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The man was relentless and fearless. That, Krenis respected immensely, and seeing the soldier continue to rush towards him, even as blaster bolts slammed into his armor, he regretted that they found themselves on opposite sides of the fray. He had the honor of one of the vod. For all he knew, he might have been. The armor certainly wasn't Mandalorian, but it wouldn't have been the first time they wore something else.
But his mind calculated of its own accord, as he kept up the constant spray of fire, always adjusting his aim to lead the target and still maintain a wide enough range of fire to not anticipate movements. Too close for explosives and he was pushing into being too close for blasters, which meant that he intended to go for the melee attack. Krenis let his rifle drop to his side, anchored to his side by a sling and magnets. The din'uul deflector shield was already activated on his left wrist and he unholstered one of his blaster pistols, while the other hand slid his beskad from the sheath. While not the most intimidating melee weapon in existence (that being a lightsaber), it was forged of beskar, and was heavy enough to block just about any weapon they might throw at him.
Still, even as he slid the blade from his sheath, his other hand was squeezing off shots from the heavy blaster pistol. Not trying to suppress the area anymore, Krenis focused each shot on the man and where he, his instincts, and his helmet computer, anticipated the trajectory. But he was pushing the furniture forward now, aiming to get in close without getting hit.
When the enemy had a plan, the best thing that one could do was to disrupt their plan, and since he was determined to get within melee range, Krenis saw no reason to not oblige. Still crouched, he sprinted forward and lunged into the piece of furniture, barreling into it with his armored shoulders and shoving it back with all the strength he could manage. Even as the deflector shield on his gauntlet burned the furniture, he fired a quick burst of pistol fire at point-blank range, trying to shove the man off-balance and get him prone.
Squadron's breaking off. The thought registered in Roth's mind as he watched. Only one remained behind while the others accelerated at max speed back towards the First Order fleet. The Sprites couldn't match that speed, not across wide distances like this. Their advantage lay more in their nimbleness than their speed. The main time that they had taken the advantage over ships of that type and speed was when the Sith Empire attacked Thyferra. Enemy pilots had ducked into the city streets for cover, cutting their speed, and allowing the Knights to cut the squadron to pieces. No Sith pilots from that squadron ever left that city street.
Missile alarms opened on the sensors and Roth frowned, because the Force showed no threat from the missiles. Instead, the missiles had been fired away from them. Towards the First Order fleet as the TIEs screamed past them. Laser fire whizzed past them still from the turret and Roth's hands danced across the controls and the ship danced in response. The flight of fighters all danced and rolled out of the main velocity, forcing the turret to spread its fire between them or be vulnerable to the other two. A few pinged off his shields, but with a slight hand motion, Roth deflected the shield double-front and it was able to deflect the rest of them.
The missiles stopped and the Force rang a warning through the three pilots, and they all split apart. Roth moved above, relative to his position and rolled to starboard as the sudden barrage of laser and ion cannons started arcing towards them. The other two had dropped down and to each side, so that the bursts passed above them.
Roth adjusted the line of fire on his lasers. He wasn't surprised at the maneuver. It was one he himself had used quite frequently, including the sudden full-speed forward assault. He cut his own thrusters and maneuvered the nose so that even as the ship continued its trajectory forward, he was able to rotate the ship through its maneuvering jets, continue to pivot the X-wing to keep the enemy ship in sight.
He didn't even bother aiming at the ship itself. Nor did his two fellow pilots. Instead, they formed a tight web of laser fire directly ahead of and beside the enemy TIE, as their own X-wings started passing the ship. As soon as the the TIE was behind him, Roth rolled the yoke over all the way and pushed throttle to full.
The force of acceleration slammed him into his seat, but it didn't snap his focus. He knew each movement and maneuver of his craft like a dancer knew their routine, and as the Force nudged him once again to roll out of the way of a stray turbolaser shot, he felt the moment had come, and aiming ahead of the ship, pulled the trigger, adjusting the target so that the lasers would move to meet the craft.
Location: On the way to Twilight Allies: [member="T-3"] [member="Alm"] [member="Sol Stazi"] [member="Lyra Sunfell"] Enemies: The First Order
Peyton was on the lead tank and finally was starting to hear word of where the fighting was. Tagge grounds? She could get there. Hopping below, she pointed the pilot towards where the fighting was. Grabbing the comm, she patched herself into the Alliance channels.
“Lieutenant Steele to Twilight. Do you read? Landed soldiers from Roving Line Sentinel. Sounds like you guys could all use some real back up.” She grinned. Maybe Coalition forces would hear her over the comms and snap to. But she knew that the militia training wasn’t going as well as General Starchaser had hoped. He was the type of person to always prefer a smaller team than a larger army.
Part of his Underground days. And Peyton being with Alliance Intel, knew that the Outer Rim Coalition had arisen, at least in part, from the Underground. Maybe it was why they all seemed so plucky. Peyton could respect that, they were here and fighting for their planets, but they still were… undisciplined? Sure, she came into the Intelligence team as a random hire for a job, but now she was ranking and leading teams.
The Force was with Starchaser and his team. Letting the Mando and his own apprentice lead, he kept ready, behind them. Pooling the Force around him, he knew he could blast the power of Force light should he need to, but at the moment he was content to play back up. He had a Sith Lord with them, and that made his skin crawl. But Metus was different. Talon was different. The CIS as a group were different than the Raaf and Carnifex Sith that he was used to finding himself against.
And these Sith were standing against the Ren.
“Sovv called for us to reinforce Sedaire and Fyre.” He nodded at his student, lightsaber moving to intercept blaster bolts, and the Force being hurled to slow down debris and incoming soldiers. And the next corner or so? That found the objective.
“What are you even doing, Fyre?” Coren shook his head and used the Force to burn away the glop compound keeping the Judge. He turned, his lightsaber ignited, as he felt the Meld approaching from his lady friend. It would do good to help the team link in with one another. And once they were ready? It meant that the Coalition were going to kick the Ren out of this system.
“Ready to turn the tide?” Confident, as always, Starchaser had always felt at home on the war front. Just needed the targets.
Engaging: Enemy Bombers heading for Sixth Fleet (With the other Five Pixies)
Engaging: [member="Roth Tillian"]
"I'm going to put in a request for better shielding when I make it back home," Cyn growled angrily.
Cynthia rolled and snapped her TIE downwards, barely her craft dodged the onslaught of concentrated laser fire. Almost the- Cyn's thought cut short as the tail end of the attack slammed into her TIE's shields and her Droid Brain reported complete collapse and needed time to recharge and re-calibrate. Cyn's fear flashed as her hands tightened around her controls, her eyes hyper focus on the three enemy fighters tailing her now, but perhaps the only saving grace was that the rest of Pixie had headed back to defense of the Sixth Fleet.
The empty void of space looked hardly empty, carcasses of space faring animals and hundreds of destroyed craft littered the field of battle in space. Her HUD displayed the three fighters were in a tight formation, but they couldn't keep up, similarly as the last group of fighters. But if put too much distance between us they will simply head back for the fleet, Cyn made another choice, in hopes to allow the rest of her comrades to make more choices for themselves in the future.
