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Location: Bespin, Hotel Suite Objective: Arrest the First Order Spy Who is Clearly Not a Doctor Allies: [member="Elliot Locke"] | [member="Canal"] Enemies: [member="Irajah Ven"]
Jorg heard the thud before anything else, the loud crash of the woman slamming against the wall. An odd sort of satisfaction filled him, a feeling that he had at the very least no fucked up one thing today. The visor on his helmet had by now turned opaque, the HUD pulling up as he approached the doctor now slumped against the wall. Jorg stepped forward, walking over a piece of debris and drawing his blaster pistol from the holster on his thigh.
His hand reached out, his fingers looping around the Doctor's hair as the Pistol was placed against her temple. He pulled her head back so he could look her in the eye.
"I don't care if you're a saint." His tone of voice was ice cold, quiet enough that only he and Irajah would actually be able to hear what he was saying. "You ran. You endangered me and my men."
The visor went translucent for just a moment, his scowl evident. "You're lucky I'm not killing you."
The blaster jerked away from her temple, and then suddenly his elbow went crashing into the woman's face. The action likely would have caused a few stern looks from most Galactic Alliance Soldiers, and Jorg was pretty sure Canal and Elliot would have objected, but Jorg didn't care. He was angry, this mission had been fucked, everything they'd trained for was done. He'd spent more than half his life fighting for the Sith, eventually something would come bleeding through, and this was it.
As soon as his elbow connected Jorg released her, allowing her to slump against the wall as he drew back and shot Irajah with the stun setting of his blaster.
"Hangar bays are to the south." Jorg told the others as he slapped cuffs around Irajah and pulled her onto his shoulder. "Saw a sign out to the left of where we came in."
LOCATION: Anoat OBJECTIVE:Commerce, maybe with a side of smuggling Infiltrating KURGAIN TRAFFIC CONTROL: [member="magnus ren"], [member="Aralu Sar"], [member="fiolette yvarro"], [member="Brask'ari'sabosen"] OTHERS NEARBY: [member="Micah Talith"], [member="Taheera Sollo"], [member="Atham'aali'kema"], [member="Vexen"], [member="Ipsy"], [member="Allyson Locke"], [member="Spark Finn"]
Keric and his droid companion alighted on the ledge of the stairwell just outside of engineering. Lights flickered on and off, casting shadows that danced in strange patterns across the wall. His droid companion made a low, almost inaudible whistle. Keric nodded, a sad smile crossing his lips within the veil of his helmet. He flexed his hands around the hilt of his lightsaber and pistol, then strode up to the door and focused on it. With a flexing of his mental strength, he slid the doors open enough to slide in.
Within the bowels of this engineering level, Keric noted several things at once. Across the chamber, past the various and sundry devices that kept power running to the station and made things work, he saw one of his fellow agents being held at gun point by a blonde in a First Order uniform. With her were others in similar uniforms.
Closer to hand, more felt than seen, Keric noted a presence that felt familiar. He didn't turn his head to look, instead he focused away from her, letting her continue to hide while sending a message over their Alliance channel.
"Phade is in Engineering." He subvocalised, knowing that his voice would reach the ears of those who would need to hear him.
With his mind, he prodded his small companion to the nearby hyperdrive, with the imperative that it should assist in making the jump as smoothly as possible. As there was no software within the station, the droid would only be able to affect the hyperdrive, but its assistance there would be a boon. Keric kept his mind attached to the droid as he brought his pistol up, aiming it at Fiolette Yvarro across engineering. His HUD displayed her with several sensor filters overlaying her body, and a targeting reticle placed upon her head, as it was the largest target of her he could see.
Then he activated a single use system that would blare his presence to anything with active sensors. The system sent a prearranged signal to the Galactic Alliance fleet waiting at Javin.
::Station Hijack in progress, aleph coordinates. Enemy operatives possible, keep weapons systems active.::
The signal went out from his armors systems, and was relayed through the container he had jettisoned outside of the station. It would be audible and unencrypted, but was a single pulse of a communication signal.
After, Keric had to turn off his armors radio. The powerful signal burnt out several systems, and all he heard in return was static.
Magnus' pinned form via the Force was lifted in the same instant the lightning that sprung from his finger tips was released. However, instead of actually striking the amphistaff as had been planned, or rather, the body of the Chiss Hybrid, it had been redirected in the air - and to the ceiling. Unfortunate, and entirely unexpected. Though, like a panther, the armour clad Ren rolled up and onto his feet, even as the Mirialan was struck in the thigh and shuffled to the side - the Force pull that emanated from the raising hand of the Ren was employed to use that shuffling to further unbalance to the Jedi Knight and pull her into his zabrak companion's slash.
In regards to the second, semi-visible opponent, Magnus' violet beam came back to life, and the grappling hook that was shot past him and to the thigh of Aralu struck off him, more or less harmlessly, and Magnus spoke.
"You must be foolish, to believe we share the same codes of honour - Abomination."
And then the Station shuddered, and for a moment, the Knight of Ren's surprise rung out through the Force and he spared a glance over his shoulder to his Zabraki companion.
A telepathic message was sent through the Force - rather than being actual words of communication, the image the Executioner of Ren imagined was that of a hatch. A close one. All they had to do was get it. The emotions and feelings behind it meant more or less, Escape.
Objective: Save the wampas
Allies: Galactic Alliance | [member="Leo Vandermolen"] | [member="John Shepherd"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Sanya Val Swift"] | [member="Bryce Bantam"]
Enemies: Poachers
All six of the ORC infiltrators all crunched together seemed uncomfortable, although Nawago didn't expect it to be THAT terrible. For the majority of the ride, he found his face plastered against the window, feeling faint from the lack of oxygen every few minutes. He managed to get a quick look around the small gunner cockpit and noticed that only five of them were present, with Bryce being absent from the group. Before entering the ship, he saw Bryce heading off somewhere, but didn't expect him to branch away from them entirely. In a way, he was grateful for the added space in the ship. If another person was present, they could have suffocated before reaching their destination, although that could just be an exaggeration.
When asked regarding the location of the cave, he looked down on the planet below and examined the spot. He hadn't seen a wampa cave ever since he left Hoth all of those years ago. Either way, he still knew how to recognize one from farther distances. It was something he picked up in his early days, as the many blizzards hindered eyesight. The fact that everything besides man-made structures was a sheet of snow made it even harder to distinguish caves.
"It's hard to tell from up here, but I'd say that's our destination." He called up to the pilot of the ship, asking for a landing next to the cave. Back in the impending avalanche, he never would have expected to be continuing their original intent to rescue the wampas, yet they were almost there.
With the ships landing relatively near the cave, he practically dived outside of the ship and took a big huff of air. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he made sure to prepare his comrades. "If any of you are squeamish, I'd recommend staying outside. Being a perpetrator myself, the home of a wampa can get pretty nasty." Walking over and staring at the entrance of the cave, he also made sure to mention behavioral issues. "Also, we're very protective of our own and become easily aggravated, so we should take care."
Objective: Save more than Wampa... Target FO shuttle
Allies:GA Officially [member="John Shepherd"] | [member="Nawago"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Leo Vandermolen"] | [member="Sanya Val Swift"] (Others with GA characters)
Enemies: [member="Raziel"]
Theme X <--- Ok, maybe a little more fun, then we get serious...
