked his officer with suspicion. ”Clan Beroya colours, sir.” Jos looked on with confusion evident through his visor for a moment. Something felt off, though he couldn’t tell what it was. Usually that was a trap. ”Signal the Fury to pull them in… post armed guards with the engineers and around the docking ring. And let the Alor know one of her ships is in the middle of a warzone.” With a nod the comms officer returned to his duties as the Kel Dor looked on through the viewport. Either his suspicions were wrong… or that armed escort wasn’t going to mean much.
The boarding pod jostled as it was loaded into the massive mass driver cannon, before it was flung through the void towards the superweapon. The pod tore through the hull with ludicrous speed while the inertial dampeners worked hard to keep the occupants alive. Behind his helmet, Masha was smiling like a maniac as he glanced at Minerva Fhirdiad
in preparation for the breach.
Once the door blasted open, he was out and opening fire along with dozens of Mandalorian shocktroopers, all hell-bent on destroying the weapon. They made excellent progress through the hallways.
”Still worse than us! Told you, easy job.” He quipped as he tossed a spent cell aside and slapped a new one into his rifle. Particle bolts roared through the halls as they pushed on. Minerva opened a gap for them and they capitalized on it with ruthless efficiency, fighting their way to the barracks section.
But that was where the young warrior’s luck ran out. A bolt smashed into him, right between two segments of his cuirass. Masha stumbled back with a grunt, reaching out to take hold of Minerva’s shoulder to help stay on his feet, but he had no strength in his grasp. The young Krayt collapsed to the floor with a heavy cough as he clutched at his chest.
Around him, the troopers continued to push while a medic pulled him out of the firing line.”Lucky… hit…” He groaned as he tried in vain to get back onto his feet.
As difficult as it was to leave Dagon to fight against Sahar alone, she understood that it was his fight, and she trusted him like no other to get through it, despite his willingness to go until the bitter end if that's the path the Force laid out for him. This in turn allowed her to honor a promise she made Korvan, and with only quick glances exchanged with the Jedi Master, they both made the decision to shift their focus to the other Imperial Knight they had felt already.
"Come, I can feel him."
Valery acknowledged his words with a dip of her head and wasted no time in following him. The two violet blades she had drawn continued to weave in elegant patterns to deflect blaster fire, and with the intensity most were used to seeing from her, she fought her way up the ice berm and stood still to overlook the area around them. Her fiery eyes quickly settled on a man she now only recognized through the Force and what little she could feel of his old self, and she began to wonder what it would take to resurface it all.
"Rakaan."
As if the name leaving Korvan's lips sparked it, the Force was channeled not against them, but against the ice, they were standing on. She could feel it shift under her feet, and felt the danger it formed as it slowly transitioned into a destructive avalanche, looking to consume all in its path. "Move!" She called out, and without wasting any time, she explosively launched herself up into the air, blades drawn and the Force freely flowing through her body, as she siphoned its strength into her being and prepared to unleash it against Rakaan.
The moment Valery touched the snow again, now much closer to her opponent, all that power was released in the form of a Force Wave that ripped up ice, dirt, and snow as it traversed along the ground to cover the distance between the two Force users. She was careful not to turn potentially lethal energy against him, but she wasn't going to hold back too much either. She needed to control distance and offer herself and Korvan the opportunity to confront him properly.
But she knew that bringing him back wasn't going to happen without a fight.
Hurtling towards Dagon at a frighteningly fast speed, Sahar pushed the acceleration stick forward with a gloved hand as she moved the tank at the Jedi she'd despised so much since the third imperial civil war. Running Dagon over was hardly giving the black-haired b*stard an honourable death befitting his stature, but she didn't care for all that crap; all she wanted was to see the light go out in his snarky face even if it meant flattening him with an Imperial tank.
But it didn't seem like that was going to happen as a wall of stone arose from the barren ground, her tank crashing hard against it as she braced against the steering wheel. Only then, as she recovered and turned to try and force the steel Killdozer through, did Dagon do what he did best and use his fancy stupid force abilities; the armoured coffin she called home came apart in strips as bolts, and other components ripped out and deprived the knight of her improvised battering ram. She gasped in shock and flung herself out of the crumbling tank, rolling over in the snow and landing deftly on her feet as she came face to face with Dagon.
