Zulu Rochan
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He says he's a good guy.
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Affiliation: Dha Werda Verda (The Shadow Warriors)
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Post by Zulu Rochan on Dec 7, 2013 9:55:22 GMT -8
Zulu flinched behind his mask as one of the bright red bolts of energy skimmed across the unarmored portion of his left arm, just below his shoulder. It was either an incredibly lucky shot, or a very good shooter. Di'iro and Ti'iro Menda dropped from the sides of the ramp and onto the hard floor below, each on one side of the platform. Zulu didn't care enough to keep his communications encoded at this point. Whatever he was to say could be heard clearly and audibly. "Verda!" he yelled, his voice nearly mute in the loud blaster fire that consumed the hangar. "Jurkad bah ara'novor!"
The Menda twins nodded simultaneously in confirmation of this command and leaned over the ramp, firing blue blasts of light from small barrels on their wrists. The conflicting red energy soared over their heads. Zulu noted to activate his personal shield, and with a thought, he did so. His armor was wired to his neural system, after all.
The blue lasers were aimed, very accurately so, at the Stormtroopers' joints and hands. Nonlethal shots. Hopefully the white-clad soldiers would drop their weapons upon contact.
Zulu crouched down on the ramp to avoid incoming fire, despite the presence of his invisible shield, and slung his right hand down quickly. A small cartridge dropped from his gauntlet and quickly folded into the large and somewhat bulky shape of a DC-17m blaster carbine, colored just as dark as the rest of his armor. He fired rapidly, aiming for the same targets as his allies did, hoping to incapacitate the hostile soldiers. Bolt upon bolt of blaster fire smashed into an invisible dome around him, and his HUD informed him that its energy decreased with each shot, but he ignored this for the time being.
Inside the Justice, more specifically in the freighter's engine room, Kray tampered with a spindle of wire inside of an open panel on the wall. He had heard the soldiers around the craft open fire on his own allies, but this did not deter him from repairing what needed to be fixed in order to re-stabilize the YT-1300 Freighter when it returned to flight. The engineer realized that it was the internal rotor control coil that needed a minor replacement, and he was actually surprised that such a small component malfunction could cause such devastation to the craft.
He pried one edge of the older coil from inside the panel, but a large spark of electricity caused him to quickly pull his hand back. After the energy had dissipated, he began to pull on the springy coil again, and successfully removed it, though the force required nearly caused him to fall to the floor. He then picked the object's replacement up from the floor next to him and began to shove it into place inside the panel, grunting as he pushed against the wall in an attempt to force the component into its socket.
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Darth Flvin
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Posts: 163
Affiliation: Blackguard Reborn
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Post by Darth Flvin on Dec 7, 2013 10:07:05 GMT -8
The Dark fleet stood still in the darkness of space, sitting in a tight diamond formation. The two SDs in the middle, surrounded by the accompanying ships. It would be perfect for escort of the SD's but would it provide a tactical advantage was the question. Shun Flvin stood at the helm of one of the SD's. He traveled to the bridge, only to be greeted by the Fleet's officers. Nod's were exchanged, and Shun made his way towards the hologram projector. A few buttons were clicked, a final switch was made, and a hologram was quickly projected. Shun stood tall in his beskar'gam, It's gold trim illuminated his body, giving off a slight aura of light. He looked towards the hologram projector, slowly took of his helmet and placed it to his side. He quickly cleared his voice, and began to give his fleet it's final words of encouragement.
This is it, this is OUR time. My brothers and sisters, we have finally reached the wretched world of Kuat. Our job is simple, get boots on the ground, and cripple their defense systems. We have three targets located at sectors 1,2,3. Brigades 1,2,3 will go to their respective numbers. Our job may be simple enough, but their are a lot of people still around. They are NOT our objective, do not get distracted by the civilians on the KDYs. Shun paused for a moment, looking down to his hand. He clenched it tight for a moment, a sudden surge of pain entered his hand. He quickly looked back towards the hologram. Were moving with our Mandalorian brothers, along with a group known as GALSAF. A tight nit military force, capable of providing us support. Shun smirked, just the thought of so many troops made him anxious to get moving. Your Company commanders have been briefed, and you'll be getting your individual orders when the time is right. In any case, I want nothing but a swift and total victory. I will be on the ground with you, and I will see to the destruction of these objectives. I vercopa jate'kara, akaanir urakto ner vods. Shun gave a quick nod, put on his helmet and deactivated the hologram. He turned around and was immediately greeted with the eyes of his troops. The ship's admiral stood at ease behind him, awaiting his command. Shun looked around quickly, and returned back to the Admiral. "Let's make the jump." With in a second, the admiral gave the order, and the fleet made the jump to hyperspace towards the planet.NEAR KUAT'S SOUTH POLE
Dha Gra'tua came out of hyperspace rather quickly, and arrived at the south pole of Kuat. The ships came to a sudden halt, and regrouped themselves for the eventual attack. The fleet began to change it's formation, far enough away from the planet itself. The Corvettes began to make a circle around the two SDs, while the assault ships stayed on the outside of them. The troop ships moved towards the middle, while the Pursuer's began to fill into the empty spaces. It was a bold strategy, anything to protect the troops that were needed to make it on the ground. Once the ships were in place, the Admiral on board looked towards his commander. Shun looked around the bridge, and slowly looked back. He gave a quick hand signal, pointing towards the front. The admiral did not hesitate, and moved towards the comm link in front of him. All ships open fire!
The darkness of space quickly changed to an elaborate light show, blue lasers quickly flooded the space around them. All weapons were pointed towards the KDYs Golan Defense Platform at the South Pole of the planet, and towards anyone that was defending them. Shun wanted the combat in space to be quick, but he knew it would take time before he could get on the ground. The weapon systems were at full effect, and the fleet was in a perfect position. That would be, until the eventual push forward towards the planet itself.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2013 10:10:01 GMT -8
Bralex was donned in full Bes'kargam, locked and loaded. He saw the multitude of TIE coming on his sensor arrays, but knew his Firespray could only take out a few before their numbers would overwhelm him. If Kad had his back, the rest of the Mandalorian Navy would show up now, helping defend him from certain death. Bralex didn't fear death. Death was inevitable in battle. Battle was something driven into the very soul of all Mando'ade. Death was respected, but not wished for. Bralex waited for the arriving TIE squadron...
The tight and chevron like formation had broken as the fighters began breaking off for their attack runs. In the three dimension environment of space, the TIE fighter was renowned for its extreme velocity and maneuverability. While the ship could not withstand a sustained stutter fire barrage, in greater numbers they could effectively swarm and destroy outnumbered targets. Spreading out along the points of a vertical compass, the TIE fighters shifted their positions to angle themselves for a better position in which to strike at their newest target. Whilst the rest of the squadron had broken off the main formation and set about striking the Firespray from various angles akin to the nautical sailors compass, the remaining four craft screamed forwards in an attempt to provoke the patrol craft to attack.