His plan failed, but how? It was so perfect in its' simplicity. Bryce could have fought, could have tried to overpower the unsuspecting guards. But instead he let himself be cuffed. He needed to keep up the illusion of weakness to all but the master, the one who even now poked at his mind. Great, one of those types he though to his inner self. Fine, you wanna play, lets play...
Bryce closed his eyes and let the snow of Hoth fade, instead it was replaced by the warm tropical shores of his homeworld of Biitu. Bryce now imagined him self in nothing but a banana hammock, why? Better question was why not? It was his minds illusion and the place he had chosen to meet with this man who tried to force his way into his mind. One need not be rude to a guest, instead Bryce was going to be a good host and invite him in to his insanity...
As he entered Bryce would respond telepathically so they could speak in private...
"Hello and welcome to well, my mind. Now I'm sure you are wondering why I'm REALLY here, thus the nice metal bracelets you had your troopers furnish me with. So here is the deal, no lies, just truth."
Bryce let his mind replay the visions of [member="Ara Ren"] , her battle with the Alliance master, her injuries and fatal wound...
"That was no illusion, no trick, I have a strong feeling your would know the difference. It was what has or will happen. She is a Ren, a loyal soldier of the First Order and she is dying. I came Hoth on a humanitarian mission, to save others. She needs me more... I don't have time to explain further, but if you are as strong with the force as I believe you to be then search for the for the lies in what I say. If you find none then I ask let me go. I only want a ship to use to reach her, help her if I can. In return I will pay whatever price you ask, name it and it will honor it in any way I can."
Now Bryce didn't know what his beliefs were but those who used the darker arts would understand passion. He hoped that would shape this dark master's next decision. Help convince him to let Bryce pass, or at the very lease allow for enough trust to be built so a deal could be struck. If neither of these things came to pass, Bryce would be left with only one option and it was not one he relished...
Taeli was about to take the next few steps towards where Gabriel and the other Ren was when the male Ren made a leap to intercept her. With a roll of her eyes, she turned to engage him one last time as Kaida attacked his hip and Shamira went for his legs. She was tired of this game, this insistence to throw his life away in such a confrontation when the smart move would have been to surrender. If he so wanted to be left as the female Ren had been left, so be it.
She was done toying with the boy.
There would be a shink noise as the handle of her lightsaber became a full circle, the blades igniting again... and they began to spin rapidly. If he remembered the quick warning his superior had made, he would expect the spinning blades... but not many people had studied lightsaber designs from the distant past. Even if he knew what was coming, he wouldn't have the experience to draw upon to know how to effectively counter it.
With a quick motion, she would spin around, her lightsaber aiming to take his left arm off at the shoulder, the spinning purple blades would act like a saw, cleaving right through if the attack connected. If all went according to plan, they could finish up with this part of their mission. If he fell to their combined attack, she would de-activate her lightsaber and continue walking towards the command center. If not... she would respond again... and this time she would be sure there would be nothing left but a smoking corpse.
Silara winced. One impact out of all weapons was shameful rate. She growled and stubbed death stick striking another. Fury thundered in her veins. The XO remained silent, hands clasped behind his back and watching with a wary eye. Her own eyes were flitting back forth between the TAC screens.
Admiral Thuku was all over the map, stealth corvettes were appearing everywhere and Admiral Morrow was bogged down with Nolantia and Veer's fleet. She surmised there was only one course of action for her. Thuku would have to wait.
"Status of weapons?"
"Thirty seconds Ma'am."
"Cap'n, Defiance just got split in half, she needs support."
"Show me."
Silara waved her hand up and took a deep drag, filling her lungs with smoke as the screen flickered and then showed the Defiance's front half moving away. The rear was trailing, leaking bodies and flash frozen fuel. Her jaw tightened at the sight. War was hell.
"Scramble our Marine shuttle's, have them run down the ass half of Defiance and recover any personel still alive. Time now!" Silara roared, clutching the railing. The Shambhala was still in her scopes, although just barely. It seemed Captain Varanin had chosen to skulk about, which only worsened her already boiling temper.
"Weapons, ready?"
"Aye Ma'am."
"Divert two Mass drivers to Shambhala, all other weapons repeat last. Add in the proton torpedoes for extra effect!"
"Firing!"
And then that's when something went wrong. There was a rumble and the sound of slugs passing magnetic capacitors. Then there was a thud and a cracking sound so hard her feet flew from under her, and she found herself striking the rail face first as alarms blared. Red lights flashed. Circuits shot sparks across the room.
The bridge was filling with acrid black smoke.
"What the hell!"
"Breach! Hull breach below decks all sections forwards of the bridge, all decks!"
"Damn it!" Silara roared. She reached up and grasped the railing hauling herself up. Much to her horror one of the camera's showed the nose of the Resolute Vengeance split open. The round had somehow impacted the bore wrong and peeled their prow back like a banana. More bodies and crystallized atmosphere streamed into the void. Thumps continued to sound as decks de-pressurized an armor plating was ripped off by the leaking pressure, spiralling into the black.
"Seal them off! Damage control to the prow! Systems check!"
"Hull at half! systems damaged but weapons are good!"
"Scrambling damage control teams now!"
Luckily their shields had to drop to fire the Javelins, which saved the beleaguered Captain the pain of having no defence left. They flared back to life in a brilliant blue.
"Keep firing! Helm back us up, reverse now! Full speed. Comm's split our taskforce to recover any personnel from this ship!"
Something told her this was bigger than an error of judgement. Something else was at play here. Sabatouers?
"All weapons away!"
"Ma'am we need to retreat!"
"No! We're in the fight until it's over XO! Get with the program or get the kark off my damn bridge!"
Summary:
5x Heavy Ion- 5x Proton Torpedo -3xMass Drivers Fire towards FIV Nolantia
2x Mass Drivers fire towards Shambhala
Front of Resolute Vengeance is peeled back and destroyed, Both Javelins out of operation.
Shuttles w/Marines make their way to Defiance backhalf & RV fronthalf to secure survivors.
Landing between all three of his enemy, his gaze lifted to take in the glimpsing movements of [member="Kaida Taldir"] as she extended her hand out towards him and the force from her telekinetic blow shunted him back, his eyes being forced to close while his cheek rippled as the wave of energy passed through him and caused him to stumble around to face off in [member="Shamira Karuto"]'s direction as the younger woman lunged at him in a co-ordinated attack, synchronized efforts, all moving from the corners of the triangle towards the center of which he did not have the speed nor the reflexes to counter them given the damage already so severe to his body. He sought to counter her, to deflect her lightsaber with his own, his left arm extending while the force screamed within him, the moments quickening drastically, so much so that his mind couldn't account for the need he had to fend them all away, his precognition failing to take into account [member="Taeli Raaf"]'s blade being thrown into a violent spin aimed at the very arm that sought to save himself from Shamira's attack. It all happened at once..
The young disciples cry of pain masked the sound of their blades sinking deep into his flesh, his left arm severed at the shoulder before he could effectively parry off Shamira's sweep at his legs, her blade connecting and slicing through both knees, taking them into two while Kaida's lightsaber struck out and sliced through his hip and mid-way through his waist. Brennan's body buckled, twisting awkwardly as he screamed out in a blood frenzied and desperate attempt to deny them the moment, his control completely removed from the situation, his mind being taken into the trauma and reacting manically against the reality of his situation as he hit the floor, his right hand dropping theSith Dirk over the edge of the railing, it plummeting down below not to be seen where it might land, the vats giving him little hope of its survival unless by some small miracle it would land between them, he however could not see through anything but the pain that coursed throughout his torso and what remained of his limbs. The heat of their blades cauterized the wounds mostly though through the pockets of burned flesh and leather, his blood pooled around their blackened wounded, filtering out against the metal flooring.
