Ander Tagira
Member
Well, I'll be...
Posts: 567 
Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
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Post by Ander Tagira on Dec 13, 2013 22:42:00 GMT -8
Ander Tagira, "GC-01"
Lord Commander of the Galactic Security Assistance Force
LA-AT/i Gunship inside the Bow Hangar of the Basterd's Hand Ander gritted his teeth as Taung's voice played out in his helmet before the transmission was ended. Whatever the man thought of a "plan" hadn't consisted of any verbal communication he was aware of. The last Ander had worked out with the other commanders was to head straight for the surface as a single spherical formation, using the collective protection offered by their overlapping shields to bring their ground forces to a safe landing on the planet below. Ander brought up a brief scan of the area onto his HUD, searching for Shun's forces and swearing to himself as he caught sight of one of Taung's prize vessels, a Mishmure'cya-class Light Star Cruiser dubbed the Skira disappear from all existence in a blinding flash of sequential detonations. One of the Kuati Victory Star Destroyers had made a short hyperjump and scuttled itself against the Star Cruiser's hull, vaporizing both vessels. Taung's fleet remained the dominant force on the battlefield, but considering the number of Victories the defenders had at their disposal, and the number of such vessels that were likely to be brought to such dire straits, Ander didn't expect that to be the last suicide run to be attempted against their forces. Suddenly, he was glad Admiral Staton had jumped the fleet in on Taung's heels.
As the Mandalorian Clans began to orient their forces towards the Kuat Shipyards, Ander brought Staton up on the comlink and verified they would be following, dropping the Battalion off at the shipyards along the way to take good care of those shield generators. As the Basterd's Hand began leading the rest of their fleet forward behind Taung's, Ander double-checked their approach vector, ensuring they would be able to fly within the relative cover of the shipyards themselves to their respective destinations.
The GALSAF Naval Fleet began their approach, 2nd Battalion's LA-AT gunships at the ready for their orders to deploy. Ander waited until the last possible moment as they made their approach before giving the order. The Basterd's Hand dipped down slightly, bringing them within several hundred kilometers of the shipyards over Sector 7. Second Battalion would have to deploy over that sector of the shipyards and split off into their respective companies before heading towards their insertion locations. Ander didn't expect them all to make the drop perfectly, though he had their MAT-TE's deploying also to provide heavy firepower on the shipyard's surface. Modified shielding systems and anti-aircraft weaponry mounted on these vehicles would make them a formidable asset to the companies Ander had deploying on the station, and could assist in extraction if necessary. Hopefully, 2nd Battalion and their accompanying Mandalorian assets would have the shipyard shields down before their fleets were redeploying into orbit. If not, then there would be no way save their Larty craft to extract the Commandos on board the shipyards.We're on approach, folks. Pilots at the ready... Ander spoke over the comlink, checking and rechecking their approach vector and distance from Sector 7. Steady…steady…GO! GO! GO! Ander almost shouted the order over the comlink, calling for 2nd Battalion's entire LA-AT force to make the jump between the bow hangar bay and the shipyards. All at once, streams of gunships began to launch from the hangar, covered by the powerful cannons of the Basterd's Hand and her sistership, the Hardpoint. Point-defense laser cannons, turbolasers, concussion missiles and baradium-tipped proton torpedoes began to pour out of the Imperial-II class Star Destroyer, all aimed for the surface of the shipyards where their gunships would be closing in. Sector 7 of the Kuat shipyards would soon become embroiled in plasma energies and missile detonations, all to proceed the arrival of the quickly closing dropships. |
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Delmani Altic
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Posts: 30
Affiliation: GALSAF (Galactic Security Assistance Force)
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Post by Delmani Altic on Dec 13, 2013 22:58:16 GMT -8
Delmani Altic, "GC-02"
Commander of GALSAF Black Operations Unit
Bow Hangar Bay of the Basterd's Hand Delmani nodded as @ableaustralis gave him a quick run through of his ideas for their assault on Kuat City. "I look forward to seeing you in action then. I'd like to attach a couple of our boys to you to assist in your aspect of the operation." Delmani flagged down two of the other BOG Unit Commandos, who jumped down from the troop bay of their gunship and stood off to Delmani's side. They nodded to Able in greeting, one of them speaking through the vocoder of his buy'ce. What'd you need, Altic? The man asked. Is this the attaché we received from the Clans? Delmani nodded. "Tag, Soviet, meet Able Australis. He'll be working with us for the duration of the operation. He's a one like us, mission oriented, well trained, well experienced." The man Delmani had referred to as "Soviet" nodded. Sounds good to me. I figure you're sticking us with him then? Soviet asked. Delmani confirmed this. "You lot will be working to set up ambushes and pick out good sniper perches. Able's already got a few ideas solidified." Delmani spoke directly to them as a group, not discerning a leader amongst any of them. This was how GALSAF worked, everyone's a leader because there was no need for followers. "Identify your ambush sites and the high rises that you'll use in conjunction with each of them. Move from post to post, never stay in the same place for long. Harass them as long as you can until the main force arrives. I'll be taking the rest of the unit and acting as a false front, making them think we've already got our main forces streaming in and we're just the first of them. We'll work to lead them through your ambushes, so make sure to keep us apprised of your grid coordinates."Delmani let his words sink in over a moment, then concluded. "Make sure you grab as much anti-armor equipment as you can get your grubby little hands on. And Tag, slice their communications if you have the time, reroute their orders, jumble up their vehicles' systems if possible. We'll keep the Larties around in case we need air support, but if they've got anti-air in the city, we'll have to make that a priority. Got it?"Tag and Soviet nodded, the former turning to Able. From what I've heard, you're a good shot. What'd you say we put a hundred creds on kills? Ranged shots only, no close quarters stuff will count. Beneath the T-shaped visor of his helmet, Tag was grinning, and it wouldn't be hard for any of them to figure that out. The man treated almost everything like a game, which would normally irk Delmani to no end, if he didn't already know it was the only way for Tag to sleep at night. |
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Jena Shaewe
Red Dawn Medical Center - RDMC
Posts: 87
Affiliation: RDMC/House Of Shaewe
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Post by Jena Shaewe on Dec 14, 2013 12:15:01 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"
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.
Now as they waited, well out of the way of the fighting fleets, Jena released Adi from the bacta tank and brought him aboard the Acclamator, Medical Zero-One. There in the med bay of the ship, she checked him over - still not entirely convinced of his battle readiness no matter how much he insisted he 'felt great!'. Shaking her head at him in exasperation, she reluctantly released him from the examination room before turning her attention to one of the Chiss healers/doctors who was wanting to discuss a medical matter with her.... |
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Darth Flvin
Member
Posts: 163
Affiliation: Blackguard Reborn
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Post by Darth Flvin on Dec 14, 2013 14:51:21 GMT -8
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…
The darkness would quickly vanish, and the space around turned into a catastrophic light show. Blue lasers shot from the Mandalorian's fleet, traveled towards the planet's defenses. Emerald lasers traveled back, and made it's way towards the fleet's front shields. It had little effect, but it would seem to cause an effect if nothing were to be done. Shun sat down at the bridge of his Destroyer, looking through the view in front of him. He could see the KDY's, and the defenses that surrounded it. He tapped a few buttons on his command chair, and looked towards the officers down below him. The fast fingers and jittery movements proved to be effective, and the fleets weapon systems continued to produce a stable barrage of fire. Shun continued to click a few buttons, and then looked towards the view in front. He wanted the fleet to continue firing on the Golan Defense Platform, he knew it wouldn't be hard to push through once it was down. Their defenses were spread thin, and it seemed rather easy to make it to the Drive Yards. Yet, it seemed too thin, wanting to draw their attacks in. Thoughts quickly scrambled in his mind, and Shun began to smirk. His enemy's were smarter then he had thought, and he knew he had to be smarter with his tactics. He looked towards the admiral on deck, and prompted him towards the throne.
Continue firing on the platform, we must take that down. Maintain a defensive position with our main ships, but send 2 of our corvettes towards the planet. Scramble 20 Fighters towards them as well, I want that Destroyer down as soon as possible.The Admiral nodded, and quickly moved back into his position. Shun clenched his hands, and slowly moved his face towards them. He didn't think his plan was stellar, but it was the best he could do at the time. He needed to make it on the ground, or else his Mandalorian allies would not stand a chance. He had hoped that the Corvettes and the Bes'uliik fighters could help speed up the process. He quickly looked back up towards the screen, and simultaneously clicked a few buttons on the command chair. It brought up a hologram of the space around him, and he noticed something striking...he was alone. Anger quickly flowed through him, and he immediately began to contact Ander Tagira and his fleet. Shun slowly took off his helmet, while the hologram projector illuminated in front of him.Commander Tagira, this is Shun Flvin. I understand your fleet is suppose to be at the South Pole, but it seems I am alone. Shun paused for a moment, and shook his head rather quickly.There are five SDs preventing me from advancing, but all my fire is targeting their defense platform. If you can help destroy the SDs, I will provide you with the Ground Support you need. I hope to see you soon my friend, Good Luck.The hologram quickly disappeared, and Shun looked back into the open windows in front of him. His ships were making it closer to the planet's defenses, only to be welcomed by increasing fire. Shun clicked another few buttons, and suddenly established a Commlink with the leading Corvette.