With the sound of their laser cannons cycling to full power resounding within the blued titanium hull, each pilot angled their vessels to match the position of the mandalorian craft. In the space of a single heartbeat, the targeting computers had garnered a weapons lock. As the chime sounded within the flight leader’s helmet, a rictus grin peeled across his lips. “I have you now.” He said as his fingers pulled tight upon the trigger of his flight stick. Two beams of super-heated plasma burst forth from the emitter arrays beneath the cockpit of the four advancing TIE fighters, casting their bolts into the depths of space and hurtling towards the Firespray. Accompanying the bolts of laser fire, the four eyeballs’s peeled off their target and maneuvered away from the mandalorian craft. These pilots would return once more to make another attack run, after the rest of their squadron had launched theirs. Like a swarm of flies about a decaying corpse, TIE fighters had begun to dance with Kuat’s newest visitor…Note: Eyeball is a derogatory term used by the cowardly Republic and Rebel Alliance forces to describe the standard TIE/LN (Line) Starfighter. This has been an Imperial public service announcement. For the Emperor! |
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Bralex Ordo
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Affiliation: [img]http://tinyurl.com/MEOrdo[/img]
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Post by Bralex Ordo on Dec 7, 2013 10:32:04 GMT -8
The vessel that had survived the breach in realspace, had remained stationary throughout the entirety of their violent journey through the curtain of great night. Twelve TIE fighters had screamed through the void as they glided towards their intended target, bearing in mind the possibility of the craft being either mandalorian or allied in origin. For the TIE pilots, it was far too soon to tell which faction, let alone classification this space faring craft had belonged to. Though in a few seconds that would change, as the wing of TIE fighters had come within visual range of the unidentified craft. Enhancing the image through his helm’s magnification software, the wing commander had noted the vessel was Kuati in origin. It was a Firespray 31 – Class patrol and attack craft. Originally designed for the Old Republic and their correctional authorities, this vessel had become synonymous with the warrior nomads from Mandalore. Signalling the fleet that they had intercepted the craft and had confirmed it was Mandalorian, the squadron sprang into action.
The tight and chevron like formation had broken as the fighters began breaking off for their attack runs. In the three dimension environment of space, the TIE fighter was renowned for its extreme velocity and maneuverability. While the ship could not withstand a sustained stutter fire barrage, in greater numbers they could effectively swarm and destroy outnumbered targets. Spreading out along the points of a vertical compass, the TIE fighters shifted their positions to angle themselves for a better position in which to strike at their newest target. Whilst the rest of the squadron had broken off the main formation and set about striking the Firespray from various angles akin to the nautical sailors compass, the remaining four craft screamed forwards in an attempt to provoke the patrol craft to attack.
With the sound of their laser cannons cycling to full power resounding within the blued titanium hull, each pilot angled their vessels to match the position of the mandalorian craft. In the space of a single heartbeat, the targeting computers had garnered a weapons lock. As the chime sounded within the flight leader’s helmet, a rictus grin peeled across his lips. “I have you now.” He said as his fingers pulled tight upon the trigger of his flight stick. Two beams of super-heated plasma burst forth from the emitter arrays beneath the cockpit of the four advancing TIE fighters, casting their bolts into the depths of space and hurtling towards the Firespray. Accompanying the bolts of laser fire, the four eyeballs’s peeled off their target and maneuvered away from the mandalorian craft. These pilots would return once more to make another attack run, after the rest of their squadron had launched theirs. Like a swarm of flies about a decaying corpse, TIE fighters had begun to dance with Kuat’s newest visitor…Note: Eyeball is a derogatory term used by the cowardly Republic and Rebel Alliance forces to describe the standard TIE/LN (Line) Starfighter. This has been an Imperial public service announcement. For the Emperor! |
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Zulu Rochan
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He says he's a good guy.
Posts: 44
Affiliation: Dha Werda Verda (The Shadow Warriors)
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Post by Zulu Rochan on Dec 7, 2013 10:42:04 GMT -8
As the combat continued inside Medusa's hangar, Kray continued to manipulate the new rotor control coil so that he could insert it into the engine panel. After several seconds of doing so, the coil finally clicked into place inside its socket, which was confirmed by yet another electric spark. The lights inside the Justice flashed and Kray's HUD informed him via its link with the ship that the problem had been solved. But he decided to stay put so as not to distract the rest of the Shadow Warriors.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2013 12:37:08 GMT -8
Several light hours from Kuat seven ships dropped out of hyperspace. The massive amalgamations metal, ceramics, power cores, components. Deep within the machines pulsed the life's blood of the unliving beasts, the crew. The crew was not in typical cloth uniforms, but rather encased in their own metal linings, each face was identical. Clones, they were genetically identical gray skinned Taung, and their helmets reflected their history with the T slit visors as worked their stations in the final half frenzied actions before battle. The massive ships maneuvered into final positions, the smaller 900 meter long smaller direct relatives of the Keldabe class battleships, the Mandokar class Star Frigates set themselves between and slightly below the much larger heavily armored slab sided Mishmure'cya Light Star Cruisers, their unequally stretched diamond surfaces marred by massive super-firing turbolaser turrets, their emitters 8 meters in diameter. Each of the massive barrels pulsed out as much energy as 98 heavy turbolasers per bolt, each ship had 14 heavily armored triple turrets. These glistened dull bronze in the faint light of the distant stars as they rotated to the port side as the ships themselves rotated to port, orienting themselves in preparation for the short hyperspace jump that would take them within range of the distant world of Kuat.
The line was complete. Three Mishmure'cya's in line with the three Mandokar class Star Frigates in between each, with a Mandokar in the lead. The fourth Mishmure'cya, the lead ship of the class of the same name stood off to one side, not forming up. That ship had its own mission. It no longer sported the massive turbolaser turrets of its sisters, instead it had been partially repaired but stripped of its heavy weaponry and its power systems dedicated to one of the largest and most powerful holographic projectors and signal projectors. In ten minutes the anyone with a powerful enough star gazing scope or electrobinoculars would be able to see the new formation of gleaming stars...but in only a few short moments, very few people would be looking for the line of dots, but rather at the slab armored hulls up close and personal.
Another ship had also reverted from hyperspace. This ship however was far afield from the rest, and came in completely cloaked. The Type I class Star Monitor was the only one of its kind, and it was intended to only be a prototype to follow on classes it was shaped much differently than conventional ships being a stretched lozenge with two large turbolasers in disc shaped mounts that rotated allowing the heavier than normal turbolasers have a 270 degree fire arc. The true strength of this vessel however was the fact that not only did it possess a hybridium cloaking device, but it possessed three Crystal Gravfield Traps, one in the nose, one in the aft of the ship, and finally, one that could be towed a dozen kilometers to the rear, gravitational information was triangulated from all three sensor arrays and arranged into a gravitational map of the space around the ship. Armed with this information the ship was capable of detecting and tracking targets, and maneuvering towards or around them. In addition the ship had been constructed with a series of variable strength gravitational projectors that served to cloak the ship from sensors similar to its own. That was not the only technology built into the hull, some was old, and mostly long forgotten...but not lost. Force Mask technology shielded and muddied the mental and Force Presence of the crew inside, hiding them from Force Users. The true power of this ship however, was in its seven torpedo tubes that would launch 10 meter diameter 40 meter long torpedoes that carried the same level of technological sophistication as the ship that launched them. Inside the torpedo resided 2 hypermatter containment reactors, with the same power rating as a CR90 Corvette.
Taung, watching from the Nasreyc finally approved of the fleets final positioning and awaited the word.
