Faction Where Eagles Dare

[Gunnar Madine]

-
​

"Viceroy Seven Seven. Approach vector locked. Adjust helm three degrees port." Sensor static and comms traffic filtered through the small speaker beside the command console on the bridge of the FIV Valiant. A Marauder-class starship it certainly wasn't the largest or most powerful in the fleet but it made up for it in chops and tenacity. How much of that was her design and how much of it was her crew remained an argument that would take engineers and naval personnel to the end of time. It was fortunate then that such trivial arguments had been placed aside, crimson combat lighting lining the corridors, hangars, and bridge. Outside the stalwart hall of the cruiser in the void of space lurked three squadrons of TIE Interceptors, their dark hulls cutting nimbly around large asteroids as they neared their destination.

Gunnar Madine, that is, Lt. Colonel Madine peered intently through the triangular viewports at the front of the Valiant's bridge. Heavy footfalls behind spun his attention rearward down the narrow command walkway. Purposefully marching, then halting was an armor clad figure. "Sergeant Atreides." the officer addressed him. A silent nod of the opaque obsidian helmet followed by a clenched fist at the armored figure's chest signaled his response. "Prepare the assault shuttles. TIE's will run interference during your approach. Once you eliminate the defense platforms mount back up and head for the central ring. Sensors won't do us any good in there so you're on the hook for anything past the defense platforms. Good Hunting. Dismissed." Robotic almost, the officer's commands were issued before Gunnar turned on his heel once more to observe the void. "Acknowledged Sir." the Sergeant's response was curt. He too spun on his heel, footfalls rescinding down the walkway and into the turbolift.

This was just a first step. The first step. It would be some time before the First Order had need of its military. The philosophy had been one of gentle assimilation into the Order's ranks. If one could call it that mused the Lt. Colonel. What was about to unfold here however was anything but gentle. Delicate perhaps, precision a hallmark of the newly reconstituted Special Operations Command. Strike First. Strike Hard. No Mercy. A bold statement, not for the weak of heart or lack of intestinal fortitude. In his men, there was neither deficiency. He'd seen to that himself. Those who made it past selection were made of something more than the average Imperial grunt, more than even the tenacious Imperial Troopers. He had faith in their abilities - this was truly their first test in combat. Their mission was fairly simple, the rules of engagement clear: Eliminate the threat.

For months, pirates and mercenaries had been using Red Nebula as a base of operations. The traits of the nebula scrambled sensors and hid the groups of marauding vessels. Striking wayward cargo ships before disappearing back into the nebula. First Order Intelligence had tried and failed to map the Nebula for nearly as long - until the Security Bureau had stepped in. The Lt. Colonel had to give it to them, for being a shadow organization and cut off at the knees from their former glory, the Bureau had conducted expert intelligence gathering in support of Special Operations Command. He'd have to put them in for a commendation. Of course, no one would know about it, nor would they even be authorized to wear the device but Gunnar knew it would be appreciated nonetheless. Thanks to that intel, the SCG had been well set up for their virgin endeavor here in the Red Nebula system and inside the very nebula itself. The approach was pretty simple. The nebula formed a natural funnel, a choke point restricting all major traffic into and out of the nebula in one corridor. Of course, you could risk traversing within the nebular cloud but that was a death sentence for most ships, even ones with advanced sensors. Between sensor blindness and the eons of space debris and gasses held within it, the nebula was far from a cake walk even in the mapped sections.

Checking his wrist chrono, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Things would kick off any moment. As he waited for the lightshow to begin, he retrieved a small datapad from his waistband and eyed over the bulleted mission brief one final time.

Mission Brief:

Spoiler

Zole | Resurgent Narrative
@ First Order Special Operations Command​

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

Somewhere within the depths of the Valiant, a relative newcomer - but one who had seen her share of the fight. Benthusa "Ben" Tanielu stood at about five foot four and all of, most of it - rage. A rage that had been channeled into something combat-ready operative. Fresh from the hell of training she was about as new to this as the reconstituted SOCOM had been. Ben had seen her share of both the rise and the fall of the First Order. One Home, One Goal was the chant she had said to herself for the last six years. The goal had been achieved, and Dosuun was free of the Ssi-Ruuk, but now? Now there were larger fish to fry.

