Dominion The Velusian Solution | GA Dominion of Velusia

[Gala Geert]

Objective III // Velusia // Underwater
Din Marren // Trevin Neros // Arash Garshasp
​

With Trevin secured long enough for them to fulfill their objective, Gala refocused her sights on the distant, blurred cube that her HUD outlined in red, throbbing lines. Unencumbered with teammate folly, Din streaked ahead and cut through the current. Of course, she and the rest of the squadron dispatched for the comms station weren't the only ones that noticed the commando-shaped underwater rocket.

<Our turn to cover you, Dare.> Gala murmured humourlessly, mostly to herself.

Her scope traced backward to the point of origin, though it was largely dependent on the bad guys to keep firing in order to be found. Bit of a Catch twenty-two, and less in Din's favour than he may have liked. In the blackness of the depths, it was hard for her to discern what was what without total dependency on her HUD. Something lit up in the lower left-hand corner of the targeting array, and she made a gesture to lock it. By some miraculous level of coordination, she kicked forward –– the target still locked –– and fired one, two, three times.

There was no naked-eye visual, nor audio confirmation that there was any registered hit other than the target lock on her HUD disappeared.

<Can anyone see anything down here?>

<Negative, Gladio.>

<Great, one more disadvantage. Let's keep it tight and keep the invisibles off the Lieutenant's back so there's enough time to run the program.>

She rotated, her back toward the dimly lit communication centre they'd been trying to reach for the last stretch of minutes, and engaged her thrusters to propel her backward. She could only tell others were following her cue to keep their scopes out by the swivel of headlamps on the scuba helms.

Unable to see the red-head that'd thwarted a few droids up to now, she opened her comms with a suggestion hopefully Arash Garshasp 'd understand was for him.

<Hey, kid. You get in there with him. Make sure that program executes.>

The next string of words from her was indistinguishable, sounded a bit like muffled grunting, and she pointed the nose of her weapon down as she rummaged around with something. She made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded something triumphant and fumbling around with the weapon in her grip. With less care than any of her previous shots, she pointed it out beyond her aimlessly before depressing the trigger. <For the rest of us, let's get a look at what's left for us to take care of.>

The flare that erupted was bright and brilliant and contested the undertow long enough to ignite the remaining silhouettes of underwater droids for all of them to mark and fire on.

 

[Tris]

In her attempt to escape the gaze of the Jedi Master Ariona had inadvertently run into security and when you're on lockdown that's the last thing you want to happen.

"Hey! You aren't supposed to be here!" one of the guards shouted. Ariona cursed under her breath and started running. They didn't leave the stun on. With each pull of their triggers Arionna felt closer to death as the air sizzled around her pressure and temperature-sensitive head tentacles, the bolts leaving a trail that smelled of ozone as they flew past.

"Can't we just like talk this out?" She called behind her as she pointed her own heavy blaster back at them. If they weren't stunning, then neither was she. She let the Force guide her hand and squeezed, her delicate fingers sending death green plasma bolt. One shot hit one of the guards square in his chest, the high powered bolt searing and melting through his company-issued protective vest and super heating the flesh below, boiling his blood vessels to bursting and baking his heart from the inside. He was dead before he hit the ground. Her other bolt slammed into the durasteel plated shinguard the other security officer was wearing and turned it to slag. Their armor must have been cheap because the man crumpled to the floor, screaming bloody murder. The slagged metal was already fusing to his leg.

She winced in empathy but kept on moving. She came to a halt when she made it back to her hangar. Pulling her com up she thumbed the switch to connect to her droid co-pilot.

"Get the ship ready to go! Now!" Too hot. Not worth the pay. SHe could mag lock everything down and jettison the fish later!

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

OBJECTIVE II

The descent into the depths of the starship was slow. Slower even than his initial forays into the upper decks. The reason was simple, as the lower tiers were rapidly filling with gushing torrents of oceanic water. Rynn sighed heavily. He hated the sensation of being entombed within his armour beneath the waves. It was akin to drowning, even though his armour had redundant rebreathers and an ample supply of oxygen. His mind couldn't handle it without suffering a minor panic attack. He needed to think of something else to keep himself from falling into darkness. The mission. That should've been enough to keep his mind occupied, but a part of him felt like it wasn't enough. He just needed to get to the archives and extract the information before the servers were submerged.