Rocking back and fourth against his side, his right hand came to take hold of his left shoulder or rather what was left of it, his cheeks were wet with the rage of his tears, let loose against the immense pain, his mind went into shock and he sought any way out, digging deep to his instinct to rebel, to fight with everything he had though he had little left. His lightsaber remained out of reach, his Dirk now far below and presumably destroyed, the one thing he still maintained was the two final Incendiary Grenades at the right rear side of his belt. These Jedi were still close, close enough for one last attack, one last action taken up in the name of Seiger Ren, there was nothing more that he had to give.
Rolling slowly to his back, his eyes opened to stare up towards the roof of the Hilikan facility, the orange glow of the burning vats far below them likely to be his grave, he grit his teeth and smiled through them, facing death with a grin as his right hand reached behind him and removed both of the grenades, bringing them to that unhinged smirk and using his teeth to pull out the pins before his arm fell relaxed against the catwalk grating and the last thing he said before the explosives went off was, "We will not be denied". Fade to black.
Though he had lost consciousness, the catwalk exploded with a kinetic force, a wall of air first hitting everything in its path before the flames followed faster than the eyes could trace, like napalm they ate up the oxygen and flourished because of it, tearing through the scene with a silent roar, the explosion rocked the facilities catwalk engulfing everything within a ten meter radius of Brennan's fallen body. The explosive force would not disintegrate his form yet the flames would burn what hadn't already been scarred by the earlier attack of Taeli's force lightning barrage. It was a final gift for the First Order in his last moments of conscious choice, surrendering himself for the cause, a wholley selfless devotion to the Supreme Leaders fight for peace and stability within the Galaxy.
OOC NOTE: Discussed and agreed upon with the writers involved.
:earl, I need dustoff, fast.::
The trauma kit was the sort that would be familiar to any special forces medic. Guys like that were trained, and often expected to, perform everything short of brain surgery under the most austere conditions. They were no substitute for a proper doctor. They lacked training in epidemiology, for starters, as well as about a hundred other things that even the poorest village doctor might be expected to know, but they were absolute hell on wheels when it came to stitching folks back together.
Rusty had never formally been trained as a medic, but he'd spent enough time taking bodies apart that he had an intimate knowledge of how to reverse the process.
A quick examination of the subjects, with the help of a medicomp, gave him all he needed to know. The first subject, the one lying prone, was suffering from severe abdominal trauma, a shattered femur, and a broken wing. He didn't recognize the species, but the medicomp labeled her as a S'Kytri, whatever the hell that was.
The second subject was Arkanian, simple enough. She was missing a hand, the jagged stump spurting blood like a horror movie prop. He was pretty sure she had some shrapnel wounds too, but nothing was squirting. He could handle that later.
Of the two, the S'kytri was probably in more danger in the long run, but that Arkanian was going to bleed out in the next few minutes if he didn't get a handle on that. Around the limb, about two inches above the wound, he slapped an Auto Tourniquet.
"This is gonna hurt," he warned, just before triggering the windlass.
The nylon straps cinched tight, cutting off bloodflow. On a less traumatic injury, a tourniquet was a last resort. If you couldn't staunch bleeding by normal means, it was a necessary evil, but an evil nonetheless. Cut off blood too to the limb distal to the tourniquet for too long, and it would turn necrotic, requiring amputation. In this case, however, the hand was already gone. Nothing left worth saving.
Just about the limb, at the crook of her elbow, the Shard slapped on a saline lock. In the olden days, he'd have had to search out a vein, stick in a needle, and attach an IV the hard way. In this case, the saline lock did the work for him. All he had to do was hook up the line. The saline/plasma mix would replace the lost volume, and it was heated to body temperature. It wasn't a perfect solution to hypothermia, but it would help keep her core warm. Into the line, he injected a dose of anti-shock medication, as well as a strong painkiller. Before moving on to the other woman, he wrapped a thermal blanket around her. That should help hold in her body heat, further fighting the bitter cold.
The S'Kytri needed bacta, full stop. Under most circumstances, pulling any sort of imbedded object out of a body was the very last thing one should do, and the damage the bomb knife thingy had done on the way out was severe. That said, it was an explosive device, and had it been left in, it would have killed her. As it was, she was fading fast, the open wound shedding heat almost as quickly as blood. That was bad. Really bad. On Hoth, it would be a race to see what killed her, and the Shard had no choice but to break out his Inflatable Bacta Tank.
It had been tough finding a pack big enough to fit both the RR-1 ammo and the IBT. The device in and of itself was the size of a normal ruck. Only Rusty's mechanical strength allowed him to carry the thing. He'd cursed the extra weight when he was fighting through the snow on the way to Veers. Now, he was glad he brought it with him.
With practice ease, he broke open the pack and extended the frame. The inflatable tank was rolled out over the frame, and a burst of compressed air partially inflated it. Rusty maneuvered the injured Ren over to it. It was a pain to get her wings folded up small enough to squeeze her into it, and there was no way in hell it could be fun for her. Fortunately, he had injected her with the same cocktail that went into the Arkanian.
There wasn't enough of a vein to get an IV into her. The injection went into the intraosseous infusion line that he placed into her sternum. The Shard figured her bones must have been hollow, because getting an IO into a humanoid took some serious grunt. It went in here no problem. That in and of itself had to hurt like hell, but what was one more prick in a sea of agonies?
Once she was sealed in the tank, the air was evacuated and replaced with bacta. It too was heated, which would keep her warm. Normally, submerging a hypothermia patient in heated fluid was a terrible idea, but it wasn't like she could get much worse, and anyway, it was bacta. That stuff was near magic on just about anything with protoplasm.
:ustoff in one mike, boss.::
The Shard breathed a mechanical sigh of relief.
Having Pearl, Eralam's Shard assistant, park his super rare Panaka-class fighter at the edge of the system had been a precaution against his employers turning on him. Admittedly, it hadn't been likely, seeing has how the GA had a pretty good rep with this sort of thing, but he hadn't lived as long as he had by being incautious. The fighter didn't have a whole lot of cargo room, but he'd had it temporarily refitted to make room for a single coffin-like sickbay, just large enough for the IBT. He hadn't planned on carrying two wounded individuals out, but it did have a passenger seat. Pearl could remotely lock out the controls, ensuring that the person riding shotgun couldn't try to hijack the craft.
That was one thing Rusty wasn't especially worried about. He'd have the Arkanian ride in the passenger seat, and the dose of painkillers he gave her should have her knocked out long enough to get to Dressel.
By signaling for dustoff, Pearl had known to set the IFF transponder to sqawk medical transport codes, which should protect her, and the fighter, from enemy attention. That didn't stop her from staying well away from the fighting.
The black craft touched down on the icy surface, and Rusty triggered the IBT's repulsorlift and slid it into the sickbay. The Arkanian he muscled into the fighter's passenger seat.
As the fighter blasted towards the heavens, he triggered one last burst transmission to [member="Aver Brand"].