Madine had dispatched Sgt. Atreides, the go-to for operations, whilst Ben readied herself for the next phase. The Marauder-class ship was good enough for the job and given the nature of the Red Nebula probably one of the few that could get in and out without much notice. Not that many kept an eye on the Red Nebula these days. She stood in front of her locker with the opaque helmet staring at her with a glare she gathered. One that she matched with something of a grimace as she snatched it from where it sat. Ben secured the helmet and took a moment to steady her breathing. She hadn't survived the hell on Dosuun just to gonk out now.

Zole | Gunnar Madine ​

 

[Ryker Atreides]

FIV Valiant | Hangar Deck, Assault Shuttle Aurek
Sergeant Atreides | FOSCG - Talon Squad
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​

It was a short journey from the bridge of the Valiant to the hangar, from there to the troop compartment of the lead assault shuttle. The Sergeant had been briefed nearly an hour ago, his own brief concluding only minutes before his momentary diversion to the bridge. Ryker had his reservations as to the validity of the intel they had been fed by the Security Bureau. If it was even fifty percent more accurate than Military Intelligence that meant there was still a fair share of incorrect figures, rampant assumptions, and very little actual intelligence. Eggheads he mused.

It was difficult for the man, a man so steeped in action and personal achievement to take intelligence at its word. In the field he could verify it himself. Conducting the reconnaissance, observing patterns, confirming numbers and enemy troop counts. They were certainly living in different times. The Sergeant didn't have time to ponder these things however, the sound and vibrations of the troop hatch beginning to close reverberating through the deck plating. Behind the obsidian visor Ryker smiled. These shuttles were far from new - in fact this one was at least ten years old, his eyes quickly scanning a faded dataplate near the hatch. "Last one in, first one out." he mumbled, reiterating the mantra of the senior soldiers. It was customary for the most veteran to be the first to set foot out the hatch - a testament to their leadership - and the last to mount up, ensuring their junior soldiers were the first to vacate harms way. It might have been idealistic, almost foolish in retrospect, but it was tradition. The will of the dead pressured upon the living he mused.

As the crack between the bulkhead and the embarkation ramp continued to get smaller he saw a flash of a shadow beyond, the matte black of their commando armor recognizable to the Sergeant in the dim light. :: Head count - now. :: his internal comm barked, a swift and neat reply as the troopers in his assault shuttle counted off, their names echoing in his mind. Short one. The numbers didn't add up, confirming what he already witnessed. In a swift movement his gloved fist slammed into the hydraulic control panel beside him, halting the closing of the hatch and reversing its direction. Again concealed by the faceplate of his helmet a grin stretched across his features as he offered a hand to the delayed commando. :: Commando. Good of you to join us. :: Shifting so the commando could join their peers he engaged the button again, the hatch returning towards its closed position.

:: Showtime. :: he growled.

Zole | Resurgent Narrative | Gunnar Madine
@ First Order Special Operations Command​

 

[Nima Vantoon]

OOC: Using 3rd person POV, because exposition would feel clunky in first person.


IC:

Nima's Theme

FIV Valiant | Hangar Deck, Assault Shuttle Aurek | Talon Squad


The squad of commandos prepared to for the daunting task in the Red Nebula. Anxiety was thick in the air as Shuttle Aurek prepared to depart the FIV Valiant- from the fray, into the fire.

Some checked their weapons. Some reviewed the briefings. Some made quiet conversation, cracking jokes or reassuring the younger, more junior commandos that this op was cut-and-dry.

One commando, clad in armor very out of regulation, sat in the rear of the shuttle, cross-legged and still as a statue. The commando was a quiet curiosity; most likely, FOSB personnel. She was a lovely, striking dark-skinned woman, a helmet in her lap as she mediated. For the most part, she was given a wide berth during her meditations. When the more daring commandos tried to approach the enigma, they were filled with a feeling of apprehension, like being filled with pins and needles, and hastily retreated.