Captain, you are serving your people well. Be sure to charge all forward shields, and frontal weapons. Take down those SDs, and you will be paid in riches. Good Luck ner vod. The frontal shields illuminated as the ships made their way towards the planet. 20 Bes'uliik star fighters provided a secure escort, traveling close by. All weapons were finally charged, and the order was quickly given. The laser cannons of the Crusader-Class Corvettes erupted, and the space in front of them became crowded with fire. Their target was the Victory-II SD "Evanora", and nothing more. Once the SD was down, the ships would move their fire towards the other ships. The plan was simple, but it seemed that another plan was about to unfold. |
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Dec 14, 2013 18:13:24 GMT -8
Admiral Jethroe Staton "GC-03"
Lord Admiral of GALSAF Naval Group
Command Deck of the Basterd's Hand
Admiral Staton glanced at the battlefield display that hovered in the air before his command chair. Taung H'rel's fleet was before them, arrayed in an offensive formation, launching missiles and lasers towards a group of Victory-II class Star Destroyers that belonged to the defending forces. The vessels were coming up on the allied fleet's flank, well within range of the Hand's Long-Range turbolasers. Staton called for the Weapons Crew to target the first of the Victory-II's and fire a single pair of shots at the vessel's aft section. The wedge-shape of the ship was within view of the weapons themselves, and considering their approach vector, the shielding strength of the incoming Victory would likely be less shielded as a result, or so Staton thought. The Basterd's Hand gathered energy for a brief moment before releasing two half-powered shots, the great energy beams lighting up the nose of the Star Destroyer as they lanced outward from their guns and towards the their target. The Mon Calamari Admiral watched as the lasers struck for their first victim, four pairs of proton torpedoes following the energy beams and heading for the same target area on the enemy Star Destroyer."Move the fleet downwards of H'rel's vessels and reposition the Firestorm behind the Hand," Staton ordered to the Navigation Crew. They followed his request immediately, and Staton's view outside his Star Destroyer began to shift downward and to the left as the vessel repositioned itself. The Firestorm hung back just long enough for the Hand to move forward of it, then shielded itself behind the massive Imperial-II Star Destroyer. "Maximize dorsal shielding of both vessels, I want to keep as much from coming through as possible. Keep our enemies within full view of our weapon's ranges."His orders were again followed immediately and the fleet's dorsal shields were strengthened. Staton rechecked the battlefield display, identifying the Kuat Drive Yards and the insertion points 2nd Battalion was tasked with handling. It would take some time to position the fleet close enough to the shipyards to be able to launch their gunships, but Staton had little to worry about as long as Taung H'rel's fleet maintained such an opposing position in orbit. The ease with which H'rel had brought destruction to the first Golan Defense Platform was impressive, and Staton intended on using the Warlord's vessels as a protective shield as long as possible to maximize the safety of their boarding forces.
The Captain smiled slightly as she watched the battle unfold from her command throne. Ever since the concept of war had been encoded within their genes, the acts of atrocity and genocide had never changed despite the clear difference of the tools being used. Instead of warships of massive size, she viewed regiments upon regiments of heavily armed soldiers sitting proudly atop their steeds. All about her were the well trained men and women drawn from the village situated upon a rocky plateau below them. Kale knew that her men had no chance of securing victory against such odds, as the suicide run the ‘Ursla’ had made would be the last time that tactic would be used. There was no doubt in her mind that the man that stood at the command pulpit of his flagship, would allow her to commit such a grave act of desperate heroism again. In fact she had expected it. With laughter starting to broil within her belly, she withdrew herself from the command throne and moved towards her tactical display table. There she flicked the command console and watched as the two-dimensional image her second in command had be glaring at turn into a real time representation in three dimensions.
Her formation of Victory II’s had been loosely scattered about the North Pole when the opposing fleet had arrived. While from an overhead view the battle line they had created seemed like a flying chevron, though as the three-dimensional image before her came to life such a standardized pattern didn’t even come close to fully defining what the formation had been represented as. The ‘Ratigan’ had been at the forefront of the shambled formation of loosely organized vessels, and was the target of the newly arrived Mandalorian reinforcements bearing IFF tags that forced the laughter from Captain Kale’s belly. Galactic Security Assistance Force? That had to be one of the worst faction names she had ever heard of, and she had heard of many. In the time it had taken the long range turbolasers of the vessel designated; The Basterd’s hand, to fire their great beams of condensed super-heated plasma, she had learned much of their so called farce. They were men and women pledged to the defense of innocent lives and sought to lock those touched by the force behind bars. She scoffed as she watched the ‘Ratigan’s shields take minimal damage from the two bolts of emerald energy. The marker representing their shields had dropped to seventy-five percent, for the effectiveness of long range turbolasers had put them on par, if not in a higher class than the standard template of heavy shipboard weaponry. The four parings of proton torpedoes had fared little better than their turbolaser counter parts, missing the target as the bolts had struck through the air.
The Captain of the ‘Ratigan’ was pleased that the theatre commander Kale had seen to his ship, ensuring that his craft had continued to soar through space. The man had been worried that the proton torpedoes would’ve torn through his shielding and damaged one of his ship’s vital systems. When the swift text based transmission had been sent, Captain Kale had assured the man that such weaponry was not meant to be used in anti-starship warfare but rather designed for orbital bombardments and the nimble starfighter based warfare. Though a small frown had appeared upon her face as she watched the massive proton flares turn upon their axis and make another pass at the ‘Ratigan’. She had to say she was impressed at such blind sellswords could employ such weaponry. Though her frown had dissipated as the proton flares had their advance arrested by several of the tractor beam projectors activating at a reverse polarity. The relentless charge into the maw of the beast had been halted, only to have several of the starboard side guns turn their wrath upon such vile weaponry. The sight was beauteous to behold, and signified that the defenders were not so easy to kill. Captain Kale grimaced as she thought of what was to come should they halt their own advance, for she knew that when the guns of the True Mandalorian fleet had locked onto their stilled warships, death would surely follow.
The Ursla disappeared towards Taung's fleet. The ship had no shields and its systems were failing as it leapt into the continuing barrage of heavy and superheavy turbolaser bolts, greeting them at superluminal velocities in its headlong suicide rush, the end of its trip, as the captain intended, was the 4000 meter long Mishmure'cya class Light Star Cruiser Skira. As the Ursla moved forwards the turbolaser bolts that struck it, punched deeper into the ship far more than they normally would, aided by the ships own inertia. The interaction was not exactly the same as the ship was in hyperspace, but the mass of condensed particles traveling through realspace still had an effect on objects in hyperspace. The packets of particles accelerated the disintegration of the mostly unarmored compartments in the nose of the ship, with a pair of superheavy bolts with their much greater mass in comparison penetrated all the way to the stern of the ship, catching part of the reactor bulb itself. But the course had been set and the failing of the relativistic shields at the time of the jump actually served to help delay the deadly detonation of the ships hypermatter reactor core. As the ship started to decant from hyperspace it began to encounter the first of the overlapping shields projected by Taung's fleet. Time started running again as the hypermatter was unleashed from the containing shields of the reactor. The ship started coming apart from its own internal death throes as it blasted through the first shield in a flare of plasma and gasses, the disintegration continuing as the forward sections of the ship were completely converted into expanding charged plasma gasses as the stern began to come apart from the reactor and other weapons and stored energy, in chemical or electrical form, began to release their energies in all directions upon the ship, the crew, intervening shields, and vacuum itself. The 10 projected shields that were layered one over the other failed in two seconds, as the remains of the Ursla encountered each shield in succession slowing rapidly, each explosive encounter getting larger and larger in fiery blooms of gas and energy as the gasses and ship parts spread out that much further. In the real time sense the already dead Victory II class star destroyer ripped through the shields in a rapid stuttering cacophony of interpreted noise and flashing pulses. When two of the ships engines, the densest components left of the ship, coated in a layer of durasteel plasma over a meter thick and still traveling at a not unsubstantial fraction of lightspeed, sliced through the Skira's personal ship's shields and struck the Mandalorian Iron hull itself. The Skira's hull seemed to suck in at the two impacts, but just outside of the actual impact point, seemed to explode outward and upwards as some of the strongest material known to the galaxy took on the properties of a liquid under the immense pressures and heat generated from the energy transfer and rapid expanding shockwave that the engines created passing through the ship. The Usrla's engines completely converted to plasma by the time the blew out the far side of the Skira's armored hull, passing almost as easily through that section of armor as the impact side, a deadly flower of material blasting out of the side of the ship in the likeness of a giant pressure bubble exploding, sending material outwards from a massive metallic volcano. This image only lasted for mere moments as the forwardmost reactor had been damaged beyond hope of correction and lost its containment into the innards of the ship, following the paths of the damage that the Ursla's engines had carved through the metal beast, and forcing the ship apart one third the way back from the bow. A brilliant disc of scintillating blue radiation laced explosion ripped the ship in half sending the bow spinning off in one direction and the stern, still being pushed by its running engines, and an uncontrollable end over end flips out of line in three axis in ugly non symmetrical loops before the engines cut off automatically. It made no difference to the crew that the surviving reactors attempted to shut themselves down, the violent tumbling of the ship rattled the crew around like insects in a bottle killing most of them through the sheer violence of the impacts of their bodies turning them into jelly inside their armor. Those that did survived were stunned survivors who lay stunned and injured, their last minutes of their lives spent in agony or black nothingness as a fire in one of the port side heavy assault concussion missiles melted into the propellant of a missile in the middle of the magazine. The resultant explosion blew up over 100 missiles in one seemingly vast explosion, ripping open the hull from within, and setting off chains of explosions that tore open the primary reactor and it, along with the rest of the nearly 1000 heavy warheads onboard, turned the ship into a violently expanding cloud of flotsam of molten material. The only survivors from the Skira, would be twelve men who were halfway to the bow in the blown off section in the middle cooking section, where they endured the least amount of g forces, six would be declared brain dead, the others, all had no fewer than 22 shattered bones in their bodies.
Onboard the Nasryec Taung blinked at the sudden death of one of his prize ships. It was the second ship he had lost...ever. The loss was his, he should have seen some desperate charge like that and anticipated it. He had been overconfident and it had cost 17,000 clones their lives because he had not had the ships maneuvering in line. He was silent as his ships reacted to the loss of the lead Mishmure'cya in stunned disbelief.“Turn the line and charge. Put us inside that gravity well, keep the yards between us and the surface cannons.” He turned back to the his discussion with Ander as his ships turned to port and accelerated into a new formation as each ship maneuvered and weaved within its assigned position, asteroid grade heavy tractor beams weaving back and forth in front of them to prevent another repeat type of suicide attack. The two remaining Mishmure'cya's, the Orar and the Ram'or leading the way with the three Mandokar class Star Frigates behind and below their compatriots. All the ships continued to fire on the four remaining Victory II class ships opposing them as the original missile barrage closed to strike at their targets, having taken nearly a full minute to cover the distance, even with the impressive combined closing rate of the missiles and the ships.::My question Ander...is what are your ships doing on the northern hemisphere as opposed to the southern hemisphere where they were planned and supposed to be, assisting Shun's fleet? I would have thought that a simple concept of north and south would have been easy enough. Now you are jeopardizing Shun's fleet by being grossly out of position with no way to get in position. I hope you are better ground commander than space commander. I will make you answer for every death in Shun's fleet that could have been avoided.:: He signed off without waiting for a reply, knowing that there was no answer that would satisfy his frustration. It was a common saying that no battle plan survived the first shot in the battle, but to have the battle plan fall apart BEFORE the battle, was unforgivable.The Ram'or and the Orar brought four previously masked projected shield generators online and in front of Taung's fleet as they put the still forward masked projector shields between themselves and Ander's badly out of position ships. There was always the possibility that the GALSAF commander was playing both sides of things.
