Our Last Night (Republic Dominion of Attahox)

[Gir Quee]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Stormfire-class Assault Frigate Audacious, Attahox[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]"They're coming in hot," said Herson quietly.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]Gir silently nodded in agreement, watching the red holo-graphic starfighters swoop over the tactical map to make their attack runs on the Republic vessels. Gunfire errupted between the rebel starfighters and Republic's warships and gunships. The star of the firefight so far had to be the Boreas, with its cylindrical form sputtering out quad laser fire in all directions. Gir watched two of its guns coordinate their attack to chew through the lead fighter of a squadron banking to make another attack run on the Audacious. The fighter's shields waxed red before dissipating under the intense firepower. It exploded violently, bursting into flaming wreckage and searing shrapnel. The rebel starfighters formed around it scattered to avoid hitting the ship’s remains, and in the process, aborted their attack run on the Audacious.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]Lieutenant Herson tapped the Commodore on the shoulder, “Sir, our marines have taken the last hangar, they’re shutting its doors down now.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]“Any update on the attack team searching for the control center?” questioned the man from Hast.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]Herson shook his head. Taking the hangars should have been a piece of cake, and for the most part, it was. The only problem with them was their gargantulan size, which made the process slow. With the hangar blast doors shut, the rebel starfighters would be unable to return to their base. And while they were now out of physical logistical support, the control center buried somewhere in the base was still coordinating their attack, wielding them as a deadly force until the very end, or so it would seem. Gir nodded.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10.5pt]“All right, I guess the only thing we can do right now is hold out. I wonder how everyone else is doing.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt][member="Kayleigh Tyven"] | [member="Orick T'ane"][/SIZE]

 

[Orick T'ane]

The Caledonia bridge had gone quiet for the most part, there were a few murmurs from the tactical officers as they voiced commands into their headsets to various assets along the battlefront, but for the most part there was silence. Captain Orick T'ane stood next to Captain Rovins assessing the battle on the large holotank positioned just off of the bridge. Orick frowned as he saw the position of Commodore [member="Gir Quee"]'s ships." He's pushing forward without any fighter support. Someone really should get him into a bigger ship. "

Captain Rovins laughed, " He likes his small little battle fleet." He turned to one of the many techs standding near by. " Have Blue and Gold squadron break away from the main fleet and have them clear those fighters from the Audacious." He turned back to the holotank, " That should help his position a bit." He tapped a couple of buttons on the display and it shifted to a view of the palace and of the raging battle around it. " Lets see how badly outclassed the Admiral and those Mando's have the palace defenders."

[member="Strider Garon"] [member="Caleb Brolen"] [member="Kayleigh Tyven"] [member="Anastasia Rade"] [member="Werdla Dardalab"]

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Location: Exactly where he's not supposed to be
Objective: Getting in over his head (rescue civilians... and maybe himself)

---

In retrospect, this had probably been a bad idea.

In fact, in the grand scheme of things, this probably ranked as the worst idea he'd had all week. Not counting when he'd re-recorded the national anthem of the Republic with his own lyrical remix. He'd thought that the librarian would have caught it the next day and his clan would have gotten a laugh about it. How was he supposed to know that there had a knighting ceremony for that afternoon and that he'd ruin the day for a Zabrak Jedi when, during his ceremony, the assembled Jedi Knights rose for the playing of All Stars Burn As One and were instead treated to a juvenile dubstep song whose lyrics substituted a necessary bodily function for the chorus.

All Farts Burn as One.

As for the fact that the Nautolan's head was peeking out onto a world that definitely wasn't Ossus, he could explain that too.

You see, it had all started off innocently enough. The younglings in Clan Womprat had been studying a historical narrative on... something. To be entirely honest, Zak wasn't really sure what that was about. His attention span had timed out on the historical narrative part. Which, if it was a historical narrative on droids, battles, or -- better yet -- battle droids, then he might have been able to at least feign interest for longer than usual. But it had just featured people talking. Talking! And not even about interesting stuff. It had been on something about economic embargoes of the planet Naboo or some poodoo like that.

So, while he was supposed to have been tortured by being lectured to death, the Nautolan and another youngling, Gorti Yolan, had instead snuck off to watch the knights and masters preparing to leave Ossus.

