3rd post
FOB: Reverence, Western Kyber Mountains,
The Hallowed Scar, Ilum (Spring of 877 ABY)
Explosions just beyond the half-obscured latter half of the 313th Armoured column.
Danger close, and dangerously close to column and FOB alike.
Goood.... Just what the doctor ordered.
If any potential attackers on the west front remained to harry the tank column's eastward approach, there wouldn't be any of them left after that, not after Tarring's heavy-laden rocket barrage, not with the weight of high-volume rocket destruction raining down on almost every uncontested league for a few miles at least. Lighting up the dark, cloudy skies above with the fiery, whistling menace of the Free-State's artillery array, the Wanderer couldn't help but appreciate the pretty glow the missiles were casting on the snows below as they sailed outward into the wilderness.
<"Barran to Cairn Two! You're up. Prep the entire array.... Time for Sally-Plan: Echo.">
<"Coordinating with the others now, Milord. Cairn Two out!">
But the real beauty awaited at the endpoints of their trajectory, as the Lord-Colonel knew fine and well the gravitational principle of
,"What goes up must come down.", understanding the precision of the locked-in coordinate homing tech to elementarily comprehensive extents as the flashing thuds shook the snowy ground beneath Lord Michael's feet. Enough to spring to action again, enough to make preparations for an all-out counter on the GADF while the opening was still there for
FOB: Reverence to exploit, depending almost entirely on the swiftness of their response as a result of the scuppered ambush itself; and with the tanks steadily rolling in one by one, all it would take to make the 313th contingent useful again was a small run of light repairs and replenishments, with enough time on their side to let all the rescued crewmen stretch their legs for a while.
All who made it back would be eager for payback, the Lord-Regent's recruitment doctrines were targeted towards bringing such vengeful fervour out from within, and when it mattered most to do so, Lord Michael had long since known of his father's talent for making use of this hard-to-break quality in his Sabretooth-Troopers and tank-crews alike. Looking on as the first Cataphracts were in the process of refuelling, sitting back and lighting a cigarra as the shell-loaders kept to a safe distance, the Woad couldn't help but appreciate his father's aptitude for trooper selection-training, seeing and reading the unwavering morale-levels through their body-language and standing-postures alone. Even the exhausted ones were seen in high spirits, doing their best to relax and recharge in their own way as they lazily directed the fuelling-station staffers hither and yon, and all whilst they ate and rehydrated for the next phase of the battle, fully aware of the situation as they stuffed their faces full of calories in anticipation.
The almost-uncanny peacefulness within the HASCO line would be enjoyed for another minute or so before he flicked the cigarra's remains to the winds, taking in the brief serenity for just a little while longer before he set to work in reading the wilderness beyond, using his heightened senses to gaze across the frozen wilderness to the West. But then another barrage would break the quiet hubbub of the working servicemen in the near-distance, and in the moment the Wanderer looked up to find larger jet-trails in the clouds, Barran chuckled in the realisation that this strike was retaliatory in nature - preemptive though Lord Michael surmised it to be.
Interesting.... I must admit, I quite like this Tarring fellow's mindset.
Jolly good show, Lord Bex. I think I'll be meeting you soon enough.
And it wouldn't be long before the trajectories were tracked by the Highlanders' map-technicians, every part as eager as everyone else would be to learn where the heavier-grade missiles were aiming, and not long after, Sir Randall would find out and surely inform the Woad soon after. However, something else was happening in the western wilderness, a matter of irritation with the young Imperial-Knight was transpiring, though McBain would draw him away from the west in the clamour of his ascent up the watchtower's durasteel stepladder, clunking with every pace he made on the way up.
But when the ever-reliable Gallowglass exclaimed
,'Haw, Michael! You'd never be able t'guess guess where they're headed by the way, seriously! This is nae joke in the slightest, but.... Those payloads are headed straight for the GA's landing-zones, an' its been confirmed by at least four analysts already! Tarring is not fething about the-day!', Lord Michael was pleased to know he would have at least some of the responsibility's weight lifted from his shoulders for a time. There were able-bodied and cunning officers on hand to take the fight to the GADF, first of two Imperial battlefronts lucky enough to break out from their defensive stance, and of those braving the westward push, Barran found himself quite glad to have sly foxes like Tarring at the ready in the battle's most uncertain hours.