Blinking aside the momentary hesitations of grandeur, the Captain watched as the hulking Mandalorian Vessels had begun to make their move. While her ships had taken a wide berth around the technological terrors born from the devious mind of Taung H’rel, the Mandalorian warlord’s fleet had plunged into the heart of Kuat’s northern polar region. The fire between the two opposing fleets had grown more intense as they passed through the void, bolts of emerald and sapphire had traded hands leaving the smaller and more out classed flotilla of Victory II’s with no other option than to dive right into the thick of the combat. Fully pledging themselves to the battle at hand would mean their deaths would come sooner than they would like, but little did they know that once the battle had been joined they were dead men walking. Death had already claimed their souls, and it was only a matter of time till the uncaring universe had done the same for whatever was left of their bodies. As the Mandalorian behemoths opened fire once more, the pocket sized Star Destroyer designated; ‘Jafar’ had been the target of their fury.
If in a moment of clairvoyance, the captain of the doomed vessel had saw fit to launch his racked TIE fighters and see to the abandonment of some of his ship’s personnel. As the alabaster shuttles had gracefully flew from the hangar bay, two dozen TIE fighters had dropped from their overhead racks and fell into the black maw of space below. With a grin of satisfaction, the captain of the ‘Jafar’, a woman whom bore the first name of Kira, accepted death’s embrace with open arms. Her vessel’s shields had buckled within a single heartbeat, for she had become bereft of the azure tint surrounding the ivory plates of the ‘Jafar’s hull. As the woman’s heart had beaten twice, the integrity of her exterior plating had been compromised. Oxygen had vented violently into space, tearing with it the unlucky souls whom had little time to reach their saviour pods, only to cast their bodies into the silence of space. Ruptures had appeared throughout the length of the warship, tearing the ‘Jafar’ at the seams, as the Mandalorian guns had never tired.
Noting the worthiness of her final actions, Captain Kale had ordered that all ships launch their fighter complements and task them to seek out any troop transports and destroy them with extreme prejudice. Turning her eyes back to the hololithic image before her, she watched with a pang of regret as the ‘Jafar’s IFF coding had been erased from the terminal’s display. Only three heavily damaged Victory II class Star Destroyers had remained at the northern pole of Kuat, a paltry force in comparison to the hostiles they had arrayed before them; but to Captain Kale it had proven to be more than enough. She had done what no one else had done in the recent history of the Mandalorian Crusade; her efforts had bloodied the nose of the invading religious fanatics! Clearing her thoughts and focusing upon the projected image, she saw the state of affairs was starting to grow dimmer with each passing breath she took. Her squadron (As it was now reduced too) had continued limping through its arcing turn, and the icons of her fighters groups had begun harnessing themselves within the beryl glow of her hololithic image. If she had stayed the course, she would find her ships impaled upon the bows of her foe’s vessels. It was a dangerous position to be in, but as the markers representing their shields had begun to swing into the danger zone, there was no point in running. Her foe had anticipated her last hurrah and sought to steal the life from her valiant effort.
Opening a general channel to the opposing fleet, she let the image of her exhausted face present itself to her foe. While she had considered this small skirmish to be an entertaining and enlightening experience, Kale knew that her opponent had grown annoyed with her continued resistance. The least she could do was surprise the Warlord known only by his name and the helm he wore, with a message of gratitude before she had been swept into death’s embrace. As the projected image was tossed into the darkness of the void, her features began to take shape upon whatever transceiver that had intercepted her signal. Painted azure by the holographic image, her auburn hair had fallen out from underneath her Imperial wedged cap. It gave her a ragged appearance as it framed her handsomely flawless face. Emerald eyes, flecked with a determined grace and despair, had stared into the face of the man she had hoped would be the masque Warlord whom instigated the relentless assault upon the system of Kuat. You have fought well this day, Warlord H’rel. Outgunned from the start I could do little against your technological terrors. A great many sacrifices have been made this day in the name of your conquest through the stars, and I take pride in the part I have played. My ship and what remains of the ‘Scar’ and ‘Ratigan’ will fight to our last breath, yet I make this transmission to thank you for the death I am about to receive. I, Captain Kale of the Dark Tide, will go into whatever awaits me after my mortal life has ended, and I will do so proudly. She paused for a moment to chortle at her actions. Die well, Mandalorian, it’s the smallest honour you’ve earned.Ander Tagira, "GC-01"
Lord Commander of the Galactic Security Assistance Force
LA-AT/i Gunship inside the Bow Hangar of the Basterd's Hand Ander gritted his teeth as Taung's voice played out in his helmet before the transmission was ended. Whatever the man thought of a "plan" hadn't consisted of any verbal communication he was aware of. The last Ander had worked out with the other commanders was to head straight for the surface as a single spherical formation, using the collective protection offered by their overlapping shields to bring their ground forces to a safe landing on the planet below. Ander brought up a brief scan of the area onto his HUD, searching for Shun's forces and swearing to himself as he caught sight of one of Taung's prize vessels, a Mishmure'cya-class Light Star Cruiser dubbed the Skira disappear from all existence in a blinding flash of sequential detonations. One of the Kuati Victory Star Destroyers had made a short hyperjump and scuttled itself against the Star Cruiser's hull, vaporizing both vessels. Taung's fleet remained the dominant force on the battlefield, but considering the number of Victories the defenders had at their disposal, and the number of such vessels that were likely to be brought to such dire straits, Ander didn't expect that to be the last suicide run to be attempted against their forces. Suddenly, he was glad Admiral Staton had jumped the fleet in on Taung's heels.
As the Mandalorian Clans began to orient their forces towards the Kuat Shipyards, Ander brought Staton up on the comlink and verified they would be following, dropping the Battalion off at the shipyards along the way to take good care of those shield generators. As the Basterd's Hand began leading the rest of their fleet forward behind Taung's, Ander double-checked their approach vector, ensuring they would be able to fly within the relative cover of the shipyards themselves to their respective destinations.
The GALSAF Naval Fleet began their approach, 2nd Battalion's LA-AT gunships at the ready for their orders to deploy. Ander waited until the last possible moment as they made their approach before giving the order. The Basterd's Hand dipped down slightly, bringing them within several hundred kilometers of the shipyards over Sector 7. Second Battalion would have to deploy over that sector of the shipyards and split off into their respective companies before heading towards their insertion locations. Ander didn't expect them all to make the drop perfectly, though he had their MAT-TE's deploying also to provide heavy firepower on the shipyard's surface. Modified shielding systems and anti-aircraft weaponry mounted on these vehicles would make them a formidable asset to the companies Ander had deploying on the station, and could assist in extraction if necessary. Hopefully, 2nd Battalion and their accompanying Mandalorian assets would have the shipyard shields down before their fleets were redeploying into orbit. If not, then there would be no way save their Larty craft to extract the Commandos on board the shipyards.We're on approach, folks. Pilots at the ready... Ander spoke over the comlink, checking and rechecking their approach vector and distance from Sector 7. Steady…steady…GO! GO! GO! Ander almost shouted the order over the comlink, calling for 2nd Battalion's entire LA-AT force to make the jump between the bow hangar bay and the shipyards. All at once, streams of gunships began to launch from the hangar, covered by the powerful cannons of the Basterd's Hand and her sistership, the Hardpoint. Point-defense laser cannons, turbolasers, concussion missiles and baradium-tipped proton torpedoes began to pour out of the Imperial-II class Star Destroyer, all aimed for the surface of the shipyards where their gunships would be closing in. Sector 7 of the Kuat shipyards would soon become embroiled in plasma energies and missile detonations, all to proceed the arrival of the quickly closing dropships.
Narrowing his eyes through the crimson glare of his cockpit’s interior, Iago ordered his men to follow his lead. His gruff and distinctive Kuati voice had echoed through the helm’s internal communications suite, sparking a resounding number of responses from the flight leaders that had survived their minute ordeal. Seventy eight of the reaming TIE’s had formed up on his flanks, creating several wedges that had been spread out over variable distances in the three dimension plane of the void. Tasked with hunting down any and all troop ships that sought to make their way down to the drive yards or the planet thereafter, a savage grin had played across the ‘Red Baron’s face. From the vessel that had been previously identified as the ‘Hardpoint’ and her sister vessels, torrents of covering fire and gunships began to spill towards the Drive yards in waves that seemed unassailable. Letting a laugh echo through the silence of his void touched cockpit, Iago thought of the fun he and his ships would have tearing into the supple flesh of these Demi-Mandaloiran dogs. The silent screams they would make as these supposed formidable gunships had their bellies torn open to the void, would send waves of ecstasy flowing through his veins as his fingers had gunned his fighter’s triggers.
Having soared through the curtain of infinite black, the TIE pilot had found himself skirting above the Drive Yard’s defensive shield flying in a now loosened formation. The actions before him had taken place during the maneuvering of the Mandalorian vessels, seeing them out of harm’s way before diving back into the ensuing storm. Screaming through the silence of the void, the seventy eight of the remaining TIE fighters had made their way towards the firestorm sweeping against the shields of the Andrim Shipyards. The clockwork pattern of the covering fire provided by the orbiting vessels had proven to be a dance of vivid beryl’s and sapphires, leaving little margin of error. Finally thanking whatever gods still roamed through the universe, Iago adorned a rictus grin in the face of such a challenge. Many, if not all of his pilots would die in the pursuit of the enemy, but to a TIE fighter pilot that was the greatest honour they could ever ask for. To die in the throes of the greatest hunt a man had ever been a part of. As his fighter screen closed with the enemy, Iago opened a transmission channel with the planetary batteries below. With a solid connection established, his fighter had fed its data from the targeting computer to the massive emplacements entrenched upon the surface. Even if he and his men had died in the coming firefight, at least their Captain’s legacy would carry on with the thunderous cacophony of the batteries below.
