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Blue-eyes beneath glass lenses tracked to Jorg. A mouse-like nod followed. Crash webbing tugged against bony-shoulders. The first explosion happened almost before Jorg finished speaking. Eyes squeezed closed and their shuttle vanished from sight and sensors in the heat of the surrounding explosions and debris of Alliance life and starfighter bones. It was as if they'd been obliterated too, as white current wrapped around their entire transport.
Everything else was tuned out: her crew mates, the explosions, chatter from the comms. She was good at that, tuning people out. #introvertgift #sociallyawkward
The Alliance might even be worried. But that didn't matter. They had an objective and a mission and the gangly-blonde would help get them there.
The legionnaire gives the order and presumably she cloaks us. I glance around. Nothing looked different. I guess I am not sure what I expected to happen. Maybe for us all to turn invisible? The Force is foreign to me.
[SIZE=11pt]I switch to strike force comms and hear the chatter of the squadron pilots escorting us. A flight leader calls out orders. We are close.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Suddenly, they start screaming. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]The orbalisk-shuttle bucks as if from air turbulence, but there is no turbulence in space. Best guess? We are taking errant flak from the Malice aimed for the squadron. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]I turn and look toward Dallows. His head is hung low. We listen as the escorting squadron gets torn to ribbons beneath the destroyer’s guns. Their voices dwindle into silence, broken only when the co-pilot calls out, “Bypassing shields.” [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Grimacing, I ready my weapon. The orbalisks are equipped with peregrine shield disruptors, originally meant to break through planetary shields. They serve a different purpose here, allowing us to slip between the Malice’s shields.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]The shuttle rocks one last time with a sense of finality and I hear the *thunk* of hull on hull as the orbalisk magseals onto the hull of the gigantic ship. Below our feet there is a hiss as cryboan gas freezes the hull, followed by plasma torches which cut a perfect circle. Another loud thunk sounds as the severed section of the ship is ejected inward. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]I unclip my restraints. The others do the same. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]“Standby to breach,” Dallows orders. “Three, two, one…”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]In the center of the shuttle’s troop bay, a circular section of the deck slides open. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]“Breach!”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Two marines step forward, and lob laser inhibiting smoke grenades through the opening. Two legionnaires do the same with concussion grenades. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Then we swarm in through the chaos and the smoke.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]We are specters in our haunting black armor and red visors. I jump through the airlock with the rest of them. My feet hit the deck. Gravity reorients. I activate my magboots with a click of my heels and stick the landing.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]The interior of the enemy ship is a haze of the blue LIS smoke. All of a sudden, blaster bolts start slapping through the smog. I get smacked with one, but the smoke already took the burn out of the shot. Instead of leaving a scorch mark on my armor it hits like a wampa punch. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]I grunt more as a reflexive reaction of surprise than from any sense of pain and gesture in the direction the shot came from. “Trills, ten o’clock.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Marines return fire through the smoke with sonic carbines. The hard sound wobbles through the smoke and I hear bones break. The blasterfire stops. We funnel inward, past the smoke, and stare down at the broken bodies of stormtroopers. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]First kills. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]My fingers curl tightly around my weapon and I find jealousy seething inside me. I don’t know why. Do I really want to kill? Isn’t that my purpose now? A weapon in human form? [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]“Let’s go,” I call out, “protect the principal.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]The principal is the force user. She is integral to our plans. This mission is already close to suicide, but without her powers we might as well space ourselves and say the bucketheads the trouble.[/SIZE]
Location: Space.Where do you think the fleet is? A casino? More specifically, I'm on that one ship [member="Jorg"] is in. Objective: DESTROY THE FIRST ORDER SCUM! Oh yeah... And board FIV Malice. Allies: [member="Raph Thule"] - [member="Spark Finn"] - [member="Canal"] - [member="Adder"] - [member="Jorg"] Enemies: [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] - [member="Jaina Ventor"] (THE FIRST ORDER SCUM)
The Ahkmahd was in the very back of the ship in silence during the entire trip. He joined the 5th Legion as they joined because frankly, he wanted to make the scum feel pain. He was quiet the entire time as he was just thinking about exactly how to get to the ship. He was planning on breaking into the turret mainframe and rewiring them to change their targets to fire at the First Order. He did not take in the fact that there may not be many turrets or the turret controls were on the bridge. He didn't know too much about how First Order ships worked, for he had only ever worked on Galactic Alliance ships.
He continued sitting in silence as he listened to the sounds of warfare outside of the ship.