Neither boy knew what was going on, just that some of the Jedi were leaving to go to some planet out in the Expansion Region. It was fun to imagine where they were going, or why, or even what awaited them when they got there.

Astral battles, with lightsabers. Not like practice lightsabers or pre-fab lightsabers or the training stuff that the younglings got to handle. Real, no poodoo, Jedi lightsabers.

Adventure. Rescuring people, helping people, and most importantly... smashing people in the face. With lightsabers. Because Republic! Or, something like that. The details weren't important. What was important was smashing people. To help them.

Real Jedi got to do that kind of stuff. And Zak? Zak was stuck watching a Niemodian senator lecture about how some guy named Obi-Wan Jinn or Qui-Gonn Kenobi committed war crimes against the blah, blah, blah like nine thousand years before anybody cared. Or Zak had been born. Whichever had come first.

And then Gorti had dared Zak to sneak onboard one of those transports.

In his defense, it hadn't just been a dare. it had been a double dug dare. So, it wasn't like he could have refused. If he had, he'd have been SithSpawn for life!

Or at least two weeks, which was forever.

In any case, the Nautolan had wedged himself behind some crates in the back of the transport on top of a tarp. Then he'd rolled up in the tarp and... then he'd taken a nap.

Seriously, they'd done a mile-and-a-half trail run before lightsaber practice that morning. He didn't know how real Jedi did that without some serious Jedi nap time.

The impact of the landing woke him, prompting the green-skinned Nautolan to blink several times as he cleared the sleepiness away from his large, inky eyes. The tarp slid away from his small form as the child sat up, running a hand through his head-tails as something in the background caught his attention.

Was that... explosions?

Whatever it was, it didn't sound good. And if Zak knew anything, he knew what not good sounded like. Except, at the Jedi Academy, he was usually the source of the not good. Popping up to his feet, the small Nautolan peeked out from behind the crate to find the inside of the transport ship deserted. Slipping out from the crates, the amphibious youngling stared out on an alien world. There was a desolate landscape around the transport. Ruins and husks of buildings, some smoldering, and some still on fire.

"I don't think this is Ossus," the boy uttered breathlessly, as his large eyes swirled in a mixture of awe and fear.

Something shooting up into the air caught the boy's attention. Was that a firecracker?

The look on the boy's face fell as the prediction was increasingly that the object, which was now arcing toward the transport, was most certainly NOT a firecracker. Taking a step back, the Nautolan turned and looked at the crates behind him.

In red lettering, the crates were labeled MUNITIONS.

"Oh frell."

Taking another step back, the Nautolan made a running jump out of the transport. When the rocket hit, Zak didn't even hear the explosion. Everything went blank as his hearing just seemed to stop, throwing the whole world into absolute silence. The force of displaced air slammed into his body, knocking the wind out of him as he tumbled into a shroud of smoke and fell into the fog of war.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Aboard Drop Ship
Objective: On Stand bye
Team: Ori'ramikade Werdla Dardalab [member="Mallory Pryde"] Anastasia Rade [member="Strider Garon"]
Allies: Kayleigh Tyven

Ijaat had hesitated when the negotations with the Republic began. He wasn't the type to like any government telling him how to live. He had the resol'nare for that, and didn't need some outside cramming in their two cred chits. But in the end, he had answered the call, merely because he saw the pragmatism in it. And because honestly, if the Republic fell, a lot more people would fall to the One Sith. And he HATED the Sith. They were worse than scum in his eyes for their acts. No matter the past ties of their people, the bond had been rightly and well cut. With a hiss and a magnetic clang, the faceplate of his powered beskar armor dropped shut, and Ijaat leaped from the dropship shortly after the rest of the team, falling like a stone.

Tens of meters from the roof, which he would have surely caved in, Ijaat braced his arms and legs, repulsors in his palms, arches of his feet and two vanes on the back of his armor lifted forward with a steely whine and cry and his descent was suddenly and abruptly arrested. The massive armored form hovered above the roof, the cannon at his shoulder tracking and whirring as it barked and blazed with sound and light, hurling bolts of tungsten accelerated well beyond even the speed of sound with deadly accuracy as he slowly turned and flew above the roof. The descent was halted several meters above the rest of the Mandalorians, serving to give Ijaat a vantage with his massive A-10 cannon, and to draw fire to him, which his armor was more than capable of sustaining.