::I recognize that gun. It's the prototype that the LCR-series is based off. If I recall, I sold it to some crazy Sith lady some time ago. Not sure how you came by it, don't really care. If you get some free time, feel free to swing by RCFC and we'll discuss any upgrades you might have in mind. RCFC values customer feedback, and all our weapons come with a lifetime warranty. The lifetime of the weapon, that is, since guns have a way of outliving the customer.::
And, just to be safe, he contacted the GA controller for the system.
::Hoth Command, this is Mr. Roboto. Two HVT's secured, transporting them to medical facilities under the terms of my contract. Remind me next time to set up an amended contract, so we don't have to deal with this. Mr. Roboto, out.::
Location: Ison Corridor - Indellian Gateway - Indellian Objective: Scatter the Foe. Reclaim the Corridor. Allies: The First Order, The Galactic Empire, [member="Cyrus Tregessar"], [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"], [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], [member="Ashin Varanin"], @T'yr Dellos, [member="Aedan Miles"] Enemies: The Galactic Alliance, [member="Zark"], [member="Alexandra Morrow"], [member="Cathul Thuku"], [member="Silara Varis"], [member="Rick Kaloo"], [member="Maira Varan"] Taskforce Composition: FIV Nolantia, FIV Virtue Of Orpheus, FIV Blade of the Covenant, FIV Pious Fervour, FIV Spirit of Justice, (1,102m / 6,000m.)
Directly Engaging: [member="Alexandra Morrow"] and the ANS 'Argent Dawn'
"Here we stand and here shall we die, unbroken and unbowed, though the very hand of death itself come for us, we will spit our defiance to the end!"
- Armand Titus, Imperial Armour Volume Nine - The Badab War - Part One, pg. 124
Had the Vanquisher - Class Star Destroyer remained stationary after the Resolute Vengeance had sent a myriad of ferromagnetic shells shrieking through the void, there would’ve been adequate cover for a daring pilot to make their attack run under cover of the warship’s detritus. However, as the vessel’s engines burned bright, propelling the ship deeper into the infinite curtain of night, the discarded bulkheads and corpses of thirty-six Imperial officers were left adrift, to be forgotten until a cessation of hostiles.
That meant, as the supposedly cunning steersman behind the yokes of the remaining Y-wing bombers made their run towards the dematerialized gap in the Destroyer’s shields - they would find themselves exposed and prime targets for the heavy concentration of point defense cannons and their anti-missile octets. Though the latter would prove to be more than useful in intercepting this seemingly indomitable wave of fighter craft, their energetic cousins were more suited to the task. Enhanced by the mysterious power of the Force, by way of the translucent Kyber crystals, nearly two dozen point defense emplacements swiveled towards the sudden appearance of these enemy bombers and stabbed into the void with brilliant beams of emerald light. Each magnetically sheathed particle bolt was fired with surgical precision, filling the stars along the starfighters projected path with a dense thicket of ethereal violence. It was doubtful they would survive, let alone reach their intended destination.
In addition to the Nolantia’s anti-starfighter arrays, the two escort corvettes had chased after their quarry with all the grace of an aquatic predator. Their proverbial fangs lashed out as the multiple squadrons of bombers skirted across the surface of the Nolantia’s shields, somehow able to defy the odds stacked against them and carry out their mission. It was of little concern, however, as they made their approach towards the section of the hull afore the command tower, and the compromised section of the warship thereafter. They would meet their end in due course, as now, it became a matter that would resolve itself shortly. Having calculated their quarries intent, based upon the speed at which they soared towards an apparent opening, the two corvette’s (As there were no Imperial fighters deployed to intercept these pesky Alliance gnats) had given chase. They sought to grind their foes to dust underneath a blistering hail of homing cluster munitions, pulsating ion cannons, and the ever reliable cocking action of the turreted quad cannons. Whilst that tableau had taken place, the port side armament continued tracking the projected path of the Gravitational Anomaly streaked towards the distant asteroid belt, and spitting death at the fleeing vessel. Spears of emerald and sapphire light stabbed out into the darkness, hell-bent on scouring their diminutive quarry from the battlefield. In their wake, trailed the capital-grade concussion missiles, and their proton-based cousins.
Meanwhile, as the sight of these bombers skirting across the curvature of his warships Shields threatened to distract him from the greater battle, Captain Veers found himself mildly entertained by the thought of how wasteful this supposed attack run had been. Were their shoes, as the old saying goes, place upon the other foot, Achim would’ve sent the bombers to deal with the Escort Corvettes first, before redeploying them against the larger vessel. They were a greater threat to the tiny starfighters. Far superior to that of the Nolantia. Had those Escorts been destroyed, it would’ve allowed the pilots to harass the engines of the Vanquisher - and attack the vessel’s command bridge from behind. To think, they denied themselves the glory of crippling a mighty warship, all to tear an already considerably wide hole, even larger. They would die in vain. Which, to the Anaxi-born Officer, was a mildly humorous thought. He cared little about his crewmen dying, than Alliance Pilots purchasing nothing with the collective value of their insignificant lives.
No wonder they were forced to rely on ill-trained Mercenaries and vagabonds.
Cutting through the haze of distraction, the voice of Achim’s second in command had drawn the Captain’s attention, allowing the aged man to peel his eyes away from the skirmish transpiring across the surface of his warship. “Sir!”The man began, allowing his voice to drown out the sounds of the nearby technicians manning their terminals. “The Virtue of Orpheus and the Blade of the Covenant had emerged from the Inax Nebula. They’ll be adding their firepower to ours momentarily, sir.”
Achim nodded curtly, as the man relayed the news. This would be the first time that he had gotten to see these artillery frigate’s in action, and with their supposed deadly arsenal brought to bear, it was doubtful that whatever stood in their way would survive for long. That was entirely dependent if his sources within the research and development division hadn’t lied to him in the hopes of taking their worst warships into battle - so that they would be able to build off his misery and mistakes to create something better. Which, considering that he was standing aboard a vessel that had yet to be bloodied on the battlefield before this engagement, would seem to be the possible situation. “Good,” He said, after several seconds of pursing his lips thoughtfully. “That’s very good.”
“What’s the status of our damage control teams, have they managed to divert power away from our hull breach?”
The Executive Officer shook his head, indicating a negative response.
“Tell them to redouble their efforts; I don’t want to be venting precious power out of sparking conduits when every drop from our reactor would be better spent on keeping us afloat and alive.”
His second in command fired off a crisp salute, before spinning on his heels to relay his superior's order Watching the man leave, before returning to the battle at hand, Achim silently wished that he could remember the man’s name. As his eyes fell upon the crystalline barrier of the forward viewport, every errant thought was erased from his mind and swiftly replaced by the theoretical calculi of probable void warfare, and it’s thousandfold maneuvers. With the Argent Dawn being a larger and admittedly slower warship than that of the Nolantia, the Captain would order his helmsman to accelerate as their listing arc that brought them far beneath the enemy ship had completed. Flaring beacons of white and blue erupted to life behind the massive Star Destroyer, pushing it across the speckled gulf between worlds with relative ease, bringing the two vessels closer and closer as the chronometer relentlessly progressed ever further. It wouldn’t be long now, but the anticipation of engaging such a mighty warship in a brawl was an exciting prospect. He relished the thought of going toe to toe with the Argent Dawn - despite the fact that (Thanks to preliminary scans) the Vanquisher - Class Star Destroyer was heavily outmatched by such an “extreme” warship.