Mahan was watching the battle unfold in silence when a junior officer approached him with a handheld holographic projector. The Grand Admiral waited for the young man to address him, "Grand Admiral, the Emperor himself has requested your immediate return to Kamino." Mahan spared him a glance, "Might I remind you," Mahan looked at the human's rank bar, "lieutenant, we are in the center of a battle." The JO was unfazed, "Sir, the Emperor demands your return, now." Mahan sighed, he would have to leave his fleet in the capable hands of Rear Admirals Hardeen and Cardan. Mahan exited the observation deck followed by his aide and the messenger. Mahan didn't know the ship well, as it was his brand new flagship, and required some directions from his aide, who had studied the ship's layout vigorously only three days earlier on Mahan's order. Not only half an hour later did Mahan finally make it to the hangar, a shuttle waiting. Before Mahan boarded, a few crewman carried aboard a crate, containing all of Mahan's belongings from his cabin. Before boarding the ship, the lieutenant handed Mahan the holo-projector, "The Emperor instructs that you open this upon entering hyperspace, sir." Mahan did not respond physically or verbally, only taking his seat on the vessel.
As the shuttle left the hangar, an escort of four TIE interceptors exited along with the shuttle, only to break off when the shuttle entered lightspeed. Ignoring the Emperor's orders, Mahan opened the holographic projector with his code cylinder moments before going into hyperspace. It was not a video message, but a holographic letter. Mahan read the subject line: Your Resignation. Mahan's grip tightened as he read on, causing the hologram to flicker. Words could not express the anger he felt.
Actions
Gave [member="Gromm Cardan"] command of my Praetor IV
Exited thread
Location: Asmeru System Objective: Eliminate Therapy Command Allies: First Order | Integrated with @Suravi Teigra Opposition: Galactic Alliance and Outer Rim Coalition Directly Engaging: [member="Cathul Thuku"]
"You heard the lady," Valasquez remarked, "let's get into formation."
Commander Cyone walked toward Lieutenant Choi and Ensign Quentin. "Open an encrypted channel with the task group."
"Attention Task Group Sixty-Two, this is Commander AermoiraCyone all ships focus on attack craft and any projectiles that breach our formation." She turned her eyes a moment toward the holographic map of the ongoing battle as it was, Admiral [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"], Captain @Aran Piett and Grand Admiral [member="Cyrus Tregessar"]. Some of the greater names within the First Order Navy. "Our goals here today are two-fold the first will be to drive the Galactic Alliance out of this sector and the second to eliminate the threat that is Admiral Thuku's group. We're sending out coordinates for our own formations, and may the Balance be with us all." It wasn't exactly a rousing speech but she drove home the points that she needed to drive home. "I want our ion torpedoes prepped, once we're in range I want you to target the carrier. Soften her up for the General." She said this looking to Lieutenant Choi before walking back to her command chair.
Lieutenant Commander Valasquez finished issuing out the commands on her console and looked over to the Commander. "You're still pissed about Kaeshana."
"I sacrificed a lot of ships to help establish that foothold, we, all sacrificed far too much to hold onto it." Commander Cyone then continued, "only wish now we had brought more of our own capital vessels."
Valasquez quipped. "Let's focus on this Admiral Thuku, she's been a pain in our Grand Admiral's side long enough has she not?"
Commander Cyone nodded in agreement, "indeed she has, and on top of this she is an insult to the profession in which she so boldly claims to advocate."
"We're in position," Ensign Quentin reported.
"Engage," Commander Cyone ordered without hesitation.
With a quiet screeching of wheels, M-33P made his way quickly and efficiently towards the hangar - with a minor hold up. Some organic, go figure, had managed to hold up an elevation shaft for a full three minutes while he tried fruitlessly to cram a small utility sledge inside the elevator. After several angry beeps and no doubt profanities, the car had begun its descent once more utnil it had reached the hangar deck. From there, it was just a short vroom down a small maze of corridors before M-33P found itself crossing the threshold into the shuttle bay, an auditory chirp signalling its arrival to the requested location. With a short fizzle of energy, the coordinates were transmitted to the droid. As it was about to take off once more towards its goal, an entire formation of stormtroopers hustled by, a squeal emitted as M-33P ducked out of the way of their trampling feet.
// HOW RUDE // thought the droid to itself.
Spinning its wheels, the MSE series droid sped off towards its goal. Shuttle 1, according to the database had already been completed and there was another droid tasked with Shuttle 2 - so naturally M-33P shot off towards shuttle 3. That's when all hell broke loose. The deck shifted beneath the small droid, his whirring motors struggling to compensate for the slight adjustment in course - the whole ship had been rattled.
// WAS THAT ENEMY FIRE?! // the droid shrieked as it tipped dangerously far onto its left two wheels.