She turned her TIE's trajectory slowly, as to not bleed any momentum or speed, instead of using her maneuver thrusters. My momentum would carry me in the same direction I'd just be facing a different direction, and the moment I accelerate I would throw myself backwards and no doubt blackout. Cyn kept an eye out for the next enemy slavo of laser canon shots, but she continued with her new attack vector. Cyn banked on her speed, her hands kept the controls steady and her Droid brain rearmed the concussion missiles.
The rest of Pixie squad caught up with their new intern commander Pixie Two, the five pilot group continued on with their new objective of defending the First Order Fleet. Their anger for losing their two comrades grew, but their regret of leaving their Captain behind blossomed further.
"Pixies, open fire on enemy bombers, coordinates sent and attack vector chosen," Pixie Two ordered, but even through the rough short frequency comms the rest of Pixie could hear the bitterness and resentment in their fellow Pixie's voice.
Instead of attacking as a single unit, each Pixie utilized their concussion missiles and each targeted their own bomber before using their speed to zoom off before any enemy escort fighters could get into range, let alone effective firing range.
Unbeknownst to them, the Pixies soon found their own anger nearly unpalatable, without word they turned their craft steeled themselves. They've lost comrades in battle, in unlucky circumstances and worst yet from their own failings as pilots. But to let a Pixie die because of abandonment? Even if the Pixie in question was their Captain and Squad Leader it mattered little to their own conviction.
If their Captain wanted to chew them out for disobeying a direct order, well; "She can yell at us when we're back alive on a hanger," Pixie Two voiced his inner thoughts to the rest of the Pixie squad.
By the time Alm had realized her own precarious position perched on the rotting wood, the boards beneath both her and the droid gave way leading them to tumble directly into the Graug’s nest. Specifically, they’d landed on the lifeless form of an eviscerated reptilian. Said reptilian had ragdolled onto the soldier who’d just filled his abdomen with steel and plasma.
It was a very painful game of dominos.
“Oof,” Alm grunted as she landed on the motionless form of the Graug. The Amazon squinted, scrunching up her nose as she took a moment to recover from the impact and try to get a handle on her surroundings. She rubbed at her nose, sore from faceplanting directly into the dorsal side of the beast. Not a moment later did T-3 follow, landing square on her back. Lumbar region. Ugh.
The voice of the man they’d landed on was muffled beneath the Graug’s corpse. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying given her own troubles with Basic, but in the moment she briefly panicked and forgot that they were in the middle of a war. Then came a push, muted from the meat shield between them but Alm could feel the force behind it. “I’m sorry!” She breathed to the stranger who they’d crashed into, voice strained through gritted teeth. The impact on who knows how many kilograms of durasteel onto her back hadn’t been pleasant. “It was…accident.”
“Get off, robot!” She groaned, jerking her body away from the durasteel humanoid if it already hadn’t sorted itself out. Scrambling off of the strange beast’s body, she looked around frantically at their surroundings. Her breathing was labored and her posture hunched to compensate for the pain shooting through her back. Already, bruises were beginning to blossom a deep purple-black across her skin.
Stumbling upright, the Nasvalo woman took in quick stock of their surroundings. The first thing she noticed were the approaching soldiers, tiny forms parachuting across the sky and onto the ground a little ways away. “Oh, no.” She whispered. War was not something she was trained for. Battling a rival tribe or maybe some pirates? Hunting? Those were the extent of Alm’s fighting repertoire.
A bestial scream erupted from somewhere behind her and she spun on her heel, hand grasping at the handle of the hammer on her back before ripping it free. The Graug infestation, though lessened, had not been wiped out. Not that Alm knew what a Graug was, but she knew that the one nearly face to face with her had a weapon and the intent to harm. And so she swung her hammer.
Something was off. The droids he had set up indicated to him that there were people approaching the city from the outside. He paused in the shadow of an awning on an empty side street and allowed his mind to reach out to the droid so that he could see through its eyes. What he saw were troops approaching, and leading them were several individuals that he was certain weren't the average run of the mill First Order individuals. He wasn't exactly sure what they were, but they weren't the usual. That made them good targets. He had the droid look around so he could get a bearing on where he was, and then released his hold over the droid in its entirety. He had no further use of it since he now had viable targets to approach.
Stepping forth, he scaled the nearest building as quickly as he could, and made his way closer to the fringe of the city, to the last of the four and five-story buildings. There, he crept on all fours towards the edge and peered over the side, using his helmet's optics to help him track those approaching. They weren't alone, of course. First Order people rarely traveled without some sort of flunkies with them to be used as cannon fodder. If there was one thing he did know about Imperials and their descendants it was that they were enormously uncaring about the people that served under them. Troopers were just numbers to be thrown at the enemy. Care was important. He cared about the people that were part of SPECTRE even if they didn't know it. He wouldn't compromise himself for them, but he didn't expect them to do that for him either. Two-way street.
He waited and watched, his presence in the Force concealed from prying feelers. One of them, at least, had a tinge of darkness to them, which means he was apt to get into a Force laden fight in this particular situation. That was the nature of things, though. Like the Empire, the First Order relied on Force Users to do its dirtiest work. Without them, it wouldn't have the kind of stranglehold over the galaxy that it wanted. With them, it could manipulate minds, strike fear into the hearts of those who couldn't touch the Force, and learn things that nobody else would even believe. It was the same with the Sith. Power was everything.
When they drew near, he drew his sword once more, waiting to activate it so as not to waste the battery back. They weren't far, and they hadn't, as yet, encountered any resistance. Undoubtedly most of those who would fight them were busy elsewhere, and the local populace had seemed less inclined to do the heavy lifting themselves, as they almost always did. In this part of the city, though, he expected most people were probably malnourished or elderly. They probably couldn't defend themselves even if they wanted to. That was what he was there for. Not really to defend them, but to strike at those who would prey on them because of their weakness. The kinds of people who didn't like a fair fight.
He waited until they were past him, and then lept off the top of the building. Controlling his descent, he landed behind two soldiers. The first he grabbed and snapped the neck of. The second he pushed forward with a blast of the Force, sending him tumbling off towards the nice wall of the nearest building, which reached out to greet him like an old friend. That left not between him and the ones who weren't troopers, but he was ready all the same, thumb activating his sword at the same time as he turned his eyes to look at them.
Another instant passed, haphazard footsteps carrying the Colonel closer towards the edge of the building - he could see light ahead. An open door. They needed to keep moving, but what about Maalraas? A glance over his shoulder confirmed the Death Troopers were behind but where was the Specialist? Oh, Rolf wanted to complain. About how it wasn't fair, about how they couldn't catch a break, or even about the nagging pain in his arm, but he knew he couldn't. They didn't have the luxury. What had been planned as a snatch and grab was quickly turning into a tactical nightmare. They hadn't come loaded for rancor but that didn't keep the rancor from coming - and boy was it angry. For a moment there was a lull, a quiet hesitation in the assault of the enemy. Rolf had even mused that it had been a full five seconds since he'd last heard a shot. *Should have ducked.* his mind taunted him as he saw the flash of a weapons blast out of the corner of his eye.