Admiral Holland turned to him.::All ship accounted for and answer final combat orders. Your fleet is fully at your command sir.::Taung acknowledged the formal message and stood glancing around the buried bridge at the representation of the his fleet displayed on the walls, and then down at the holographic representation in miniature below him. He looked up at the wall that showed the planet of the fleets attention.::Jump.::The six ships in line blurred into psuedomotion and disappeared from the plane of existence for a few moments.OVER KUAT's NORTH POLE The six ships appeared in line a powerful battle line over Kuat's northern pole at a distance of 250,000 kilometers, 2/3rds of effective combat range for heavy turbolasers under reasonable maneuvering ship to ship combat. The ships took final aim at the Golon III defense station that Dark Tide had placed to defend the northern hemisphere of the planet as the Mishmure'cya ships positioned most of their ranged shield generators, layering them in between the fleet and the defenders. The moment was there, the absolute breathless silence before battle when both sides realized that death was literally about to swing its scythe, and harvest beings to the left and the right as it went down its list. ::Open Fire.::The gunners fingers tightened on firing studs and capacitors shrieked as the flank heavy turbolasers started firing sapphire streaks of coherent charged particles towards the Golan that would strike in 20 seconds. The series of smaller dashes of the heavy turbolasers continued to hammer out their cadence as the gunners in charge of the superheavy turrets confirmed their target. A voice came over the comm system.::Standby. Standbye.:: A warning claxon blared its buzzing warning and then the ship shivered. The engineers who were closest to the machinery instinctively clamped their hands over their helmets and ducked down away as the deafening screeching roar of the superheavy turbolasers releasing their energy shook the very air inside the heavily armored turret. On the outside of the ship, one barrel in each turret fired together, followed by a second, and then the last. The holocams on the hull of the ship flared out into static as the massive blue pulses overwhelmed their ability to compensate for the intensity of the light and power that poured into them. Observers blinked away the afterimages of the veins in their eyes that they had tightly pressed shut with hands over their eyes protectively before returning to see the continuing barrage from the heavy turbolaser batteries while the superheavy turbolasers charged for ten seconds before roaring again. Aboard the Golan III stationed at the North Pole. Found within the confines of his command throne, Commander Sisco began poring over the reports generated from the southern pole. It seemed that Captain Aximand had been justified in placement of the two newly commissioned gun platforms at these locations. For it seemed that their adversary had decided to approach the system warily, most likely to avoid smashing their precious hulls against the traps the Captain had orchestrated. How they knew about the shrouded floaters was a mystery, though Sisco knew that there was a scouting vessel somewhere within the sector. All of their positions, at the time of transmission, were most likely known by the enemy forces seeking to annihilate Kuat and her defenders. If the Dark Tide had commissioned Golan arms for a better and more modernized version of the gun platform, the Commander knew he wouldn’t have his Chief of Operations running ragged to ensure the station was combat ready. The man had a wife and kid to take care of, though he had never met them personally, he knew they were likely to be nice folks. Thinking of all the people he had come to know over the past week, the ebon clad male of human origin, wondered if this Taung H’rel would grant them a merciful and swift death should he ever arrive. Sipping a doubly sweetened cup of freshly brewed caf, Commander Sisco placed the dataslate down upon the armrest of his throne. He felt like a god as he watched the curtain of great night stretch out before him, stewing over the feeling he and the several ships that accompanied him, held sway over who arrived and departed from this sector of space. In a morbid sense, Commander Sisco held the power of life and death within the palm of his hand!
His crew had been drilled to the point of exhaustion, ever since they had taken their posts. Despite the dark circles beneath their eyes, they were ready for whatever would come next. Come hell or high water, they would see to the defense of their homeworld. If they had to pay the ultimate price in order to keep Kuat spinning about its axis for just one more day, then so be it. Everyone aboard the Defiant was ready and willing to put their lives on the line for the men and women of the Dark Tide. For the things that they had done for the people of Kuat, it seemed only fitting that the people themselves did what they could in order to give something back to their benevolent masters. Guarding a certain section of space seemed to be trivial in comparison to the greater picture, but Commander Sisco knew how important this corridor was. The northern pole of Kuat would provide an unhindered access to the planet below, as it was bereft of asteroids and mines. The man smiled as he thought about the theoretical events that would take place when their foes had arrived. Would his station be the one to launch the first volley against these invaders, or would the table be turned? As there was a lack of hostile ships in the void before him, such speculations held no weight.
That was when his world had spun upside down.
Bursting forth from the shroud of infinite black, six massive vessels appeared in the skies above Kuat. All Commander Sisco had time to do before the first volley was issued from their guns was spit a gobbet of double sweetened caf onto the deck. The command section of the Golan III platform erupted into a state of chaos, as everything transpired before him in slow motion. His communications officer was roaring into her headset, an effort that proved to be in vain as the terminal beneath her breast erupted in a shower of fire and sparks. Rocketed backwards by the resultant explosion, her body landed in a crumpled heap a few feet away. Her beauteous form was broken by carbon scores and first degree burns. In the mere microseconds after she had landed, the back of her skull pistoned against the raised dais of the Commander’s throne. A resounding crack went unheard as various scenes of carnage played out before him. Sisco could not believe his eyes when he had forced them to blink, hoping that all of this was a delusion of his fatigue addled mind. When they had opened a split second later, his heart had caught in his throat. Death surrounded him as the first volley had sunk its teeth into his battle station, crippling the Golan platform before a response could be made. The shields were gone within seconds of these massive technological terrors opening fire, a flickering blue light that had encapsulated the platform sputtered out. A mere heartbeat later, the hull had been compromised and opened to the invisible predators of the void.
Thrown from his seat and cast onto the decking below, Commander Sisco attempted to regain his footing. That plan had been thrown out as soon as the tail end of the volley had impacted the outer section of the station, throwing him flat to the floor once more. He could not stand, the violent tremors of his station being pulled apart by two opposing forces had seen to his body remaining prone for the time being. In a way, he was glad that his crew had died at their posts. It meant that even in death they still served, and when he returned to the pleasure of their company in the afterlife, he would be proud to say that he was honoured to serve by them in life. As thee station rocked one more time, the Commander keyed his personal wrist bound communicator and issued a single message to the planet below.
The Mandalorian’s had come.
When the last of the recycled oxygen had been expelled from his lungs, a loud warning klaxon played over the stations speakers. The reactor core had been breached and that failure was imminent. It was advised that they were to rush to the saviour pods in hopes of rocketing away from the station before the contained star within violently atomized everyone aboard the Defiant. Commander Sisco started to laugh at the irony of the situation, for just moments before he had considered himself a god, holding sway over the powers of life and death. How misguided he was back then, and how ironic it was that the enemy he sought to send to the darkest pits of hell had in turn done the deed for him. Consigning his remains to live forever more as particulate dust orbiting the planet he called home. For some odd reason he thought it was poetic justice becoming reality, but in the end it didn’t matter. The barrage from the enemy vessels had taken its toll upon the Defiant and the Golan III’s reactor had gone nova. In a massive detonation the reactor had violently exploded, causing whatever remained within the gun platform to atomize in the fury of the stations death. Those that were lucky and had managed to survive the initial volley were swept into the black sea upon the radioactive winds of the Defiant’s death. It was not long after that their deaths had followed after the stations demise. The station and all hands were lost within the opening moments of the invasion, and things were not looking good for the defenders of the Dark Tide.Aboard the Victory II – Class Star Destroyer; Designate: Yzma. Captain Kale watched in abstract horror as the Defiant had fallen prey to the savagery of the Mandalorian assault. The gun platform they had tugged into place just hours before was destroyed within a matter of seconds, leaving the Captain bereft of her voice. For a single fleeting moment, hesitation and terror had crawled along the length of her spine. It was ill befitting an officer of the Dark Tide’s naval forces, but she was only human. Everything within her wanted to take her ship about and flee the sector. To cower before the might and majesty of the mandalorian menace, so that she might live to see another day. It would take nothing more than a single word, go, and she and her crew would be able to flee the battle to see their families once more before the end of all things. Though that was when logic began to dictate her actions, rather than her heart. As much as she wanted to see her father one last time, Kale would be doing him a disservice by running away when the battle had become joined. Dishonour and guilt would be her burden to carry, and one she would never rid herself of when the time had come for death to claim her. She would not be able to join her comrades in arms in the afterlife, instead she would be sent to one of the darkest circles of chaos, where her fate would to be too horrid to even imagine.