As M-33P strugled to right itself, the fates seemed to have something else in mind for the MSE. As it tottered first left, then right, another formation of fully clad stormtroopers bustled by, one of them stumbling into the poor unfortunate droid sending it careening off course. With a loud whirr and a series of curt beeps, M-33P found himself shooting up a boarding ramp and unceremoniously launched through the air and into a shuttle - shuttle 2 if his directional sensors were correct.
*CLUUUUNK*
With a resounding clunk, the MSE series droid clanged into the bulkhead of the shuttle, its sensors scrambled for a moment before it attempted to re-assess its location. An inquiring beep sounded into the shuttle's bay. M-33P had found itself on its side, unable to right itself - its wheels whirring helplessly.
"ASSISTANCE REQUIRED. THIS UNIT HAS BECOME OVERTURNED AND IS UNABLE TO RIGHT ITSELF." *
He felt nothing. Absolutely nothing when he heard the yells and screams of friendly pilots which were the last things that they would utter when being blow to oblivion by the Malice's defense guns. Then again, it was a common thing for Canal even during the time when he fought alongside his own blood for the ideals of the dismantled Confederacy. Seeing dead Fett clones didn't really made him stop and traumatized. The only time he really cared was when someone close to him was injured or dead. Those were the only times when he showed some form of sympathy. Other than that, he would only fight on until his mission was a success or have his own life taken away by some hostile.
That was the real beauty of having an army like Canal. Genetics. The clone's own genetics were more superior and dominant than the average soldier, and his training was arguably tenfold better than some commandos. Of course his own programming didn't dictate his personality. Hell, even if he could remember, some of his own blood brethren disliked him because of that. He didn't share the kind of loving and caring personality that his own brothers back then had. No, he only cared about completing a mission and would sacrifice as many men in order to achieve that. In fact, he would even stand his own ground against overwhelming odds instead of surrendering or retreating.
So when the pilots gave their own life in sake of the boarding party's, the clone didn't gave a single pity for them. Who would besides him? Certainly not the upper chain of command in the Alliance's forces, and certainly not the Imperials.
The restraints unclipped itself from Canal and the Fett clone readied himself for breaching the Imperial vessel. And then the operation truly began. Marines and Legionnaires alike stormed the interior of the ship, and the soldier was one of the first ones to breach. Unfortunately, he wasn't useful as the anti-blaster aerosol grenades thrown by the Marines made his weaponry useless. He could only remain still and wait until the fighting was over as he didn't want to break formation. Suddenly, the fighting stopped after the Marines used their sonic carbines that killed the hostile stormtroopers. Orders were called out by one of the Marines to protect the principal, also known as the blonde haired Force User.
Silently acknowledging that call, the clone made his way up to the front of the formation of the boarding party that was comprised of Legionnaires and Marines.
BB-10R2 was humming along, his data interface tracking along the progress as his optical nerve swiveled around his head, taking in the surroundings. His sensors told him that the vibrations he felt in the floorplating was likely two dozen stormtroopers boarding the shuttle. His circuits buzzed pleasantly; he was in the zone now. A slight rerout here, and the shuttle would have increased efficiency in shields. Another here -- the engine output would be increased by 0.000021%! He was really outdoing himself now; Captain Fortan III would be pleased with him. He concluded his review and beeped pleasantly to himself.
//DECLARATORY STATEMENT: SYSTEMS NORMAL; DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE, STATUS A01: COMBAT READY.
As he left the maintenance cabin, a squeal greeted his auditory sensors. He looked around and followed the sound of the beeping, which is internal processing unit turned into a request for assistance. It seemed some poor MSE droid had fallen and couldn't get up. BB-10R2 clucked indulgently to himself as he raced between the feet of the boarding party. At this point the pleasant, if robotic, voice of the mission manager had faded into the background: "This is the final countdown. Boarding parties to your assigned shuttles. Pilots, complete pre-flight checks. We are go in T-minus ten - nine - eight - seven..."
//DECLARATORY STATEMENT: DO NOT GET YOUR CIRCUITS OVERHEATED, MSE DROID DESIGNATED M-33P. BB-10R2 IS HERE TO ASSIST.
Using his utility arm, BB-10R2 flipped [member="M-33P"] with some difficulty, chittering to the other droid in tones that he thought were conciliatory, and which drowned out the announcer: "... three - two - one - go!"
//QUESTION: DID YOU FEEL THAT? MY SENSORS INDICATE VIBRATION PATTERN CONSISTENT WITH LAUNCH OF KNOWN FIRST ORDER BOARDING SHUTTLES.
His optical sensor whirred towards the door and made a rude noise.
//DECLARATORY STATEMENT: LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE! CLUMSY, ANTIQUATED MSE MODELS!