There was a story that he was reminded of, regarding the exact situation that he and his crew found themselves in. An old wives tale, his Father had once said. It entailed an adolescent boy, who did the impossible and slew a mighty giant with a single, well-placed stone. While the fable was nothing short of metaphor, it relayed the ideology of no matter how large the obstacle - through careful planning and sheer dumb luck, that even the smallest predator could find itself tearing down the largest of prey. With their speed, Achim was secretly hoping to turn his vessel into the pebble that would topple this technological terror - and as the massive Vanquisher had cut a swathe through the curtain of depthless stars - it’s intent was made clear. Dozens of long-range batteries that dotted the nigh-alabaster surface of the Destroyer had swiveled in their sockets, before snapping into place along the Argent Dawn’s projected vectors. Coupled with the calculating power of the targeting computer, the heavy weapons, rife with tightly packed galven coiling, spat forth a percussive volley of magnetically sheathed plasma. The bolts of coruscating emerald lightning would stab out into the darkness of space - intent on colliding with the enemy vessel’s ventral shields - as it stalked forward with steadfast malice.
Despite the impressive armament that the Nolantia brought to bear, it was admittedly doing less than expected, nor desired against the enemy warship. The Imperial Officer would have to ensure that his vessel outpaced his opponent to be effective - but when they deployed weapons like the antiquated retribution shield - alongside a plethora of other weapons with unrealistic ease - the thought of coming out victorious was second only to the fury rising within the man’s veins. He watched, with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, as the archaic shielding channeled the Nolantia’s accrued lethality and cast it back from whence it came. A brilliant, reverberating tendril of white-blue lightning streaked across the void and lashed across the breadth of his warship’s shields, sending coruscating contrails bounding across the Star Destroyer’s plating. He hadn’t expected that but was pleased that his foe was showing every ace in the hole as they swam through the infinite obsidian ocean ever closer to one another.
As the distance began to close, and the Dawn’s ventral and midship based weaponry continued its relentless onslaught, a new alarm blasted out over the ordered chaos of the command deck.“Sir!” One of his subordinates had called out, drawing the Captain’s gaze away from the canting Star Defender. “They’re deploying energy siphons!” Cursing silently under his breath, the Captain took a moment - precious seconds as it were - to weigh the options. He knew that if he had dropped his shields to sever the connection with the siphon, not only would his foe be deprived their vampiric embrace, but the Nolantia would suffer greatly under the barrage of “awesome” weaponry employed by the Dawn. The other and equally terrible option that he could enact was to soldier through the leaching of his shields. It was an act that would restore their vessel’s defensive barrier, and leave the Vanquisher - Class Star Destroyer incredibly weakened. Regardless of which decision he would make, death would sink its frigid fangs into the Imperial warship’s hull and eventually claim the lives of those within.
Unless…
“Comms!” Achim boomed, nearly startling the officer seated within the command trench’s embrace. “Order the Pious Fervour to break off its attack and move towards our starboard surface.”
“But sir, that’ll put them dire-”
“DO IT!”
Captain Veers demanded, pouring every ounce of his ruthless authority in his words. The Officer complied scant seconds after his superior’s tongue fell still, which in turn had been relayed through military encrypted channels, and was almost instantaneously disseminated amongst the crew of the anti-starfighter corvette. Having given the command, Achim turned about and watched as the blocky vessel peeled off it’s projected vector and aligned itself with its new coordinates Several of the dorsal turrets had silenced their ceaseless fury as the friendly Corvette had slid into their firing arcs. The deed had given the enemy a momentary reprieve as they sailed alongside one another, but leagues apart due to the descending planar positioning. It’s what had saved them from the full aetheric might of the retribution shield, but with the Argent Dawn herself starting to tilt towards his warship's superstructure slowly - distance and positioning would matter little. He could only buy himself time; the time that was purchased with the destruction of the Pious Fervour. The Corvette had maneuvered itself onto the Nolantia’s starboard side, intercepting the projected energy siphon, and being vampirically drained of its shields in a hauntingly beautiful moment. With its shields depleted, the Corvette stood little chance against the full might of the Alliance Star Defender and soon became nothing more than a husk of its former self. Debris and atmosphere vented as the vessel died, and the Captain of the Corvette passed on into whatever afterlife his religion held dear, cursing Achim’s name until his dying breath.
Such was the price of war, one that Captain Veers was willing to pay thrice over until victory was assured.
With the additional, and seemingly combined firepower of a majority of the Alliance’s armada deployed to the Indellian Gateway falling upon the Nolantia, it's shielding shrieked with an ethereal roar of pain - that resonated within the Force itself. The implanted Kyber-crystals, within their psy-reactive housings, howled with agony as the distant Alliance Monitor, tagged by the Star Destroyer’s tactical sensorium as the ANS Mustafar, opened fire with it’s more than a modest array of long range turbolasers. They screeched once more, as a salvo of concussion missiles burst out from the darkness of space and tore into the particle shields, forcing them to buckle as they impacted against the twinned deflector screens. With the aft mounted point defense cannons of the Star Destroyer prioritizing other targets, the concussion missiles streaked towards the projected barrier with ease. It was likely that those attuned to the Force, and those that had poured their consciousness into directing the ebbs and the flow of battle would possibly find themselves taken aback by the aetheric wailing of the Nolantia’s kyber-enhanced shields. Then again, it was entirely possible that nothing would happen, and that the Vanquisher’s banshee-shriek would be consigned to the silence of the void. When the flowers of fire had finished blooming across the shields, several casted sections of the barrier began to warp and twist into an arterial crimson - as the Kyber crystals within began to bleed. They raged within their housings as more and more violence was catapulted their way, turning entire swathes of the Nolantia’s shields red.
Elsewhere; near the edges of the nebula, the Virtue of Orpheus and the Blade of the Covenant slowly fire their maneuvering thrusters to align their primary batteries with the projected transitional vectors of the ANS Argent Dawn, as the voidcraft canted towards the distant wedge of their taskforce’s Command Line. Crimson alarms ran along the breadth of their respective command decks, as their vessels were made aware of a veritable swarm of missiles dumb fired in their direction. They blanketed the bespeckled curtain of space, and should they not be countered - would spell death for the two Halberd’s acting as void-based marksmen. As their primary weapons were resolving the various issues with long-range firing solutions, the twinned point defense systems swiveled towards the horde of concussion missiles and opened fire. The Anti-missile octets sprayed a ceaseless stream of shrapnel into the void, knowing that when the two opposing forces connected, their union would be biblical. The “HARM” missile system had tracked their swiftly moving prey through the void and had taken the time to establish a target-lock, before unleashing a stream of missiles in retaliation. As expected, when they two lines had met, they erupted into a proverbial garden of fire - bathing the fringes of the Inax Nebula with shards of fragmented durasteel and momentary payload detonations.
When the chime of a primary target lock had resounded throughout the coupled bridges of the twin Halberd’s, and the muffled sounds of accruing lethality echoing into the nothingness of the void, the Virtue of Orpheus and the Blade of the Covenant opened fire. An ochre light built within their spooling, shrouded barrels as the barely contained fury of a binary star began coalescing within the eight particle lances. Their path was clear, and none save the ANS Argent Dawn sailed within their gunsights. When lethality was reached, and the order was given, the two artillery frigates unleashed the combined rage of hell itself - seeking to scour the stars of the blight that plagued the solar tides. The beams themselves would persist a matter of seconds, but as their target was still shielded - their lengthy barrage would equate to the nuclear wrath of four hundred particle bolts discharged from standardized turbolaser batteries. What remained to be seen, was the aftermath - as who knew what the unknowable skeins of the future held.