Shaking the doubt from her mind, she steeled herself for what was to come. Donning her proverbial mail and wielding her aetheric blade, Captain Kale had become the warrior she was trained to be. As the particulate debris from the Golan III’s reactor disintegrated when it rolled along the edges of her particle shields, her guns swiveled to the ready. The action was mirrored across the hulls of her sister ships, as each began feeding the other targeting solutions. Each and every one of the Victory II Star destroyers stationed above the North Pole were out classed and out gunned by the massive mandalorian vessels. The smaller ships had little hope of winning against such technological terrors, but Captain Kale took solace in the idea of stalling these vessels long enough for their allies to come and finish what she started. Perhaps if she had gotten lucky, the combined might of these five destroyers would be able to punch a hole in one of the mandalorian ships, bloodying its nose before following the Defiant into deaths embrace.
Dozens of guns, turreted heavy and medium turbolaser cannons and their ion compatriots, turned with malicious slowness as they locked onto a single vessel. Spread out as they were after the explosion of the Defiant, each Victory II had little time to maneuver in order to bring the greatest amount of guns to bear. So the strength she had desired would be reduced by a significant fraction, in comparison to the ideal situation. With nearly two-thirds of her guns unable to fire at their newest target whom held station upon the farthest section of the newly materialized battle line, a sigh of frustration slipped past her perturbed veneer. Bloody their nose, she repeated to herself and having it become a mantra thereafter. That was her goal, and if she accomplished that before her vessel was opened up to the void, then she could and would gladly die a proud woman. Orbiting above the axis of the planet with direct line of sight to the Mandalorian fleet, the first wave of response fire had been launched in a volley like fashion. Lines of superheated emerald and azure energy speared through the curtain of night, seeking to score a concentrated hit against their targeted foe. Having remained stationary as they launched their first volley, the Ion drives of the smaller destroyers flared into action. When next they would strike, they would do so with a more favourable position… |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2013 13:56:49 GMT -8
Zulu flinched behind his mask as one of the bright red bolts of energy skimmed across the unarmored portion of his left arm, just below his shoulder. It was either an incredibly lucky shot, or a very good shooter. Di'iro and Ti'iro Menda dropped from the sides of the ramp and onto the hard floor below, each on one side of the platform. Zulu didn't care enough to keep his communications encoded at this point. Whatever he was to say could be heard clearly and audibly. "Verda!" he yelled, his voice nearly mute in the loud blaster fire that consumed the hangar. "Jurkad bah ara'novor!" The Menda twins nodded simultaneously in confirmation of this command and leaned over the ramp, firing blue blasts of light from small barrels on their wrists. The conflicting red energy soared over their heads. Zulu noted to activate his personal shield, and with a thought, he did so. His armor was wired to his neural system, after all. The blue lasers were aimed, very accurately so, at the Stormtroopers' joints and hands. Nonlethal shots. Hopefully the white-clad soldiers would drop their weapons upon contact. Zulu crouched down on the ramp to avoid incoming fire, despite the presence of his invisible shield, and slung his right hand down quickly. A small cartridge dropped from his gauntlet and quickly folded into the large and somewhat bulky shape of a DC-17m blaster carbine, colored just as dark as the rest of his armor. He fired rapidly, aiming for the same targets as his allies did, hoping to incapacitate the hostile soldiers. Bolt upon bolt of blaster fire smashed into an invisible dome around him, and his HUD informed him that its energy decreased with each shot, but he ignored this for the time being. Inside the Justice, more specifically in the freighter's engine room, Kray tampered with a spindle of wire inside of an open panel on the wall. He had heard the soldiers around the craft open fire on his own allies, but this did not deter him from repairing what needed to be fixed in order to re-stabilize the YT-1300 Freighter when it returned to flight. The engineer realized that it was the internal rotor control coil that needed a minor replacement, and he was actually surprised that such a small component malfunction could cause such devastation to the craft. He pried one edge of the older coil from inside the panel, but a large spark of electricity caused him to quickly pull his hand back. After the energy had dissipated, he began to pull on the springy coil again, and successfully removed it, though the force required nearly caused him to fall to the floor. He then picked the object's replacement up from the floor next to him and began to shove it into place inside the panel, grunting as he pushed against the wall in an attempt to force the component into its socket. As the combat continued inside Medusa's hangar, Kray continued to manipulate the new rotor control coil so that he could insert it into the engine panel. After several seconds of doing so, the coil finally clicked into place inside its socket, which was confirmed by yet another electric spark. The lights inside the Justice flashed and Kray's HUD informed him via its link with the ship that the problem had been solved. But he decided to stay put so as not to distract the rest of the Shadow Warriors.
Leaning out of cover, he spotted the four men who had fallen prey to the well drilled and disciplined fire of the mandalorian soldiers. To his surprise, they were not gunned down after the tactical squad had been forced behind the safety of the empty cargo crates. That alone was starting to nag upon his conscious mind, as he was told these religious zealots would kill him and his men without a second thought. Yet the evidence to disprove such a fact was laid before his eyes for him to see. Could it be that these men were not like the generalized conception of their culture? The soldier couldn’t say as he pulled his battle helm back behind the security of the impromptu barricade. Ejecting a spent cartridge from the housing of his weapon, the imperial marine slapped a fresh cell into his weapon and racked the slide. Say what you will about the rebel propaganda concerning the stormtrooper effect, the acts taking place upon this vessels flight deck alone had proven such vile words were nothing more than wind. Some of the Imperial marines had scored hits against the warriors whom had recently emerged from the belly of the corellian craft, even considering they were protected by energy shields and the bulk of their vessel, such a feat was proof of their training.