"Speak for yourself, you worm."
Sahar snarled back at him, igniting both sabers as she lunged forward to meet him in battle. All formalities were thrown aside, and any sense of pulling back the punches was quickly lost, as she savagely deflected his saber strikes and answered back with a few of her own. Sahar used the momentum to push him back, using both sabers to block his and bring herself mere inches away from Dagon's face as the grey and purple light of her sabers illuminated the Kandarans ghoulish grin.
"Oh, how I've longed for this, I even saw to it that a grave was made just for you," she laughed, nodding towards the great trench to their left-hand side, "Though I wager it too big for you and your oversized ego, you animal."
She paused, her scowl turning to a soft smile, reminiscent of older times and a time when the two were not trying to kill each other.
"You still look the same."
The feigned smile faded away, and using the moment to her advantage, she steered his saber to the side with her own, pushed into him, threw her head back and savagely smashed it into Dagon's face. This ones for Nida Perl
Emotion swelled in Aleksandr for a moment. Grabbing this stimstick, it was more than just accepting the old man's smoke. This stimstick held trust in it. It held growth, and pride, and an admittance that he wasn't a boy anymore. He wasn't just some force sensitive punk, or the lucky thief he had been. Aleksandr was a man grown.
He was a knight of the New Jedi Order.
He was reminded very quickly though that the battlefield was the deadliest place for heartfelt ceremony. Some part of him felt the tingle before it happened. His deeper connection to the Force. He felt the walls around him begin to constrict, and ooze with pressure. He was acutely aware of the danger, but in war even a second of hesitation could spell death.
Aleks sprung into action while he still had that slim window of time. He reached into the Force and used it to suspend the nearby Alliance soldiers into the air. Then he flung them as gently as possible out of the trench before it turned into a cremator. He didn't think to push Cale, his master could take care of himself. So Aleks moved to preserve his life. He somersaulted while standing, using the Force to aid him as best as possible. He stuck the landing. Flat on his ass, yes, but still. Then the fires broke out.
A chain reaction detonated plasma coils, fuel cells, and sent the trench up in flame, superheated plasma vented directly into the trench and several of the Alliance soldiers, melting them alive as they screamed in pain.
He couldn't save everyone. It was more than his human body could demand of itself. It required more strength, more experience, more forewarning. His troopers died because he wasn't strong enough to save them. He bit his bottom lip in bitter resolve. There wasn't time to spend mourning. As soon as he landed on the thick, frigid ice of the smoked out trench he moved to stand back up. Then he ignited his cerulean blade and moved to meet the Imperial invaders. He used his lightsaber to deflect blaster fire and cut through foes unlucky enough to get close to him. In his left hand he wielded his T-6 heavy blaster pistol. The Thunderer launched sprees of hot plasma at the COMPNOR operatives, holding his ranged assailants at bay while he moved to engage them in melee.
Another hesitation. Amani inhaled deeply and readjusted her stance free of interruption. The agent wasn't even aware of them, or was bluffing. She became tense at the thought of having revealed their presence on Ilum to a potential threat, but frankly she was more concerned about whatever threats were more immediate to said students.
"Unless your Imperial friends have slaughtered them all already," She shot back, a faint inflection of anger rising in her throat. Since taking on her role as a knight, Amani had developed an intense protectiveness and sense of responsibility for their class of padawans, regardless of whether or not any of them were actually her own. Okay sure, they were pretty annoying sometimes, but still; If something had really happened to them, her tolerance was going to drop quite sharply. They had been tasked with a simple mission in the caves. It wasn't supposed to be… this.
Amani took a few slow, cautious steps around Zoraya until the computer was behind her, though she remained facing her Imperial counterpart the entire time. "...Would this console have anything that could lead me to them?" She asked hesitantly, still not knowing if and/or when the agent would make another move. Any information was doubtful, given Zoraya's own supposed lack of awareness that they were even here. But perhaps if anything was being surveilled, it could lead her in the right direction. She was getting desperate.
Aoki's blade swung through thin air, hitting the Jedi's sword. She looked up to see the detonator floating about and frowned under her helmet. She looked back down to him as their swords unlocked. She turned the electricity off as he spoke again.