Jorg dropped into the inner hallway of The Malice with a loud thud, troopers falling out around him and the special forces moving in a fanning direction. His rifle was quickly shouldered, sights raised. Eyes flicked through his HUD, lips thinning for a moment.
They had no internal maps of The Malice unfortunately, and thus they didn't actually have any idea where they were going. There were certain similarities between all Star Destroyers however, and most of them had security rooms from which you could access a terminal. He had no idea if the force user actually needed such a thing to do as they planned, but that didn't really matter. Jorg and his men needed a defensible location, and in a security room with only one or two doors would be exactly that. "Tight formation!"
He called out through his radio.
"Pilots with me." They hadn't landed in a hangar bay so there would be no dallying about. When it was time to go they would have to fight their way to the nearest hangar and hope they found a shuttle. It was a broken, half-baked plan but right about now it was the only thing they could do. "Half guard our rear, half to the front."
He motioned his soldiers to move out. "Corridors are tight, that'll work for us."
This ship probably had a sizeable garrison aboard, but that didn't matter as long as him and his troopers stayed in tight formation.
They had one goal, get the force user to that security room. Without another word the boarding party loaded up and headed out, blaster fire soon beginning to echo within the halls of The Malice.
The mags engaged with a loud ‘thunk’ and Adder closed her eyes. This was it. They were here, her part was don—
Like Hell it was.
That bastard Jorg yelled across the comms. Sadly, it made sense, because shet, she couldn’t stay here. Cursing her luck, Adder grabbed her spidersilk jacket, slipping into it like a second skin. Running down the ramp, the ex-cop checked both her holsters – trusty Westar, VT Needle Disruptor – and slipped into the crowd of soldiers moving down the corridor.
The next minutes felt both alien and familiar. Coruscant had been like this, but not, because hey, it was her home. This? This was just another frakking pointless war, with the damn First Order thinking they'd grabbed god by the balls.
Her jaw was set, her hand wrapped around the well-worn grip of her blaster. Adder didn’t shoot to kill. This battle would spill enough blood already, no need for her to add to the count.
She did, however keep a keen eye out for power lines and maintenance tunnels. Could speed up their progress immensely.
Jaina overhears a few bridge crewmen talk about hull breaches and hostile personnel who were boarding."Sailor, dispatch a platoon of Stormtroopers to each of the breaches. Orders to set their weapons to stun. Take them alive if possible I have questions." The Sailors gives a sheepish nod and smirk towards the sound of the Shadowtrooper's alluring accent. Jaina pivots in her boots towards the bridge door flashing a toothy smile within the confines of her helmet, heaving DLT-19x from over pauldron into both sheathed hands. The sound of a loud clack fills the bridge with the Agent charging the cooling vent handle into the 'shut' position. "Ma'am, where are you going?" The young Sailor thrusts his datapad into the air at the departing Agent in a protest for them to relent for a moment, Jaina does. Only to deliver a single line in homage to her family's dark history."For a hunt." Jaina replies with the bridge's door submitting to her presence, steadily she fades away into nothingness before a few stunned Sailors. Jaina darts down the hallway with a small blue holographic diamond appearing on her heads up display with the floating point value of '1.1' above it. Green Spheres glance over towards motion tracker, nothing but expected contacts."All Skull Callsigns this is Skull Three, proceed to the nominated location; Whiskey Romeos and Bravos expected."The three adjacent green squares indicating each Skulls' connection to the TEAMCOM makes a single green flash representing an acknowledgement. Soon the full weight of the First Order Security Bureau and Stormtrooper Corps would fall upon their intruders who had nowhere to hide. They could only run, surrender or fight but end up dying in vain. They'd boarded an old Sith Darr-Itah and Jaina concludes it is doubtful anything but a laughable-sized band had managed to survive the point-defence weapons and board the ship. The elevator whizzes down the shaft towards the main hanger, there is plenty of telemetry data for Jaina to track the borders' movements. They weren't exactly being subtle. A thought leaps into Ventor's mind, what if their objective was to access the First Order's network from the inside, in a wide-eyed moment of clarity alone in the elvator. "Helm this is Skull Three, disable all terminal functions along the borders' route; Initiate localised system lockdown."A small smirk spreads across Jaina's lips. If they hadn't already implemented this security measure, they were about to and make sure that the Galactic Alliance Troops couldn't access the network. Though circuitry could still be manipulated in order to trick doors into opening and closing, but that would take a trained Special Forces soldier, scoundrel or electrician, to get passed as opposed to stock troops. Jaina feels an overwhelming hissing steadily fill her ears and finds herself staring forward at the grey-coloured doors blankly. "No, no, no. We can't flay them, that's ridiculous!"Jaina cackles to herself maniacally in this moment of solitude."That doesn't mean they're not going to suffer."Jaina protests herself which is followed by the shake of head and a series of 'tsk, tsk, tsk.'"No, of course not." The turbolift decelerates and Jaina composes herself, green eyes rise to examine the deck number displayed; This is her destination.