On some level, Lady Nima Vantoon of The House of Vantoon was aware of the effect as she gathered the Force around her. But she was unconcerned about the comfort level of her compatriots. Her mind drifted to her briefing, a few hours before-hand.

======================================================================================================
"The intelligence indicates the resistance is strong", her CO started, as Nima reviewed the dossier. "The fighting will be fierce."

He paused, running a hand through thinning hair, sighing loudly. "I will be blunt", he continued. "It is against my most strenuous objections that you are attached to this op. You have been an integral asset to OIS since your thawing for the past year, and frankly, I don't think you belong anywhere but an interrogation room."

Nima continued to silently check the dossier. Her CO sighed. "In addition to the assigned objectives, you are to extricate raw intelligence considered vital from the central ring. Intelligence indicates that within the Red Nebula lies a digital ledger. The ledger is indisputable proof of a vast trafficking network, moving weapons, stolen goods, and beings. Moreover, there is evidence linking FO officials to this network. You will support FOSC mission objectives, but you are cleared to use any and all means to retrieve the ledger."

"Now, since you have been cleared for active duty, we will be outfitting you." Nima's CO led her into another room. "Per archival footage and your personal testimony, R&D has been able to replicate your vibroshield. We've come a long way in the ultrachrome refining process- yours is lot smaller, a lot aerodynamic, a lot more durable, and a LOT sharper then your old one. BUT. This is still ultrachrome, so it DOES have it's limitations. We've made some modifications to your armor as well. Verpine Shatter Gun- when you need to be quiet. Modified Weststar-34s- just in case. Vibro-knife, because why not? And finally- a pair of shoto lightsaber. You might not be trained for a straight up one-on-one fight with a Force user, but you are our best equalizer in the field. I've heard too many stories about the karking sorcerers the Hegemony might have deployed, tearing through our boys like plasti-sheet until a Knight could arrive to neutralize."

Her CO stared at her. "Never forget- you are the Shield, that guards the realm. You held back the barbarians, once before. The First Order needs you to do it, once more."
======================================================================================================
"Head count - now", the comm barked.

"This is Aegis", Nima responded tonelessly. Getting up, she took last stock of her equipment one last time- shield and rifle on her back, pistols on her side, vibro-knife in her boot, and the lightsaber shoto holstered on the small of her back. Satisfied, she made her way to the hatch, putting on her helmet. Making her way to the front, she stood ready for the hell, and the high water.



Zole | Resurgent Narrative | Gunnar Madine | [I]Ryker Atreides[/I]

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

Ben took the Sergeant's hand and was grateful for the helmet as it concealed her features. She only gave a nod of acknowledgment and kept her mouth shut, being late was never a good thing especially for SOCOM. The thought of being in the Red Nebula was enough to make her nervous but the Red Nebula wasn't anything more than just another part of the great black void. This was just going to be the first among many missions, she ran an internal check on HUD as she readied herself for whatever laid ahead of them.

The young woman got a look around the shuttle and wondered if she was the only Gilarian raised kid, and most likely - she was. Which would be fine, Gilaria by way of Suthrig. There were plenty of people here she wasn't too familiar with, just enough to get the job done. Out here the familiar trappings of the shipworks, and space stations were long gone. Here it truly felt like the final frontier and it was also beautiful in its way she took a deep breath and exhaled, Ben had trained for this. Ben had fought for this; she could do this.

Nima Vantoon | Ryker Atreides | Gunnar Madine | Zole ​

 

[Zole]

Nima Vantoon Ryker Atreides Gunnar Madine Resurgent Narrative

Kaelan's mind was rather empty before a battle. He was not a man of deep thought at any point, but he was utterly devoid of anything beyond a gentle breeze of casual observations.