Someone had gotten a lucky break, the violent red blaster bolt scorching a burning pock mark into the shoulder of his armor. The impact was enough to throw him against the wall. He didn't know what kind of weapon packed that much of a punch but these Squib were industrious, no doubt it was a personally designed weapon. Pushing himself up off the wall he let loose a volley of blaster bolts back in the direction they'd fled from before ducking into the open door praying there wasn't another cadre of Squib armed to the teeth just around the corner. Weapon raised the Colonel breached the room, a quick scan from right to left revealing the room was in fact empty - at least for a moment. Out of habit he'd pushed inward past the door and out of the so called "Fatal funnel".
On the opposite side of the room, metal shutters had been deployed across the windows and doors - or at least most of them. Something must have malfunctioned at one of the windows, the shutter making a loud grinding noise as it tried to shut, stopped, then rose. Over and over it kept trying - and failing. *It'll be a tight fit, especially for the bigger lad - Remus.* He thought. Calculations and thoughts were interrupted as he heard the detonation of a grenade from whence they had come, a knot forming in the pit of Rolf's stomach as he heard the question aired by one of the others.
:: Did anyone see the Spook get out of there? ::
*Maalraas.* Rolf forced the panic down, legs driving him towards the corridor again. He had to know. They weren't going to leave one of their own behind, not here, not in the kill box. That's what this place was now, whether it had been from the start would be a question he asked himself for days after but right now... He needed to get them all out. Trained in different skills, backgrounds drastically different, Omicron and Maalraas at least had that in common - a bond christened in the fires of war. He wouldn't leave the man behind.
:: Romulus, Remus - See if you can't get that shutter jammed open. We make for the roof. ::
They would have to meet up with Bravo, Rolf had seen beyond the broken shutter to where their scout had indicated the Shield generator was housed. Housed and heavily fortified. They needed a plan, one that would see them out of here alive. Given the sudden arrival of overwhelming force, to continue their attack sans the element of surprise would be tantamount to suicide - and while Rolf was willing to die for the Order, he saw no purpose in sacrificing themselves this day.
:: Bravo...:: he keyed up. A single word in command. ::...Sorrow. I say again. Sorrow. ::
He had faith the man would know what to do, a long list of codewords, contingencies, and playbooks each memorized by the members of the elite strike force. This one was more than a mere shift of battle or objective diversion. The command wasn't given lightly. The long list of possible consequences dredged up memories of the past, memories of failure and of punishment most severe - and yet here they were again. *This time... it's different.* he told himself. It would be different. This time they had a spotter, this time they had a singular target - this time... Not enough time. He couldn't waste any more time arguing the subtle nuances of war within his mind, it was a time for action. Ducking low Rolf peeked out into the corridor in an attempt to get eyes on their missing member. Preparing to provide covering fire, the barrel aimed down the hall towards where they'd come from, all it would take was an ounce of pressure on the trigger and the weapon would discharge.
:: Maalraas, say your status. Come in Maalraas. ::
Enemies: Sith, Sith Agents, People that shoot at Mishka,
Team 1 ([member="Omari Vyken"], [member="Rolf Amsel"], [member="Rexus Wenck"], [member="Keira Verd"], [member="Tobias Wrynn"]) (best guess: fleeing for the roof)
Team 2 ([member="Vestille Thumahra"]) (best guess: 1v1 w/ Skirata)
Team 3 ([member="Primat Ren"], [member="Varas Ren"], [member="Marriskcal Lati"]) (best guess: Lost at the giftshop)
Objective:
Babysit the NPC's, Wander the Hallways
Run back and engage the SpecOps team that somehow got behind Mishka and friends
Catch up with the retreating SpecOps team, engage the hostiles, don't die, hopefully get paid
Mishka and the soldiers she had been assigned to assist ran through corridors they had traveled only a few minutes before. Ahead of them, the sound of blaster fire grew louder and louder, occasionally interrupted by the dull whump of what could only be grenades. As she approached a terminus, Mishka skid to a halt and looked back on her companions as they caught up with her. "Around this corner." Mishka said as she leaned against the wall to her left. With a deep breath, Mishka drew her pistol and nodded to the Captain. The Captain, after a brief glance at the state of his men, each of them with weapons ready and already catching their breath, nodded to himself. "Now." He said.
In response, Mishka leaned out from the corner and pointed her eyes and her pistol down the hallway. She saw three targets, each with their back to her and their attention upon whatever was happening at the entrance to HQ down the hallway. Three was nowhere near enough people for a SpecOps team and Mishka knew that there had to be more nearby. A broken door near the SpecOps' position was probably hiding more. One of the hostiles was raising a rifle in Mishka's direction. A rear-guard most likely. Mishka's heart skipped a beat as a flash of excitement filled her veins. Vaguely, she was aware that one of the soldiers was crouched in front of her, half protected by the duracrete wall to their left. The rest had all spread out across the width of the hallway, some taking a knee or skidding into position on their bellies, their rifles aimed toward their targets. On the far side of the hallway, two soldiers were still rushing to take up a position like the one Mishka and the nameless soldier had assumed on this side of the hallway. "Fire." The Captain said, and they all opened fire at once. Mishka could clearly hear the loud krack of her slugthrower pistol contrasting sharply against the blaster-fire of the rest of the squad.
At the same time, heavy weapons' fire raced towards them from the SpecOps team. Two of the soldiers took hits and crumpled, the rest clung even deeper into whatever cover they had available as they returned fire. Mishka, for her part, emptied a magazine at the trio hostiles as Squib poured out of side passages and assaulted the First Order forces. Ducking back behind the wall, Mishka swapped the empty magazine of her pistol for a fresh one from her belt. By the time she had finished, what remained of the squadron of soldiers was advancing on the First Order and the volume of fire had died down. Poking her head out, Mishka saw that the SpecOps team had disappeared. <The kark?> Mishka wondered as she took in the sight ahead of her. Squib bodies lined the floor as did a handful of coalition soldiers. In the distance, she saw some sort of goop stuck to a wall with a flailing body half-protruding from it. Closer than that, Mishka saw a branch in the hallway where several Squib and Coalition soldiers were converging, rifles pointed towards the passage.
Mishka blinked at the sight. While the carnage was far from something unusual for a Mandalorian, it took her a moment to realize that the First Order troops had retreated so quickly from the fight. She almost couldn't conceive of such an event. A SpecOps team fleeing almost immediately. <Or...> Mishka mused. <Maybe they have another objective?> She thought to herself as she scanned the length of the hallway. Off to her right, she saw one of the small service corridors she had noticed before. Sparing only a brief glance back at the Coalition and Squib forces, Mishka sprinted for the corridor and ran through it as fast as she could in spite of the low height. As she ran, she opened herself up to the Manda and felt the distant glow of sentient life, felt the connection that bound all living things to the Manda, and, more importantly, gained a better general idea of where the First Order SpecOps team was at.
Mishka holstered her pistol as she ran, instead pulling a grenade from her belt and holding it as she ran. Here and there, she ran past other small passages that connected to one hallway or another, sometimes connecting to what were surely hidden doorways into estate rooms. Mishka pulled the pin as she ran, but kept her fingers firmly gripped around the grenades pressure control. Once more, Mishka reached out to the Manda and felt for the Imperial soldiers. They were there. To her left. Moving quickly along the main passage. They weren't as close together as they had been before. One lagged behind. Two were only a ways ahead of that. One was well ahead of the rest, waiting in a room with an exterior wall.
