Phriktion

[Menoetius]

A L D E R A A N​

JURAN MOUNTAINS​

​

A diamond formation composed of four orbit-to-ground dropships whizzed through the jagged terrain of Alderaan's Juran Mountains, skillfully avoiding any and all obstacles. Inside each dropship was a squad of fourteen royal guardsmen, all donned in combat armour, all prepared for a fight. You see, although Alderaan had been recently liberated by the One Sith, small pockets of Republic resistance remained. Clearing out this resistance wasn't their mission, oh no, they were searching for something much more important.

That said, Commander Orin was rearing for more action and would gladly divert course should him and his men stumble upon anything waving Republic colours.

He was in the foremost dropship in the formation, standing smartly in the doorway to the cockpit, just behind the pilot's chair. His men sat in the passenger bay behind him, silent except for the periodic rustling of someone adjusting their armour.

"Just be alert," he uttered to the pilot. If they did encounter Republic remnants, Orin didn't want to be caught off guard.

 

[Menoetius]

Something beeped within the cockpit, eliciting a frown from the pilot. He peered at the console display, then returned his gaze to the mountainous horizon. "Sir," he began, "Compound about 4 clicks ahead. Manned."

Good, was Orin's only thought as he replied, first with a grunt and then with words. "Adjust course. Head towards the compound." The sound of whizzing servos signaled movement in the rotary engines, causing a shift in Gs that nearly made Orin stumble as he turned around. Soon, the dropship leveled out once more and Orin relaxed, clapping his hands just once to garner the attention of his men.

"There's a compound not too far from here," he began once all of the helmeted faces were pointed in his direction, "It's manned. We're going to sneak a peek. If they're Republic, we're going to wipe them from the face of Alderaan. If not, we're going to wipe them out anyway."

"Understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, sir"s was Orin's response, which was more than satisfactory. He turned back to face the cockpit and resumed his scan of the horizon.

 

[Menoetius]

"Coming up on the compound now," came the pilot's voice as the four dropships descended into a valley. The valley housed a small-ish compound which was surrounded by hastily erected dura-crete walls. A primitive cloaking device stuck out like a sore thumb, likely the reason why planetary scans hadn't found them. No match for groundside sonar scans, it appeared.

Orin couldn't see any AA batteries, so he pointed to a small patch of grassy land behind the compound and gave the Pilot two pats on the back. The pilot nodded and adjusted the dropship's trajectory once more.

A volley of bone-like cracking noises filled the dropship momentarily as Orin rolled his neck, sighing as he did so. Getting old wasn't fun, but the complaints could wait until later. There was kark to do.

"Get ready, men," Orin commanded as he pulled his helmet onto his head. The roaring sound of the dropship's sublight engines slowly died down, signaling that they were descending. His squad of guardsmen stood out of their chairs, blaster rifles in hand and force staffs secured snugly on their backs. A red light blinked just before hydraulics hissed and two exit doors slid open, revealing the frosty environment of Alderaan's mountainous regions.

"Go, go, go!" Orin bellowed as him and his troops streamed out of the dropship. There was no hesitation as they stormed towards the compound walls, one of the demolition specialists already taking aim with a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher as he ran. Seconds later and a sizable hole had been blown in the flaky duracrete wall, the dust billowing upwards in a plume, only to be whisked away by the harsh wind.

 

[Menoetius]

The battle didn't take long. Remnants of a Republic platoon put up their best resistance, but alas, they were no match for the battle hardened elite of the One Sith. A few men were lost, but nothing major.

Funny, Orin mused as he walked back to his dropship. Thinking a building and a locked door would save you from certain death... Behind him, a building scorched by blaster fire seemingly evaporated, engulfed in the flames generated by several demolition charges. He allowed himself to smirk, the sweet feeling of victory no less potent than it was twenty years ago.

Just before he boarded his dropship, Orin called over the leader of squad four, who promptly ran over and stammered, "Sir?"

"Stay behind, collect our dead and any intel you can find. Any Republic survivors, kill them," Orin said, nearly shouting to be heard over the strong winds. The other squad leader nodded and ran off towards his dropship, presumably to pull his own guardsmen back out of it.

Orin boarded his own, counted his men and told the pilot to take them back up...

 

[Menoetius]

Sublight engines roared once more, brought back to life by a small button, carrying the dropship up and away from the ground. Orin assumed a slightly relaxed stance in the cockpit doorway, gazing out across the horizon as if the previous battle was already forgotten. When you've been waging war for twenty years, it's kind of easy to overlook the psychological effects of a five minute firefight. That went for everyone in the dropship. They weren't greenhorn stormtroopers, they were Lord Mierin's Royal Guard. All battle hardened, all the recipients of the best training the galaxy could offer.

They were certainly formidable.

"Sir, yet another blip on the sensors. Looks like a facility, penetrates the side of a mountain. Could be the mine," The pilot uttered, his voice tinted with excitement.

"Take us there," came Orin's reply, fuzzied by his helmet filters. "Get ready," he called back to his men. "... Again."