"Ijaat to Strider... I'll draw attention and prune out the big guns... You lot keep them from swarming me too much..."

 

[Uri Aureleos]

Uri moved through the streets checking buildings. He didn't like how deserted all the planets were. Over half of the beings in the galaxy had disappeared over night, and he still wasn't use to it. Uri expected to find some one but all were still lost. All that was left were homes with pictures of the families that should be there. Pets that run away skittish at the fact they haven't had contact since their masters were raptured. He looked up at the sky to see ships fly over head. He ducked into a doorway, watching as the ship passed but not before shooting off rockets. Uri held his breath then without thinking he connected to the force and checked the area around him for others. He sensed the soldiers he arrived with and then soldier a few hundred feet to his left. He exhaled. A child. He immediately tore himself from his hiding spot running to were he sensed the child. He didn't get far before the rockets hit the ground. The turned his head as dust and debris kicked up around him. Uri pulled his robe up around his mouth as he press forward. He met up with a soldier as he pushed forward. The soldier was smart enough to have a helmet with a mask. The soldier raised his gun at Uri only to drop it as he noticed Uri's robes, "There's nothing ahead. Rockets took out the whole block. We've got word the ships are on the way back so we need to clear the area."

Uri shook his head. There wasn't time to explain, "I am need this way." Uri patted the soldier's shoulder then ran past him. He thought of reconnecting with the force but doing so would bring too much of a hazard. The force was too unstable he didn't want to put others at risk for his own transgressions.

Uri reached the hull of the destroyed drop ship going over the scene with his eyes. There was no way for him to enter it. No way to find the child in the wreckage. His eyes were drawn away from the flaming metal by a small green lump a short distance away. He ran over to it sprinting when he realize it was the child he sensed. A Nautolan? To make matters worse, Uri recognized the youngling robes. He was from the academy. What was he doing here? Uri could see he was still conscious but having trouble breathing. He quickly sat the youngling up and lifted his arms above his head.

"Calm down and breathe. Deep breaths. In and out," Uri kept eye contact with him taking deep breaths with the boy until his breathing was regulated. "Can you stand?"

[member="Zak Dymo"]

 

[Anastasia Rade]

On cue Ana jumped on her turn free falling through the air into the combat below. She always thought flying was thrilling but this time there wasn’t that much time to enjoy it as the palace roof made its appearance along with a few snipers. This was what she had trained for the past few years beside the others whom had been doing this since birth. She had been born to Grand Moff and his wife whom didn’t dare get their hands dirty. She had been born a princess but Ana had since proven that she was no princess which led her to where she was now.

In response to the shots Ana would shoot back at the guards as they finished their decent upon the rooftop. Sure she could shoot the guards from way up here no problem but that wasn’t as fun as using some of her latest abilities that she had been learning. All said abilities were picked for their ability to assist during wartime.

As her boots hit the rooftop Ana turned towards a pair of snipers that were not burnt to a crisp. Holding out her hands she focused for a second before a bright light came from her fingertips blinding the two which gave amp time for others to shoot them. Blinding them was, in her option, just a step away from lightning another fun filled ability that she had on the docket to master.

Instead of learning the element of fire Ana had turned to water which she knew wouldn't do in this situation unless a vode caught fire on their own flamethrower or something. That wouldn't happen though as they were all professionals.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

“Keep the blade steady.”

The large hands of the Mon Calamari weapon master seemed virtually massive in contrast to the youngling’s, as the venerable instructor steadied the youth’s grip on the training shoto. From out of the corner of his eye, the young Nautolan boy caught a glimpse of a girl executing a number of Soresu orbits in perfect harmony. Distracted, Zak’s jaw dropped open slightly as he watched the Pantoran youngling neatly counter shots from the two hovering training droids that were picking away at her defense.

That was before a Mon Cal elbow poked him in the side of his head. “Focus, youngling,” the weapon master chided the boy, pushing on the child’s lower back to straighten his posture slightly. “You have opponents of your own.”