No pressure. Save for the fact that he'd be forced to swim through countless decks that were already underwater. All to bypass a damaged section of the starship to reach his destination.

His foot was already submerged at that point before his mind decided to force his body to recoil - violently. Rynn's heart began to race, and his breathing quickened. He needed to regain control of his mind and body. He hated the sensation of drowning, of being entombed within his armour, but there were safeguards. He wouldn't die with lungfuls of salty water. Not unless he panicked and sucked back greedy mouthfuls of pressurized air, blowing through the entirety of his armour's reserve supply. The Mandalorian closed his eyes then. He sought the serenity that laid at the heart of the storm. In pursuing that peaceful place, Rynn's thoughts would become still amongst the tempestuous mess of his mind. He'd be safe, so long as he didn't snag his armour on anything during his descent, or remove his Helmet.

As the latter was a cultural offence he'd never be able to recover from, all the Mandalorian had to worry about was catching his pressurized suit on the wreckage.

"Easy enough," Rynn told himself, as the Helmet's rebreather locked into place. "Just gotta swim through some submerged decks, breakthrough a few blast doors - likely mag-sealed - and then grab some data from the archives." He laughed then, nervously. If only it would be that easy. Knowing his luck, there would be something that he didn't think about, and because of that - whatever it was would throw everything off. However, Rynn couldn't let that get in the way of his mission. He needed to finish this task to get paid, and in getting paid, the Mandalorian could proudly return to his Clan with a bounty in hand. They could use the Credits. Making a living in this War-torn Galaxy was easy, but when the conflicts began to simmer and fade? Mercenary Contracts started to dry up.

Then, the easy road got very, very tough. The Mandalorian's couldn't live on the Charity of Others forever. It was disgraceful, especially to a proud race and culture of Warriors that were once feared across the Cosmos. They would have to claw their legacy back from the darkened abyss and rebuild themselves - ensuring that they would be greater than ever before. To do so, they'd start small. Taking what little victories they could, wherever they could be found. The same could be said of contract work, which is how Rynn got lucky by scoring this job. He knew some people that knew some people who needed some work done. The Mandalorian had a ship and the drive to get things done. So, it was a no-brainer.

But, here he was. Swimming through one spinal corridor after another at the behest of another - all for a meagre supply of Credits.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.​

 

[Arash Garshasp]

Arash Garshasp, Stellar Centurion
Location: Velusia, Crash Site
Objective Three: Better Down Where It's Wetter

Spoiler: Equipment

VDS-02 “Bulwark” - Pattern Military Mobility Shield
VCS-01 “Aspis” Pattern Combat Shield
VW-03 Mk II “Apollo” - Pattern Solarized Disruptor Pistol
TTH/TPV-001 “Xiphos” - Pattern Plasmatic Vibrosword
VCP-01 "Hoplon" - Pattern Combat Powersuit

The water flowed around him as he whirled to deliver another blow from his blade, the motion tracked beautifully through the water. Perhaps not as beautiful the battle droid crumpling beneath the blow as Arash pushed himself away to seek the next droid. His blood was rushing quickly as he yearned for another opponent, nearly missing the words of someone asking him to cover someone. Blinking several times to refocus on something other than combat Arash turned his head towards the direction his HUD was indicating.

With a wordless agreement the young Sun Guardian pushed his suit to full throttle and made a bee-line to the communication center building. The objective mattered more importantly than his next target. The quicker they could finish breaking through the encryption the sooner they could leave this underwater graveyard.

Or scrapheap rather.

Arash swung his legs forward to stop his momentum, feet slammed against the steel plates of the building and his power armour indicating that only slight trauma escaped the impact gel. Yeah, didn’t need telling that. . . Arash inwardly grunted and regretted his speeding through the water to reach the Republic Commando. The enemy battle droids were already refocusing their fire on the Republic Troop, and even as Arash raised his blaster to help provide some covering fire, only some of the droids redirected their attention towards him.

