Well, well, well. What do we have here?

[Preliat Mantis]

[member="Myra Hadrix"] could see him, could sense him first off. He was a maelstrom of hate and anger, a hurricane of rage that he stood in the center of. And as he wafted through the debris' smoke, he was among the more prominent. His armor was in the style old Mandalorians, a long hood-like helmet and gauntlets with long, beskar spikes that protruded from his gauntlets. On his back, was the M45, a weapon of his own design. A hard-hitting rifle that was dangerous in any Mandalorian's hands. His signature weapon, the Tomahawk, rested on his tricep. The knife was magnetically locked to his chest. Both were effective tools of destruction.


He answered before any of the other Mandalorians could speak.


"Roche will not go unanswered, witch."

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

she stayed within the air, she would wait for the moment..all she knew was she"d shoot anything leaving unless she was told not to

[member="Draco Vereen"], can i get a sitrep of what is going on down there please?

she said getting new signs of movement going out of the building this time

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"Take them all down and level the place. Like I said, I need some people to interrogate." Draco said, continuing to fire Czerka Headbangers into workers, Mandalorians behind him continuing to fire. The appearance, and the attempted monologue of Myra Hadrix cut short by Draco, shouting the order across the comms and snapping off a pair of Ion Beamer shots aimed for her knees. He didn't recognize her, and he didn't care what she had to say. None of the attackers likely cared what she had to say.

This was about leveling this place, taking captives, and interrogating them to find the location of Ali Hadrix and disable her ability to receive fresh supplies from this factory. Everyone who worked there knew they worked for a Hadrix, and so none of them were entirely innocent. Not all of them deserved to die. But most of them would be interrogated and the leaders would like have a few memory probes at the hands of experienced Force Users. A lot of them had already been dragged back behind the perimeter line and a good portion of the factory was in piles. Even a lot of the products had been disabled by Rekali and by Mereel. At this point they were already in clean up and mop up.

The Eaters of the Dead Cult advanced to the grounds, waving headbangers and force pikes set just a hair below lethal settings. Other Mandalorians in gunships and on the perimeter began preparing to demolish the place. Especially if the defense became more of a hassle than it was worth to them to try and take more prisoners.

[member="Myra Hadrix"] [member="Stardust Raxis"] [member="Alec Rekali"] [member="Ijaat Mereel"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Draco Vereen"] [member="Myra Hadrix"]

The part of her that liked to rise to the bait wanted to say something about getting interrupted during a memorial service for her father, which was basically the truth-ish. A second part, more or less equal to the first, strongly regretted leaving the half-full bottle at his statue. The third and dominant part continued shooting holes in the floor, big man-sized divots of disintegrative whatnot. There wasn't much else to be done, other than monologue, and Alec didn't like monologuing unless glitterstim was involved. Since glitterstim wasn't involved, just a perfectly respectable half bottle, she didn't much feel like talking. Who the feth got satisfaction out of trying to make someone admit they were in the wrong, anyway? Not Alec, that was for darn sure, except when it was, but that wasn't today.

She shrugged and disintegrated something industrial with a couple of well-placed shots. The Hellburner slow-disintegration disruptor pistol was made for convincing Jedi to cut off their own hands, go for the Skywalker look, really complete the Chosen One transformation. Turning computerized routers and factory forges to shiny, superhot metal dust was almost as satisfying.

Maybe this place had a break room; maybe the break room had something to drink. She ambled off looking for it. Vereen's riot gun cannibals could take it from here.

 

[Myra Hadrix]

Before Myra could reply to the mutton-chopped intruder, [member=Draco Vereen]'s shots cut right through her legs and peppered the wall several feet behind her. She collapsed in a heap, writhing and sparking as Jerison took a chestful of lead as well, fire erupting from his torso. The security advisor's chassis quivered and jerked as the light in his photoreceptors faded, his power source irreparably damaged. It mattered little, considering the droid had never been designed for more than walking and talking.