Mishka took her finger off the control for the grenade, let it cook for a second, then flung it down a small side passage and towards the more heavily armed pair of SpecOps soldiers. Had she timed it right, the grenade should detonate in the center of the main hallway, just a few feet ahead of the pair as they ran. While it sure as kark wouldn't hurt them, it should at least cause their equipment to malfunction for the next few moments. Hopefully she'd only needed a few moments...
Pushing herself, drawing upon the Manda to give her the speed and agility she would need, Mishka accelerated her sprint down the Squib-sized service corridor and turned left down the next perpendicular path. A second later and Mishka slid to a stop in the center of the main hallway (hopefully ahead of the two SpecOps operatives, but behind could work just as well) and drew her sword, the metal blade casting a golden-orange glow over Mishka's features. "Boo." Mishka said as she took in the sight of the men with her own two eyes. A split second later, Mishka charged at the pair.
Location: Metrobig City > Area outside of Palace Allies: ORC Enemies: First Order Objective: Investigate the only significant commotion occurring in the city
Naast'ika prowled the skyline of Metrobig city, moving between buildings like a lost parade balloon. His voice carrying across subspace frequencies as he sang happily to himself and listened to the thousands of competing messages that drowned each other out. It was utter chaos, but Naast'ika enjoyed trying to pick out bits and pieces that made sense. The world around him was largely the same. Small creatures ran about, some shot at each other, most didn't. In orbit, things were changing a lot... Or so they seemed. He couldn't really get a clear sense of what was going on from down on the planet with a shield between himself and the ships in orbit.
His senses were picking up heavy weapons fire though. Not in orbit. In the city. <Somewhere... over... There.> Naast'ika thought to himself as he rose up above the buildings and let his sensors get a clearer view. There were plenty of buildings in the city, but off in the distance, there was a building that was much larger than all the rest. And near it, a small ship was firing laser cannons at the enormous building as it made several looping maneuvers that Naast'ika recognized as strafing runs. <Well that's not very nice.> Naast'ika thought to himself as he wondered in that direction. The ship did not look to be Imperial in design at all... but that didn't always mean much. Naast'ika had been contemplating shooting at the ship to shoo it away from the building, but it raced off before he had to put too much thought into the matter.
Naast'ika watched the ship as it flew off. Whatever it had been doing, it was clearly done now. However... Naast'ika couldn't help but to wonder what the ship had been shooting at, if had really been a ship that Naast'ika should consider friendly, and, more importantly, if anyone by the big building was hurt. Or... if anyone other than an Imperial was hurt. All the same, Naast'ika sang to himself in the songs of his people as he drifted over towards the large building to take a closer look at the damage the other ship had caused.
Objective: Pacify the local resistance/Push towards the Palace
Directly Engaging: [member="Itzala"]
Seto patted the head of his droid friend, activated and off of his back, it floated next to him as he continued on his search and monitoring comm traffic. Admittedly his poor droid had a hell of a time shifting through so many jamming frequencies that it was nearly impossible to track movement, let alone triangulate possible locations. But regardless, Seto had begun a growing attachment to his equipment and he wondered how long before he grew his very small circle of friends to include droids.
Comforting thoughts thrown aside with the sudden appearance of an enemy combatant refocused Seto's attention to the present. The pair of troopers that had elected to scout ahead were not ready for such an encounter. One fell limp and died, a sickening sound of snapping bones while the other was thrown with the Force towards a side of a nearby building. Seto for his part outstretched his hand and called the Force to act and stopped the poor trooper from slamming against the wall.
With a harmless drop, Seto raised an eyebrow inside his helmet, giving his new opponent a once over. Over the short frequency comms he could hear the Trooper he saved groan and mutter several cruses from his sudden shift of momentum but otherwise very not dead. The new opponent activated his weapon, and Seto turned his head back to find his Steward, and offered a curt nod. Though Seto gave slight pause, he turned his head upwards and felt an entirely new presence, something or rather someone he had never felt before.
That's not a normal Force presence.
The Steward of Ren had a mission, and Seto had his to complete and finish. His lightsabers removed from his belt, and with the Force they settled on his palms, his hands slowly raised as both blades activated. One a bright emerald color and the other a dark crimson, a more poetic mind would have commentated on the contrast but Seto simply kept his older sabers from past Orders.
His grip tightened as he lunged forward with his emerald blade ready to attack and his crimson in the defensive. Seto willed the Force around him, a small swirl of sand erupted around him as he moved forward into his attack. His droid had hovered upwards to provide its master with some information and encase if any more enemy combatants would swarm his position.
He needed to earn his blade with the Ren today, and Seto wanted his third lightsaber.
Actions Summary: Devastator shields at 10%, brought offline Devastator fires torpedoes and megamasers at Merchant Command. All three task forces (Sovereign Command, Dynasty and Kindom) surround Merchant Command and what is left of Quekoth Command in area Fleet details in spoiler tag
There was a strange swirl of emotions inside the Chiss. The thrill of the escalating battle was now mixed with an unexpected longing to make sure her children back on Avalonia were alright.
Funny, she mused. She used to have that desire to check on Admiral Rausgeber, obsessively reading the radar and tactical reports to make sure he wasn’t dead.
Until he was.
And then he came back. Slowly at first, but now unstoppable like a red and black tide of thunder and steel.
As the First Order would rise against the Coalition.
Oddly, one of the Quekoth vessels joined the Merchant fleet in hammering away at the FIV Devastator and then suddenly, the cruiser hurled itself at the massive ship’s engines in a suicide mission to do as much damage as possible. With the Devastator’s deflector shield still up the enemy vessel exploded in a fireball against the massive wall of energy, but did manage to critically injure her defense. The shield was now at 10%.
“All ships focus fire on the Coalition.” With Task Force Dynasty and Task Force Kingdom circling the Merchant Command, they were essentially trapped between Captain Morro’s two healthier fleets. Task Force Kingdom was ailing, so like a chess game she sent those rooks and bishops to the back of the line. The entire scene reminded her of a Space Western where warriors upon horses surround primitive and outnumbered wagons.
“We have at least one of their fleets surrounded. Bring the Devastator’s shield offline. We will scorch the dirty outlaws with the might of her firepower."
Morro gave the order to unleash thirty of the Battleship’s most powerful torpedos and followed it up with a light barrage of Chiss-made megamaser fire.
And then she stood back to watch the fireworks.
Battlegroup Sovereignty
Commanded by Sr. Captain Morro
Location: Survey Site Tagge Objective: Survey and Clear Survey Site Tagge in Preparation for Pre-fab Deployment Allies: The First Order | [member="Hatori Ikari"] | [member="Decima Fortan"] | [member="Castiel Moncrief"] | [member="Rhun Trask"] Enemies: Outer Rim Coalition | Graug Remnants | [member="Alm"] | [member="T-3"] | [member="Lyra Sunfell"] | [member="Sol Stazi"]
The skirmish over the survey site continued to lightly escalate with the annoying persistence of a migraine, or perhaps Rae only saw it that way because of the determination of the Graug, who held on and made the process of clearing and holding the site a more sordid affair than it had any right to be.