Breathing a heavy sigh laced with excited anticipation, the ‘Red Baron’ and his noble seventy-eight pilots had begun their attack run. Diving head long into the madness striking against the shields protecting the Andrim Shipyards and unleashing their firepower upon any and all gunships that got in their way.______________________________________________________________________________________ Mere minutes after the data had been transmitted to the planet below; three superheated and condensed beams of energy were spat from the surface with a violent abandon. Soaring through the silence of the void with a threatening lions purr, they sought to strike against the unsuspecting hide of a Nebula-Class Star Destroyer bearing the name of the ‘Hardpoint.’ The ship wasn’t as much of a threat as the True Mandalorian warships; however the attack was justified as it fit within the scope of Captain Logan’s generalized plan for the defense of Kuat. When and if they had struck their intended target, they would do so with the power that was needed to supply energy to a large city for an entire day. Should they strike true, death’s embrace would soon follow... |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 14, 2013 21:16:07 GMT -8
Delmani Altic, "GC-02"
Commander of GALSAF Black Operations Unit
Bow Hangar Bay of the Basterd's Hand Delmani nodded as @ableaustralis gave him a quick run through of his ideas for their assault on Kuat City. "I look forward to seeing you in action then. I'd like to attach a couple of our boys to you to assist in your aspect of the operation." Delmani flagged down two of the other BOG Unit Commandos, who jumped down from the troop bay of their gunship and stood off to Delmani's side. They nodded to Able in greeting, one of them speaking through the vocoder of his buy'ce. What'd you need, Altic? The man asked. Is this the attaché we received from the Clans? Delmani nodded. "Tag, Soviet, meet Able Australis. He'll be working with us for the duration of the operation. He's a one like us, mission oriented, well trained, well experienced." The man Delmani had referred to as "Soviet" nodded. Sounds good to me. I figure you're sticking us with him then? Soviet asked. Delmani confirmed this. "You lot will be working to set up ambushes and pick out good sniper perches. Able's already got a few ideas solidified." Delmani spoke directly to them as a group, not discerning a leader amongst any of them. This was how GALSAF worked, everyone's a leader because there was no need for followers. "Identify your ambush sites and the high rises that you'll use in conjunction with each of them. Move from post to post, never stay in the same place for long. Harass them as long as you can until the main force arrives. I'll be taking the rest of the unit and acting as a false front, making them think we've already got our main forces streaming in and we're just the first of them. We'll work to lead them through your ambushes, so make sure to keep us apprised of your grid coordinates."
Delmani let his words sink in over a moment, then concluded. "Make sure you grab as much anti-armor equipment as you can get your grubby little hands on. And Tag, slice their communications if you have the time, reroute their orders, jumble up their vehicles' systems if possible. We'll keep the Larties around in case we need air support, but if they've got anti-air in the city, we'll have to make that a priority. Got it?"Tag and Soviet nodded, the former turning to Able. From what I've heard, you're a good shot. What'd you say we put a hundred creds on kills? Ranged shots only, no close quarters stuff will count. Beneath the T-shaped visor of his helmet, Tag was grinning, and it wouldn't be hard for any of them to figure that out. The man treated almost everything like a game, which would normally irk Delmani to no end, if he didn't already know it was the only way for Tag to sleep at night.
"Feigns are usually more or less effective depending on the type of ambush, if our priority is helping take out anti-air then we need to worry less about the oncoming troops and focus more on a hit and run tactics to lead them away from them. Diversions are just that, diverting. However, that is only if we need to remove anti-air. I'm sure they'll be taken out long before we need to make a move on them."
*Abe looks over at Tag when he makes his bet. ::Despite the organic knowing that in fact you are a great shot, he insists with competing against you. Highly illogical and an even higher improbability that he will succeed.:: Which makes Abe smile under his buy'ce. The closest thing he felt to amusement in a very long time.*
"A hundred creds a shot? You're on. And call me Abe. My older sibling Kaine always called me Able." |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2013 10:13:14 GMT -8
The Mar'eyce's alarms began to blare, warning of impending contact. Through the visor on his buy'ce, Bralex was still link to the Mar'eyce's systems. Bralex let the system calculate the time to impact, 10 seconds. This of course was contact with the outer hull of the Star Destroyer, but didn't take into account the fact he was crashing into an open hangar. Bralex watched the timer on his visor countdown. At 3 seconds Bralex detonated the charges, blowing the loading ramp off of the ship and into space behind him. As the timer hit 0, Bralex jumped from the ship and activated his jetpack. The ship seemed to break apart around him flying in many different directions; and the hangar doors seems to close in front of him. He had made it inside, but now he had to survive. Using the jetpack, Bralex launched himself onto the catwalks that TIE pilots would use to get in their TIE fighters that would have been suspended from the hangar ceiling. Once on slid footing, Bralex drew his DC-17m and brought it to the ready. His buy'ce offered him a 360 degree view, and using optical commands, he had it's onboard computer system begin to find schematics for this ship to help him escape and/or destroy it. Aboard the Victory II-class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent.’ With the door before them sealed shut, the two squads of Imperial Marines had begun cutting through the durasteel bulkhead, letting the sparks of their violent entry spill onto the ash stricken floor of the hangar bay. The deed was repeated by the other two squads attempting to access the hangar from the secondary access hatch not twenty meters away from the first squad’s position. Commander Fordo was unsure of the lives that had resided in the Firespray, and as with everything assumed and prepared for the worst. If it was a squad of heavily armed super commandos, then he feared that these four squads might not be enough to overpower their adversary; despite the fact they would be able to keep the soldiers busy until reinforcements arrived. When the locking mechanism had been blasted through upon both doors, the squads moved through the gap they had created and began searching for any sign of their enemy. The hangar deck was relatively untouched, save for the scattered bits of Mandalorian craft that had strewn about the deck after the point defense guns had blasted it to radioactive space dust. A full squadron of TIE fighters had still remained in their racks, bereft of their pilots. Several shuttles were resting below, their ground crew and the shuttle pilots had scurried into the alcoves near the left and right side of the hangar, seeking to avoid the ensuing firefight.
Storming onto the flight deck, the fourty men clad in the iconic plastoid armour of the Galactic Empire’s elite began fanning out in search of their quarry. Five men had been stationed at the hangar bay entrances, to remain guard whilst the rest sought to make contact with the enemy. A single squad had been sent to inspect the shuttles, scouring the left side of the massive hangar bay for their Mandalorian foe. With E-11’s held at the ready, each of the transports holds had been thoroughly searched using their target acquisition system built within the battle helm. Another squad had been sent to the right section of the hangar bay, also searching through the docked shuttle craft and interrogating those they felt were suspicious. The last squad of ten men had taken the lifts up to the TIE racks above in the hopes of making contact with their foe. Appearing above the shattered doors in two groups of five, they turned into the greater space of the hangar with their blasters raised. It was there that contact was made, and it was there that the first crimson bolts were cast...
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Jethroe Staton
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Affiliation: Galactic Security Assistance Force [GALSAF]
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Post by Jethroe Staton on Dec 15, 2013 15:06:48 GMT -8
Captain Kale had found herself upon the command throne of the Imperial vessel, her face disfigured as she contemplated the course this battle had taken. Not long ago they had been preparing themselves for the worst to come, waiting for the Mandalorians to make their move. Now she found herself struggling to combat her grief over seeing two of her fellow comrades in arms die within the blink of an eye, though one had been through her machinations. Sure, she had sent many men to court with the realm of death, but there had always been something to bury. This time, there was nothing left of the man she had known, nothing but the memories they shared. A cryptic smile came across her lips as she dropped her gaze to her feet, listening to the chaos of the bridge in order to stifle the horrid regret festering within her heart. Biting back the despair, Captain Kale looked at the forward viewscreen and the violent silence of the void beyond. They were in a better place now and, she could not deny them the grace of eternal rest by mewling like a child over their sudden disappearance from the mortal plane. They had chosen their path, and there was little else she could do for them now. Her comrades had chosen to live by the sword, it seemed fitting that they had died by such elegant weapons. Be they proton torpedoes or superlasers, each weapon was a metaphorical extension of the simple sword sentient beings had used to protect what was theirs and take what wasn’t.
The Captain smiled slightly as she watched the battle unfold from her command throne. Ever since the concept of war had been encoded within their genes, the acts of atrocity and genocide had never changed despite the clear difference of the tools being used. Instead of warships of massive size, she viewed regiments upon regiments of heavily armed soldiers sitting proudly atop their steeds. All about her were the well trained men and women drawn from the village situated upon a rocky plateau below them. Kale knew that her men had no chance of securing victory against such odds, as the suicide run the ‘Ursla’ had made would be the last time that tactic would be used. There was no doubt in her mind that the man that stood at the command pulpit of his flagship, would allow her to commit such a grave act of desperate heroism again. In fact she had expected it. With laughter starting to broil within her belly, she withdrew herself from the command throne and moved towards her tactical display table. There she flicked the command console and watched as the two-dimensional image her second in command had be glaring at turn into a real time representation in three dimensions.
Her formation of Victory II’s had been loosely scattered about the North Pole when the opposing fleet had arrived. While from an overhead view the battle line they had created seemed like a flying chevron, though as the three-dimensional image before her came to life such a standardized pattern didn’t even come close to fully defining what the formation had been represented as. The ‘Ratigan’ had been at the forefront of the shambled formation of loosely organized vessels, and was the target of the newly arrived Mandalorian reinforcements bearing IFF tags that forced the laughter from Captain Kale’s belly. Galactic Security Assistance Force? That had to be one of the worst faction names she had ever heard of, and she had heard of many. In the time it had taken the long range turbolasers of the vessel designated; The Basterd’s hand, to fire their great beams of condensed super-heated plasma, she had learned much of their so called farce. They were men and women pledged to the defense of innocent lives and sought to lock those touched by the force behind bars. She scoffed as she watched the ‘Ratigan’s shields take minimal damage from the two bolts of emerald energy. The marker representing their shields had dropped to seventy-five percent, for the effectiveness of long range turbolasers had put them on par, if not in a higher class than the standard template of heavy shipboard weaponry. The four parings of proton torpedoes had fared little better than their turbolaser counter parts, missing the target as the bolts had struck through the air.
The Captain of the ‘Ratigan’ was pleased that the theatre commander Kale had seen to his ship, ensuring that his craft had continued to soar through space. The man had been worried that the proton torpedoes would’ve torn through his shielding and damaged one of his ship’s vital systems. When the swift text based transmission had been sent, Captain Kale had assured the man that such weaponry was not meant to be used in anti-starship warfare but rather designed for orbital bombardments and the nimble starfighter based warfare. Though a small frown had appeared upon her face as she watched the massive proton flares turn upon their axis and make another pass at the ‘Ratigan’. She had to say she was impressed at such blind sellswords could employ such weaponry. Though her frown had dissipated as the proton flares had their advance arrested by several of the tractor beam projectors activating at a reverse polarity. The relentless charge into the maw of the beast had been halted, only to have several of the starboard side guns turn their wrath upon such vile weaponry. The sight was beauteous to behold, and signified that the defenders were not so easy to kill. Captain Kale grimaced as she thought of what was to come should they halt their own advance, for she knew that when the guns of the True Mandalorian fleet had locked onto their stilled warships, death would surely follow.