The Jedi accusing Mira of being naive... was naive himself. He acted as of nuance did not exist, despite being a full grown adult. She entered another fighting stance as he aimed an unarmed blow at her chest. Being agile and swift, she side stepped in haste, dodging the attack and taking a couple steps back. She raised her sword in an Atrisian martial arts stance, "What makes the Empire different, you ask? A competent governance for one. Although, the similarities in crime infested planets is one the Sith share with the Galactic Alliance of all factions."
In a flash, she put her sword away. She extended her hand, voice dripping in disapproval. ""You are acting like a child with no sense of nuance. The Galactic Alliance has been writhing in the muck just as much as anyone else. While the Empire fought evil, the Alliance was cowardly and deceitful; squabbling amongst their own. Stop lecturing me as if I am a youth, and grow up yourself.""
All she had to do was break his concentration on the detonator. She focused, using the most powerful Force power in her arsenal. If he used the Force to absorb this attack too, as she followed up with speedy attacks, she could break that connection. From her fingertips, electrical energy sparked in a yellow-green hue. Despite its similarities to Force Lightning, this was something different. Electric Judgement was a purely Light Side ability. Furthermore, she had only been trained in the basics. This attack would not kill, as much as it would cause pain and potential spasms in the muscle. Electric judgement was a powerful ability, but in her hands it was weaker. Her beloved mentor had only trained her in the basics.
The light side electricity fired directly for Aaran. The moment it left her fingertips, Aoki used Force Speed to dart forward again. She drew Utaken, using Center of Being and Art of Movement to aid her in a rapid succession of sword strikes. None of the targets were fatal, but the speedy attacks were enough to overwhelm. Still, as she moved, she felt her energy already draining. It had been a long day, too long. And she was a speed and precision fighter, one whom still struggled with drawn out combat. Hoping to stop that detonator from going off, whatever it did, was no easy task. She controlled her breathing the best she could as she pressed an all out offense.
His face remained impassive as Mira spoke, deriding him as a child, once again using the excuse of the grey areas of morality to justify themselves. "Talk of nuance falls a bit flat when one side has death camps and the other does not." He replied, his tone even, but frosty. He raised a hand to the sky where fire still continued to rain down on the planet below, the echoes of the deaths of thousands still rattling in his ears. "Where one side kills their own out of convenience with a giant laser."
He shook his head. "You came here. Defiling a world that you know is sacred to the Force for material gains."
He could smell the ozone in the air as she prepared her attack, the facsimile of Sith Lightning prepared to blast him in the chest. But such a forward method of attack was one that was easily deflected, his own sword raised in time to intercept the bolt, a swift flourish moving his blade to intercept and redirect the lightning into the snow, melting it and throwing up a cloud of steam, obscuring Mira's sight as she began her physical onslaught.
He'd give the much smaller Knight this. She was fast, she was skilled with a blade. But there was something lacking, a hollowness behind her blows. Even as his own sword moved to intercept each strike, he could feel something holding her back. Stopping her from actually landing a blow on him. Physically her form was excellent. But internally she was off-balance.
"But you know the worst thing." He said, his own tone never shifting from its placidity, as if he were having a conversation about the weather and not in a pitched clash of blades with someone content to end his life. "Is that you were wallowing in self-pity in some hole." Sparks flew as his defence held steady against her onslaught, taking advantage of his greater size and stamina to simply outlast his much smaller opponent.
"Refusing to take the opportunity the Force was giving you to grow past your doubts." And when she went for another thrust, he did not move to deflect with his blade, but instead slid backwards, creating a small amount of distance, before raising his knee and slamming down with his elbow. aimg to catch her blade between both limbs.
With a deep inhale, he began to exert pressure, tremendous pressure upon the caught blade. Looking to shatter it completely.