'Aye, he's either caught wind of our intentions or decided he's had enough also. Either way, we're pushing westward an' I think I have a plan to help, so pay attention.... All IFVs, Technicals, Cataphracts in our hangar.... Ready every last one of them, and follow to whatever glory awaits - I sense a decisive action on the horizon. And I want the Highlanders there for every last second of it.'
With nothing left to be said, Imperial salutes and brotherly handshakes were given and McBain was quickly on his way to oversee Barran's orders, by then fully aware of everyone's intentions of breaking through and out of the perceived encirclement-cauldron; and whether it was to leave their mark on their attackers by hitting them where it hurt, or just to make their defiant collective presence felt against their nemeses, Lord Michael knew that it was just a natural urge for Imperials under fire to strike back as heavily as possible. The only snag in this change in plan, meagre and recalculable though it was in the grand scheme of the battle, was the fact he would need to put
Sally-Plan: Echo on hold for another contingency down the line, as the assignment of support vehicles fortunately required the commitment of much fewer soldiers for the Major-General's armoured charge for glory.
Happy to let his trusty Gallowglass take control for their part in the Empire's first offensive action of the battle, the Wanderer's attention would finally wander from conventional matters to those of mythic nature, looking westward again in the hopes he could catch the reaction of what was missed in McBain's loud interruption; but what Lord Michael would catch in the following moments, amplified telepathically by Mira's rising rage and disdain as catalysts, would bring out a rather venomous response almost immediately. Ringing clear as day in Barran's mind, he could sense almost everything that was happening with Aoki in theses moments; sot only could he hear the telepathic communications of his comrade, but in Mira's rage-induced amplification of power, the spoken words traded between the Imperial Knight and her Jedi opponent could be heard with ease.
Not revealing my presence, at least - not yet....
They're poised now anyway.
However, the debate between Aoki and Tafo was growing rather heated, and of the outbursts Barran was hearing at the time, the words of the Jedi were striking the Druid the wrong way. In complete contrast to the loyalties reaffirmed in Mira's responses, it seemed that Aaran's keen, quarrelsome retorts went against the very fabric of honest Jedi behaviours; and in remembering what was learned from secretive Force-Wielding mentors over the years, along with the heart-warming memories shared with them despite their Jedi affiliations, it seemed Mira's opponent was yet to learn all the most important lessons in his path. Almost as if the Jedi himself was trapped in a paradigm with no way of knowing he was trapped in it, like Tafo was stuck in the Galactic equivalent to Tarkinist propaganda, and for as long as Barran insisted on listening in silence, the disgust that assailed his sense of reason would continue to intensify to volatile extremes.
In other situations, the Woad would have let it go, but in the understanding of the Jedi's behaviours, he believed examples were to be made. Nothing would stop him from intervening, not for as long as he still believed in Mira, not for as long as his power kept the fog of chaos at bay. As far as Lord Michael saw it, the young knight's opponent had no right to condemn the Empire with their own wrongdoings considered, no right to offer desertion or defection to the GA, and no right to even attempt to justify it to Imperials of Mira's sort.
~=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.=~
Speaking from the soul, projecting every last word in his mind to those of whom he was intently listening before, this was Michael's human truth, and in a way, his rather animistic take on the truth of Dia's determination. It was this part of him (amongst an entire host of contrasting traits) that set Lord Michael apart from his father, and though other differences were no doubt there to be seen, it was the burning intensity that hid behind the grey-backed blue of the Woad's irises that truly set the Wanderer apart from his father. A standalone facet to the anomaly that was Michael Barran, and one such that stood as a locked gateway to many more like it, but one in particular was shining out brighter than all the others, though ironically one that further-likened the Druid to his father as a result of his tirade.
The propensity to speak out, and habitually doing so against whatever is perceived as objectionable at the time; like a scratch that one can't help but itch for the convenience of brief, short-lived relief, Lord Michael just couldn't help himself, and the fact he felt compelled to discourage perceived mindgames would do nothing to keep Barran from speaking his mind.
~=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!=~
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