Any idea that was placed within a mind was a corruptive and fickle thing. The simple fact that his men were not gunned down as they attempted to strategically withdraw behind cover, began to eat away at the Sergeant. It made him consider issuing an order to cease fire, to meet these men face to face and talk like men. Such a thing would be looked down upon by his higher ups if he had not explained his actions, but if he was wrong; and that these men merely wanted to leave his brothers in arms in agonizing pain while they dealt with the rest of the squad, then it wouldn’t really matter in the end. He would be long dead before his commanders had a chance to issue a fresh reprimand. |
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Panno
The First Order
Posts: 365
Affiliation: Imperial Knights
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Post by Panno on Dec 7, 2013 14:13:38 GMT -8
Captain Aximand was taken aback when the vidlink flashed active. The quality of the hologram was substandard in comparison to the ones found upon the ‘Black Caisson’, but for the time being it was bearable. The flickering azure image that had bathed him in a wash of blue light caused the Captain to blink in order to adjust to the drastic change in colour. Why they couldn’t have upgraded their hololithic suites, he wondered as the man named Finnick introduced the names of his compatriots. The fact they were Imperial knights or other imperials for that matter had not surprised him. The collapse of the Remnant most likely had caused whatever remained behind to fracture of into splinter groups, thus taking the shock and awe from his system as soon as he saw the distinctive armour painted in a shade of blue by the antiquated holosuite. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Master Finnick. Logan’s voice remained calm and rife with authority as he spoke, Under different circumstances, I would answer your questions. However as there is a war going on, I’ll have to verify which side you swear fealty to before I can continue. The Captain’s expressions were cast in stone as he spoke, carefully hiding the frustrations of fighting a war upon many fronts with a lack luster smile. It was a curving of the lips about the edges of his mouth that showcased he was pleased to see another Imperial but kind enough to keep his wariness in check. I understand you’re hanging friendly pennants from your signalling masts, but our Mandalorian foe may be more cunning than I expect him to be. So, do you fight for those seeking to annihilate those sensitive to the force, or against those religious zealots? Logan was not hungry for the games of deception, and if he sensed even a slight hint of duplicity the vessel and the occupants within would be turned to energized dust within a matter of moments. He could not bear the shame of letting a single enemy through without a fight. As he waited for the answer, in the microseconds after asking the question, the Captain cocked a curious eyebrow and stole a glance at his second officer dealing with a situation elsewhere in the sector. |
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Zulu Rochan
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Post by Zulu Rochan on Dec 7, 2013 14:14:26 GMT -8
Zulu witnessed the Stormtroopers' retreat, if it could be called that, and held a hand up in the air in silent command to his allies. The other two men stopped firing their wrist blasters and withdrew their arms, standing up from their hiding spot behind the ramp. The status bar on Zulu's HUD representing the energy level of his shields filled up as the blaster fire ceased to strike his protective barrier, and he expelled an empty energy cartridge from his carbine. The soldier quickly loaded another cartridge into it after retrieving said cartridge from his backpack, and with a satisfying series of clicks, the rifle folded back up into another small chip and receded into his gauntlet. Zulu nodded toward the crates behind which the Imperials were taking cover and spoke aloud. "Beskar'gam," he said flatly. The men behind him were revealed as their black armor folded up into the backpacks that they were previously wearing, and the white jumpsuits, boots, gloves and belts that they wore underneath were very intact. Zulu did the same, and there was a scorch on his left sleeve where he had been shot earlier, though there was no hole or rip. Di'iro and Ti'iro moved in to join Zulu as he cautiously approached the crates, raising his hands in the air slowly to show that he meant no harm.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2013 15:10:30 GMT -8
The Dark fleet stood still in the darkness of space, sitting in a tight diamond formation. The two SDs in the middle, surrounded by the accompanying ships. It would be perfect for escort of the SD's but would it provide a tactical advantage was the question. Shun Flvin stood at the helm of one of the SD's. He traveled to the bridge, only to be greeted by the Fleet's officers. Nod's were exchanged, and Shun made his way towards the hologram projector. A few buttons were clicked, a final switch was made, and a hologram was quickly projected. Shun stood tall in his beskar'gam, It's gold trim illuminated his body, giving off a slight aura of light. He looked towards the hologram projector, slowly took of his helmet and placed it to his side. He quickly cleared his voice, and began to give his fleet it's final words of encouragement.
This is it, this is OUR time. My brothers and sisters, we have finally reached the wretched world of Kuat. Our job is simple, get boots on the ground, and cripple their defense systems. We have three targets located at sectors 1,2,3. Brigades 1,2,3 will go to their respective numbers. Our job may be simple enough, but their are a lot of people still around. They are NOT our objective, do not get distracted by the civilians on the KDYs. Shun paused for a moment, looking down to his hand. He clenched it tight for a moment, a sudden surge of pain entered his hand. He quickly looked back towards the hologram. Were moving with our Mandalorian brothers, along with a group known as GALSAF. A tight nit military force, capable of providing us support. Shun smirked, just the thought of so many troops made him anxious to get moving. Your Company commanders have been briefed, and you'll be getting your individual orders when the time is right. In any case, I want nothing but a swift and total victory. I will be on the ground with you, and I will see to the destruction of these objectives. I vercopa jate'kara, akaanir urakto ner vods. Shun gave a quick nod, put on his helmet and deactivated the hologram. He turned around and was immediately greeted with the eyes of his troops. The ship's admiral stood at ease behind him, awaiting his command. Shun looked around quickly, and returned back to the Admiral. "Let's make the jump." With in a second, the admiral gave the order, and the fleet made the jump to hyperspace towards the planet.NEAR KUAT'S SOUTH POLE
Dha Gra'tua came out of hyperspace rather quickly, and arrived at the south pole of Kuat. The ships came to a sudden halt, and regrouped themselves for the eventual attack. The fleet began to change it's formation, far enough away from the planet itself. The Corvettes began to make a circle around the two SDs, while the assault ships stayed on the outside of them. The troop ships moved towards the middle, while the Pursuer's began to fill into the empty spaces. It was a bold strategy, anything to protect the troops that were needed to make it on the ground. Once the ships were in place, the Admiral on board looked towards his commander. Shun looked around the bridge, and slowly looked back. He gave a quick hand signal, pointing towards the front. The admiral did not hesitate, and moved towards the comm link in front of him. All ships open fire!
The darkness of space quickly changed to an elaborate light show, blue lasers quickly flooded the space around them. All weapons were pointed towards the KDYs Golan Defense Platform at the South Pole of the planet, and towards anyone that was defending them. Shun wanted the combat in space to be quick, but he knew it would take time before he could get on the ground. The weapon systems were at full effect, and the fleet was in a perfect position. That would be, until the eventual push forward towards the planet itself.
Aboard the Victory II-class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Evanora’ Out of all the Captains whom held the chair of the Evanora, Captain Ryner was the only Zabrak to ever hold captaincy of the vessel. It was an esteemed honour his executive officer had ensured to voice his doubts over. His second in command had been transferred onto the Evanora, after the Imperial Remnant aligned vessel enlisted within the Dark Tide. He was once Logan Aximand’s third officer and had an unsubtle hatred of anything that was not human. Ryner smiled slightly as he thought of how much this man must hate taking orders from an alien species. As he stood before his command throne, with arms embraced behind his back, the Zabrak officer began directing his bridge crew in the completion of their duties. As he and the other ships in the armada were tasked with the highest of alert settings, their weapon arrays were primed and the shields had been cycled. They, though few in number, were ready for whatever may come.