Operation: Black Ice
The Empire
The Hallowed Scar, Ilum Primary Objective: RTB To F.O.B Reverence, Await Further Tasking Friendlies: The Empire | Michael Barran
| Bex Tarring
| Orik Dakari
| Open For More Hostiles: Galactic Alliance | Kelly T. Perris | Open For More Directly Engaging: Open Gear:In Bio
Elements of the 181st Armored Division, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Company, 3rd Platoon
XT-62 MBTb ‘331’ | Charlie 3-1 | [Command Tank]
XT-62 MBTb ‘332’ | Charlie 3-2 | Forward Recon
XT-62 MBTb ‘333’ | Charlie 3-3 |
XT-62 MBTb ‘334’ | Charlie 3-4 | Forward Recon | [Crew Alive & Conscious; Radio Station Moderately Rendered Unoperational | RWS Rendered Unoperational | Jammed Turret Ring Unstuck, Fixed Through Field Repairs | Right Track Destroyed, Immobilized]
The Cataphract’s main armament let out a thunderous roar as the armor piercing fin stabilized discarding sabot round darted out of the barrel in tremendous speeds, intended for none other than the Terenta Pattern main battle tank; the kicked off snow off the icy ground resulting from the gun’s overpressure as the round shot out, blanketed the crew’s optics for a moment, denying them sight momentarily.
But despite the momentary impairment to their vision, they could still make out the massive, wide and tall silhouette of the enemy tank; a mere second after the shot darted out the barrel, the sabot round pierced the frontal armor of the armored behemoth with ease, sending a shower of glistening sparks, the miniscule bits and pieces of its torn upper glacis to all directions as it vanished into the tank. The armored behemoth that adorned the insignia of the Alliance over its hull, came to a grinding halt not a moment after; gently at first, columns of thick, black smoke escaped out of the tank’s gun barrel and hatches. Picking up in speed, it soon jetted out of every crack and crevice, with flames accompanying the smoke; a tall column of bright orange flames jutted out of its commander’s hatch and the main gun.
The frozen, icy ground violently shook with a ground splitting explosion afterwards; the tank’s ammunition stowage caught in flames, the armored beast’s turret shot off high into the sky with the explosion, before eventually coming crashing down onto the cold, frozen surface of Ilum. Bereft of blowout panels, it was a fate unavoidable for almost any armored vehicle that had an autoloader design over the more manual, conventional loading system.
<”TARGEET! GET TO NEXT PART! TRAVERSE RIIIIGHT!”> following the TC’s commands, the young crewman swung the turret towards the direction of the callout onto another Terenta Pattern main battle tank; the machinery whined sharply as the gunner set his crosshair straight onto the second armored vehicle in the enemy’s armored platoon. <”IDENTIFIED! Comeoncomeoncomeoncomeoncomeon!”>The young Corporal’s foot tapped impatiently against the floor of the fighting compartment; the waiting for the gun to be loaded once more was excruciating more than ever as the young crewman, as well as his commander, were both staring down into the enemy tank’s barrel. <”LOAD IT! LOAD IIIIT!”>
The one man crew of the enemy tank had already aimed the primary armament of his armored behemoth at them, and dialed in the appropriate range into his fire control system, providing him the appropriate firing solution.
The series of sharp metallic clatter resounding inside the fighting compartment as Stege fed the gun with a new sabot round had given them relief more than he, or anyone else could imagine, that did not experience that moment of sheer helplessness of their situation with the gun empty. <”UUUUP!”>
But alas, the Terenta’s muzzle flash and the subsequent, deafeningly loud bang onto their tank’s upper glacis of their frontal armor, would sweep away what little sense of ease they felt just as Stege shouted the main gun was loaded and ready to fire. Much to their driver’s horror, the round slammed just a handbreadth below and to the right of his viewport; striking against the armor at an odd angle however, the enemy’s round failed to penetrate through the upper glacis; despite the massive jolt washing over all crew members from the sheer power behind the kinetic round, the armor held strong. The enemy’s sabot round left a crevice on the upper glacis, eleven inches in length and two inches in diameter as the round glanced off with a sharp whistle from the armor, disappearing from sight as it flew off into the distance.