Location: Asmeru system
Objective: Prevent the GA fleet from being outflanked
Allies: [member="Bryce Bantam"] [member="Agenor Dyre"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Alexandra Morrow"]
Enemies: [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] [member="Aran Piett"]
Directly engaging: [member="Aermoira Cyone"] [member="Gromm Cardan"] [member="Suravi Teigra"]
"Julie, you have stopped using battle meditation"
"With battle meditation, you have to remember this: it is least useful when he enemy has just entered standard turbolaser range. At long ranges, it is used like a Force-EWAR, but not quite, and when the enemy is closing in on point-defense, as well as having taken some damage"
"We can't take another volley: nevertheless fire the trench batteries on the fast-approaching picket corvettes and the dorsal batteries at the White Base" Carmen told the other crew.
"Fire all normal missiles on the White Base: that ought to distract the enemy flak"
"What of the MIRVs?" the captain of the Lothal asked over comms.
"Five MIRVs each on the Daala and the Palleon"
The First Order Ubiqtorate may have had flawed information regarding Cathul's status as a therapist: she actually ceased practicing before she even joined the GADF Navy in the first place. Also, it's entirely possible that the First Order media depicted Cathul as an insult to therapy based on her sortie on Kaeshana, which has also caused [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] to qualify her as a thorn on his side. If First Order propaganda was correct, then I would simply be a medvac commander, as on Atrisia and Polis Massa, yet Kaeshana proved that I could handle command of a battlefleet: not only that, but I could hold Cyrus to a close battle, she thought, while pondering her options. But, upon realizing that 1) the 16 squadrons did not even reach point-defense range from either Aermoira or Suravi, 2) the enemy point-defense was too focused on the missiles, 3) the enemy is moving past their own cloud of anti-laser aerosol and 4) the enemy jamming caused the Darr Itah to disappear from their sensors, something was not right. That, even though she knew that firing missiles to cover for the bombing run actually worked the first time around, so again, 70 cluster missiles were fired, 30 regular concussion missiles and 23 assault concussion missiles on the White Base while the fighter squadrons continued their approach towards the Delphins. She had to do something, but since the unturreted long-range firepower of the Nobles was rather difficult to align, as opposed to a turret, adjusting them to fire on the Providence isn't much of a stretch compared to training even the slow turrets of the rest of the long-range dumb fire.
"Tax Return, concentrate your turreted fire on the Mau, while the turrets of the Vengeance for Kaeshana fire on the Aigle and the turrets of the Chandrila Hostages fire on the Pasko: we shall expose their flak defenses! As for the escort frigates, fire on the closest picket corvette"
"As you command" the captain of the acknowledged.
"K-Wing squadrons, new orders: 2 K-wing squadrons on the Jisoo and 2 K-Wing squadrons on the Jennie"
"Admiral, the enemy Darr Itah just disappeared from our sensors, but it has not been destroyed" the captain of the Chandrila Hostages reported.
"Vengeance for Kaeshana, Chandrila Hostages, fire on the Providence: all other dumb-fired long-range fire, concentrate on the White Base!"
3,000 ion mines: that's a feth-ton of ion-based poodoo, probably enough to fry enemy shields, enemy systems, but the ion-based poodoo will be concentrated on the Relic, based on Cathul's estimates. Whether the ion backwash will actually affect Aermoira she couldn't tell. But the end result is that 840 turbolasers' worth of long-range fire were directed at the Providence, and 920 turbolasers' worth of long-range fired directed at the White Base's command tower and reactor dome. While the D-Wing squadrons were moving in to drop medium bombs (worth 2 proton bombs apiece in terms of firepower) on the Rose and Lisa respectively, the K-Wings were configured to fit 10 proton rockets and two heavy bombs apiece. Said K-Wings dropped one heavy bomb, which was worth four bombs for safety purposes (and also in terms of firepower) and four proton rockets each on their respective targets. Also nearly 350 turbolasers were directed at the picket corvettes under [member="Aermoira Cyone"]'s command, and the anti-starfighter corvettes shall be taken out before any further fighter attacks can be launched. But the captains of the Nobles would find more practical to just fire the octuple turbolasers at the White Base than at the anti-starfighter corvettes, even though nearly all the rest of the normal-ranged guns are fired on their assigned targets.