Quickly pushing himself closer to the other Republic Troopers, Arash grimaced at the idea but he brought out his shield and maneuvered himself to completely spoil any shot towards his comrade.

“Covering your Six.”

Arash calmly voice, notifying the Republic Troop as he stood to cover his back and shooting back at the droids through the darkness underwater. Trading shots and purely relying on both the enemy’s grace to expose themselves by firing at them was something Arash felt something less than enthused. He would have rather attacked them in close-range but he needed to make sure the objective was completed.
​

| Gala Geert | Din Marren | Trevin Neros |

 

[Rynn Vizsla]

OBJECTIVE II

In passing through one sealed corridor after another, encased in his armour and a seemingly endless rush of oceanic waters, Rynn managed to conquer one of his greatest fears. At least, momentarily. He focused his mind elsewhere, narrowing his thought processes down to one action and what happened afterwards. Rather than the spiralling potentialities that might transpire if his suit was breached, and his rebreather failed. Rynn wasn’t thinking about any of that. Every other concern that would’ve stolen his attention was forcibly driven from his mind. It wasn’t an easy process, and the man edged closer to losing his control with every submerged corridor he traversed through.

But, the Mandalorian held firm. He wouldn’t suffer an ignoble fate this day. When the last submerged corridor was behind him, Rynn took a second to vent his suit’s filtration systems, sucking back greedy mouthfuls of stagnant air. He hated the ocean-tainted stillness of the air - but it was better than taking in mouthfuls of saltwater within a pressurized containment vessel. As an added plus, his boots were now situated on solid ground. That alone was enough to give the Mandalorian cause for celebration and the chance to breathe uncycled air again.

After several sputtering moments, Rynn shook his helmet and refocused his efforts towards navigating through the partially submerged Starship. He had circumnavigated the wreckage that blocked his previous path, which gave him a straight shot towards the archives. The man didn’t encounter anyone else as he moved towards the distant chamber. If there were any survivors left aboard, it was likely that they already removed themselves to safety - or managed to get themselves killed in the process. Either way, from what his armour’s systems could determine, Rynn was the only one left alive within this section of the sundered vessel.

While macabre, the Mandalorian took comfort in that notion in a fashion, as there wasn’t a need for an alternative route.​

As Rynn reached the archives, the Warrior noted that his arrival was matched by the torrential waters’ sudden onrush. It seemed that another portion of the Starship caved into the oceanic pressure and allowed more of the salt-tainted Sea to rush inwards. Had his arrival occurred several moments after the present, it was likely that he would’ve been thrown against the bulkhead and drowned. Thankfully, as the imminent danger presented itself, the Mandalorian threw himself into the archives chamber and sealed the door - shooting the panel to ensure the door remained sealed. It wouldn’t last, especially as jets of water started worming their way through the sealed portal.

He roused himself from the grated floor and began accessing the nearest terminal, looking for the contractually-bound data to recover. It took him several moments to find what he was looking for - as the data was shunted onto another server. Seems that the Captain, before they went down with their ship, elected to store that information on the vessel’s flight recorder - a cavernous database that recorded everything. Not only would he manage to accomplish his assigned task. But, the Mandalorian would have ensured that the Captain’s last, heroic deeds weren’t forgotten - or claimed by Velusia’s tides. Her death would be forever etched into this Planet’s history. It would likely be one of the many catalysts that would see it freed from the yoke of Corporate oppression.

After being directed to, and managing to disconnect the Starship’s flight recorder, Rynn looked back at the door. More water was threatening to burst in - likely catching the Mandalorian and the rows of data banks and computer cores in the crossfire. He had to escape. With his primary ingress blocked, the Warrior assumed that there would be another; either a maintenance access hatch or a ventilation shaft. The man found the latter at the rear of the chamber, clearly marked and readily accessible. How fortuitous, Rynn remarked as he thundered across the grated deck towards his salvation. Once within reach, the Mandalorian’s armour thrummed to life. His free hand tore the grating from the bulkhead and threw it aside, allowing him to enter the ventilation shaft.