<”FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE!”>
<”KIIILL HIIIIIIM!”>
<”ON THE WAAAAY!”>
The dreaded gun recoiled back at the young crewman’s input to the fire controls through the gunner sticks he firmly grasped. Ejecting out of the breech as the sabot round darted out of the barrel, the spent shell fell onto the floor of the fighting compartment with a sharp clatter, slowly rolling away towards the other end of the turret basket. <”NEXTTARGET NEXTTARGET! TRAVERSE RIGHT! STEADY! ”> Kenth shouted, the bitter mixture of fear and relief laden in his voice crackled over the intercom as the crew collectively heaved a much needed sigh of relief with the second enemy tank knocked out of action; the turret turned towards the third of the armored contacts barreling towards them in the distance. Bringing the gun to bear right on top of the gigantic armored behemoth, the young lad would be taken aback by the sight of the enemy tank in his sights catching fire all of a sudden, coming to a grinding halt in its tracks; a thunderous roar, akin to that of their tank’s dreaded L77A4 gun, had bellowed right besides them, a mere moment before the third of the Terenta’s were knocked out of action. Just as surprised as his gunner, the tank commander looked to his right from his viewports on the tank’s commander’s cupola; his gaze shifting over to ‘334’, he could see fumes faintly trailing out of the barrel of the 120mm cannon of their tank.
They were back in action!
Shifting his attention from the viewport to his panoramic sight, the man quickly began looking for another target. <”Sabot up!”> Stege shouted just after closing the breech of the dreaded tank gun after feeding the shell into it; the tank commander heaved a sigh as he witnessed the last of the enemy armor engaged by the friendly elements, forced into a retreat after the rest of his armored platoon was decimated by them, with of the 908th Legion hot on their heels, chasing them away.
<”Ceasefire.”> the man ordered; perturbation was apparent on his young visage, shrouded underneath the plastoid faceplate of his helmet. Although the enemy retreated for the time being, unwillingly granting a moment of respite to the tank crewmen they had ambushed, the tank commander knew better than take it at face value; they would be back again, and soon.
Swinging the turret over the frozen terrain, now dotted with the wreckage of enemy armor, the optics of the young gunner would hover on his latest armored kill.
Watching through the gunner sights, the young lad witnessed the second enemy tank share a fate similar to that of the first one he had taken out of action during the brief, yet brutal exchange; jets of bright hot red-orange flames jutted out of the hatches thrown open. Engulfed in flames, he could see the singular crewman of the knocked out Terenta struggling to pull himself out of his commander’s hatch as the flames singed and burned away his uniform, eventually finding their way to his skin and flesh.
A moment’s struggle after, he could see the desperate pair of hands trying to pull himself out of the hatch no more, as they dipped back into the tank, never to emerge again; the tank crew operating the Terenta had shared a fate that all tank crews dreaded; the armored confines of the tank he served in was now his coffin.
It then hit the young crewman; he had seen things during the heat of battle, but had only seen them; he was denied the respite to process what he saw through his optics. And the things he bore witness to, were mostly his doing. Silent, the kid’s grasp over the gunner sticks eased as he drew himself back from the optics right before his tinted black helmet visor. The young lad leaned his back against his seat as his brothers-in-arms also took a moment of respite in silence.
This was their closest encounter with Death. Although they fought under a banner to fulfill their duty towards their Empire, knowing exactly what it was they had signed up for, today’s fight was nothing short of earning the right to draw breath the following day. And this was only the beginning. The fight over the planet of Ilum had just begun, and was waging ever onwards in the wake of each passing moment. The crackling of the radio station in the wake of a comlink transmission would serve to be a bitter reminder of that truth, as painful as it was to be reminded of it.
The kid -never in his life before- wanted to be home more than ever now.
The young tank commander reached for the handset from the comlink station beside him. Raising it to the side of his helmet, the man listened to the transmissions over the command net, speaking and reporting back on a few occasions; as the man went about relaying and receiving battle related data, Stege’s hands reached for his helmet. <”By the karking stars…”> Taking it off slowly, the man set it on the basket underneath the gun breech. The man placed a neatly rolled joint to his lips after producing one from one of his pockets. Lighting it with the fire from his lighter, the man took a drag of the smoke as he leaned his back against the rolling armored panel of the ammunition ready rack right behind him.
<”Ey yo! Pass that chit here too, motherkarker!”> The young driver said as he took off his helmet for the moment, setting it on his lap; sweat dripped off his brow, onto his features as he extended his left hand into the fighting compartment behind him from his driver’s seat, holding his hand out towards his comrade, demanding the joint. ”Yeah hold on, wait for your turn man.” the loader said as he extended his hand towards Hall; giving him a nudge, the man got ahold of the young tank gunner’s attention. Absent-mindedly, the young lad accepted the joint passed to him; reaching for his helmet with his right hand, the man slipped it off free as he raised the cigarra to his lips to take a quick drag. ”Easy, easy.” Stege warned him as he watched him take a quick drag.