Bryce Bantam said:
"Hewy lewis attack force pull back to re-arm and re-fuel. As for all Alliance forces, please pull back any fighters attacking First Order ships. Our attack runs are beginning and I do not want any of your fighter crews caught in the Ion backwash."
"This is Therapist Actual. Our own fighters are clear of the First Order fleets. All Alliance forces, once the ion mines have detonated, then it is time to move fighters into position" she told the other commanders, namely [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] and [member="Alexandra Morrow"], on the joint command channel. She turned to the starfighter channel, knowing that the Mukhtiars are still out of range of the Delphins being attacked. "All units, once you've made your run, return back to ship for rearming and refueling"
LOCATION: Deep space near Asmeru anomaly; not far from parts of the battle
FLEET: 1x Eta-2 Actis-class interceptor, 5.47m, comprising the remaining 6m in the GA/allied fleet limit
ALLIES: GA, ORC, [member="Laira Vereen"] (gunner)
ENEMIES: FO, IR
A crappy, much-modified little interceptor decanted to realspace hard, right in the middle of an empion minefield. That was pretty much typical of how today had gone.
Jorus salved his irritation with focus, drawing on the Force to enhance his piloting. Instinctive navigation began drawing him out of the minefield one wild maneuver at a time. He kept his eyes shut; even so, near misses from ion projector beams glowed blue through his eyelids at every turn. Where he was in relation to the overall battle, he couldn’t say. For all he knew, the little interdiction mines might have pulled him out behind enemy lines, or between First Order fleets.
He did his level best to ignore his intensely talkative gunner. Their takeoff from Barkhesh, and their previous escapades in a sadly ventilated Y-wing, had proven the kid vocal beyond belief. On the plus side, though, immanent death might get her to stop hitting on him. Small mercies.
Location: With [member="Jorus Merrill"] Ship: ETA-2 Actis Allies: GA and Friends Enemies: FO
The trip through hyperspace had certainly been a one sided conversation. Laira had given up flirting with the dark haired pilot and resorted to just wanting to talk to pass the time, but again he just starred stoically out the cockpit like the blue tunnel of hyperspace was calling to him. She had inevitably sighed and crossed her arms. The least he could do was talk now that she was behaving and not coming on strong. At this point the game of making him wince in silence wasn't fun for her anymore anyway.
When the ship reverted from hyperspace with a jolt, she snapped her hands to the controls of the little turret and began tracking the situation as quickly as her eyes could take in all the information of their predicament. Ion beams going every which way as Jorus expertly tried to navigate them through the minefield.
Laira's hands turned the turret to face forward, or at least forwards as far as she could gauge, letting her senses seep into the ship and things slow down around. The only way she could contribute was to try and take out the mines close to the path as far as she could gauge her pilot's movements, which admittedly wasn't great. Nonetheless, she started squeezing the trigger and unleashing little blue bolts of her own into the mines seemingly in their flight path.
Even if she only got a few, everyone that didn't react to them was one that Jorus didn't have to dodge which might help save their lives.
"The proton beam is charging again...firing!" The sensor officer said as she watched her screens. Lexi took a deep breath, and waited a moment for confirmation of the hit. The Resolute's shields were barely holding, and another shot would likely burn them out. The moment stretched, but no word of a hit came. Lexi turned to the sensor officer, who was typing furiously at her console.
"Did they fire?" Lexi asked as she moved over.
"Aye, ma'am. They fired..." The sensor officer reported as she continued to analyse the data on her screen with swift key strokes. "...but they were moving into the anomaly as they did. Something caused the shot to miss its mark, and it wasn't margin of error. Their gunery crews are too well trained to miss a Trimarin."
"Well...what happened?"
"I'm not an astrophysicist, but the data shows some sort of gravitational lensing. It seems to have increased in density around the concave dish like a particle scoop..." She responded. "This physics of it don't make sense to me, but I'd say it has to do with the firing of that weapon. Sensors show they're running generators near max."
"We can't count on it happening again, have the Resolute move to have Liberator between that thing and it. Our shields are still fresh."
"Other ships have sustained light damage to shields from continuing fire from that Victory-X cruiser, and our fighter attack on the Empire class frigates has run into trouble with some Bolt class pickets."
"Alright, train long range weapons on the Victory-X. Turn vector to engage them fully." She ordered, and the fleet responded, angling slightly to take Aran Piett's Victory-X under full fire from her fleet. "Keep tabs on the fighters, but they know their stuff. The pickets can't catch them all."
"Ma'am, the first wave of K-Wings has hit, looks like moderate damage to both shields and hull."
"Excellent, have the first wave return for re-arming. Are the other two waves still under radio silence?"
