L O C A T I O N
FIV Concordia - Deploying aboard the FIV Frontrunner
A L L I E S
[member="Torian Pierce"] | [member="Commander Lusk"] | [member="BE-183"] | [member="Irajah Ven"]
[member="Heidi Ziegler"] | [member="AR-3752"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"]
E N E M I E S
[member="HK-36"] | [member="Ultimatum"] | [member="Draco Vereen"] | [member="Ijaat Mereel"] | [member="Six-O"]
Natasi's combat boots clicked heavily along the ramp as she climbed aboard the
Frontrunner. The vessel had been chosen not just because of its connection to Natasi herself, but due to its defendability and its capacity. Stormtroopers from Fortan's FIST lined the corridors and the rooms, maximizing the number of troops that would be deployed with the repulsortanks and command speeders. Natasi squeezed through with four members of her personal guard, winding through towards the cockpit. "Lieutenant Mondel," she said, placing her gloved hand on the back of the pilot's seat. "Where are we on take-off?"
"Ready for launch, ma'am," said Lieutenant Mondel. "Waiting on the green from the landing craft to join the formation."
"Very good," Natasi said. "I'll be in my quarters."
The Grand Moff left the cockpit and pushed her way through the mass of stormtroopers to her quarters and sat down at her desk. She depressed a key on her communications console and said, "Please connect me to Isobel Churchill on Avalonia, care of code zero zero two one seven." There was a series of clicks and then a groggy voice came on the line with a curt: "Churchill."
Natasi smirked and glanced at her watch. It was about two in the morning in the capital. "Isobel, it's Natasi. I just wanted to let you know that we'll be entering the combat zone very shortly," said Natasi. "I'm authorizing the temporary transfer of the authority of my office to you for the duration, as Deputy Grand Moff. I recommend you continue the schedule of cabinet meetings and contact me by priority signal if anything marked 'red' comes across your desk."
"Of course, Grand Moff," said Isobel.
The ship lurched as it lifted from
Concordia's deck. "Well -- I'd best ring off. I have complete faith in you, Isobel. Best of luck."
Natasi disconnected and stood up, going to the window, where she could see half the formation of landers, each packed with either command speeders or repulsortanks. There were 4 squadrons of eight repulsortanks heading for the surface, and five command speeders - one to coordinate each repulsortank squadron, and one to oversee the battle as a whole. The formation was perfect, showcasing the most disciplined of First Order's officers. Once the
Frontrunner was in position, squadrons of TIE fighters moved into flank the group, providing an escort down to the atmosphere before turning back to escort further landing groups.
It was in the atmosphere that the trouble began.
There was defense fire than Natasi anticipated, and the defense fighters were heavier than she would have thought. The
Frontrunner's shields held up well, but when Lieutenant Mondel jerked the controls to avoid a head-on collision, the ship's engine shielding clipped one of the landers, throwing both ships into chaos. In space, it might not have been a problem, but in atmosphere -- with gravity and drag playing into the scenario -- the result was catastrophic. The ship bucked, and Natasi struggled to remain on her feet. She hurled herself to the desk and flung herself into the chair, both desk and chair being bolted to the deckplates, and after hauling her crash webbing around her frame, she slammed her fist on the communications console, opening the general channel to hear --
"Mayday, mayday," Mondel's voice, struggling to maintain its stoicism, tinged with flecks of panic. "This is code black for Nern-Esk-Besh-Usk-Leth-Aurek-zero-one! Mayday, mayday, mayday." Natasi's blood went cold at this designation. Code black meant that the ship was crashing. An inquiry came in from the
Concordia, about what damage had been sustained by the
Frontrunner -- codenamed Nebula for security purposes. Mondel returned: "Significant engine damage, port-side. Starboard-side engine is overheated, maneuvering is down to twenty percent." Natasi glanced at the window, where a bizarre, sped-up day-night cycle was playing out: first volcanic ash, then dark sky filling the viewport as the ship spun over and over. Her office supplies -- and everything else that wasn't affixed or in a drawer -- were bouncing around the room. A moment later Mondel's name called over the emergency intercom: "Code black - brace for impact! Brace, brace, brace!"
Out the viewport, Natasi saw an explosion before the spinning stopped with a terrific impact. Natasi felt more than heard the ship break and everything went black as the lights went out.
Natasi was on her left side, blinking rapidly in the darkness as she strained to see something -- anything. The ship was silent for a few moments before something rumbled in the distance. She heard calls -- some anguished, some commanding -- and then movement outside her cabin. A moment later, red emergency lights flickered on, and Natasi looked around. The ship had come to rest on its port side. Natasi could see that the viewport was smashed into the ash flats of the planetary surface. The door on the starboard side of the room -- now the top of the room -- slid open and a stormtrooper officer peered in. "Ma'am? Ma'am! Are you all right?"
Natasi cleared her throat and patted herself down. "Nothing broken," she called back. Natasi fiddled with the fasteners of her crash webbing, then dropped down to the port side bulkhead, brushing her forehead, causing a gash on her forehead to sting painfully and smearing blood across her forehead. "Stang," she whispered, then looked back up to the doorway -- now in the ceiling. "I don't know if I can reach you," she called up. "Can you fetch one of the emergency roll-up ladders?"
"On the way, ma'am," called down the officer.
"What happened?" she called back. "What about the other ships?"
The officer hesitated. "I think I heard at least one of the landers went down, ma'am."
Natasi frowned and surveyed the wreckage of her study as the smell of ash and sulphur began to seep in through the shattered viewport. The heat was rising noticeably, and Natasi found herself soon unbuttoning the collar of her uniform. "It'll be a few minutes, ma'am," said the officer. "Here - cold water," he said, dropping down a flask. Natasi caught it easily and called back her thanks before unscrewing the lid and taking a long drink.
"I never thought of putting a sauna onboard," Natasi called back with a wry smile. The officer laughed; a moment later, the chain-and-metal-bar emergency ladder dropped over the side, and Natasi hauled herself up. The scene was chaos, but Mondel appeared to be in control. Some of the stormtroopers were dead, others were wounded and unable to be up and hustling around. Still others had hauled themselves out and wreckage and were securing the crash site. "Mondel," Natasi called. "What in blazes happened?"
The Lieutenant reported what happened: he had veered to avoid a head-on collision with a damaged fighter and accidentally clipped one of the landers, causing damage to the engine which, combined with the grit in the atmosphere, had destroyed the inner workings of the engine, causing him to lose control of the ship. "We've set the emergency beacon, and we believe at least 2 of the repulsorlift tank squadrons survived."
Natasi sighed and looked around; it was a surreal experience, to see her ship this way. "And the
Frontrunner?" she asked. "Can she be saved?" The Lieutenant looked to the side and sighed, and Natasi cleared her throat and nodded. "I see."