As Myra Hadrix's replicant continued to attempt to right itself, the woman behind the machine pulled the headset from her ears as the remote link was severed. "And I had such a good monologue going," Myra lamented briefly before snapping her fingers at the communication's officer. We're good to go. I'm dead and the facility is losing its outer infrastructure." Behind her, on board the CSAF orbiting Star Destroyer, Basterd's Hand, Admiral Tien Nrub sat in the command chair. "I'll notify the rest of the fleet, pass your orders on to the rest of the ground forces laying in wait." Admiral Nrub keyed her commlink and gave her commands to the Weapons Chief. "Fires, conduct orbital strike at Preset Baker Coordinates, Time: Now."
"Orders received, Admiral, strike commencing."

Myra turned back to the communication station and glanced at Ali. Her daughter had been warning her for months to pack up shop and leave the system, in case fanatics came after her, but Myra had until recently refused. Mandalore was her homeworld and she'd built a substantial business there. Her and Jack were happy. Now all that was left were the concrete walls and machines of her factory which they'd been unable to transport on such short notice. Ali had come to her several weeks before with compelling enough information to finally convince her to leave. With the dissolution of the Galactic Republic came the end of her primary contracts and tide of the last several years had eventually proven too strong a signal for Myra to refuse and stay behind.
"Captain Raxoj, you are green lit, I repeat, weapons free," Myra heard Ali speak into the commlink before setting it down and moving to the tactical display to watch the resulting ambush unfold.

The Star Destroyer's heaviest guns were trained on the coordinates of Myra's former factory installations and had been since they'd arrived in the system and taken orbit. Traveling under falsified transponder codes and banners, CSAF's naval group had snuck into the system beneath it's owners' proverbial noses. Ali had kept her mother under observation for months, ever since leaving her post as Supreme Commander of the Republic after Roche. After suspected hostile elements were noted scouting the facility grounds Ali had decided her mother had waited long enough. Myra had only found out days before when her latest shipment of off-world parts and materials had turned out to contain CSAF personnel, with Ali at their head. The facility had been on lock down for the last week, though by all appearances business simply continued as usual thanks to the cheap, yet effective, temporary replicants produced within the factory itself. The employees were taken back in a pair of shipments to orbit, where they left the system by the normal route. The same had been done with any and all sensitive items, such as MAT-TE's and turret technologies. What was left for Draco Vereen and his band of rabid, delusional associates were stock AT-TE chassis and parts and other similar items readily bought off the surplus market.

Now that their orders had been given, the soldiers on the ground made their move. Considering the facility's relative distance from Keldabe's population centers, there was little activity in the region, and no surrounding institutions. The dusty plains and rocky slopes that comprised their little corner of the manufacturing district were visible between bursts of sunlight breaking through the clouds. This gave the battlefield a rather wide berth, but almost guaranteed that the sudden mass movement of CSAF's walker vehicles would be noticed immediately. Still, with [member=Stardust Raxis] pouring so much of her concentration on sensors and visuals within her perimeter, the A-10 LAAT Gunships dropping in from the sky outside that range were missed as they made their approach. The green-skinned Twi'lek's ship would be the first targeted by the mass drive missile launchers and heavy cannons of more than one Larty Gunship, their dummy-led missiles designed to trigger counter-measures early. The gunships separated into various formations to wreck havoc on the Intruders' extra-perimeter assets.
On the ground below, a battalion's worth of MAT-TE walkers were unveiled from the surrounding hills and rocky crags as camo nets pulled away from the barrels of shifting turrets. Immediately, several of the Intruders' own aircraft plunged from the sky as turbolaser fire from orbit punched holes through their parts and crew, embroiling the debris in flames. What had started as a foolish firefight had become a true battlefield to it's now silent instigators. The brilliant green-white turbolaser bolts of the orbiting Star Destroyer glassed the area in a cascade of deadly energy. The remaining walls of the factory installations exploded and crumbled, raining superheated ferrocrete and metal beams down on those left alive, only to be further pummeled by the torrential rain of turbolaser fire.
After what seemed to be an eternity, the orbital fire ceased, and Mass Drive cannon shells began to rectify any left alive. The encircling walkers targeted remaining Intruder craft with their AA rocket pods, casting dummy-led rounds ahead of live missiles to subvert countermeasures. More died than necessary, but then again the Intruders seemed to enjoy the masochism in it all.
A-10 Gunships circled the area like eagles, putting down with heavy cannon fire and composite beams weapons anything they caught moving on sensors or by sight. When it was clear the foolhardy Intruders were in no position to launch any sort of counter-attack, or likely even muster their own, the LAAT/c's began to break away from their formations and dip toward their assigned walkers, picking them up one by one as those remaining on the ground provided cover. Every few moments a cannon would fire, putting down a random remaining structure amongst the rubble or cast one of the Deposed's number into the air with a well placed shot.