Mere minutes after the data had been transmitted to the planet below; three superheated and condensed beams of energy were spat from the surface with a violent abandon. Soaring through the silence of the void with a threatening lions purr, they sought to strike against the unsuspecting hide of a Nebula-Class Star Destroyer bearing the name of the ‘Basterd’s Hand.’ The ship wasn’t as much of a threat as the True Mandalorian warships; however the attack was justified as it fit within the scope of Captain Logan’s generalized plan for the defense of Kuat. When and if they had struck their intended target, they would do so with the power that was needed to supply energy to a large city for an entire day. Should they strike true, death’s embrace would soon follow... Admiral Jethroe Staton
Admiral of GALSAF Naval Forces
Command Deck of the Basterd's Hand
20 Minutes into the Assault on Kuat Admiral Jethroe Staton gripped the armrests of his command chair tightly with his webbed fingers as he watched the Hardpoint's belly turn luminescent. The Nebula-class Star Destroyer took the brunt of the attack along her bow shields, which buckled in a flare of blue and white energy under the pressure of the first immense blast of power from the w-165 Planetary Turbolasers. A report from the vessel's Captain, Ardolf Hayse stated their bow and mid-ship shields had been breached and their aft shields were blown. What crewmen could be gathered would be jettisoned as per emergency procedures, though others would be required to stay and provide their fellow soldiers that time. Captain Ardolf Hayse would be one of them. Staton didn't even bother wishing the man a good journey. It would only waste time Hayse could spend organizing survivors.
Hoping his gamble had paid off, Staton could only watch as the Hardpoint to continued onward, moving to press itself into safety within the shroud of the shipyards themselves as he waited for the triangulation data on the shots to confirm the locations of the three turbolaser fortifications. Just as the third massive turbolaser bolt struck the Hardpoint's aft ventral shields, the w-165 Planetary Turbolaser batteries below surpassed their ten second recharge time, and Staton knew to expect another volley. The Hardpoint's bow armor plating collapsed in a plume of vibrant, explosive energy, the heavy armor hull plating beneath cracked and splintered as fires raged in deadly spiderwebs across the vessel. Remaining energy from the attack burst through the dorsal section of the bow, fumes and debris spouting forth from the battleship's innards. Electrical systems flickered and died out all across the Hardpoint's structure, replaced with death and disorder. The aft of the vessel fared little better, though the nose of the Nebula Star Destroyer was blackened and burning. Reports from the vessel's crew began to stream automatically across GALCOM's communication channels, and Staton's mouth tendrils quivered in anger. All of the vessel's shielding power had been exhausted, and its capacitors had all blown, damaging the shielding systems themselves irreparably. What remained functional on the Hardpoint came in the form of life support and emergency lighting systems throughout a small portion of the midship and aft-dorsal sections of the ship's structure. The reactor core had been severed from a large portion of the vessel's supporting systems, stripping the engines of all their power and reducing the once functional DBY-827 Heavy Dual turbolasers to little more than decorations along the dorsal of the ship. All but four of the Hardpoint's forty laser cannons were destroyed or disabled, cut off from their failing power sources or ripped from their housing by secondary detonations of ammunition or hydraulic lines. Fire sprang from a series of disruptions along the bow as it cracked and began to split, exposing a number of decks to the frozen bleakness of space. As fires continued to light subsequent explosions, the starboard section of the vessel's ventral and dorsal section grew bright with the puncture of the third strike. Debris and fire followed; even smoke was visible spewing from the vessel's innards as a result of the extensive damage.
Fighting through his anger and self-loathing, Admiral Staton noted that the planetary turbolasers had been marked. Another volley was bound to be on its way and Staton did not expect the Hardpoint to fully shroud herself behind the bulk of the shipyard in time for their arrival. He continued to watch the battlefield display as the Hardpoint maintained its drastically sluggish approach towards the shipyards, guided by nothing more than the velocity it had arrived with. Were the Hardpoint to be successful in aligning itself well within the shadow of the superstructure it ought to be adequately protected from the weapons after a second volley. Recovering operations could begin once the hostilities ended as long as the Mandalorians were victorious. Unfortunately, the planetary turbolasers were not the only threat on the battlefield. With no shields and ruptured armor, the Hardpoint would remain vulnerable to missiles and rockets. It's crew casualties already numbering in the triple digits, and such were only preliminary reports.
The Basterd's Hand, however, still remained completely vulnerable, too large to hide completely behind the shipyard structure from its current position. Staton issued attack orders on the Victory-class Star Destroyers they had previously fired on even as the vessel made its way towards the protection of the shipyards themselves. Hopefully the underwhelming attack Staton had initially incited will have left the enemy Victories unsuspecting. His strategy was simple, and similar to their enemy's: Cull the weak. Unfortunately for the Dark Tide defenders, "weak" was a broad definition of their forces."Overcharge the cannons. Off-set each volley. Aim for that first Victory. I want it destroyed."Staton's orders were obeyed by the Weapon Crew almost immediately, the previous targeting solutions recycled to accommodate for the repositioning of both vessels.
The eight massive cannons of the Basterd's Hand gathered energy within her bowels, angling their barrels towards the first Victory-class Star Destroyer. The turbolasers and missile systems unleashed a full first wave of ten assault concussion missiles, the type suited primarily for use against enemy capital ships. He watched the missiles fire, then called for turbolaser fire from the Hand's DBY-827 Heavy Dual batteries to cover the missiles' launch. The cannons fired repeatedly, the energy bolts speeding passed the fired missiles and helping to mask their approach. The tactic was intended to confuse or distract the enemies' anti-missile defense systems, allowing the assault concussion missiles to strike uninterrupted and unleashing nothing short of death. The Hand fired and immediately began shifting power to recharge the cannons as they discharged, likewise reorienting its Long-Range turbolasers for a shot at the second Kuati Victory, though it refrained from firing for the moment. Staton watched the battlefield display as their attack was initiated, in full force this time around. The Kuati Defenders would not find GALSAF so easily turned away.Staton quickly ran through his other options, sending forth 1st Flight to chase off the seventy-eight TIE Fighters that were on approach towards 2nd Battalions LAAT gunships. The eighteen gunships had deployed close enough to the shipyards to escape the brunt defensive fire from the station itself, though they would remain vulnerable until they had dropped off their passengers. Jig and Love Company's twelve gunships angled low as they approached Sector Seven, turning sharply through the various structures that bristled along the spine of the shipyards as they shot for their own insertion point at the drydocks in Sector One-Zero-Four, or the fourth drydocks counted clockwise from Supply Space Station. King Company's six gunships struck directly for their insertion point at Sector One-Five, the Commercial Zone attached to the Residential Space Station where the second shield generator was supposedly located.
Green bolts of cannon fire lit the space around the gunships as defending TIE fighters made their initial approach. Lucky for the Commandos on board the gunships, their vessel's hulls and shields were enough to deflect most of the damage from the light attack fighters, though sustained fire would eventually punch through the shields and damage the hull beneath. Thankfully for the close deployment, the gunships were already well on their way to their insertion points, though the defending TIE's would quickly return for a second run.
The gunships crews began returning fire from the bow and aft cannons of their gunships, which were modified versions of the stock anti-personnel cannons usually found on the craft. These cannons, however, boasted more power and much faster repeating fire, which served adequately as anti-fighter weapons. The green lasers of the gunships' composite beam weapons likewise struck for whatever targets they could identify, and while their targeting systems provided advanced vectors for firing on their attackers, TIE's were notoriously nimble and capable of flying with twice the speed at which the LAAT gunships were.
Their approach was made easier however, as 1st Flight cut through the space behind the attacking TIE Fighters, the XJ-7 X-wings capable of outmatching TIE's in almost any way that mattered. 1st Flight's 32 X-wings lanced towards their allies' would-be assailants, firing torpedoes when locks were attained and peppering the space around the TIE's with linked cannon fire.
Despite the sudden attack, the gunships did not escape without their share of damage. Jig Company's First Platoon was struck with a cannon bolt on the port engine, bringing their gunship to a crash against the station's shields, just three-hundred meters short of their insertion point. By sheer luck, the gunship struck belly first, protecting the Commandos within from otherwise certain death. The gunship's pilots however, both died in the collision, and the vessel was damaged beyond recuperation. There were three injuries amongst First Platoon's Commandos, one broken arm and two puncture wounds. First Platoon's CO, Captain Edd Yult, reoriented his attention to care for his Commandos while the rest of the force continued forward to their insertion points. First Platoon's gunship was left to float among the various debris spreading across the battlespace, its engines inoperable. Captain Yult pulled the pilots from their seats and sat amongst the controls, shutting down the gunship's systems to preserve their location and vulnerability from being identified by enemy forces.
King Company, which had the furthest to travel to OB-Two, sustained one damaged gunship during their initial approach as they swung past Jig Company's deploying Commandos. The gunship trailed off and crashed against the face of the Kuat Drive Yard Office buildings, the shipyard's shields collapsing the bow fuselage and killing nearly half the Third Platoon Commandos held within. The rest were able to organize their wounded and stabilize them inside the damaged troop bay, hidden for the time being from any enemy forces. Third Platoon's Leftenant, Adan Ikkers, organized the section into two squads. Both Captains sent up text-based reports on secured com-channels updating their fellow leaders regarding the position and circumstances of their respective units. |
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Bralex Ordo
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Post by Bralex Ordo on Dec 15, 2013 19:40:15 GMT -8
Aboard the Victory II-class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent.’ With the door before them sealed shut, the two squads of Imperial Marines had begun cutting through the durasteel bulkhead, letting the sparks of their violent entry spill onto the ash stricken floor of the hangar bay. The deed was repeated by the other two squads attempting to access the hangar from the secondary access hatch not twenty meters away from the first squad’s position. Commander Fordo was unsure of the lives that had resided in the Firespray, and as with everything assumed and prepared for the worst. If it was a squad of heavily armed super commandos, then he feared that these four squads might not be enough to overpower their adversary; despite the fact they would be able to keep the soldiers busy until reinforcements arrived. When the locking mechanism had been blasted through upon both doors, the squads moved through the gap they had created and began searching for any sign of their enemy. The hangar deck was relatively untouched, save for the scattered bits of Mandalorian craft that had strewn about the deck after the point defense guns had blasted it to radioactive space dust. A full squadron of TIE fighters had still remained in their racks, bereft of their pilots. Several shuttles were resting below, their ground crew and the shuttle pilots had scurried into the alcoves near the left and right side of the hangar, seeking to avoid the ensuing firefight.