He had spent some time talking to the other commandos taking the second shuttle as they had suited up. Storm Commandos were never the swathe of empty programming that made up the regular ranks. There was always more variety amongst the kind of people it took to do the job of a commando.

This was different. It was an odd mix that had returned to the reforming First Order. They had older soldiers possibly promoted to the commandos beyond their ability because of their experience, younger recruits chomping at the bit who hadn't been tested in real battle yet.

They would be tested today.

The sound of the TIES screaching past reached his ears and he remained impassive. They would be clearing a way, but the pirates wouldn't let them land and fall out in an orderly fashion. They would make the commandos pay before they gave up their ugly chunk of rock.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel was present on the operation as a FOSB liaison and was fresh from a briefing on what the Bureau knew about the Red Nebula. She had checked in with Ryker Atreides and then taken a position out of the way from the others. While Isobel was certainly capable in a live-fire environment, she was decidedly not a storm commando. She didn't have their training, nor their armor or weapons, but she had other skills that she would lend to the operation: slicing, stealth, and infiltration, to name only a few.

Her comlink chimed, and Isobel stepped into a niche for some privacy when answering with a clipped: "This is Lotus."

"Agent Lotus," came the voice of Delilah Graham. If she harbored any hard feelings about bringing Isobel back into the fold after Isobel's failed attempt to infiltrate a resistance movement along the Sanctuary Pipeline, the consummate professional in Graham kept that to herself. "Graham here. What's your status?"

"Aboard the shuttle," Isobel replied. "Operation hasn't begun yet, but it looks like we'll be going soon."

There was a pause and then Graham proceeded: "Very good, Lotus. Remember to keep your sensors running. The more intelligence we have about the area, the better. The place has been notoriously difficult to map, so anything we can pick up will only help. Your primary objective, of course, is to aid our brothers in the Special Branch, but we appreciate any intelligence you can gather for the Bureau."

"Of course," Isobel said. "I'll keep my eyes open."

"We'll be ready to debrief when you return to base. Good hunting, Lotus."

"Lotus out." Isobel disconnected the channel and set her earpiece to the operations channel and returned to the main compartment, leaning against a bulkhead. She scrolled casually through the intelligence briefing on her datapad and waited.

Ryker Atreides | Zole | Resurgent Narrative | Nima Vantoon​

 

[Ryker Atreides]

Troop Compartment | Assault Shuttle Aurek
Sergeant Atreides | FOSCG - Talon Squad
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​

No rousing speech, no long winded rehashing of what had already been covered. A simple :: Good Hunting. :: chirped over their comms a moment before the engines roared to life. The next, they were moving. Inertia causing them to sway where they stood. Reaching over his head with one hand, his other on the carbine at his side, Ryker gripped the interior combat webbing to steady himself. The primary defense platform was their target, a scaffold and structure of metal attached to a small asteroid, the weapons platform contained numerous anti-starfighter weaponry from autoturrets to several concussion missile launchers. They were flying into the mouth of the beast, each jagged tooth threatening to rend them apart. Outside their assault shuttle's hull explosions and blaster fire rocked their small flotilla, the Sergeant's shuttle jolting with each hit.

They'd been outfitted with high pressure oxygen for this mission, the pack shifting as the Sergeant rolled his shoulders in preparation. This first part was tricky, they had to disembark into the void and plant explosives manually against the defense platform. The brave men and women of the TIE Interceptor wings supporting them would be the diversion and with a little bit of luck the shuttles would be able to slip in and deposit their payload. :: Disembark in twenty seconds. :: the Sergeant notified the others. He had been monitoring their position via HUD, the starfighters clearly engaging the enemy at this point. So far they'd managed to avoid being detonated - that was a plus. Time ticked by, each second another they were liable to evaporate in an explosion of sparks and superheated plasma. :: Depressurizing. Oxygen on. ::