Ryner did not have to wait long as translation tears began appearing upon the edges of his short range scanners, and it seemed they were great in number. His ritually scarred face parted slightly as the man’s smile grew ever larger. The Mandalorians had come to Kuat and his foes had at last revealed their strength. Numbering twenty eight and consisting of various designs, both Mandalorian and Kuati in nature, Ryner’s smile had faded slightly. This flotilla of ships had not been like the one that had been reported at the northern pole; in fact this one had seemed to carrying a significant portion of their crusaders whom sought to get their boots on the ground. Had the Mandalorian commander sought to break a hole through their defenses at the northern pole, drawing any and all combat operational vessels there, so that this flotilla could easily enter the planet’s orbit and discharge its troops without having to fight through a blockade?
The Zabrak was glad that he was ordered to fill the gap in Aximand’s defensive net, for if he had followed through with his gut instinct, he and the vessels now stationed about his would be engaged by the beskar clad behemoths, doomed to be nothing more than chaff before the scythe. Here at the southern pole, he and the forces stationed there would be more than capable of holding the line against smaller and more girth laden vessels. Before the enemy had finished its translation cycle, the Zabrak Captain had taken his seat and ordered his helmsman to plot in an intercept course with the approaching flotilla. He shook his head no when the officer stared up at him for permission to set the Evanora free. She would hold her position alongside her sister craft, letting their guns whittle down the approaching hostiles before letting their ion engines flare.
In the silence of space, with menacing precision, the guns of the Victory II’s had swiveled to meet the vile invaders. Targeting solutions were feed through the ship as they poured into the well of gunnery control, dozens of heavy turbolasers locked into position beside their lighter variants awaiting the order to light up the darkness of the black sea. When it came, a thunderous staccato of super-heated engery burst forth from the formation bound vessels. Condensed emerald light was cast off the starboard and bow sections of the warship, followed swiftly by the trademarked azure of the ion cannons. The first stone had been cast, but as the Zabrak blinked, he knew such a thing was not true. It had been the Mandalorians whom committed the first volley into the darkness of the void, their weapons flared with varied discharges. An order was issued and the Captain clawed the armrests of his throne, a myriad of their bolts had impacted against his vessel’s shield but as his communications officer had noted, the Golan defense platform had taken the brunt of the assault.
Thankful that the damage to the NovaGun platform and the Victory II’s had been minimal, the Captain mouthed a silent prayer in anticipation of the deaths to come. In this theatre of war, there would and could only be victory. To lose was to lose everything, even one’s stake in the mortal realm. Knowing they would fire again, the Zabrak removed himself from the command throne, only to find he was standing before the hololithic tactical display. The Golan platform had reported several issues in its dorsal turrets, an unforeseen event that caused only twenty two of the turbolaser batteries to fire, instead of the desired twenty five. All of the proton torpedoes were loaded into the tubes, but due to the fact the Mandalorian flotilla was out of effective firing range for such weapons, they had remained dormant until the order had been given. Keeping that ace in the hole would prove to be an asset during the later stages of the battle, as the Commander of that station knew his defense platform well despite the week of battle drills he had endured.
As his volley screamed through the emptiness of the void, the Captain began preparing for the inevitable eventuality that the opposing flotilla of troop ships and combat carriers would stalk towards the planet in the hopes of breaking his meager blockade… |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2013 16:37:46 GMT -8
Bralex opened up the engines and gave them as much forward thrust as they could muster. He then began to rotate the Firespray in a clockwise barrel roll. This hopefully would help avoided some of the laser fire. He depressed his own laser triggers opening up at the incoming TIE fighters. Several laser bolts hit, causing some minor damage but not effecting important systems, yet, He began to arm the autopilot, preparing for a trick up his sleeve...
With adrenaline coated anger floating freely through his veins, the flight leader and his TIE fighter banked sharply. Blinded by his emotions, the pilot broke from flight plan and began to improvise. Muttered assurances of protocol spilled from his mouth as he stressed his TIE fighter to its limit and brought himself about. Now he had the killer of his friend’s in his sights, the man did not even wait for target lock before he started to cycle his weapons. Beams of condensed emerald energy were spat from the emitters below his cockpit as he began his attack run. Wildly cast in various directions, the flight leader didn’t care. He felt justified in the act of unleashing much of his fighter’s power in a vain attempt to enact revenge against this blasted mandalorian pilot. Whilst the lone TIE fighter had broken formation to garner some satisfaction for the death of his comrades, the others continued on their swarm like maneuvers, taking pot shots when they had garnered target lock only to break away once their run had been completed. |
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Bralex Ordo
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Post by Bralex Ordo on Dec 7, 2013 17:14:24 GMT -8
And so the slow dance towards death continued as the four TIE fighters had turned their backs to the Firespray gunship. A jolt of surprise echoed through the squadron level comm channel as the mandalorian vessel had shot into action. One of the pilots had reported that the craft had surged forward in a rotating clockwise fashion and that he and his partners would have to adjust their angle of approach in order to intercept. That surprise slowly turned into stunted misery as his helmet’s aural dampeners kicked in, safeguarding his ears from the death screams of two of his pilots. Their life signs winked out as the crafts miniature reactors took a direct hit, sending myriad pieces of the starfighter hurtling separately into the void. His wing was gravely wounded by the loss of two combat ready pilots, but the flight leader knew his men would recover momentarily. It was the life of any TIE pilot, courting death became a daily occurrence within the space bound eyeball, leaving those that survived grim and bitter. The losses had found a chink in his armour, as these two men were his closest friends. He grew up with these fellow pilots, considered them family! And now they were nothing but atomized ash, lost to the pages of history.
With adrenaline coated anger floating freely through his veins, the flight leader and his TIE fighter banked sharply. Blinded by his emotions, the pilot broke from flight plan and began to improvise. Muttered assurances of protocol spilled from his mouth as he stressed his TIE fighter to its limit and brought himself about. Now he had the killer of his friend’s in his sights, the man did not even wait for target lock before he started to cycle his weapons. Beams of condensed emerald energy were spat from the emitters below his cockpit as he began his attack run. Wildly cast in various directions, the flight leader didn’t care. He felt justified in the act of unleashing much of his fighter’s power in a vain attempt to enact revenge against this blasted mandalorian pilot. Whilst the lone TIE fighter had broken formation to garner some satisfaction for the death of his comrades, the others continued on their swarm like maneuvers, taking pot shots when they had garnered target lock only to break away once their run had been completed. |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2013 17:41:52 GMT -8
On the closest edge to the minefield, keeping well clear of the attacking fleets, sat the RDMC Medical fleet:
5 - Hope-class Hospital Ship "Hope 001, Hope 002, Hope 003, Hope 004, Hope 005"
2 - Modified Acclamator III-class Assault Ships "Acclamator Medical Zero-One, Acclamator Medical Zero-Two"
1 - Chiss Assault Cruiser
Teams of medics, doctors and droids were busy preparing for the inflow of patients and the last of the civilians to be evaced. Leo Transports were almost jam packed into the hangars of the fleet, waiting to deploy and begin rescue ops. Fleet Admiral Prard'rau'ghellion stood aboard the bridge of the Acclamator Medical Zero-One, checking on the holo display as it showed Kuat, KDY, the defences, and the various defensive and offensive fleets as they engaged. His orders were to keep the fleet out of the fighting, help the wounded, and get the civilians out. They were simple enough orders, but as more fleets jumped in, it was growing ever more difficult to stay out of harms way.