Leaning in, Rynn activated his magnetic soles and shot his grappling hook up into the darkness above. The magnetic head latched onto something that his vision filter couldn’t readily identify, but that mattered little, especially with the rising tides bursting through the once sealed doors and racing towards him. With a clench of his fist, the retraction motor whirred to life and catapulted the Mandalorian away from danger. He flew towards the surface and the glimmering light that lay beyond the end of the sundered tunnel. As he reached the end of his gauntlet-mounted rope, Rynn detached the magnetic head and fired again. It was a process that was repeated time and again until the Warrior was freed from the Ananke’s eventual submersion.

His last catapulting retraction struck the lip of his Starship’s cargo ramp, effectively pulling him to safety. The hold was empty, as the survivors were ushered towards an orbiting Alliance Cruiser that had arrived. There were notes of gratitude strewn about the cargo hold on small holo-projectors or scattered dataslates. But, Rynn didn’t care about them. The man just survived yet another encounter with death. He didn’t need to read about their gratitude or echoing passages of thanks. Instead, the man gently palmed a nearby terminal, closing the access ramp behind him. His mission was complete, and their words mattered little now, especially when there was a reward to collect.

As he took his place at the helm of his ship, Rynn keyed in his access code into the communicator and hailed the orbiting Alliance Cruiser. When the connection was live, and after making the introduction, the Mandalorian uttered a single phrase that saw to the completion of his contribution to this winding tale.

“Objective complete. Returning the Ananke’s extracted flight recorder, alongside requested data to you. I expect my payment in full.”​

 

[Bernard]

A quarter turn later, the two stepped out of the shop in changed attire and continued to the upper decks.

The sun bore down relentlessly, reflecting off the ship's white lacquer, and the sea stretched out beyond the horizon. Paled wood planks covered the ship's deck floors. The duo strolled along the railings, up a flight of stairs, and through a crowd of tourists. Aside from Bernard's sour mood, which began to fade with proximity to the objective, they blended into their environment seamlessly. They were merely two tourists enjoying their stay.

Bernard led the way this time. Sarn didn't mind trailing behind the Arkanian for once. In truth, his pride had swelled to the point he'd been fighting a grin the entire way here. Who'd have thought all it took was a terrible shirt to break a Jedi's doldrums?

The crowd thinned as the duo closed on the observation deck's rear side, until, at the edge of a section closed off with velvet rope barriers, there were only a handful tourists left. On the other side of the barriers stood a pair of muscle-bound Rodians whose suits were just a size too small. They held expressions that made it plain their tempers were one inconvenience away from boiling over. Bernard came to a halt just shy of the barrier. He stood an inch taller than both, though they had him beat in width.

"Halas, we're scheduled to talk with him right about now," Bernard said.

<And who're you supposed to be? The Chomong Protection Party?> One of the Rodians barked back. <We already told the other two, Halas hunts whatever Halas wants to hunt in his spare time. Now sod off,> he added, shoving Bernard away from the barrier with one hand.

Bernard stumbled back a pace. His eyes narrowed as he regarded the Rodian.

"Hey, Bernard, wait, no-" Sarn cut himself off with a sigh as the Jedi sprung to action.

Bernard seized the bouncer's arm and pulled him forward, turning on his heel as he tossed the man over his shoulder. There was a burst of cracks and splinters as the Rodian hit the floor on the other side of the barrier. Several of the wooden planks covering the deck were broken and stuck out around him.

Bernard didn't linger on the sight and spun back to deliver a kick to the other Rodian's head. The whole sequence occurred so quickly and suddenly that the other bouncer failed to even bring up a guard. He went down with a thud and remained motionless, but breathing, on the floor.

There was a moment of silence on the deck as Bernard stepped over the rope barrier and the unconscious Rodian during which the small crowd couldn't help but be fixated by the outburst of violence. Sarn just rubbed the bridge of his nose as he followed his friend, muttering apologies to the two Rodians as he gingerly stepped over them.