<"Guardian One sounding off as your cover from the north. You're clear to move for now, fellas.... Though not for long on our end sadly, but we'll deal with that on our own initiative - so just focus on getting back to FOB: Reverence, bais. Tunnel-focus time!">
<”Yes sir. Understood sir. We will roll out as soon as Charlie Three-Four is mobile once more sir.”> The tank commander responded to Guardian One over the comlink as the crew went about taking a moment to relax before going back into combat again. Not long after his transmission with Guardian One, the young Sergeant would receive a comlink transmission from his own headquarters. Listening to the brief message in silence, the man gave a curt nod of his head. <”Understood actual. We’re a ways away from the artillery barrage. We’ll be rolling out for F.O.B Reverence as soon as Three-Four’s done with their field repairs. Three-Four out,”> With a muffled sigh the man returned the handset back to its housing over the comlink station.
”Think we’ll make it out of this one alive?” the driver, agitated and jumpy from his close brush with death, tried to soothe himself with a long drag of the joint, finally passed down to him from Stege after Hall had a whiff. The driver’s absent minded inquiry had the loader raise an eyebrow before he spoke. ”We survived Nirauan, we’ll survive this, too” the giant of a man said in firm belief; his faith did not relent under the unbelieving laughter of his comrade. ”Survive, my ass. Karkers had the jump on us, we’re lucky to be alive.”
Stege shook his head in response. Optimistic as ever, the loader stuck to his guns. ”We’ll get through this,I know it,”the man held his hand stretched towards Kale, motioning for the partially smoked joint, requesting it wordlessly from the driver to take another drag. “Count your blessings. Whether it was blind luck or not, they were alive for now, and that counted for something, after all.
Shifting in his seat, the TC’s gaze briefly shifted to his crew in the fighting compartment, then back at his panoramic sight. He didn’t partake in this understandable and much needed activity to relieve some stress, but also did not take action to stop them from soothing themselves. As long as they were still combat effective, he decided it was for the better he beared with and overlooked this all.
Looking at the sector the Imperial artillery had gotten on their sights, his eyes behind the obsidian black helmet visor would narrow at the sight of the brief, fiery flashes the artillery barrage left in its wake.
<”Stege,”> the man’s gaze turned from his optics and onto the loader. <”Buckets on, we’re going up top. Let’s see if we can repair the RWS,”> The loader gave a curt nod of his head at Kenth as he took a quick drag of the joint. Passing it back to Kale, the man quickly slipped on his helmet. Throwing their hatches open, the crew would make use of the protection the friendly artillery barrage provided them, not to mention they had other friendly units in their vicinity to keep them safe.
Sharing the same idea with the men of the ‘332’, the tank crewmen in the armored confines of ‘334’ also threw open their hatches and climbed out of their tanks with all due haste to repair the broken tracks of their tank. Working with the post haste the sense of impending battle in their near future, the men crews worked tirelessly to get their tank mobile once more. As soon as the tracks were repaired, they would make way towards Reverence for further tasking.
His free hand raised, palm open to signal his men to not open fire unless they dared to disobey his command. Repercussions for disobedience would be quite harsh and to his liking not a single blaster bolt was fired. This was a personal matter and he would not need the assistance of his men to solve it.
“Lieutenant, take your men from here and continue with the operation. I will handle this matter myself…do not make me repeat myself.”
His second-in-command made no move to question Simon’s orders and the squad of Stormtroopers filed out through another junction within the cavern. Only the Jedi and the Knight remained, lightsabers still activated.
“I was hoping not to find you here,” making no move to attack her. He hoped he could solve things…diplomatically. “We need not be enemies, I advise you to leave the follies of the Jedi and the Alliance. We both strive for the same goals. Do you not think it’s time to better a yearning Galaxy, Zhea?” First time he had said her name in a long time. He did not forget the past, even if he wanted to. To kill or forget the past was foolish; he simply learned from its mistakes and errors, though some would argue he was ignorant in focusing in those aspects.