This was the First Order’s wroth made manifest, and soon - should these particle lance’s strike true - the Dawn would fall into twilight’s embrace...
Summary of Actions:
FIV Nolantia, FIV Pious Fervour, and FIV Spirit of Justice continue to shoot their PDW's at the Y-wing's.
FIV Spirit of Justice takes fire from the ANS Gravitational Anomaly.
FIV Nolantia fires at the ANS Gravitational Anomaly. Turbolasers (Standard and Long-range.) Proton Torpedoes, Assault Concussion Missiles (Capital Grade.)
FIV Nolantia takes fire from the ANS Argent Dawn (Including Energy Siphon and Retribution feedback shield.)
Captain Veers orders the FIV Pious Fervour to intercept the projected Energy Siphon. (Devour's the Corvette's shields.)
FIV Pious Fervour is destroyed.
FIV Nolantia continues firing at the ANS Argent Dawn's ventral surface as it begins to tilt, seeking to outpace the larger Star Defender.
FIV Nolantia takes fire from multiple vectors, Kyber crystal enhanced shield begins to "bleed" and "wail."
FIV Virtue of Orpheus and FIV Blade of the Covenant, disperse the missiles from last post, taking minimal damage to their particle shields.
FIV Virtue of Orpheus and FIV Blade of the Covenant fire their particle lances at the ANS Argent Dawn.
Taskforce Nolantia:
FIV Nolantia - Imperial Command Line - Hull = 79% | Shields = 45% (Partial Port-side and Aft Compromise(s).)
FIV Virtue of Orpheus - Imperial Artillery Line - Hull = 100% | Shields = 93%
FIV Blade of the Covenant - Imperial Artillery Line - Hull = 100% | Shields = 94%
FIV Pious Fervour - Imperial Escort Line - DESTROYED
FIV Spirit of Justice - Imperial Escort Line - Hull = 94% | Shields = 65%
INDELLIAN SPACE
ISON CORRIDOR
ALLIES: First Order, [member="Achim Veers"], [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"], [member="Aedan Miles"], [member="T'yr Dellos"]
ENEMIES: Galactic Alliance, [member="Cathul Thuku"], [member="Silara Varis"], [member="Alexandra Morrow"], [member=Zark], [member="Rick Kaloo"], [member="Maira Varan"]
FORCES: Civilian science frigate S.S. Shambhala (shields 75/100, hull 75/100)
DIRECTLY ENGAGING: ANS Mustafar, ANS Gravitational Anomaly ([member="Cathul Thuku"]), ANS Resolute Vengeance ([member="Silara Varis"])
The Shambhala rocked as Alliance mass drivers punched through civilian-grade shields and hull plating. A nebular wisp curled away, dispersed by a broken corvette, and Ashin got a clear view of the Resolute Vengeance. The rear-view display offered respectable detail: shields were up, but the entire prow had peeled away.
The Shambhala's rear guns, just a pair of ion cannons and turbolasers, could have returned fire. Instead, Ashin kept them pointed at the two Alliance escorts to starboard, along with the rest of her weapons. She had a real shot at disabling those vessels, specifically the corvette. With its shields back up, the Resolute Vengeance wasn't nearly so vulnerable as she'd hoped. That was Ashin's own fault: she knew the gun better than she knew the ship, and the ships’ need to drop shields had escaped her. She ought to have known that even cataclysmic damage to the spinal mounts wouldn't wreck the shields if it took place during the firing process. Behind the flurry of reports and orders that filled her bridge, she snarled at herself for the mistake. It wasn't even her first error this engagement. Five years retired had stolen some of her edge.
Fortunately, she now had plenty of opportunities to hone herself keen again.
Summary of actions:
* Took damage from ANS Resolute Vengeance
* All weapons still firing at ANS Mustafar
[member="Imka Larue"] [member="Cameron Centurion"] - Mah family Angst!!
[member="Vexen"] - Cause Force Bonded
Things never seemed to go as expected. The best intentions had every way of going awry. For Micah - or Draith as Amorella and Cameron knew him as, his true name - his weak point had always been family. His closest friends. There was always a blind spot when it came to them. Cameron wasn’t a ‘Sith’ in his eyes. Yes he used the Darkside of the Force, and yes, the former False God Aatrox was the embodiment of deception, but Cameron was simply his uncle in Draith’s mind.
One he respected. One that he knew kicked his ass across the training grounds back on Borleias time and time and again, trying to teach him to be better. To forge him into the warrior he may ultimately become, to reach his potential and beyond with the Force. Was Micah anywhere near that? Not now. He had so much to learn. Years, decades even, before he could even possibly hold a candle to the strength and power his uncle and his father had reached.
He had yet to truly live.
Yet the multitude of his life’s potential experiences was no where near the Talith’s mind, brush away for a simple matter of fixation at bringing his uncle home. Had [member="Aela Talith"] mentioned that she had seen their uncle on Mustafar, Micah would have gone out himself to search for him. In Micah’s mind, he wasn’t trying to redeem his uncle. That wasn’t his place, that was a choice left to no one other than his uncle. However, Draith did want one specific thing - to have his family together.
A boyish idealistic fantasy? Perhaps. But the Talith family had always been close. They supported each other through the good and the bad, and Amore and Cameron had lived with them on Borleias in a nearby island. They had been every bit as much a part of their lives growing up. Family was important. Cameron was important.
And sometimes, family had to be knocked a couple of times much like [member="Kaili Talith"] whenever she became angry at her brother and wanted to stuff Micah’s head in the sand.
Kalee’s Judgement rose, moving ready to strike anew when the tiny hairs at the back of his neck rose. A spine tingling sensation swept over him, something unlike he had ever felt before but so achingly familiar that it struck the Talith to the core.
I am here
That simple phrase froze Micah, the twin suns of his eyes widening at the sudden formation of a ghostly image of his beloved aunt. Of the woman who tied the former false god and the Talith together. The one they both adored, cherished, and had grieved at her passing.
She was right there, never felt so close as she had prior to her passing on what had been meant to be a joyous day.
[ Auntie? ] the hoarse whisper cut the tension between the dueling pair with the ferocity of a reaper's scythe. At the same time, those ties that bind was able to rush through the young man, is Talisman of Finding beginning to heat up with an almost painful sear underneath his chest. It had been one of the first trinkets he had created as a teenager, meant to focus his Force tracking abilities. But with it brought with it an interesting side-effect, the ability to focus and enhance the Force bonds of his target, allowing him to get a degree of awareness to teh proximity, distance, and emotional state of being. In other words, to be able to sense just where Amorella Esme Shamalain’s essence would be.
The trickling revelation that barely began to register brought with it a sense of shock that hit him like a ton of bricks. A sensation that [member="Vexen"] would sense rushing through their own bond as well.
No, that couldn’t be. He wouldn’t have registered her if she had been dead. Not like this.
Not quite dead. But not quite alive. But out there.
[ I feel her. ]
Those that knew Micah would be well aware what that meant for the Force Tracker.