"We have nothing on sensors from them. Those To-Vhins are practically magic."
"Good." She responded and turned back to her holographic battle map.
Cathul Thuku said:
"This is Therapist Actual. Our own fighters are clear of the First Order fleets. All Alliance forces, once the ion mines have detonated, then it is time to move fighters into position"
Lexi blinked hard, once, then turned to her communications officer and nodded.
"Therapist Actual, this is Admiral Morrow. Message received, our fighters are currently engaged, but I can see to freeing some up if you need assistance." She responded over the Alliance tactical network, then looked at the part of the battle map where Therapy Command was fighting. She motioned for the channel to muted so she could speak to her officers. "Prepare orders to have a third of our remaining fighters return for rearmament, but do not send yet. Cathul should be able to keep that fleet behind us busy, but if not I want to be able to get help to her as quickly as possible."
"Aye, ma'am." The sensor officer responded, then her face brightened up. "Ma'am, the survivors from Defiant have reached the Doaba station. They report the reactors are spinning up, and they look to rejoin the battle from there!"
"Excellent, have our dropships move marines over to defend against counter boarders." She ordered, and the sensor officer nodded, then bent to work.
Actions
1) Fired long range weaponry at [member="aran piett"]
2) Second wave of K-Wings and To-Vhins should be assaulting FIV Brawl [member="carlyle rausgeber"]
3) First wave of same should be en route back to the fleet
4) The remaining fighters are continuing their attack on Storm and Riot
5) Survivors of the Defiant arrived at Doaba station and are bringing systems back online
6) Sent marines to help secure the Doaba.
Fifty of us fight through the corridors of the star destroyer, gunning down any bucketheads who get in our way. The objective is simple: get to the security room.
We are halfway there, with a trail of bodies in our wake, when we pass a set of turbolifts.
Our own casualties are sparse so far, the L.I.S. grenades see to that, but eventually we will run out, or they will figure out some sort of countermeasure. Neither possibility would end well for us.
The lift chimes and starts to slide open. I turn, fingers tightening around my weapon. I wait for the door to finish opening.
The girl of odd angles and limbs grimaced. She didn't like when others died for her. Converse-clad feet shuffled between the rows of troopers. Tiny-fists clenched at her sides.
The force wove protection bubbles around the men between their own volleys of blaster fire as they made their way deeper into enemy territory. #defense
But the master technopath's mind was already focused and keyed into something else: the FIV Malice ship's systems. She'd already reached forward with an initial brush in the shuttle. Now she was digging deeper with mechu deru. She didn't need any data terminals or ports. She only needed the force.
#offense
Her mind delved deeper and deeper into the ship's systems, getting closer to her objective. There. Right there. Almost.
"Finn, Pilot." He motioned for the group to head down the left hall. They didn't need to go up a floor, from what he understood the force user could do what she needed to do from...well almost anywhere, so it was time to finally do the smart thing and split the group. "Canal, Raph, hold them off."
They'd split the group in half.
Doing so was...well a bit suicidal, but given that they were already on board an enemy ship and things were dire, Jorg knew that this was their only chance. They would still have good numbers, at least in the tight spaces of these hallways, and they'd be more than able to hold off any troopers for at least a little while, hopefully long enough for them to do what they came. "Good Luck."
He told them as he quickly rushed off, the others in his wake. The group of troopers, surrounding both the PIlot and Force User quickly made their way to a large Security door, Jorg motion for one of his men to access the panel, The Trooper glancing back for only a moment.
"Once we're inside take up defensive positions." Jorg told his men, lips thinning as he thought of the odds against them.
Streaks of red everywhere. Sweating bullets. Rapid breaths.
Feth. Sulon’s made you lazy, Kjormenkaur Traficit.
And age. It seemed just yesterday that she was on the beat down in the deepest pits of Coruscant. No aching knees, no ghost pain where her arm used to be, no need to fix the circuitry in her eye when it got stuck. Could catch and tackle a suspect before they so much as raised their blaster, back when.
Then the One Sith came, tore her world down in flames.
Restless, she’d hopped planet to planet with her jacket and Westar as her sole companions. Half-cocked smile and a crooked trigger finger. Lent a helping hand for a place to lay her head down, for a warm meal. She’d seen plenty, all stripes and colors, all walks of life. Scrapped up enough wisdom from broken bones and bleeding knuckles to know that these sad suckers they were shooting today? no more guilty of it than themselves.
One big fat joke, if you asked Adder.
The universe was laughing somewhere, she was sure of it. Couldn’t hear it over the screaming and the buzz of blaster fire, though. Her aim was as reliable as ever, even if her lungs and legs weren’t – the perks of inhuman eyes and arms. For all their issues and quirks, her machine parts never got tired, never trembled, never teared up in the sting of burning tibanna.