He then circled the Residential Space Station of the KDY on the holo display, before it was highlighted due to the interactive effect of the display. A group of 3 Leo Transports then deployed from one of the hangars of Medical Zero-One, heading for the Residential Space Station.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2013 17:42:36 GMT -8
As he looked through the details of the of the crossfire schematic, Borodin had noticed that they had requested to establish communications. Looking to see his comms officer already engrossed in a conversation with the Republic taskforce, the executive officer stole a headset from the tactical display and responded. Pariah One, this is Commander Borodin of the ‘Black Caisson.’ We are honoured that the Jedi have responded so quickly to our request for aid and welcome you to Kuat. Sadly the conditions are not what they should be when welcoming a friend. Distracted, the Kuati officer paused for a moment. His gruff and heavily accented voice slowly began to die off, as the sounds of flesh stabbing at the command keys of a console. It seemed more of these Jedi fighters had arrived in system, and the Commander was starting to think that soon Kuat would play host to the entire Jedi Order. Borodin smiled at the thought of having hundreds of lightsaber wielding meatshields standing between him and the relentless advance of the mandalorian crusaders. Though he doubted such an event would occur, it was still a pleasurable thought. The information I am about to send you will be transmitted to your newly arrived comrades as well. The packet contains detailed schematics of the outer tiers of Kuat’s defenses and the current strength and IFF transponders of the flotilla in orbit. As you have answered our call for aid in regards to the non-combatants, I have plotted a course through our picket lines for you to use at your discretion. The residential area has been highlighted so that you may proceed with your task of providing cover for the evacuation efforts. ‘Black Caisson,’ over and out.
The sensation was odd, to be certain. He had never experienced a Force Meld before...at least, not while piloting a starfighter. He wasn't certain he liked the idea of others embedded with his own, intimate thoughts; but he knew--from research--that squadrons in a meld were much more efficient. But all his training reflected a need to keep his mind his own. He needed to restrain his initial impulse to deflect the hive-mind.Devlin consciously allows the group to intrude upon his thoughts. He lowered the usual protective barriers and opened himself to the jumble that was the meld.His calm thoughts, interspersed with a bit of odd humor, mingled with the members of Pariah squadron. Closing his eyes, Devlin brings the minds of his Jedi pilots into the meld. Then he barrel rolls over Arcturus' Owool. He opens his eyes and points to the squadron of TIE Fighters.Where do you think they're going? |
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor 
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Dec 7, 2013 19:07:40 GMT -8
Zulu witnessed the Stormtroopers' retreat, if it could be called that, and held a hand up in the air in silent command to his allies. The other two men stopped firing their wrist blasters and withdrew their arms, standing up from their hiding spot behind the ramp. The status bar on Zulu's HUD representing the energy level of his shields filled up as the blaster fire ceased to strike his protective barrier, and he expelled an empty energy cartridge from his carbine. The soldier quickly loaded another cartridge into it after retrieving said cartridge from his backpack, and with a satisfying series of clicks, the rifle folded back up into another small chip and receded into his gauntlet. Zulu nodded toward the crates behind which the Imperials were taking cover and spoke aloud. "Beskar'gam," he said flatly. The men behind him were revealed as their black armor folded up into the backpacks that they were previously wearing, and the white jumpsuits, boots, gloves and belts that they wore underneath were very intact. Zulu did the same, and there was a scorch on his left sleeve where he had been shot earlier, though there was no hole or rip. Di'iro and Ti'iro moved in to join Zulu as he cautiously approached the crates, raising his hands in the air slowly to show that he meant no harm. "Cease fire." The Sergeant erred on the side of caution as he issued the order, peering around the crate, his E-11 still raised. He called over to the advancing combatants, doubling checking their appearance. He could have sworn they were wearing armor just a moment ago. His eyes flicked down to his fallen men, their anguish prompting him to move forward to secure the hangar. The security officer was screaming in his ear about shots fired in the hangar and a sitrep. He kept his rifle raised, zeroed in on the front man's chest. He barked at the interlopers, his men taking spots on each side of him. "Identify yourself!" |
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Zulu Rochan
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Affiliation: Dha Werda Verda (The Shadow Warriors)
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Post by Zulu Rochan on Dec 8, 2013 12:09:10 GMT -8
"Cease fire." The Sergeant erred on the side of caution as he issued the order, peering around the crate, his E-11 still raised. He called over to the advancing combatants, doubling checking their appearance. He could have sworn they were wearing armor just a moment ago. His eyes flicked down to his fallen men, their anguish prompting him to move forward to secure the hangar. The security officer was screaming in his ear about shots fired in the hangar and a sitrep. He kept his rifle raised, zeroed in on the front man's chest. He barked at the interlopers, his men taking spots on each side of him. "Identify yourself!" Zulu halted his approach, responding very fluently and comprehensibly in galactic basic. "Dha Werda Verda," he identified. "We mean no harm. We sighted several Mando'a cruisers on a course toward the planet and came bearing warning. I see by your treatment of us that you were already very aware of them." Di'iro chuckled about this and his brother nudged him, implying a command for him to stay silent. "We're Tor'ade troopers. Do you know what that means?" |
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Ander Tagira
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Post by Ander Tagira on Dec 8, 2013 16:18:46 GMT -8
In silence, two more vessels appeared, drifting into place alongside their sister-ship, the Basterd's Hand. The first was a Nebula-class Star Destroyer dubbed the Hardpoint, and was equipped with the same DBY-927 Turbolasers as the first, though it lacked the Long-Range batteries boasted by the Basterd's Hand. The second vessel was rather small, an Arquitens-class Frigate named the Firestorm. This ship lacked additional weapons modifications, being strictly a medical vessel, though it was equipped with the same armor and shielding modifications as the rest of the GALSAF fleet. More efficient reactor cores and Mon Calamari-designed shielding systems gave all three vessels as much give as they had take.
And take they would.
The three vessels made their way in a triangular formation towards the friendly Mandalorian forces that were moving on the planet itself, reaching the rear of Taung H'rel's battle group just in time for the Mandalorian warlord to unleash the first shots of the battle, destroying one of the Kuati's Golan Defense Platforms with shocking ease. As the GALSAF fleet made their approach, the XJ-7 X-wings of GALCOM's Starfighter Group was launched from their respective bays, their S-foils opening as the flight split into their assigned squadrons and provided a defensive screen for their motherships. GALSAF's orbital forces held their position aft of Taung H'rel's own, prepared to chase off or destroy any hostile forces that might attempt to strike at the rear of the attacker's formation.