Storming onto the flight deck, the fourty men clad in the iconic plastoid armour of the Galactic Empire’s elite began fanning out in search of their quarry. Five men had been stationed at the hangar bay entrances, to remain guard whilst the rest sought to make contact with the enemy. A single squad had been sent to inspect the shuttles, scouring the left side of the massive hangar bay for their Mandalorian foe. With E-11’s held at the ready, each of the transports holds had been thoroughly searched using their target acquisition system built within the battle helm. Another squad had been sent to the right section of the hangar bay, also searching through the docked shuttle craft and interrogating those they felt were suspicious. The last squad of ten men had taken the lifts up to the TIE racks above in the hopes of making contact with their foe. Appearing above the shattered doors in two groups of five, they turned into the greater space of the hangar with their blasters raised. It was there that contact was made, and it was there that the first crimson bolts were cast...
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2013 20:52:23 GMT -8
Ander Tagira, "GC-01"
Lord Commander of the Galactic Security Assistance Force
LA-AT/i Gunship inside the Bow Hangar of the Basterd's Hand Ander gritted his teeth as Taung's voice played out in his helmet before the transmission was ended. Whatever the man thought of a "plan" hadn't consisted of any verbal communication he was aware of. The last Ander had worked out with the other commanders was to head straight for the surface as a single spherical formation, using the collective protection offered by their overlapping shields to bring their ground forces to a safe landing on the planet below. Ander brought up a brief scan of the area onto his HUD, searching for Shun's forces and swearing to himself as he caught sight of one of Taung's prize vessels, a Mishmure'cya-class Light Star Cruiser dubbed the Skira disappear from all existence in a blinding flash of sequential detonations. One of the Kuati Victory Star Destroyers had made a short hyperjump and scuttled itself against the Star Cruiser's hull, vaporizing both vessels. Taung's fleet remained the dominant force on the battlefield, but considering the number of Victories the defenders had at their disposal, and the number of such vessels that were likely to be brought to such dire straits, Ander didn't expect that to be the last suicide run to be attempted against their forces. Suddenly, he was glad Admiral Staton had jumped the fleet in on Taung's heels.
As the Mandalorian Clans began to orient their forces towards the Kuat Shipyards, Ander brought Staton up on the comlink and verified they would be following, dropping the Battalion off at the shipyards along the way to take good care of those shield generators. As the Basterd's Hand began leading the rest of their fleet forward behind Taung's, Ander double-checked their approach vector, ensuring they would be able to fly within the relative cover of the shipyards themselves to their respective destinations.
The GALSAF Naval Fleet began their approach, 2nd Battalion's LA-AT gunships at the ready for their orders to deploy. Ander waited until the last possible moment as they made their approach before giving the order. The Basterd's Hand dipped down slightly, bringing them within several hundred kilometers of the shipyards over Sector 7. Second Battalion would have to deploy over that sector of the shipyards and split off into their respective companies before heading towards their insertion locations. Ander didn't expect them all to make the drop perfectly, though he had their MAT-TE's deploying also to provide heavy firepower on the shipyard's surface. Modified shielding systems and anti-aircraft weaponry mounted on these vehicles would make them a formidable asset to the companies Ander had deploying on the station, and could assist in extraction if necessary. Hopefully, 2nd Battalion and their accompanying Mandalorian assets would have the shipyard shields down before their fleets were redeploying into orbit. If not, then there would be no way save their Larty craft to extract the Commandos on board the shipyards.We're on approach, folks. Pilots at the ready... Ander spoke over the comlink, checking and rechecking their approach vector and distance from Sector 7. Steady…steady…GO! GO! GO! Ander almost shouted the order over the comlink, calling for 2nd Battalion's entire LA-AT force to make the jump between the bow hangar bay and the shipyards. All at once, streams of gunships began to launch from the hangar, covered by the powerful cannons of the Basterd's Hand and her sistership, the Hardpoint. Point-defense laser cannons, turbolasers, concussion missiles and baradium-tipped proton torpedoes began to pour out of the Imperial-II class Star Destroyer, all aimed for the surface of the shipyards where their gunships would be closing in. Sector 7 of the Kuat shipyards would soon become embroiled in plasma energies and missile detonations, all to proceed the arrival of the quickly closing dropships.
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Delmani Altic
Member
Posts: 30
Affiliation: GALSAF (Galactic Security Assistance Force)
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Delmani Altic on Dec 16, 2013 10:59:19 GMT -8
*The camaraderie amongst them is something only years of being in one battle after the other can provide. Something that excelled in the Clans. Something that helped the Mando'ade thrive for a couple millennium. Which almost led to their destruction and subsequent social stigma of being called barbarians and thugs. Ironic. Their greatest strength is their greatest flaw. ::Illogical. A strength and flaw can never be quantified in the same manner. It is akin to correlating death and birth to being accidental. Which neither are. Bonding through battle is the same among survivors. Only through life and death do strengths and flaws reveal themselves. The ones who survive show the greatest potential for becoming strong, but with all probabilities it merely delays the inevitable truth and that is on a long enough timeline everyone's survival rate drops to ZERO:: Abe again shakes off these foreign thoughts but in vain. They make sense, if only in a cold simplistic way.*"Feigns are usually more or less effective depending on the type of ambush, if our priority is helping take out anti-air then we need to worry less about the oncoming troops and focus more on a hit and run tactics to lead them away from them. Diversions are just that, diverting. However, that is only if we need to remove anti-air. I'm sure they'll be taken out long before we need to make a move on them."*Abe looks over at Tag when he makes his bet. ::Despite the organic knowing that in fact you are a great shot, he insists with competing against you. Highly illogical and an even higher improbability that he will succeed.:: Which makes Abe smile under his buy'ce. The closest thing he felt to amusement in a very long time.*"A hundred creds a shot? You're on. And call me Abe. My older sibling Kaine always called me Able." Delmani Altic, "GC-02"
Commander of GALSAF Black Operations
Bow Hangar Bay of the Basterd's Hand Delmani listened to Able's words intently, the man had a lot of insight to offer, of which he was appreciative. "Either way, we'll have air support in the area for the duration of the operation. Our pilots will insert us just outside the city, and stick in case they're needed. Perhaps we should make our priority the ground forces then, and only orient ourselves towards their anti-air if it proves to be a problem? I hadn't thought of it before, but the height of the buildings in the city should prove to hinder their anti-air capabilities, and our Larties shouldn't have much of a problem keeping themselves clear of their guns." Delmani reached for his helmet and sealed it over his head, then gestured to their assigned vehicle, a personally owned gunship named the Hati. It belonged to Leftenant @kaytra, one of the 1st Airborne Commando Support Battalion's best pilots. She served specifically as one of BOG's two pilots, and flew the Black Operators on the majority of their missions around the Galaxy. Delmani trotted up the vessel's rear loading ramp, bringing his gear pack with him.Soviet and Tag grabbed their own gear and followed, Tag waiting just long enough to reply to Australis regarding their arrangement. He nodded as the man spoke, pleased Australis had accepted his challenge, despite Tag's own expectations to lose a decent chunk of change in the process. Fun was fun, after all, no matter if you had to pay for it. Abe it is then, ner'vod. Tag said gleefully before heading into the vessel. Moments after the Black Operators had entered the ship, the Hati would deploy from the hangar with the rest of the LA-AT force, though their destination was the planet's surface, rather than the shipyards. BOG's second vessel, a specially modified LA-AT gunship would deploy along with the Hati carrying the other five Black Operations Commandos on board. This gunship was equipped with the best stealth coating and armor money could buy, and should prove successful in avoiding detection by the enemy until they were close enough to the insertion point within the outskirts of the city.Delmani settled into a seat in the rear of the Hati as he felt the engines thrum to life, checking his equipment again for the last time before keying the comlink to speak with the pilot. Kaytra, just get us there in one piece, don't worry about fancy flying. I know how excited you get behind the stick. After we insert, head outside the city with Larty-Bee-Oh-Two and start scanning the area for enemy forces. Relay all your data to our helmets, I want to know what's going on before we enter the city on foot. Delmani hardly had time to receive a reply before Tagira called for their forces to deploy and the Hati lurched forward and shot out of the hangar bay and into open space nearby the shipyards. It was a deployment Delmani had experienced thousands of times over his long career, but the nervous feeling he got whenever it happened never truly went away. He turned his attention to the mission, reviewing the plan in his mind while he looked over the layout of Kuat City on his HUD. |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 16, 2013 21:16:39 GMT -8
Bralex's HUD alerted him to the 10 Tangos that had found their way up to the catwalks where he was. Ten? They underestimated him. Bralex aimed down the catwalk to where the lift would stop. He unleashed a rocket from the MM9 Rocket System that was integrated into his right gauntlet. The tracking system in the computer of Bralex's buy'ce had targeted the middle of the lift. This was to try and accomplish two goals: One, the middle of the lift would be the most central location of the Tangos and inflict the most damage to the most enemies at that point; and Two, possibly disable the lift, preventing it from being used to provide reinforcements. The damage caused by the rocket would of course decrease the further away from the explosion one was, but hopefully several would be killed and several more wounded. As soon as the rocket left its launcher, Bralex brought his right hand back up to the trigger of his DC-17m, and took cover behind a control panel of some sort. It had begun... Aboard the Victory II-class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent.’ With the sounds of the many lifts locking into place, a single sound echoed through the near silent hangar bay. In a cacophonous roar, the sound created when the miniaturized charge within the wrist bound rocket had detonated upon impact with the durasteel bulkhead, two Imperial Marines had been cast down to the decking of the catwalks. Their plastoid armour had saved them from any grievous injuries, thus sparing the two men from death’s icy embrace. The places that the armour had covered were now peppered with sharp sections of shrapnel, jutting out from the alabaster plates but failing to penetrate into the ebon body glove and the supple flesh beneath. In direct contrast to the sections of the body swathed in plastoid, the body glove had been shorn open revealing the epidermis below. Both troopers had sustained various second to first degree burns about their necks and in the vulnerable gap between the torso sections. In addendum to the seared flesh they had received, the pieces of the rocket that had survived the detonation had found and wormed their way into the recently exposed areas of the soldiers with such force that they had been forced into an incapacitated state. The sudden shock of being cast to the desk and striking the wrought durasteel deck caused the two Imperial marines to lose consciousness, saving them from the sight of their severed limbs. One man had lost his left arm from the elbow down, the fragmented shards of metal had struck the poor soul with such kinetic force that the shrapnel severed the cartilage connecting the two joints together, which in turn had caused a massive laceration to remain behind in the fury of the rocket’s wake. The other had endured a similar wound, though instead of his arm being separated from the whole of his body, it was his right leg.