The facility grounds themselves were mostly 'crete and steel and glass. Much of the present structures had been utterly vaporized; those that weren't were buried in so much debris they'd almost become part of the terrain itself. Myra lifted her eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't exactly expect...that." She muttered. Ali looked up at her from across the tactical display. Her arms were crossed and her lips pursed. She didn't look impressed, only temporarily sated.
"Vereen will survive, as will his ilk. They always do, in spite of themselves." Myra looked back to the holographic bird's eye view they had. "What now?" She asked, still taken aback by her daughter's ruthless efficiency and relative ease with its application. She began wondering if the rhetoric about Roche was true, and Ali had indeed spaced civilians and soldiers alike without regard simply to put her own forces ahead. She didn't want to believe it but Myra herself was no innocent of war; she'd spent her service years with the Sith Armies, and didn't much enjoy thinking about it anymore.
Ali's eyes narrowed, just briefly, before answering her mother's question. "We leave the system once our vessels have returned. We find somewhere in friendly space that has room for a facility like yours, acquire it, and set up shop." Ali shrugged. "That might take weeks though," she confessed. Myra shook her head, "Who cares? It's better than whatever they were after. Something about information about you." Myra brushed the bright red hair behind her ear and crossed her arms. "What did happen at Roche, outside the official line of either side?"
For a brief moment, Myra thought Ali might actually answer the question. But her daughter had been living the life of a spy for too long, and betrayed nary a flicker of thought. "The Republic's official line is as close to the Truth as anyone needs," she said dismissively, turning her back to her mother and leaning over a datatablet resting on the console behind her. "The right people made the wrong mistakes, that is all."
These were the last words Ali had for her mother for the time being, and Myra knew it. She took a deep breath and let it out in a quiet sigh, standing next to her daughter and looking outside the primary viewports to the darkness of space just beyond. "They'll call you hutuun for running, Al'ika." Myra's voice grew soft with concern. Ali, however, shrugged and continued sifting through her datatablet. "They'll do it regardless. They're blinded by a false narrative; hunters enraged by prey that has proven to be their predator. They'll call me many things, I could care less."
Myra had no response. "I suppose you're right. But I still can't imagine how this must feel for you," Myra said supportively. Ali remained silent, brushing a lock of chocolate hair from her face and continuing to scroll down a wall of text. "When your father and I first found out you'd joined Republic Intelligence all those years ago, we never quite realized what it meant, who it would turn you into. Your father, bless him, always hoped you'd become an academic like himself." Myra chuckled to herself. "Commenorans, a people not for the intellectual faint-of-heart...But we were worried," Myra's tone grew somber once more. "Worried who you might become, where your experiences might take you. I just want to say that I'm not so worried anymore, that I'm proud of you. We both are."
Ali straightened and looked at her mother. For the second time in as many minutes, Myra thought she might get an Honest answer from her daughter. "Mother, I appreciate your consideration but you have far more to be concerned about than my personal need for familial emotional fulfillment."
Myra was shocked by the sterility of Ali's response, but refused to let the pain show on her face. Whatever her daughter was going through, she was certainly intent on slogging through it alone. That was something Myra could not abide. Her business would have to wait; it was clear she had a more important role to fill.