A loud hiss filled the cabin as the oxygen was filtered out of the room. Unless they wanted to be shot forth in a maelstrom of errant gas when the hatch opened depressurization was necessary. It would equalize the pressure between the cabin and the void, allowing them to be tactile in their launch. The shuttle wobbled as another explosion rocked their hull. They were close now. :: Out in ten. :: A gloved fist slammed into the hatch control, the hatch silently sliding open farther and farther revealing their target. They would have to jump. A hand signal waving the soldiers forward to the precipice was the only sign Ryker gave before stepping up to the front, booted toes hanging over the edge of the now open hatch. He could hear each breath, feel each heartbeat behind the chest plate of his armor. The void a canvas, lasers and explosions glittered across the obsidian backdrop of space, it was serene, almost peaceful except for the knowledge that life hung in the balance.

:: On my mark. :: One second passed as the Sergeant took in a final breath before leaning forward and pushing himself forward towards the target. :: Mark. ::

As if to punctuate their launch into the void a brilliant flash filled their peripheral vision, a secondary assault shuttle shattering into a mangled mess, sparks and jets of plasma erupting from its hull. It was the grim reality of combat - loss. Ryker knew many of the Storm Commandos by name, their community a small and tight knit group. Sergeant Mahl had been aboard that boat, a handful of other names striking against the inside of his skull as he set his eyes forward and focused his mind on the task at hand. Closing the distance quickly the commando tucked his knees, his feet spinning around to face the target so as to land on his feet. If you could call it landing. :: Focus the turbolaser emplacements first. Then the autoturrets. :: Their primary objective was to enable the FIV Valiant to provide cruiser support, they wouldn't be able to do that effectively if they were taking turbolaser fire.

Isobel Nakano | Zole | Nima Vantoon | Resurgent Narrative​

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

T A N I E L U​

Tag: Isobel Nakano | Zole | Nima Vantoon | Ryker Atreides

Baptized by Fire. It would be a proper baptismal then, Ben mused. Her features concealed by her void colored helmet. The operative followed the sergeant's lead and gripped her hand into the interior webbing. There was hell below, anti-air and concussion missile encampments that unleashed their fury on the team. The TIE Interceptors would play their part, Force be with them, Ben internally saluted as she watched their birds scream above the objective.

The Gilarian adjusted the equipment and checked the high-pressure oxygen packs. She rocked back and forth from the tip of her toes to the back of her heels in anticipation of the order. This is the kind of stuff they trained for, leaping into the unknown - ever forward. It was the sort of mission where your training just kicked in. All those days of having drill instructions yell in your face, all the days of repetition it was all for a reason. Ben knew that then and she knew it now as she prepared herself.

A credit to the pilots as they had not been detonated and those within the attack shuttle had not fallen victim to the plasma and heat. She could hear the audible hiss as oxygen filtered out of the room. Void jumps, she always hated that part of the training, a weird thought to have right before having to actually do a real jump without the safety net of the drill instructor to pull your ass out of the line of fire. Ben watched as the sergeant's gloved fist hit the hatch control, and followed him on the signal to the threshold.

On the verbal mark, and without hesitation she pushed forward out of the shuttle behind Sgt. Atreides. She saw the same as he, the second shuttle erupting into a ball of fire before it was silenced by the void. There would be no dwelling on it now, but later - later they would remember, the realities of their profession stared Ben in the face.

:: Copy that, focusing turbolaser encampments ::

 

[Nima Vantoon]

"On my mark."

My hands were clenched into fists.

"Mark."

I lunged out of the shuttle, behind the Sargent and the young woman who arrived last. In my periphery, I saw the utter attack shuttle crumble and erupt in an orange flame under the relentless barrage of anti-air batteries. As we directed ourselves towards the turbolaser encampments, I considered our targets.

The mission called for us to disable the threat turbo-laser threat to our friendlies, but it also called for us to leave the asteroid as physically intact as possible. As I landed on the surface, I unsheathed my vibro-shield, and drew a pistol. I began to slowly approach with the commandos, wary of the potential resistance we may face.


Zole Zole | Resurgent Narrative | Gunnar Madine | Ryker Atreides | Isobel Nakano