Watching the two men collapse to the deck from another of the lifts, the pair of Imperial Marines had begun slowly advancing towards their fallen comrades; in the attempt to shroud their bodies from harm behind the durasteel plating that compromised the lift’s natural shielding. While they were slowly strafing towards their injured brothers in arms, their blasters had been pointed at the control panel the single Mandalorian warrior had taken cover behind. Unlike the sturdier grading of durasteel required to make the whole of the catwalks, the control panel had been formed from thinner plates to allow more room for the sophisticated electronics said terminal needed to continue about its daily operations. In terms of providing cover, that section of the catwalk would not last in the face of the Imperial’s fury. Each rifle that each of these ten men held tightly within their grasp, housed the potential to unleash a torrent of five hundred bolts per cartridge. Under a sustained barrage from the eight Marines upon the catwalk, the inferior grade of durasteel would not last under such an energetic siege. As the two soldiers from the lift nearest to those that had fallen made their way towards their newly designated position, the other six had instantaneously sprang into action. Their triggers poured condensed plasma, which was cast out as crimson beams, into the terminal with the hopes of keeping their Mandalorian foe suppressed under the sheer volume of the fire they were blasting his way; or melting through the terminal to strike the target where he was most vulnerable. While each man had known the possibility for this single warrior to be clad in the traditional Mandalorian Iron, which did not arrest the steady momentum, they had created. Beskar’gam could only withstand so much fire before the man beneath had been cooked alive in his armour, and as they advanced within the ninety degree arc spreading out from the terminal, each man relished in the thought of feeding freshly seared Mandalorian hide to their pets.
As the firefight in the rafters above had begun, many of the troopers below had abruptly left their scanning duties to join in on super-heated exchange of plasma in the higher levels of the hangar. With one of the many lifts rendered inoperable by the sudden and cacophonous explosion of a miniaturized rocket, a small selection of Imperial Marines would not be able to arrive alongside their fellow soldiers. Taking up their positions alongside the men that had been stationed about the exits of the hangar bay, a small twang of regret had reverberated throughout the back of their minds. It was almost a shame not to have the honour of the first confirmed kill in the relentless Mandalorian assault upon the fortified system of Kuat. However, ensuring that their duty was carried out to the letter; was honour enough for these drilled and disciplined men and women of the Imperial Marine Corps... |
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Taung H'rel
Retired High Councilor 
Posts: 469
Affiliation: Galactic Empire
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Post by Taung H'rel on Dec 17, 2013 19:19:07 GMT -8
Taung ignored Captain Kale's last transmission. It would be recorded somewhere, and he wasnt interested in a doomed captain's thanks for killing her. His responsibilities were to the living, and the living on his side of the battle at that, there was plenty of battle ahead as well. His mind stayed locked on the issues at hand.
His ships played their heavy tractor beams at the three oncoming Victory class ships. Each of them was venting atmosphere and had melt marks and fire spewing from them in places. Armor plate was twisted and warped and radiated waste heat into the bone chilling cold of vacuum as they bled residual heat from weapons fire, cooling into grotesque shapes of death and destruction that had once been pristine lines on deadly warships. Taung's ships kept up their fire with heavy turbolasers and ion cannons as the tractor beams were intent on pushing the Victory's from the fleets path as they started to spiral to starboard, their undamaged hulls glinting light from the flat planes of their hull as they rotated in relation to the systems primary. Separating themselves from Ander's fleet that seemed more eager to move forwards and could get away with easier maneuvers than the far heavier Mishmure'cya class ships. His ships started scanning the Drive Yards shields beginning to look for openings or weak points in the shields that could be taken advantage of to land troops.
As Ander's ships had peeled off to quickly try to begin assaulting the Andrim Shipyards he frowned again as the GALSAF ships started launching troops while the shipyards shields remained up. He closed his eyes and shook his head, then brilliant green beams of planetary based turbolaser fire winked up from the surface. He wasnt willing to let his ships tangle with ground based powerful turbolaser batteries before he was ready, and his ships where four times the size of the GALSAF vessel that had attracted the unwanted attentions of the 'shore based' weapons.
He ordered his ships to a different location of the shipyards, spiraling to starboard as his ships put the bulk of the planet between them and the w-165 turbolasers to drop down towards the front of Kuat Drive Yards Main Offices, leveling off with the bulk of the massive yards in between his ships and the planet. His ships turned harder to starboard and began orbiting the yards, shifting positions to the two Mishmure'cya ships stacked top and bottom with the Mandokar's in a line forwards between them. The larger ships positioned their projected shields between the fleet and the shipyards weapons draping the entire formation in protective energy, bringing the previously drained shields on the port side back up, and doing the same on the exposed space side. The LightStealth-18s moving closer and turning on their active systems aiding with a larger view of the shipyards and giving the battle group a heads up for what was beyond the horizon. The advancing Dark Tide Reserve Fleet was shielded from his ships by part of the southern hemisphere, but orbiting the planet would quickly take care of that as his ships angled themselves and began calculating firing solutions using data from the southern LightStealth-18, the information much more up to date now that it was using its active sensors.
Taung's ships carefully recorded the locations of the w-165s positions and preparing for when they came back around the planet and were exposed once again. Onboard the three Mandokars Taung put out the word.
::Ground troops prepare for drop. One unit will be assaulting the shipyards and targets there. The others will prepare for orbital drop.::
He broke the channel and opened a private one to Six in his quarters.
::Six...hope you're ready. Report to the drop station.::
A number of light hours from the battle the Type I Star Monitor made its final calculations and jumped towards the planet. It dropped out of hyperspace midway between the North Pole and the equator several hundred thousand kilometers from the planet. Its cloaking device running and its gravitic modulators running as well, erasing even that means of detection, and began drifting in on a pre plotted course, the captain arming the massive hypermatter warheads of the stealth torpedoes, each as much of a technological marvel with their Force Mask hull, hybriduim cloaking device, and Crystal Gravfield Trap as the ship that carried them.
At the original jump off point the Mishmure'cya itself waited for the word to give a pull on the collective Force User's puppet strings.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 17, 2013 20:05:29 GMT -8
Black Caisson, Pariah 1 reporting, we are in pursuit of unidentified craft that has destroyed a squadron of your ships in sector 132 South. Requesting clarification on whether to pursue, or to join allied forces at the south pole for Kuat defense, over. = Aboard Corona-class frigate "Base 1" =Friendly craft and Kuat Defense Forces, this is Comm Officer Arthi on board Corona Frigate 'Base 1' of the 'Stardogs,' we are ready to roll and seeking instruction; just put us where you want us.
With such a heavy burden starting to take its toll upon the Captain, he had barely paid the Imperial Knight any mind as the party had requested to dock with the Drive Yards orbiting the planet. Belatedly approving their request and terminating communications, He went about taking stock of what assets had had to call upon. That was when he had recalled a transmission from the newly arrived Jedi starfighters and their leader whom bore the name of Pariah One. Eleven CF9 crossfires, each bearing their respective transponder confirmed callsigns, and the craft belonging to the man his second had spoken with mere minutes before. More had jumped in mere heartbeats later, forming up alongside their comrades as they soared through the Dark Tide controlled space. Thankful to have such a varied and odd selection of Jedi craft at his beck and call, Logan decided to pick up where his second in command had left off. The conversation between the officer and the Jedi craft designated Pariah One would’ve continued, but with the picket line at the northern pole failing in such a spectacular fashion, Borodin had elected to terminate the transmission in order to coordinate an effect counter to the massive Mandalorian behemoths. Picking up a headset from the terminal before him, Captain Logan re-opened the transmission to the Jedi starfighters, letting his voice echo throughout the darkness of the void and play through the speakers of the Owool Interceptor and the RZ-1 that flew in formation beside it, alongside the newly arrived Corona- Class Frigate tagged as 'Base One'./Pariah One/ this is /Black Caisson Actual/, forgive my Second in command for the belated response in regards to your earlier query. I humbly request that your fellows join our forces stationed over the Southern pole of the planet, more specifically to engage the Mandalorian starfighters that have launched in response to our offensive. Two /Imperator – Class Star Destroyers/ designated the; ‘Weeping Angel’ and the ‘Silence’ will follow you in and provide whatever escort you need. Hopefully you boys don’t mind sharing the space with some crazy pilots.Placing the channel on a backlogged section of his ship’s communications, Captain Aximand began issuing his orders to the warships at his command that had not be stationed at either of the poles. Originally the plan had to been to reinforce the front that had seemed most likely to fail, adding in additional firepower to help even the odds in the face of an overwhelming force. Sadly the crusade fleet that he had expected seemed paltry in comparison, Logan almost felt cheated! Though the four thousand meter battleships had more than made up for the expectations he had set long before the battle had begun. When they had revealed their snarling faces, the Captain knew he would not live long enough to see a new day dawn; if he had thrown everything he had at a just one of these behemoths. Thus he had swiftly adopted a more favourable plan with a higher chance of survivability, culling the weak and taking what’s left to engage the strong. With the North pole defenses out of commission, Logan micromanaged the course his battlegroup would take. As the smaller Victory II destroyers were far swifter than their larger cousins, they would spearhead the assault into the secondary Mandalorian pincer. Fighters would be launched as soon as they were in effective range, providing a covering screen for any missiles or torpedoes that sought to ‘sink’ their mobile berths. It was an old tactic, but as he had a considerable amount of starfighters at his disposal it seemed fitting to use them to their best advantage, whilst the destroyers dealt with the brunt of the Corvette’s fury.