On board the Basterd's Hand, final preparations for an assault on the Kuat Shipyards were being completed…Ander Tagira, "GC-01"
Lord Commander of the Galactic Security Assistance Force "GALSAF"
Main Hangar Bay of GALSAF Flagship, Basterd's Hand
Kuat Orbit, Kuat System, Kuat Sector, Core Territories Ander Tagira stood at the side of the LA-AT/i gunship that would bear him and the rest of Jig Company to their insertion point on the shipyards, waiting for the last of their Commandos to board and get settled into the troop bay of the vessel. His helmet was clipped to his belt, his piercing eyes exposed to those around him as they searched the face of one man: Able Australis. Slowly, Ander nodded."We'll be seeing Jetti and Siit on the planet's surface, though I can't speak of their level of intelligence, my friend." Ander left his rifle to hang from its clip on his shoulder as he reached out and clasped hands with Australis. "Whether we face di'kute1 or mirdalase2, I'm confident we'll succeed here." Under normal circumstances, Ander might have smiled at Able's joking words, though the combat mentality had set itself into his heart by now, and he thought of nothing but the mission. His face remained a stone carving of concern, deliberation and calculation, an expression Able himself seemed to exemplify naturally. As they released their grip on each other's hands, Ander pointed away from the gunship assembly area and towards a lone LA-AT/i, painted black."That man there, Delmani Altic. He commands our Black Operations Group. You'll be riding with him." Ander cupped his hands to his mouth and called loudly across the bay. "Altic!" He shouted, catching the older man's attention. At a brusque trot, the Commando in mottled grey-brown armor made his way over, his buy'ce tucked under an arm."You rang, Tagira?" The man asked, a face resembling Jango Fett himself staring Australis down with a keen eye. Ander nodded and gestured towards Able. "This is Able Australis, he'll be accompanying BOG Unit One for this mission. He's an excellent shot, from what I have heard." Delmani looked the man over briefly and nodded. Ander took his leave and climbed into the troop bay of the Larty gunship, sealing his helmet over his head and leaning out to give a final word.Get the job done, Altic. That's all we need. Ander said before slapping the release on the panel near his head and the doors of the gunship slid to a close. Delmani held out a hand for Australis to grasp in greeting. "It's good to have a fellow vod3 along for the ride. I've heard plenty myself, and I can honestly say the rest of the team will enjoy having you with us." Delmani's tone was neutral, but touched with relief. One man could make the difference in a firefight, and Delmani was glad to have him."We'll be acting as a forward scouting unit for the Brigade once we hit dirtside. We'll strike for Kuat City in advance of the rest of the unit and perform a casual recce before slipping into the city's limits and doing whatever we can to sabotage the forces they have there. Artillery and heavy armor are our priority targets, though we'll have to pick off or eliminate any footsoldiers we run into along the way. Sound good to you?"1: Idiots
2: Intelligent persons, contextual translation
3: Friend |
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Jerek Morrows
The Jedi Order
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Post by Jerek Morrows on Dec 8, 2013 18:41:43 GMT -8
Everything happened so quickly, the defenses around the system coming to life seemed a blur even to those in direct contact with Kuati command. The ships were rocked by charges of energy ripping past at impossible speed, saved more by their powerful shields than the gracious distance of the fire. A frown set on Gardner's grim, ancient visage, and with a nod, the battle began on the Republic end, albeit several seconds later than it should have. Precious seconds that, we're they not already shielded, would have costed them greatly.
Red lights poured out into the hallways of the two Carriers, loud sirens blaring for officers and regulars alike to take hold of something as the turbulence became staggering. Pilots previously lost in pre-flight jitters found themselves at last in their element. This was where they had dreamed of being, even as children.
But the dream often seemed to become a nightmare in this job. Engines roared to life as the starfighters were scrambled, and it started with Reaper Squadron. All Black paint, metallic nonreflective, the XJ7s were near the top of their make- kept well by their pilots, though they had been upgraded several times in the past years, they were no less lethal with their contingent of seasoned pilots.
As Reaper One broke free of the womb of Gospodar's Might, flanked by his squad mates- a colorful bunch- Sebastien Garro craned his head back and ignored the rush of information his astromech pumped through the computer to him. Everything else but the fighter seemed to get in his way when he entered the danger zone, in the sort of way that made him seem almost uncooperative- but he knew better.
The Reapers trusted his instincts now more than they trusted a majority of the fleet's commanding officers. More times than they cared to remember, a gut feeling had saved their collective lives. And now, Garro stood at the forefront, flanked by 14 of the Devil's own rejects. Men he had hand picked from both the top flights in the galaxy, and from the bottom reaches of the justice system.
Sebastien knew he could trust every man with his life. So, when he cut his engines into forward at high speed, he didn't even need to speak to confirm that they were following dutifully.
Directly behind Reaper Squadron, the B-Wings erupted outward into a wide formation, fanning outward and opening a hard line with Garro. They would provide cover to Reaper as they made their dangerous trip toward the enemy fleet. Several of the small ships did small spins, breaking formation and moving their ships to stay close to Reaper. The first plunge was always the hardest, after all.
The larger vessels moved quickly to form up on the fleet defending the North Pole, remaining squadrons preparing to engage inside the as of yet disengaged ships.
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Taung H'rel
Retired High Councilor
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Affiliation: Galactic Empire
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Post by Taung H'rel on Dec 8, 2013 18:56:43 GMT -8
Taung watched as the Golon III disappeared into a rapidly expanding superheated mass of small pieces and elemental particles, colors rainbowing through the rapidly expanding gasses in a cascade of colors as their temperatures changed, radiating waste heat into the cold depths of vacuum. His eyes flicked to the representation of the incoming green bolts from the other enemy forces in this theater of the battle as they diffused and scattered against the first of the projected shields, and the outgoing stretched sapphires as his ships shifted their heavy turbolasers quickly to the group of five Victory II class Star Destroyers that began maneuvering against his battle line. Three of the Victories attracted the attention of a Mishmure'cya class Light Star Cruiser, and a Mandokar class Star Frigate. The lead firing pair taking the rightmost Victory, the middle pair firing at the one closest to the center, and the trailing pair that included the Nasreyc, firing on the leftmost Victory. The Kotyc and Kandosii, the lead and second Mandokar's fired their heavy concussion missiles and heavy proton torpedoes at the remaining two unengaged Vics, 80 missiles arced towards each ship, swinging wide in a spread pattern above and below the line of turbolaser fire as they took their relatively sweet time burning towards their distant objectives.
Taung's eyes flicked to the holographic representation of the battle in front of him as proximity alarms pulled the command staff's attention to the stern of the Orar where three ships had just appeared. He was pleased the the Orar had dropped two of its projected shield generators to its stern before the Imperial II and two Nebula class Star Destroyers started broadcasting IFF transponders identifying them as belonging to Ander Tagira. Inside his helmet hidden by his mask Taung's face turned stormy as he opened an encrypted channel to Ander.
::What are your ships doing on this side of the planet and not protecting your troop ships where they were planned to be, and who appear to be about to be overrun by a superior enemy force and slaughtered long before they can come near their objectives...::
The ship thudded and thumped through the bulkheads as the Nasreyc kept up its fire against its target vessel. The hit probability dropped drastically against a maneuvering target, especially at range, but the forces arrayed against him had little hope of survival if they stood their ground or actually tried to advance, which was what they seemed to be doing. At least that was what the initial maneuver appeared to indicate. Poor brave fools. But if he were in their place he supposed he would do the same.
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Mel Tervho
The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Mel Tervho on Dec 9, 2013 6:47:40 GMT -8
6 checked her verpine pistols again as she waited for the signal in Taung's quarters. She was edgy. The ship seemed to be in a state of controlled chaos to her but granted, she had never been on a ship this large let alone during a battle. She was unused to the hustle and bustle as crewmen scurried to their battle stations and yet seemed to be in an organized dance. This time, she was there as a Mandalorian. A real one, not a spy, not an assassin, not a dagger in the back saved for a tender embrace. She was still unsure that this Sith would jump the way Taung said they would. She hoped he was right. Their lives were depending on it. She checked her gear one more time, a nervous habit she seemed to be developing.
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