As the instructor took a step back, the young amphibian looked up at the small, spherical droid which hovered just a meter away in the air. Swallowing slightly, the youngling tried to focus his thoughts there. He could feel the Force moving between him and the droid. He could feel the other younglings in the room, the instructors moving through the students...

“It is important to know your surroundings, but not at the expense of what is in front of you,” the Mon Cal weapon master said, breaking through the youngling’s concentration. “Now show me the opening stance,” the instructor directed, crossing his arms across his chest.

Drawing in a large breath, the boy straightened his body as he brought the lightsaber upright to the center of his body, then elevated it overhead as he took a step back, holding the blade parallel to the ground as he swung his body so that it was positioned on a ninety-degree axis from the droid’s line of fire. As he planted the foot behind him and settled into the stance, the youngling slowly let out the breath that he’d been holding.

“Good,” the instructor commented, reaching into a pouch on his belt and producing a second training droid, which hovered through the air about a meter behind the first droid. “Now, begin.”

---

Large black orbs fluttered open.

Amid a sea of ink, swirls like ash clouds moved through the child's eyes, in which the face of a Hrakian teen was reflected as though in a mirror, darkly. Numbly, the Nautolan was aware that the Hrakian's mouth was moving -- but Zak didn't hear anything. His head listed as he surveyed the smoke and wreckage that was visible from around the teen that was holding him up. Gagging on the smoke and ash, the child coughed as he tried to clear his lungs.

Then he lurched forward as a painful ringing echoed in his ears.

Grabbing onto the front of the teen's tunic, the small Nautolan took comfort from having someone there. Even as he clutched at his head-tails for the headache and ringing stabbing at his senses, the fact that there was an adult there -- relatively speaking anyway -- helped to set aside the juvenile fear gnawing at him.

"Can...stand?"

Through the intermittent ringing, a voice finally shattered the silence. The child winced as sound flooded back in. Shakily, the youngling brought his legs so that they were under him. Leaning on the Hrakian teen for support, the boy managed to right himself. He staggered slightly as he let go of the teen's tunic, and continued to clutch at his head for the headache pounding at his senses, but in the grand scheme of bad things, this was probably getting off easy in comparison to what was going to happen to him when he got back to Ossus.

Turning his head, the youngling realized that while it was comforting that he wasn't alone... he had no idea who this Hrakian was. That was probably an important detail in situations like this. Or something. Zak didn't really pay that much attention to the lessons on manners or protocol. Whatever.

"Uh... hi?" the youngling offered, his voice sounding strange in his own ears. And probably louder than was necessary for how the ringing was still affecting his hearing.

As he stood, the Nautolan looked past the teen at the flaming wreckage of the transport ship. They didn't think he was responsible for that, did they? Because he was pretty certain that wasn't his fault. Maybe he should offer condolances and a point of clarity on this detail.

"Without admitting any guilt, I just want to say, I'm really sorry about the ship."

Spoiler

[member="Uri Aureleos"]

 

[Gir Quee]

Stormfire-class Assault Frigate Audacious, Attahox

"Sir," informed Herson, "the main fleet is sending Blue and Gold squadrons to help us out."

Gir nodded in appreciation. That was the one drawback of his little assault fleet; none of his ships actually carried starfighters. Still, he had been able to press gunships into the superiority role with some success within the atmosphere, though that tactic would be dubious at best in a purely vacuum-based fight. He rapidly punched in a series of commands into his command chair, pulling up the trackers on the marines currently pounding their way through the enemy base.

Besh squad had finally found and secured the control center, ending the tactical coordination that the rebel starfighter squadrons had enjoyed. With their logistical and command elements out of the equation, the rebels would only be able to fight for some longer, and even then, it would be out of dubious effectiveness. They have to be faltering now. And Gold and Blue squadrons are inbound at just the right time too...He flicked a switch on his headset comlink, setting it broadcast through the Audacious's main subspace radio to the general frequencies used by all nearby starships.