Remarkably, not a lot of shots were coming in her direction. If they were, she suspected it was a mixture of her diminutive stature and the enemy not really having a good bead or angle of attack while the Auxiliary troopers did their best to suppress. A shame. She really needed the stress relief that only violence could provide.
Seeing that the action seemed to gravitate towards the head honcho of the damned, Castiel, Racosidae moved to follow him deeper through the pot shots of what felt like the world’s smallest battle -or more like a game of tag. At least it would have if the enemy wasn’t so threatening in appearance.
At some point something quite different fell upon Castiel, but she couldn’t quite say they were hostiles. Locals? Smugglers? Civilians trapped by the Graug Gang to be subjected to who knows what kind of torture? It was hard to say exactly. In fact, if the Ren didn’t know better one of these newcomers seemed to be a robot. A droid, perhaps. Rae rued that she wasn’t more experienced to make these connections quickly to ascertain whether or not they would need to be neutralized.
A connection she did make however was the flaring of life presences above the site. Airborne shock troopers, perhaps? Friendly or enemy? Again she didn’t know where to make the connections or what exactly was happening.
Lashing out, she drew her lightsaber, flicked on the purple blade, and Force Threw the weapon into the chest of Graug militant threatening to approach the party with some kind of sick looking battle-axe made up of crude looking rust and spikes.
[SIZE=11pt]The appearance of the Pellaeon gave them a semblance of hope as the enemy vessels began to subside momentarily to recalculate their strategies to deal include the 6th fleet led by Admiral Cardan. His presence on the battlefield provided a much needed lift to their waning morale.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]When the third wave did not crest and break upon Nebula Command as per his expectations, the Epicanthix only found himself slowly becoming tense once more. What were they up [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]to?[/SIZE] [SIZE=11pt]Kou’ha almost preferred being placed in the position where he had to make tough decisions to blunt the assault the hostiles were screaming upon them instead of the silent lull they were forced to endure. Even the briefest thought that they were out of trouble did not touch his mind. No, if they had the audacity to attack a diplomatic vessel not once, but twice, he doubted they would see a ceasefire so soon.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]But there was nothing they could do, only to prepare themselves for the inevitability for another sudden onslaught. With his brows furrowed in thought, the young Captain gestured towards the medic that has been hovering at the edge of his vision. While he remained by the strategic display, Kou’ha turned towards her ladyship even as the medic cleaned the sluggishly bleeding cut by the side of his features. He almost turned away when he caught the raw emotions reflected in her eyes, wanting to give her a semblance of privacy.
But he found himself unable to draw his eyes away from the compelling figure of his Grand Moff. Her despair was a palpable dark cloud that enveloped her when she turned towards him. Kou’ha drew in a sharp breath, preparing himself for the unpleasant news he was certain he would receive when he saw the glimpse of hope awakening in her ladyship. Ignoring the medic still fussing over his wounds, he stepped behind her as she made her way to the viewport. While he had no notion of what the blinking lights conveyed, the Epicanthix knew enough that it was some sort of code. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Her jubilation brightened her ladyship’s features, Kou’ha absently noted. While they were still not out of danger just yet, he could not help but be infected by her relieved elation. The mention of ‘friend’ and ‘FIST reserves’ were a stark reminder that their errant assailants were still wrecking havoc somewhere within the Concordia. The Captain made eye contact with Commander Cerise, a quiet query to the other if there were any update as to the situation. Even with the formidable 6th fleet cutting a swath through the enemy forces with its brilliant blue megamasers, the threat the intruders posed towards the Grand Moff within was still very real.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]At the call of his name, Kou’ha broke out of his dark thoughts and took the slip of paper from her ladyship’s hands. The sense of relief that poured into him was overwhelming in its intensity. The First Order had a fighting chance.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]The shadow cast by the FIV Wrath as it appeared into space was vast and as it is awe-inspiring. As per instructions disseminated and impressed on all officers serving within the First Order military, the young Captain opened a direct connection to allow the Warmind into Concordia’s system. Every piece of information, including its compromised primary command bridge, the damage the Star Destroyer has taken, to the unwelcomed intruders still reigning havoc within its recesses, were transmitted.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]And then, the set of orders came in for the entirety of Nebula Command.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Hope and resolve filled the hearts and minds of every single member of its beleaguered fleet.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]“Commander Cerise,” Kou’ha spoke, his voice firm. “Please let the rest of the Concordia know that we are to form up with FIV Wrath.” As one, the Concordia, marred but still resilient, and rest of warships assigned to the Nebula Command turned and advanced, gliding beneath the looming Super Star Destroyer.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Now that Nebula Command was out of immediate danger, there was one more thing left for its Captain to do. With a serious demeanour, Kou’ha approached the Grand Moff, dipping his head in respect to the grand lady. “Your Excellency, Agent. Considering that the Concordia is still compromised, I feel that you should consider relocating to the Wrath.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Actions taken:[/SIZE] [SIZE=11pt]
[/SIZE] [SIZE=10pt]• FIV Concordia and Nebula Command moved to join up with FIV Wrath. Currently located beneath the SSD.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]
[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Fleet Summary:[/SIZE] [SIZE=11pt]
[/SIZE] [SIZE=10pt]Battlegroup Nebula[/SIZE] [SIZE=10pt]Commanded by Captain Kou’ha Escala,[/SIZE] [SIZE=10pt]Under the auspices of Grand Moff Natasi Fortan.[/SIZE]
He had been right. They had resorted to Dosuum code and his squadron had been ready for relays. Despite the chaos and pitched battle training and drills had prepared them for the situation. Order had stared in the face of chaos and shouted 'Do your worst.' The droid processors of the TIEs increased the relay speed as he had learned in flight school and his on board read out showed orders as they came in.
It had been executed perfectly.
It couldn't last.
He didn't know when the first fighter was hit. They were barely moving beyond course corrections. He had calculated that they would be beyond sensor range for fighters and barely an interest to a flight control. And just like that training was stabbed by miscalculation.
His wing man flashed a message: *BREAK BREAK INCOMING*. But The Privates shields were already lighting up before he finished reading. If the ships had been un-shielded, they would have lost them all in one sucker punch. Thank the order for good engineering.
He threw his fighter into motion. The Conqueror lunged like a striking viper and pitched into a 45 degree turn as he broke toward the enemy fire. Standard procedure, break toward the enemy to for them to correct course and firing solutions. It usually only bought a second, but sometimes that second was where life and death played sabaac for your head.
His squadron followed procedure, and they began moving to form flights of four fighters to engage the new threat. Thr Private's wing man flashed for orders and received a quick reply to request aid for relays, before he streaked away to flash the request to command ship.
That done, Pilot 0496 engaged the enemy in earnest. The space trash would regret crawling from the scrap heap today.
Objective: Clean house Location: Metrobig Interplanetary Blastport Allies: First Order Enemies: ORC - [member="Mara Merrill-Valkner"]
Azula watched as the Squibs were gunned down by their own sentry turrets. Beneath her helmet, a sly grin grew on her face. Watching those little furballs running for their lives brought some glee to this otherwise dull operation. Her eyes then averted when the unknown variable of a woman disappeared back into the interrogation room. As soon as Azula got eyes on the interrogation room, the camera feed was cut.
"Chit. Where'd she go.."