Nils had been paying close attention to his sensors from where he looked down upon the small interceptor. *Damn he's fast.* thought the TIE Ace. The Raptor was a capable vessel, thought it relied more on maneuverability than speed - though to say it was slow would be a gross injustice. Gunning his engines he kept pace, though he stayed positioned above. His eyes tracked through the near 360* HUD, keeping an eye on both the enemy fighter and his wingman. Aggressively he dove, cutting the distance between the two fighters but as he did so - the pilot made his move.
Cutting to the side, the enemy pilot had effectively put Nils' wingman between himself and the Captain. *Hecking Heck.* Punching his thrusters Nils brought his fighter into a high roll, maneuvering up and around to get another bead on his target. A steady chime sounded as the Raptor's tracking system attempted to get a lock - unfortunately for him there was no firing solution. An explosion rocked space, the torpedo being detonated before it reached its target as his wingman continued forward, debris creating flashes of light against her shields. In the blink of an eye, Nils watched as the interceptor took off once more - it looked as if the pilot intended to truly flee the field of battle.
In a moment, his wingman was back on his six - good.
:: Understood. Getting readings from the FIS Kuragin, her self destruct systems are engaged - energy readouts are anomalous. ::
The usual tenor of Nils' voice filled the comm, calmed down as his mind went into conflict mode. Everything was a calculation, emotions neatly boxed up and taken out of the equation. Their situation had changed, and quickly. Already fighters from the large vessel at the edge of the region were tearing through space - two larger vessels, Alors, attempting to bring it down. The two TIE pilots had bigger problems, the energy fluctuations on the FIS Kuragin had begun to waver outside the safe zone.
:: Stay close - we have to move away from the station, form up on the Alors and get ready for a fight. ::
Pulling back hard on the controls, the TIE Raptor rose away from the hull of the Kuragin and shot towards the pair of Alors and the enemy carrier - with luck, they'd get there with minimal harassment, relying on their superior maneuverability to stray away from enemy fighter groups.
The feeling of desperation was something Kaalia couldn't shake. She feared the worst had happened, that something terrible had indeed overcome [member="Ara Ren"] . But as she sat on her knees she realized there was nothing to be done. As much as she was in mental pain there was no time for mourning right now. As she wiped the tear streaks from her face she picked up her helmet and put it back on, once again not thinking of tying up her hair. Even if she had she had nothing on her to actually do so, however. Recognizing her face, the HUD in the helmet sprung to life once again. Catching up to the others was likely going to be with no avail, but that didn't mean the woman couldn't do anything. While still a bit shaky she switched the comms signal, looking to contact the starfighters on Hoth.
:This is Voldaren. There's an escaped captive on the loose, requesting aerial support.:
What the redhead had missed because of her mental state however, was that instead of contacting all starfighters on the planet she accidently sent the message to one person only. That one person was indeed a starfighter however, and one she knew very well. [member="Ishana Pavanos"] was the recipient, and through sheer coincidence. Kaalia flipped her comm signal back to the Ren channel in case she was called on it and started running towards the entrance. The young Knight's mind told her that perhaps there was another way around to where their target was going, possibly creating the opportunity to cut her off. Aerial support would make her plan that much easier, but she wasn't going to count on it just yet.
As Kaalia arrived at her speeder once again she deftly mounted it, blasting off without delay. A quick message was sent to Castor as she made her way through the last bits of the caverns back into the snowy outside, informing him of her plan. The job was not yet done, there was no time to rest.
:I turned back and am looking for a way around, perhaps I can cut her off. If there isn't, she's likely stuck and an easy target.:
Sanya watched the others walked towards the ship and getting in slowly. As joza threw the item of clothing the feline woman quickly popped her cockpit open and used the force to pull it to her hands. The cold would flood in sending a chill along her body. It was a painful chill biting at her body. The hatch closed back down as the Blade wing lifted up kicking up the powdered snow. "You know I always seem to be going to cold places. It's never, Oh let's go somewhere hot or fun. Nope always cold." She said complaining about the cold. She'd keep low spinning the hull upwards giving the others a better view.
She had kept quiet for most of the journey other than keeping tabs on B2. The pilot had identified several locations where skirmishes and attrition. The information was helpful to avoid those areas while they went in search for whatever it was the others where looking for. When given the command sanya set the b-wing down. She began taking her clothes off before popping the cockpit again. "Please no peeking I'll be a moment." She said awkwardly putting on the body glove and some of her robes over the top. Even as an extra precaution to stay warm the woman had put her trench coat under the top part of the robes.
It took a moment to strap her small bags to her thighs and belts around her waist and hip. "B3 stick with the ships okay. Anything happened out here shoot us a signal okay." She said at the cockpit hatch opened. Vaulting over the side her feet would fall through the first few layers of snow. "Fuzz ball, I've seen worse stuff than a bloodied up cave. Trust me. Just to say it's a good job I don't have my wampa fur coat. Don't think that would go down well huh." The woman was sensible enough not to lead knowing how aggressive the beasts get. It wasn't even the first time she'd seen. "So joza. You wanna tell me what we are really doing here?"
Sanya watched the others walked towards the ship and getting in slowly. As joza threw the item of clothing the feline woman quickly popped her cockpit open and used the force to pull it to her hands. The cold would flood in sending a chill along her body. It was a painful chill biting at her body. The hatch closed back down as the Blade wing lifted up kicking up the powdered snow. "You know I always seem to be going to cold places. It's never, Oh let's go somewhere hot or fun. Nope always cold." She said complaining about the cold. She'd keep low spinning the hull upwards giving the others a better view.
She had kept quiet for most of the journey other than keeping tabs on B2. The pilot had identified several locations where skirmishes and attrition. The information was helpful to avoid those areas while they went in search for whatever it was the others where looking for. When given the command sanya set the b-wing down. She began taking her clothes off before popping the cockpit again. "Please no peeking I'll be a moment." She said awkwardly putting on the body glove and some of her robes over the top. Even as an extra precaution to stay warm the woman had put her trench coat under the top part of the robes.
It took a moment to strap her small bags to her thighs and belts around her waist and hip. "B3 stick with the ships okay. Anything happened out here shoot us a signal okay." She said at the cockpit hatch opened. Vaulting over the side her feet would fall through the first few layers of snow. "Fuzz ball, I've seen worse stuff than a bloodied up cave. Trust me. Just to say it's a good job I don't have my wampa fur coat. Don't think that would go down well huh." The woman was sensible enough not to lead knowing how aggressive the beasts get. It wasn't even the first time she'd seen. "So joza. You wanna tell me what we are really doing here?"
Location: Anoat Space Objective: Destroy the First Order starfighters Allies: [member="Sieb Tevv"] and @"Lucien Studley Enemies: [member="Nils Brenner"] and [member="Jianna Raas"], [member="Face"] and [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] Ship:Rush-class Interceptor [Black; Dual Heavy Laser Cannon Configuration; No Targeting System; Advanced Shield Generator] Gear: Standard flight suit with Corellian garb beneath, twin lightsabers
As he zipped past and away from the fighter that he'd shot at, blasts of energy landed out from it. Most missed, but a good shot managed to bypass his shields and take a chunk out of the armor behind where he was sitting. As he raced away, he took a glance back at it and shook his head. Whatever weapon it wad that they'd fired at him, he didn't much like it. Bypassing advanced shielding like that was no easy feat. He was going to have to be more careful with those fighters.