 

[Menoetius]

The dropship and its two brethren moved at breakneck speeds, expertly navigating the unforgiving terrain that was Alderaan's Juran Mountain range. Commander Orin gripped either side of the cockpit's doorway for support, his unfaltering gaze planted on the windshield. When the target came into view, he wanted to have as much time as possible to analyze it and the surrounding area. Everything could go horribly wrong if he ordered the pilot to land in a potential hotzone. Safety for his men was one of his main concerns, after all.

And there it was. As the dropship cornered a rather large mountain, the unnatural angles and colouring of man-made architecture came into view. It did appear to be the mining facility Orin sought and it came prebuilt with a huge landing pad, presumably for cargo ships.

"Any life signs?" Orin asked, hesitant to make a landing plan unless he was sure there was resistance.

"Negative," came the reply.

"Take us in, then. The landing pad."

Orin adjusted his breastplate, which had come a bit loose after the firefight. When it wasn't easily rectified, he sighed and mumbled something about needing new armour.

 

[Menoetius]

The song and dance of landing and disembarking played out once more, with the three dropships landing and unloading their sentient cargo on the pad in mere moments.

Commander Orin lead his squad, with the other two following behind in a tight formation. His blaster rifle was raised, the stock pressed firmly into his shoulder and sights pointed dead ahead. The group of guardsmen slowly advanced towards the facility's entrance, obviously taking no chances. The facility could be cloaked like the compound, meaning all manner of awful creatures could be behind the main doors, oblivious to the prodding of life scans. Or, the facility could still have an active droid security force.

Or, in the worst case scenario, a mix of both.

Now that would suck.

Having reached the entrance, Orin's squad prepared to breach. The other two squads stood out of sight as the doors slid open, emergency power still in play. A hand signal sent the point man in first, followed by Orin. Nothing. The lobby was completely empty, lit by strips of red emergency lights.

Three doors led off from the lobby, one on the left side of the room, one in the middle and one on the right side. "My squad will take the middle. Triem, you take the left side. Kloet, right. Stay in radio contact," Orin ordered as he moved towards the middle door. "Move out."

 

[Menoetius]

The three squads crept through the facility, clearing room after room, corridor after corridor. Eventually, Orin's squad hit the mines proper, and they were greeted with something peculiar. All of the mining droids were sitting in various still states of activity. It seemed that they had all been shut down in the hasty deactivation of the facility, leading to an eerie still image of mining in action. Despite the chill Orin felt creeping up his spine, he continued to lead his squad into the tunnels of the mine. They had to be sure nothing was laying in wait.

The two squads that broke off earlier to search the rest of the facility reported in shortly after Orin discovered the mines, stating their search was complete and there was nothing to report. Orin ordered them to remain in the lobby until he returned.

Thirty minutes later and Orin was sure that the facility was cleared. The mine was relatively new, evident in the shortness of the mine shafts. "Alright, back to the lobby," he said to his men, before contacting the other two squads via radio. "Did anyone happen to come across the generator?" he asked.

"We did, sir," Kloet responded.

"Was it damaged in any way?"

"No, sir."

That was good. Meant that they could probably reactivate the facility from the central console.

 

[Menoetius]

And that was exactly what Orin did... Or didn't.

After returning to the lobby, the Commander acknowledged the other two squads briefly before marching to the command room of the facility. It was a ghastly clinical white, with consoles lining walls and smart screens placed in orderly lines. On the wall was a huge screen/console combo, which Orin immediately assumed to be the central console for the entire facility. He was probably right, but he'd never find out himself as many layers of passwords and encryptions blocked his access.

"Feth," his frustration managed to voice itself outright. "Command," he began, confident that someone up on the Crimson Wraith was listening to the groundside radio chatter. "Requesting a team of engineers to my location, as well as an expert slicer."

"Copy that, additional personnel en route," came the reply, moments later.

Now we play the waiting game, Orin thought. Fun.

 

[Menoetius]

Another dropship streaked across the frosty sky above the Juran mountain range, the sublight roar of its engines scaring much of the local wildlife away once again. Some local birds must have been unlucky in the genetic lottery and evolved without a substantial amount of brain cells, because they flew straight into the dropship and met an untimely demise.

The blood splattered, feather covered, dropship made its landing a mere fifteen minutes after Commander Orin requested specialist help. Still, fifteen minutes with nothing to do but stare at frustrating encryptions was a long time. Despite the boredom, Orin met the team at the entrance with a handshake and lead them inside, to the control room.

"So, do you have any idea what encryptions we're dealing with, here?" Asked the slicer.
"Not really. They're Republic, I think."
"Right."

They'd barely made it into the control room when the slicer suddenly grew an insatiable urge to decode, stepping into a sprint that took him to the central console. Orin arched an eyebrow and shook his head softly while the engineer team looked at him as if waiting for orders. Orin returned the stare for a few moments before sighing.

"I don't know, you're the engineers. There were deactivated droids down in the mine, why don't you go sort them out. Ask for Kloet, he'll show you where it is."

The engineers nodded amongst themselves and wandered off.

Hardly seconds after they left, the power came back online, flooding the control room with a bright, white, light. "Done already?" Orin called out.

"Yeah, it was actually really simple," the slicer replied.
"So," Orin began as he walked towards the central console. "What does this facility mine?"

"... Phrik."