Azula immediately returned to watching the other cameras, she had er focus on the camera feed from the hallway just outside the interrogation room. The rest of the starport was growing quiet as the sentry turrets either killed of the squibs or sent them running. Either way, it was coming down to just Azula and the mystery guest. Azula had an idea at that moment. She rolled her chair over to an intercom system at the side of the room. She pressed her hand against a button along the desk, activating the announcement system throughout the starport. Azula leaned forward to speak to all who were still inside.
"To any and all who hear this message: I am willing to give you a grace period should you wish to leave this place. 30 seconds after I finish saying what I have to say, I will deactivate the sentry turrets and security droids for 2 minutes. In those 2 minutes, you'll have your chance to escape to safety. After that 2 minutes, I will turn the turrets and droids on everyone, armed or not. Your 2 minutes will start in 30 seconds. Thank you and have a nice day."
Location: FIV Concordia Objective: Hold fast Allies: The First Order | [member="Kou'ha Escala"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Robogeber"] | [member="Val Kordova"] | [member="The Private"] | [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] | [member="Gromm Cardan"] | [member="Sieger Ren"] Enemies: The Outer Rim Coalition | The Galactic Alliance | Spirited Teens | Scruff-Bearers | Grandeur-Deluded Beskar Jockeys | Space Calamari | Vindicators | Bees! | Explosions | [member="Kaine Australis"] | [member="Grozurra"]
The Grand Moff's triumph was short-lived, as [member="Kaine Australis"] continued his inexplicable rampage aboard her flagship. Natasi watched on the security viewscreens as the Mandalorian warped physics and reality around him to escape the encounter with [member="The Major"]. The last scene she saw before the explosion took out the security cameras led her to imply that the unknown Mandalorian had scampered off while Sybil Shepard was buried under rubble in the ruins of the command deck. The Grand Moff's fury could not be overstated -- not just at the havoc being wrought on her flagship, but at the potential cost of Director Shepard's life.
She opened a secured, short-wave channel to the FIST garrison left on the ship. "This is Fortan. There are intruders aboard Concordia. They must not be allowed to escape. Lock down the hangar bay. Escape pod codes updated to standard code epsilon." This would prevent anyone who didn't know the code -- like the Mandalorian and the magic Wookiee -- from using the escape pods to evacuate. She paused and muted the channel, turning towards [member="Val Kordova"] to mutter: "Get a screengrab of his armor and the Wookiee and upload it to the ship's secured datanet -- quick as you can, please." She reopened the channel to FIST. "Visuals of the intruders are being uploaded to the ship's datanet, but be on your guard: the intruders are extremely shifty and may well change appearance. Engage challenge phrase protocols and detain anyone unable to match the phrase without exception. I am offering a fifty thousand credit bonus to the man or woman who captures or kills the intruders."
Natasi paused, examining the security feeds from the rest of the ship for a moment. "Rescue and recovery squads report to the command deck, priority signal alpha one one. Details will be provided en route of your target. All other forces: secure the Concordia. Task Force Dosuun, report to the auxiliary bridge deck. Avoid main turbolift access. Stealth maneuvers." If Australis was heading for the emergency deck, he would find a much harder target than the main bridge. The Grand Moff's blood coursed through her veins with equal parts anger and anxiety; her fingers drummed on her jaw as she muted the channel again, leaving it open in case they needed to be in touch.
That settled, Natasi turned her attention to [member="Kou'ha Escala"] as he suggested that she leave the Concordia. "I appreciate your concern, Captain Escala, but my place is here, with you and my people. It would take an act of God or a direct order from the Supreme Leader to get me to leave this ship without the rest of you. As surely as that Mandalorian isn't getting off this ship, neither am I." She turned and offered the Captain an enigmatic smile, her lips twitching up at the edges in a mischievous smirk. "Besides, I'm having the most terrific fun. Aren't you?"
It was oddly peaceful here. Tiland sat in the doorway, watching as a small wind blew dust and rubbish across the street. It gusted uneasily within the shielded dome, as if the air itself was uneasy at the situation that unfolded around it. While it might have been safe, but it was hardly right. The very natures of war and safety, so contradictory, were both alike. Neither could be sought and balance still be maintained within the Force. For the drive of both threw one's life out of balance. Each focused on control and control was an illusion. The First Order sought safety and it drove them to extremes, compromising their safety at the same time. The Sith Empire and the Mandalorians sought war and the same result was achieved. It was the failure of the Republic that it had fought for safety above everything else. And in the end, the GA's militant nature had been its nature, leaving it blind to the traitors and spies within its midst.
To achieve balance, one had to be willing to forsake both war and safety, and to secure them both, when it was necessary. Such was the case now and as he sat there, Tiland felt at peace. In fact, he could recognize beauty in what has happening around them. The view of ships in the sky above, the song of the wind, punctuated at odd moments by explosions and blaster-fire. Dust hung outside the shields, obscuring the sunlight of day, as it swirled in paintings of its own. He could hardly see them from here.
After a moment, he pulled himself to his feet and turned to his companion. "I am heading to the roof of the bay." He pointed with one ancient hand to the clouds. "The sky is beautiful and I think I shall go enjoy the look while I can."
With that, he presented himself at the door, was allowed in, and strode up the temporary ramp. His booted feet echoed on the wood, a rhythmic undertone to the avant-garde song of battle in the distance, while his staff beat its own rhythm. The walls were not high, per se, and it was only a few moments before he stood on the top of the hangar bay, where he had an unobstructed view of the city below and the sky above.
As below, so above, he noted. Yet still, it was a surprising feeling, to see such a wonderful sight. Metrobig city was beautiful, in its own way. The striking contrasts between the buildings and slightly off-kilter architecture gave it a charm and gravitas all of its own.
The galaxy would be a lesser place were it to be destroyed. Such was the price for safety and for war. Not only was the self destroyed in its endless quest for control, but so many other things that were good precisely because they were chaotic and untamed. Would a wave be beautiful if it were trapped within a building to run and exist at the behest of its controllers? Would a thunderstorm be beautiful if it was artificial? Could a thing be beautiful when its essence, its innate nature, was suppressed? No, they would become nothing but memories of the thing itself.
Yet something shifted in the stars above. Hatred and hanger surged, grew, and came down like a miasma upon the world itself. Tiland frowned and he stood with arms outstretched. Only once before had he sensed the usage of such of power. Sieger Ren had arrived, if he recalled correctly from the last time, which was interesting, because there had been no such sign of him being present before. Had he been waiting to reveal himself? Or had he only just arrived?
What was happening up there? Tiland wasn't sure and he had no way of finding out. Regardless, he could protect some semblance of the city. He held his staff in one hand and stood arms out-stretched upon the roof. Closing his eyes, Tiland stepped out into the Force. Just as Vorhi saw everything through the Force, now Tiland could sense everything around him.
It was overwhelming, the sheer amount of stimuli that came flooding into his mind and being. It was why he never suggested or taught it to those who had just begun their journey into the mysteries of the Force. Before knowing others, one had to know themselves, and those who were young did not yet know themselves enough to anchor themselves.
It was madness within the area and through the distortion of the shield, he could just make out Alliance U-Wings deploying across the planet as reinforcements parachuted to the ground. They would secure the area around the city and when that was secured, undoubtedly they would move within the city and clear the streets. That was protocol of course, and he had spent enough time working among them to know how they would operate.