“You are only a pawn to a hierarchy of elites, serving the few while ignoring the masses. The very same hierarchy which vilified you.”
"And there he goes with the same two-dimensional generalisations again.... thinking all Imperials the same, as if this Serennoan phoenix sigil on my coat ever adhered to Tarkinism. And there I thought Jedi were smarter than that."
Mira's teeth gritted in frustration as both the Jedi and Barran rattled her ears. All the disgust she felt, as a Pellaeonist, watching concentration camps in their miserable existence haunted her. The way the Jedi ridiculed her during their duel, accusing and mocking her. How could he understand? How could he imagine the fight inside Tarkinists and Pellaeonists had over morality and justice? As sweat collected on her brow, she briefly switched to one handed to yank her helmet off. Red and streamy eyes were flooded with rare visible emotion. In the amplification of her emotions, her telepathic range extended. Not only could Mira hear Barran's voice, but the Jedi as well.
""How long must this act continue, Jedi? How much longer before the Pellaeonists decide they also despise you? The Galactic Alliance wouldn't want war with masters of Hearts and Minds, not when the Jedi have long since forgotten this power.... Now, enough with your over-eagerness. Just fight already!"
Mira's head pounded, "I-"
SHATTER!
Utaken, the Aoki blade. The sword that had been in her family for generations, had been caught and shattered. Sharpenels flew around in slow motion. Shards of steel, glowing and vibrant in the winter planet's light, scattered.
Pain exploded in her face. She had removed her helmet to cool down. The panting girl grasped her head, feeling the impact of broken metal embedded in her face. She gasped in pain, blood oozing and dripping down her cheek in crimson tears.
But salty water tears fell as well, the half Mirialan writhing in pain. But the pain did not stem from the steel shards stinging her skin. No, the real pain stemmed from the broken sword. The hilt only held the stub of uneven, wretchedly broken metal. The pieces, scattered like sands in the wind. Through the fingers gripping her face, her unaffected eye gazed down at the sharpenels in agony.
That... that was...
She fell to her knees, shaking in woe. This...
She winced her eyes shut, wailing in lamentation. Her father's death, her uncle and aunt's deaths, all flashed before her eyes as she saw their sword in pieces.
She glared up at her opponent. Ilum. The crystals. Deafening drills. Voices. Visions. Headaches. Death. Voices. Headaches. So many voices-
She grabbed the largest shard and yanked it out. Scarlet blood splattered upon the ground. Her voice cracked as she screamed for possibly the first time in her life, "BE SILENT!"
She leapt up, drawing her wakizashi and tanto in rage. A whirlwind of slices and thrusts as the vibroblade technology hummed in the blades. Songsteel and cortosis clashed with the Jedi's katana as she swung at him in rage. Her breaths were heavy as she rasped. Blood trickled down, the impact of the still embedded skin a mess of what would be some nice scarring. This was one of the few times she had ever lost it in her life. It was all too much. All too much...
She was just about to follow up when she was thrown back against the ice wall.
With a pained grunt, she slid down the wall as gravity pulled her down to the ice once again. The shoulder where the kid's lightsaber had cut her on New Alderaan, was on fire once more from the impact and something felt torn.
<I'll kill that fucking kid if it's the last thing I do.> Lily groan-growled. <Spectre, did you see where they went?> she asked her comrade as she struggled to her feet as concussed fog and icy dust started to clear from the fallen boulder.
Picking up the Streiter that had flown from her hand as she had hit the wall, she drew a pistol as well and followed Katja into the tunnel. It was much narrower, which might have made it harder for an ordinary Stormtrooper to operate in, but SCAR was a few cuts above the rest. Narrow spaces didn't hinder them.
With hate boiling in the Reaper's heart, she marched down the tunnel. Banking on the boy's own hatred for her, she called out. "Didn't peg you for coward, kid! Come and face me or I won't stop pursuing you and your friends until you are all dead!" she called down the tunnel as she and Katja pursued them. They could hear the frantic breaths of the Padawans. She turned her visor to her comrade.
<That girl is all yours, Spectre. Don't let her out of here alive.>
DECEASED Erskine Barran
Valery Noble
on Kestri, how similar her movements were to Erskine’s. Even the setting was almost identical.