As CSAF's fleet regrouped and turned away from the dusty, beautiful ball that was Mandalore, Myra found herself thinking of taking up arms for the first time in nearly twenty years. She was an experienced Force User and felt she had something to contribute in that regard, though skill and technique were likely leaving much to be desired. Still, she felt compelled to revisit her past and prepare herself to face what was likely to be a rather uncertain future. The fleet soon after jumped into hyperspace, leaving Draco Vereen and his diminutive band broken, bloodied, and empty-handed.

[member=Draco Vereen] | [member=O'saam Echoy'la] | [member=Alec Rekali] | [member=Gray Raxis] | [member=Stardust Raxis] | [member=Preliat Mantis] | [member=Verz Horak] | [member=Ijaat Mereel]​

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Since the Mandalore system was a high-security area, the planet surrounded by retribution feedback shields, the Alor'e council alerted, and actual fleet assets in orbit, none of the above could plausibly have transpired. Alec, as often happened to her, experienced a certain bizarre sensation. She'd last felt this way in a battle deep in Wild Space, where One Sith and Republic fleets had come to several mutually conflicting opinions about whether a certain vessel had or had not been destroyed. Multiple timelines had existed simultaneously, some of greater or lesser validity than others. She'd been able to exploit that at the time, due to her long experience with temporal distortions. The Chiloon Rift, the Tyus Cluster, the Mortis Monolith, the dreadnought Gethzerion, the influence of her timewalker father, that one field expedient shower on a nameless world in the Maw -- time and Alec had a decidedly weird relationship.

This time around, she opted to exist in the dominant, most-probable reality, where Hadrix's near-impossibilities never took place. Apart from the factory's destruction, anyway: whether by self-destruct or sympathetic detonation or just hot air under pressure, that part was legitimate and unavoidable. The explosion tossed her quite a distance, armor smoking, bleeding from several places.

She looked up at a clear sky, then around at the undamaged outskirts of Keldabe, and wandered off to find another bottle.

 

[Myra Hadrix]

Myra went to sleep that night happy to know that the day had ended as absurdly for her as it had begun for others, and was excited to add the day's events to her personal codex.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Yg8MuaWMT0​

There was a wash of a feeling as Ijaat sat on the outskirts of the battle. Perched on a rock, his buc'ye was by his right foot, and his hammer rested by his left, the face of it smeared in gore and debris. He had came in like a wrecking ball, hitting hard and fast and piercing into the inner sanctum of the facility. From there he had used a quick little bit of mechu-deru to raw cast copies of the entire facilities databanks. Now, that hadn't been wise even with his iBorg cybernetics. There was no making sense of the raw dump that had occurred in his mind, everything from lunch memos to schematics. And the headache it gave him made listening to Hadrix talk feel like a mild sinus flare up compared to the pain he was in now. And that was a feat he would have been astounded at, if he were not so thoroughly drunk.

Haphazard on the ground beneath him were a few beer bottles, and he was currently nursing a fifth of tihaar from his private stock. Several other bottles sat on the rocky shelf he had perched on, and as he drank he amused himself by threading a boot knife between his fingers, sticking it to the ground, and pulling it to him with the Force. Slightly, he seemed to sway with unheard music. Whatever the dissonance in his cognition, it was something to do with anomalies in the Force. Temporal he wouldn't know it as, but he called it 'the same sensation as a thousand religions crying out at once when one promptly ignored their idiotic dogma and kicked their teeth in.".

However, what he did feel was one [member="Alec Rekali"] as she walked up on his vantage point. Now Alec and he were far, far from good friends. But he had lived on Yavin briefly in his former body. Ember had been kind to him in that regard, and he had sent gifts to the Warlock of Yavin when the time had come for him to raise the black flag, so to speak. Alec had always struck him as the kind of woman his father said you didn't cross. They had power in their eyes and hellfire in their veins. But, then again, Ijaat was a blacksmith who played with fire and had little sense of caution when he was in his cups. With a grunt and a shove he dropped a dozen or so feet and dropped to the ground with a slight thud and clatter of armored plates and straightened smoothly, two fresh bottles held in his right hand.

There were no words, yet. Just a sly and shade of cocky smirk as he waggled the bottles at his sometimes associate and curled an eyebrow.