But something else caught his attention and he shifted his focus, following the source. It was elusive and hard to find, and it would take time, but surely he could, since there was no immediate threat...
Among the Squib resistance cells, their resolve had been inflamed into fervor. A zeal for the fight and as Heavy and his squad perched on a roof-top, watching their handiwork work itself on the walkers, it settled upon themselves. As one, they looked at each other and nodded. Heavy hefted the disruptor onto the rooftop bannister and sighted in on the AT-ST. One thing that Squibs knew well was engineering and how machines operated. As he studied the walker's design, his eyes picked out the critical points for the functionality of the machine. He chittered at his companions and they nodded back before darting back into the building and creeping through the streets until they could get a form of crossfire going.
After giving them two standard minutes, watching as stormtroopers and engineers tried to disentangle the walkers from the pit that had opened beneath him, Heavy opened fire with the disruptor. It's beam burst from the muzzle and aimed for the ammunition magazine aboard the AT-ST. Instead of darting and running from cover, he maintained fire on that spot, working to cut through the armor and materials until he could detonate the ammunition within.
Around them, his compatriots also opened fire with heavy blaster fire, tensor rifles that radically adjusted gravity on their targets to either hurl them around or tear cells apart, and a few standard explosives. They hammered into the First Order lines and as the professional soldiers moved to respond, the Squib decided to switch their targets, aiming to gun down as many as possible.
Something in Rusty's mind told him that this was foolish, but he couldn't help it. Too long had the First Order done this same thing, preying on those weaker than them with overwhelming force, making them feel helpless, and using that as a weapon. Given the chance to make them feel the same, Heavy saw no reason not to. In fact, he relished it, and continued to focus on the walkers, taking a joy at the thought of what he was doing.
Yet even still, something in his mind screamed at him to stop and run before the fire grew too intense, but it struggled to make itself heard. Still, their resistance cell, and dozens more like them across the city engaged in the same relentless assault. There was no overall strategy or plan like there had been before. Now, their only plan was to kill the Imperials. Make them burn like so many on Skor had done before.
Even as he felt that rage and anger festering within their minds, it stabbed Tiland's heart like a spear, and he sank to one knee, gasping to catch his breath. In a hearbeat, his sense of the city collapsed away from him, and left to just his own senses, Tiland gazed down at the city with altered eyes. What had been beautiful, now was ominous. What had been delightful had been perverted. The city's eccentricities, the joys of tinkerers and engineers, both of them creators, had been turned to death-traps. Their purpose warped and their essence marred.
He gazed out over the city now with altered eyes. Where wonder had shone only moments before, now there dwelt nothing but sadness. In the end, all things would be lost, except the Force. And even as he stood there, he could see Skor slowly beginning to seep away.
Who won the battle was irrelevant. The corruption had already been planted and even were he skilled enough to counter it, it would never undo the damage that had already been caused. Deaths of imperials and Squib alike. Innocents wounded in the rage of the defenders and the counter-rage of the invaders. All were reduced from their nature and suffered for it.
And here he stood sentinel above a piece of machinery, just hoping to keep it in one piece long enough to stem the loss of life further. Only after would he be able to begin any work on healing the spirits of those that the Dark had tainted here.
In her nervousness, Val had taken up a position next to one of the unused consoles upon the secondary bridge. She wouldn't be much use standing around like a lamp post. The largest thing eating away at her were the strange sounds and noises she heard reverberating through the Concordia's tough hull. Unease tugged at the pit of her stomach as a new bank of indicators lit up in a sudden flash. Her agile eyes picked up on the readings right away. A bridge officer she may not have been but Val had spent a fair share of her time as an entry level operative aboard First Order vessels. Enough to notice that a bank of turbolifts had just gone offline. On this deck no less.
Reaching towards the command board Val slipped into the faux leather chair, fingers moving faster than the eye could see as she brought up more data feeds, including interior video feeds on the console in front of her. It took her a minute to locate the right bank of devices - the Concordia was a bit different than any of the other Resurgent-class ships on account of the vaulted meditation sphere at its center. Already she was searching for the source of the pandemonium when the Grand Moff aired her instructions.
"Get a screengrab of his armor and the Wookiee and upload it to the ship's secured datanet -- quick as you can, please."
"Yes ma'am." she uttered, Val's hands moving again as they manipulated the console's command board. The data had been recording, it was an easy matter for the technologically savvy FOSB agent to pull, strip, and cut the footage - isolating key frames for analysis. Images of those already seen disembarking into the void of space and those yet on board quickly finding their way into the Security Bureau's network. Going a step further, Val snagged sensor data for the vessels that were around them, patching into the Wrath's complex network in an attempt to identify their assailants - that would take more time than she had in the moment. Given the wide range of the galaxy and the lawlessness of Coalition space, it could be weeks before they were able to isolate and parcel out the relevant data.
"Data uploaded your excellency, but we have a slight problem. It.. It looks like one of them is headed this way."
Tapping her finger on the glass to indicate which screen to look at, the image of [member="Kaine Australis"] barreling through the corridors causing her some alarm. Somehow the enemy had managed to cripple the primary bridge, but if they were to lose the secondary? That would be devastating. *No Val, you can't think like that - it's just one man.* Val's other hand rest nervously on the grip of the weapon tucked into her holster.
"I'm sorry your Excellency, I have to agree with the Captain. I understand your hesitation to leave but - it's really not safe here. It's your call, obviously but..."
As the words came spilling out she glanced up at a large display, flashing red and orange lights indicating damaged portions of the FIV Concordia's hull and armor plating, internal systems - things weren't exactly dire in the moment but it certainly wasn't looking good. They'd taken a beating and the blows just kept coming.
Location: ANS Excubitor, Local space -> escape pod
Objective: Engage the First Order in orbit; keep the FO off the Squibs
Allies: [member="Silara Varis"] [member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Mazik Stazi"] [member="Mittens"] [member="Boda"] [member="Rekha Kaarde"] [member="Kaine Australis"]
Enemies: [member="Karl Von Strauss"] [member="Cynthia Alucard"] [member="Morro"] [member="The Private"] [member="Gromm Cardan"]
Directly engaging: [member="Kou'ha Escala"] [member="Robogeber"] [member="Cyrus Tregessar"]
- BATTLE MEDITATION ACTIVATED -
"The enemy has called in reinforcements!" the sensor technician alerted Cathul, screaming almost as if panicked.
"All remaining ships, dive!: we shall continue the fight from underneath them. Redirect the gravity well from the Pellaeon to the Wrath!" she ordered the surviving ships. "Oh and open a channel to our friendlies one last time"
"Channel open, even though there is still a lot of static" the communications officer responded, while struggling to open the channels to remaining allies in position to engage the enemy with explosions occurring all over the place, and the rest of the crew running around like headless chickens.
"The Excubitor is taking heavy damage; may the Excubitor fly one last time to protect the Squibs, the light, the dream of the Starbird, the remaining freedoms! May Therapy Command's sacrifice actually be remembered in the hearts of the Alliance-in-Exile; this day was due to happen, and may the Force be with the successor commands of the Alliance-in-Exile take up the mantle!" Cathul broadcasted on all allied channels, so that [member="Silara Varis"], [member="Mittens"], [member="Mazik Stazi"] or even [member="Jorus Merrill"] or Strabo Australis would even get to hear it, through the static.