"Attention defenders of Attahox, this is Commodore Quee of the Republic Navy. You have fought bravely for beliefs, that no man or being can doubt your courage, but the battlefield has been settled. Your base has been captured, your ground crews and command elements have been captured if they did not die. I call upon you all to surrender immediately, power down your weapons and land, and no further harm will come to you. If you do not, I am sure that your sensors can tell you that a large amount of fresh Republic starfighters are currently descending to this location. Do not doubt it, you will perish, under their guns or the guns of the starships already here. It is your time to decide your ultimate fate, to chose the end of your life, or to choose a road to redemption. Quee out."

[member="Orick T'ane"] | [member="Kayleigh Tyven"]

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Arceneau Trade Company
Merchant Fleet
Attahox


There were few things that one of her kind could go and do for a planet. But providing a venue of aid was certainly one of them. Arceneau Trade Company in the wake of the Nine Hells opening up and birthing their dead was dead halting their normal trade operations and converting them to more humanitarian aid.

The local Merchant fleet of the Trade Queen would swarm the planet. They were were to provide help to any refugees, along with a measure of protection that they could provide.

While the Republic and the Jedi what they normally do, Arceneau Trade was here to ensure a measure of safety in that regardless and come what may, the cogs of this venture would keep on keep on.

The local ATC representative would oversee these events, Vsyer Awr, a Muun with a savvy sense of business acumen. This would be the local point of contact for any seeking to interact with ATC.

 

[Uri Aureleos]

Uri kept his hand behind the boy's back just incase he fell over. He could tell by the look on the boy's face he was disoriented. Especially when he apologized for the ship. It was odd hearing that come from the youngling's mouth. Uri thought for sure the youngling would be scared out of his wits. Uri had so many questions for the Nautolan, and he was almost positive that boy would have questions for him. Now wasn't the time however. They were out in the open and frankly in a venerable position. Uri stood up himself then took a look around glancing back down at the wobbly youngling. Uri wasn't sure if the boy could successfully put one foot in front of the other, but they needed to get out of the street.

Uri sunk back to eye level with him, "I'm Padawan Uri Aureleos. You can call me Uri, okay?" Uri put his hand on top of the boy's head."We're going to get back home to Ossus." With that, Uri didn't give youngling time to reply. Instead he wrapped his arm around the boy's thighs and lifted him from the ground. Uri adopted a fast pace as he walked back to the ship he arrived on making sure to hug the walls of the buildings just incase the enemy ships made a comeback. He made it back to the ship he arrived on meeting with the command officer as he approached. They would be moving out soon. The CO shot a concern glance at the youngling then went back to the task at hand.

Uri took the boy on to the ship the sat him down. "Follow my finger." He held his finger up in front of the Nautolan and moved it up, down, left, and right watching the youngling's eyes for anything out of the ordinary. Uri then snapped his fingers next to his ears making sure his hearing wasn't damaged. After a few more trials Uri gave the boy a clean bill of health but didn't plan to let the kid sleep for the next 24 hours just incase he had a concussion. Uri smiled at him, "What's your name, Youngling?"

[member="Zak Dymo"]

 

[Strider Garon]

Location: Palace Rooftop
Objective: On Stand bye
Team: Ori'ramikade [member="Werdla Dardalab"] [member="Mallory Pryde"] [member="Anastasia Rade"] [member="Ijaat Akun"]
Allies: [member="Kayleigh Tyven"]


*Pew*Pew*Pew*

The old commando would keep up with his combine blaster fire with his Squad mates. They were laying waste to the enemy that held the roof..... well held was probably not the best term to use for the Ori'ramikade and the power armored Ijaat had slotted them good. Mandalorians were very effecciant in the art of killing, they were all artists painting their master pieces with each moment they spend violently engaged on the field of battle.

Now the Commandos were going to breach the Palace through the roof access doors. The squad would move towards the doors, there hadn't been any more targets birthing from it so it was a clear sign they knew they lost the rooftop. Strider would command his team to stack up on the door and ready to breach. The old dog would first test the door to see if it was locked. It was. So it was time to play with det tape. He had learned the hard way a long time ago that improper amount could be counter productive.

"Ijaat! Best you make your own entrance else where. Distraction could serve us well here!" He would advise the power armored mando flying about. THe uniqueness was that Ijaat had enough arsenal and power to rip through most obstacles in his way. And if he could make a explosive breach some where close by to blow the attention from those waiting behind the entrance door, it could give the mandos a continued momentum and initiative in this fight.