With a sneer, the redhead chased down her erratic breath and holstered her Westar. The rest of the soldiers surrounded them in a semi-circle while she and the squad’s mechanic got down to business with the panel.
Doug – the trooper – gave her a grateful nod when she handed him her spare hydrospanner. They worked wordlessly, pushing caution to the side in favor of speed. The longer they stayed out in the open, the more of them would get gunned down. At least once inside, they had a defensible position. Easier to funnel the enemy that way, reduce the advantage they had in sheer numbers.
At least that’s what Adder filled her mind with – the possibility that they’d get out alive. Sure, the chances were as frakking slim as ever kissing Aela, but at least there was a an instance of their reality where maybe, just may—
"Sir did you see that, the Imperial Remnants Proton beam was altered by the vortex!"
"Navigator can be compensate?"
"We can try but the nature of the anomoly will only allow us to gaurentee a 50% chance of striking true"
"Feth we need to pick a bigger Target then, tell them to target the bigger Victory-X Class Heavy Cruiser. Better chance of success."
"Yes sir, and Captain Alliance is warning of boarding actions on the Battle cruiser."
"Double feth, tell the fire ships to abort and make another pass diving deeper into the vortex for even more speed!"
Things were happening fast and Bryce looked around the projected battle field. Ships were beginning to fall which would play into the next part of his plan. He also saw a new friendly signal entered the system.
"Comm invite [member="Jorus Merrill"] to join us and put me through to @Alexandra Marrow, ask if she has any plans for the damaged corvette in her fleet."
Minutes later he got his response.
"She is abandoned, we can use it how we wish."
Bryce smiled as he ordered the CNS "The News" and CNS "Believe in love" into system. As they jumped in they began salvage operations tactoring the ANS defiant they pushed it into the vortex and began to fly it up stream at the First order fleet. As they did fodder 10 and 11 jumped in 20 km behind them and followed the tugs in.
Actions
All ships not in system are in reserve as noted place after condition
"Hewy Lewis" is far behind beyond extreme long range acting as a carrier. - and all "Hewy Lewis" attack craft have been recalled to re arm and re-fuel
Fodder one has caught up with "Hewy Lewis" and taking screen out in front.
Fodder two is making a kamikaze run at the IRV Relic in an attempt to disable it and allow other forces to make better use of their attacks.
Fodder 7,8 and 9 are now rocketing toward the heavy pickets in [member="Aran Piett"] command especially the FIV Subjugator Victory-X Class Heavy Cruiser, attacking from behind and using a combination of their counter measures, and speed boost sling shot from the vortex to attack and damage their exposed flanks.
"The news", "All for love" using the broken hull of the Defiant as a shield, pushing it into the vortex "up stream" looking to use it as a battering ram head on and will strike the FIV Subjugator Victory-X Class Heavy Cruiser, if not stopped - fodder 10 and 11 follow 20 km behind and will kamikaze into the nearest FO picket.
OOC New player [member="Silara Varis"] has requested to join in the fun I have deleted enough meters not in system so she can join next post.
(All ships not in vortex are have hyper-drives read to jump put again if need)
Fleet
Fleet:
CNS "Hewy Lewis" | Peregrine class armed freighter | 400m | All Good - In system
CNS "Power of love" | GR - 125 M1 | 200m | All Good - In system
CNS "Back in Time" | GR - 125 M1 | 200m |All Good - In system
CNS "New Drug" | GR - 125 M1 | 200m |All Good -In system
CNS "The News" | GR - 105 | 120m | All Good - Deep space north
CNS "Believe in love" | GR - 105 | 120m | All Good - Deep space north
CNS "All for my baby" | GR - 105 | 120m | All Good - Deep space north
CNS "Heart and Soul" | GR - 105 | 120m | All Good - Deep space north CNS "Stuck on you" | GR - 105 | 120m | All Good - - Removed from campaign for new player
CNS Fodder 1 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good - In system
CNS Fodder 2 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good - In system CNS Fodder 3 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good -Removed from campaign for new player CNS Fodder 4 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good - Removed from campaign for new player CNS Fodder 5 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good - Removed from campaign for new player
CNS Fodder 6 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good - Deep space north
CNS Fodder 7 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good - In system
CNS Fodder 8 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good- In system
CNS Fodder 9 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good- In system
CNS Fodder 10 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good- In system
CNS Fodder 11 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good- In system
CNS Fodder 12 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good- Deep space South
CNS Fodder 13 | GR - 75 | 90m | All Good- Deep space South