Never since Kaeshana did Therapy Command take such heavy losses; even the remaining point-defense could only do so much to screen against fighter and bomber threats, while hard at work picking off as many targets as was possible; or even the missile deactivation transmitters in an attempt to cause premature detonations of enemy warheads. And also the reinforcements called in by the First Order didn't leave her indifferent in the slightest. It was not every day that [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] actually tried to face the mirror and engage Therapy Command, since that day on Kaeshana where Cyrus got out of that planet with a firepower-killed fleet. Back in the very early days of the Alliance-FO wars. Even if it meant redirecting the gravity well currently directed at the Pellaeon towards the Wrath while suspecting that whatever escorts came in tow, were attached to nearby [member="Gromm Cardan"]. In death, Therapy Command ought to make every casualty count, especially as pieces get torn off the hull at various locations. And, of course, the crew in whatever parts of the ship were still left standing was running around like headless chickens, even damage control crew. But many pieces of debris that have been torn off the Excubitor found their way towards the enemy battlecruisers, and also the enemy escorts. That happened, regardless of whether they belong to Helix Group, Orion Group or even the various commands that somehow were at point-blank from the Excubitor. And even the remains of ships that they themselves shot down, or the losses incurred by Therapy Command, would still be flung at ships in those areas by inertial means, which was not a comfort of any kind whatsoever. Not to Cathul's heart that became heavier and heavier as her Force-energy reserves were dwindling, and also with every loss. Not when she is seeing her crew panic all over the place.
"This ship is doomed!" the chief engineer of the Excubitor screamed in horror, as the reports of damage intensified and grew in criticality.
"It might be doomed, perhaps, but the Excubitor shall make the enemy pay for over-committing against us! Then our allies can fight back the remaining reinforcements"
"If we are to go down, may as well go down with as big a bang as we possibly can and make that explosion count: the remainng ERA tiles, while helpful, are not the end of the story. Arm the ordnance, and take the safeties off anything that can help the detonation!" Tanith ordered.
"All ordnance armed, admiral" the captain of the Excubitor acknowledged, while the ordnance was being armed for one last flight that will take the Excubitor to detonate in a massive and potentially cascading explosion.
"All non-essential crew, abandon ship!" Cathul screamed, while making sure that all PA consoles were activated, even though she knew that not all non-essential crewmembers could possibly obey that command.
The CIC crew began to show signs of horror, even though Cathul knew that day was due to happen. And also those who faithfully served under her since Kaeshana, onboard that very ship. Especially given the numerous attempts effected by the First Order to either capture her or that ship, or even to destroy it. Not only her reserves were dwindling, she could no longer keep battle meditation up, not with the non-essential crew panicking all over the place. She needed no more proof that BM could no longer work as effectively as it used to at the beginning. Clearly there was nothing in this maelstrom of panic that could possibly calm down the crew onboard the Excubitor as they rushed towards the available escape pods. No one onboard was even sure that the escape pods would even be able to make it to the surface, or to some friendly ship. The danger of collateral damage happening to them was all too real in a battlefield this size. But even then, many among her crew beat her to the escape pods. By the time she arrived, the staff among the CIC crew was reduced to a fraction since they took different routes to the escape pods. With five of her close staff officers, and a few stragglers, Cathul thus boarded the last escape pod left. They cramped like sardines inside the pod as the launching sequence was initiated:
"Escape pod launch sequence activated" the automated launch system warned, while the escape pod was being launched, in hopes of reaching for the surface.
Thus Cathul was compressed in an escape pod with several more occupants than it was intended to. However much the occupants of the escape pod Meanwhile, the captain of the Excubitor, perched at the pilot's seat in the CIC, pushed its engines to their limits. Or, at least, to extent it was possible when its only weapons still functional were mostly point-defense, and the shield generators have failed altogether. But, in doing so, it couldn't turn at all, so there would be no way to alter the course. Tens of thousands of tons of explosives of various varieties, including but not limited to, the surviving ERA tiles lining the hull, or the heavy proton bombs being stored, would make the doomed ship liable to explode soon enough. As it flew, its condition began to destabilize but Cathul knew that, in death, a ship this size exploding would produce an equally massive explosion. The clock was ticking for those crewmembers, essential or not, that couldn't make it to escape pods. Once the clock was up, it exploded in one huge bang, one massively glorious detonation, and project millions and millions of tons of high-speed metallic debris all over the battlefield. And maybe even rival the speed of HVC rounds for the smaller of those jagged debris left behind in its wake, or at least the speed of mass driver rounds. Most of the debris in the aft half were flying all over the place, in the direction of ships under all three of Kou'ha, Robogeber and Morro's command, threatening to hit every ship for kilometers around. And, since hostiles were closer to it than friendlies were, hostiles would be under more of an immediate threat. In front of them, however, the debris traveling forward would instead be traveling in the direction of the Wrath, threatening both it and the aft quarters of enemy ships attempting to retreat towards it.
"May we mourn the Excubitor's sacrifice in due course" Tanith expressed while seeing the explosion through the pod's viewport, as it descended towards Skor's atmosphere, in a region where cocoa fields were situated.
May this help keep the damage to the ORC's morale under control, she thought, realizing that the loss of what was once the flagship of one of the most iconic Alliance commands turned her panic into chagrin. Yet there was no space for anyone inside the escape pod to weep, to mourn the loss of what has been for all of them, more than simply a ship. To many among the crew, regardless of rank, it was a second home to them, during all those years there even was a Therapy Command, and she could readily feel the pain of the occupants of every pod that was launched moments before the Excubitor's demise. Even the loss of their flagship, however glorious it may have been, made the morale of the remaining ships among Therapy Command much harder to keep. Nevertheless, they kept firing at mostly the same targets as they previously had, fighters and bombers for point-defense, corvettes and frigates for the larger ships that weren't monitors, and the Skors kept plodding away at the Morrigan, now that its shields were down. Luckily, the surviving bombers were able to rearm onboard the interdictor carriers before going onto another bombing run, while the fighters also conducted bombing runs of their own, onto enemy ships, especially the larger ships, even when some of the fighters were tied up in furball fights. Once the rearming was done, the bombers were dropping their respective payloads, hundreds of heavy proton bombs, onto approach vectors directed at the Kali, Morrigan and, unlike the previous bombing run, the Wrath was targeted, thanks to the final gravity well being in this direction.
Kept ECCM up
Had the remaining ships dive underneath the plane on which the FO was
Kept the gravity wells centered on the reactor domes of FO ships (2x each on the Kali and Morrigan, but 1x on the Wrath instead)
Opened fire at the enemy escorts from underneath it
Had the Skors fire at the Morrigan's reactor dome from long range
Had all the ordnance on the Excubitor rigged to explode upon that ship's death, and had it fly towards the mass of First Order ships
Deployed all fighter squadrons in attack runs; some of the fighters are crashing, with fully-charged bomblet generators, onto enemy escorts or even capital ships
Had all bomber squadrons drop the inertia-guided payload, mostly on approach vectors to the Kali, Morrigan and Wrath