Indeed he was racing away from them as they formed up, but it wasn't to leave the battle. Instead, he raced off into a cloud of fighters and began popping bubbles in a successive line. In less than a minutes time his heavy cannons sent four pilots to their death before he raced onward. His sensor reasons were picking up on all of the ships now moving away from the station, which indicated something was pending that he didn't want to be a part of.
"Not good. Hope our people can stop whatever it is and get that thing moving."
The two fighters he'd tangled with before were easy enough to spot based on how they flew together. He dove down below the plane of the station so he'd be out of their visible spectrum, shielded by the stations mass. They were heading for the large ships that were now engaging the Itsukusk, likely intending to form up with their fighters there in an attempt to take on the Alliance fighters that had been launched by the large ship.
He waited, zipping back and forth beneath the station, a d then flew out at them as they headed away from it, once again coming up on their rear, though he was sure they'd likely realize he was there and break off of him. When he felt he was in range and properly sighted he unleashed several volleys of heavy cannon fire at them. No, he wasn't going to let them off that easy. It might take him a bit to defeat them because they were actually good pilots, but he was confidant in the outcome either way. zig he only kept them away from the other fighters that would be a win, by all accounts.
"Alright, let me get changed first," the clone said to the Legionnaire after witnessing Jorg elbowing Irajah. Did Canal object to such methods? Not really. He wasn't the compassionate type of clone like those of his predecessors during the Clone Wars or his batch of this era of the Galaxy. He cared very little for the lives of civilians and hostiles. What interested him very much was any mission he was given and finish it fully without missing any corners; and he would accomplish whatever objective he was given throughout whatever means. Even if it meant needlessly sacrificing the lives of his men or his own. He would even accept no retreat or surrender, and would stubbornly stand his ground to fight off the enemy.
These acts made him infamous and disliked within the ranks of the Alliance, but he didn't care. So when Jorg did what he did to the 'doctor' he was indifferent to those acts. He would've done something similar to that.
The soldier then went back to where his duffel bag was and begin to dress himself into his armor. Armorweave bodyglove, duraplast plates, kama, pauldron, and finally his helmet. There was another DC-17 pistol in the bag and holstered it to his side. No DC-17m as the load would've been unbearable.
Sieb watched the tactical display as the furball over the Chimera roiled. Ships exploded. Pilots died. Bombs fell. The enemy apparently had no ability to counter the jamming from the Polymath and Gunfighter squadron. He'd told the commanders to make the enemy targeting computers look like white noise. The drop in efficiency of the enemy was obvious when he looked at the numbers. They were suffering the expected losses, but nothing staggering due to the jamming.
An adjutant drew his attention.
"Sir, we are getting a priority request from SIS to lift the interdiction."
"Do it."
The gravity wells aboard the flagship powered down.
Sieb turned back to the battle."Send a message to Captains Studley and Vess. Relay the information we received from our mandalorian friends. I want an alpha strike on their munition magazine. Best case scenario, the explosion from the detonation of all that ordnance will rip a rather massive hole in their ship and cripple her. Worst case, we eliminate her ability to continue to fight effectively. Those Alors need ammunition for their weapons. Without them, they are just large targets."
Moments later, Tevv gave the order. "All batteries fire. Fire."
The full might of the Itsukusk roared forth in a pinpoint strike targeting the enormous munitions magazine section of the Chimera.
Objective: Get the civilians under her care off the station!
__
Brask'ari'sabosen stood behind the Kuragin's engineers that flanked Admiral Yvarro and Colonel Eldrel with the injured civilians and other stragglers the group had picked on their trek through the station. In her mind after listening to the conversation between the Admiral and the Galactic Alliance person it was imperative to get off the space station now! The self destruct mechanism had been initiated and now it seemed the hyperdrive too was winding up for a jump! Both were not good scenarios for survival. Could the station even survive a jump? There was no time left. She had to get the civilians off the station. Do no harm was the Hippocratic oath Karisa had taken, and these people she treated were the doctor's responsibility to see through this crisis.
The Chiss doctor turned to the injured engineer standing next to her, whom she had treated for electrical burns on his hands, and whispered to him to lead the stragglers back into the stairwell, then up to the hangar level as there had just been an announcement over the pubic PA a transport was waiting. He shook his head no wanting to stay with his fellow engineers, but the narrowing of her glowing red eyes as she stared at him changed the man's mind. Anyway, the CMO of the Kuragin out ranked him, though she didn't usually pull that card often. The man knew the fastest way while the civilians didn't.
The blue-skinned near human still dressed in her white lab coat and surgical scrubs followed them out, then kept calling out motivation as they ascended the stairs to the next level. Though by this point the flight or flight response was in full swing for most though there were a couple of the walking wounded that were having difficulty keeping up. Karisa had to help one that was near collapse. If it weren't for the Chiss' high level of physical fitness, she may not have been able to sustain both the woman and herself up the many steps in what seemed to be thinner air and heat. Gods how she wished to be back on the Ice Ball known as Csilla.
The stairwell door opened and the group was now in expanse of the hangar bay. A ship was visible ahead with it's boarding ramp down. There were two occupants in the cockpit; one looked like the perky female reporter that seemed to be always caught in the middle of war zones. Hope the woman's scoops were worth it. Karisa yelled at the engineer in the front to head to the transport post haste. Hopefully the engines would flair up any moment or this was going to be all for naught.
Brask'ari'sabosen handed off the ill woman she had helped up the stairs to another pair, then stood at the bottom of the Uppity Minx's boarding ramp for a tick to see if anyone else was coming before she would go on up herself.
Ghorua had felt the singing burn of a powerful blaster bolt across the side of his face as he landed, the fruits of Alkor's labors. The strike simply added to the list of scars on the Shark's person, more of another nuisance to bother him until he could reach medication instead of the brain-scattering death that the mercenary no doubt wished for.
As the Shark enclosed his trap, he could sense the Ren was less than impressed, if not a little cocky. That was the Samka that Ghorua remembered; give her a situation she felt accustomed to, and she took to it with reckless abandon.
Also, as Ghorua had discovered with Dark-siders in the past, she forgot he had a plan.
Samka dashed forward, her lightsaber aglow, slashing and hacking and stabbing against his armor, but she simply wasn't strong enough to get through the bulk of the plates. Before, she had the help of surprise and gravity. Now, as she tried to muscle and finesse her way through his armor, the thick duraplast seemed to hold all but her strongest swings at bay. Samka's strongest swipe on his inner calf seemed to cut through the armor, but was lessened after that by the magical forces of the Defender Bracelets.
Now it was Ghorua's turn.
The large Herglic struggled to keep the lithe Master in his vision, blocking slower strikes with powerful forearms. Suddenly, Ghorua drew his slugthrower handgun and aimed it, not at Sam, but at the ground beneath their feet.
The Herglic, with a small smile, unloaded his entire clip into the floor.
With each shot, a growing cloud of light blue smoke erupted, dispersing into the air, until the entire bubble was filled with the unmistakable tinge of knockout gas.
The Shark kept his eyes on Samka through the swirling mists, a knowing smirk on his mouth. She was obviously very skilled, with a wide range of tricks and abilities to give her the edge. In this situation, however, she was in the Shark's jaws, and he was dragging her below the water.
earl, I need dustoff, fast.::