Though there would be various arrival times for the additional assets, the added firepower was sure to be welcomed when it had finally arrived on station. After the orders were issued and the ships had begun moving along their intended paths, Captain Aximand keyed in several codes to patch his voice to his master and commander upon the surface. The burden fell upon him to relay the details of the assault to Admiral Monet and Lord Sinistra thereafter, as he was the Captain of her Lordship’s flagship. Clearing his throat before he activated the feed, Logan addressed his superiors with confidence. Despite the fact they were in an uncertain stalemate that could teeter either way, he was in command of exceptional officers that had done the impossible in the face of superior technology.Lord Sinistra, Admiral Monet; this is /Black Caisson Actual/. As you have no doubt seen, the North Pole has fallen. He restrained himself from making the un-needed comment about Sithmas being cancelled, as doing so would’ve disgraced the uniform he wore and the responsibility that had hung from his shoulders. The Mandalorian Warlord, known as Taung H’rel has battered aside the forces I had stationed there, in the event a sizeable force had jumped past our outer tier of defenses. As it stands the /Defiant/, a third generation Golan platform was destroyed with all hands lost. The/ Jafar/ suffered a reactor malfunction and was destroyed, with all hands lost or scattered when emergency evacuation protocols were engaged. The /Ursla/ was severely damaged as the flotilla sought to outmaneuver the Mandalorian firing arcs, and had sacrificed itself as they were ordered to make a jump into hyperspace. Their micro-jump had the crippled Victory II collide with the Mandalorian battleship, tagged as the /Skira/, Mando’a for Revenge or Settling the Score. All hands were lost before the vessel had rammed into the beskar clad behemoth, causing our enemy to lose one of his impressive warships before their death echoes had been scoured from what remained after the ship, if it could have been called that, decelerated from hyperspace.He had gone from his more informal stance of gripping the edges of his strateigum, to pushing off and slipping his hand behind his back. Even in wartime, there had to be some semblance of order in a galaxy beset by chaos. In addendum to my listed report, I have the projected losses we are destined to take in further engagements with these Mandalorian Behemoths. They vary from total loss of combat effectiveness; or several instances of disorganized routs and tactical withdrawals. Long term, we will suffer heavy losses in terms of both crew and void capable craft. Breathing a heavy sigh, laced with the feelings of remorse for delivering such bad news to his superior officers that had minted his commission to the Captain’s chair, Captain Aximand made one last request before he had returned to the battle at hand. I request permission to deploy the Shadow Reaper, and the usage of her primary weapon in Dark Tide territory. If this is to be our stand against these Religious Fanatic’s, then let them reap what they have sown.The darkness would quickly vanish, and the space around turned into a catastrophic light show. Blue lasers shot from the Mandalorian's fleet, traveled towards the planet's defenses. Emerald lasers traveled back, and made it's way towards the fleet's front shields. It had little effect, but it would seem to cause an effect if nothing were to be done. Shun sat down at the bridge of his Destroyer, looking through the view in front of him. He could see the KDY's, and the defenses that surrounded it. He tapped a few buttons on his command chair, and looked towards the officers down below him. The fast fingers and jittery movements proved to be effective, and the fleets weapon systems continued to produce a stable barrage of fire. Shun continued to click a few buttons, and then looked towards the view in front. He wanted the fleet to continue firing on the Golan Defense Platform, he knew it wouldn't be hard to push through once it was down. Their defenses were spread thin, and it seemed rather easy to make it to the Drive Yards. Yet, it seemed too thin, wanting to draw their attacks in. Thoughts quickly scrambled in his mind, and Shun began to smirk. His enemy's were smarter then he had thought, and he knew he had to be smarter with his tactics. He looked towards the admiral on deck, and prompted him towards the throne.
Continue firing on the platform, we must take that down. Maintain a defensive position with our main ships, but send 2 of our corvettes towards the planet. Scramble 20 Fighters towards them as well, I want that Destroyer down as soon as possible.The Admiral nodded, and quickly moved back into his position. Shun clenched his hands, and slowly moved his face towards them. He didn't think his plan was stellar, but it was the best he could do at the time. He needed to make it on the ground, or else his Mandalorian allies would not stand a chance. He had hoped that the Corvettes and the Bes'uliik fighters could help speed up the process. He quickly looked back up towards the screen, and simultaneously clicked a few buttons on the command chair. It brought up a hologram of the space around him, and he noticed something striking...he was alone. Anger quickly flowed through him, and he immediately began to contact Ander Tagira and his fleet. Shun slowly took off his helmet, while the hologram projector illuminated in front of him.Commander Tagira, this is Shun Flvin. I understand your fleet is suppose to be at the South Pole, but it seems I am alone. Shun paused for a moment, and shook his head rather quickly.There are five SDs preventing me from advancing, but all my fire is targeting their defense platform. If you can help destroy the SDs, I will provide you with the Ground Support you need. I hope to see you soon my friend, Good Luck.The hologram quickly disappeared, and Shun looked back into the open windows in front of him. His ships were making it closer to the planet's defenses, only to be welcomed by increasing fire. Shun clicked another few buttons, and suddenly established a Commlink with the leading Corvette.
Captain, you are serving your people well. Be sure to charge all forward shields, and frontal weapons. Take down those SDs, and you will be paid in riches. Good Luck ner vod. The frontal shields illuminated as the ships made their way towards the planet. 20 Bes'uliik star fighters provided a secure escort, traveling close by. All weapons were finally charged, and the order was quickly given. The laser cannons of the Crusader-Class Corvettes erupted, and the space in front of them became crowded with fire. Their target was the Victory-II SD "Evanora", and nothing more. Once the SD was down, the ships would move their fire towards the other ships. The plan was simple, but it seemed that another plan was about to unfold. “The pleasure’s all yours, Captain Aximand.” Ryner spat, venom subtlety dripping from every word. Disregarding the tone his fellow Captain had used, Logan carried on. The northern pole has fallen in the face of the Mandalorian’s brutality, their battleships bricks tore through the lines unhindered until the Ursla and her crew sacrificed themselves and their vessel to take down a vessel tagged as the /Skira/. I’ve shifted our general strategy to remove any and all smaller threats to free up our forces to engage the Mandalorian behemoths. The emerald image of Captain Aximand flickered as laser cannon fire had impacted the Evanora’s shield, causing the flare of disruption to nearly terminate the channel.Re-establishing within the span of a human heartbeat, Captain Logan’s eyebrow had been raised slightly. Speaking of, those Crusader corvettes’ giving your vessel trouble, Ryner? The Zabrak laughed mockingly. “Not at all, sir, our shields will hold for weeks under such bombardment. These vessels were made for anti-starfighter combat, not ship to ship.” The emerald image of Captain Logan crossed his arms over his chest, and slowly began to arch his back. Still, in the numbers they have, those corvettes can cause your vessels to miss the greater threats. Those Venator’s can match your vessels in firepower, until they bring their port or starboard sides about. Then you’re in for it. I’d suggest overlapping your forward arcs of fire with your sister ships, then concentrating your fire power upon those Corvettes. Open their hulls to the void, while the Jedi take on their fighters. Once those Corvettes’ are down, launch your alert fighters and take down those troop ships. I cannot accept those soldiers making planetfall in the comfort of their own craft, let them be purged in the fires of Kuat’s atmosphere or suffocate in the void. Logan’s eyes narrowed. I’ll join you soon, Ryner. The Calvary will eradicate whatever is left before moving onto the greater threats about the Drive Yards. Black Caisson, over and out.Ryner chafed at the tone Aximand had taken on; for ever since he had been appointed to such a honourary position he ordered about the other Captains like his stool was made of platinum. The man was a defector, for he betrayed the Imperial Remnant and left the men he called friends to die in the face of the enemy. Putting him in charge here at Kuat was the worst decision Lord Sinistra and her Admiral adjutant had ever made. Ryner reasoned that should the battle ever turn sour, he and the vessel he stood upon would flee from Kuat never to be seen from again. Cowardly turncoat didn’t have the stones to stick around when the Remnant fell, Ryner didn’t think he grew a pair in the time between faction allegiances. Despite the enmity between the two men, the Zabrak could not deny the logic in Captain Aximand’s plan. The Dark Tide needed every ship on deck in order to deal with the massive Mandalorian battleships, and they could not do it with hostile craft striking from the rear. Relenting to the wisdom in Logan’s advice, Captain Ryner swiped his hand across the surface of his tactical console and watched as the image of the Kuati sector hummed to life. Reports of sustained damage throughout his battle group had been flooding in, almost in time with every volley made by the Crusader corvettes’ and their larger brethren. The damage taken by the Evanora had been miniscule in comparison to the damage sustained by the Golan III platform designated; Myrmidon. The inherit design flaw with the mandalorian corvettes was their lack of firepower when heading directly at a foe. With all the cannons ranked beside one another, their forward firing arc was negated by the battery before it. So when each of the eight remaining Crusaders’ had concentrated their forward firing arcs and opened fire with their armament, only four of the cannons had spoken true. Equated to the power of a light turbolaser, the Evanora’s shields flared azure in the face of the corvettes’ fury, but minimal damage to the capacitors about the generator had been sustained.
The holographic representation of the Evanora displayed the estimated damage they had sustained from the fury of the Cursaders’ guns; Ninety three percent of the shields had been taken out of commission and would not recharge until the combat cycle had been completed. Flicking his eyes towards the hololithic image of the Myrmidon, Ryner eyed the markers displaying its shields and let out a sigh of relief. Arguably more powerful than an Imperator I in terms of weaponry and estimated to be equitable in terms of shield strength. It would not last against a sustained barrage from several heavily armed transports and two antiquated Venator’s, but for now it would hold at seventy seven perfect with minor exterior damage to the hull. The guns of the Myrmidon began shifting towards new targets, the eight craft making a break for the line of Victory II’s. Streaks of turbolaser fire poured from the cannons aboard the stations port side, seeking through the darkness of space with the intent of crashing into the bow shields of the Corvettes’. As they glided within optimal torpedo range, Ryner smiled as he watched the station launch several salvos of homing proton torpedoes from their port side tubes. Markers appeared upon his tactical display, showing nearly twenty icons soaring through the curtain of infinite black. Issuing the order for his five craft to tighten up their lines and stand together abreast of one another, Ryner smiled grimly as he watched his orders began to take place throughout the flotilla. The guns of each Victory II had thundered forth from the brim trench, speaking crackling words of death as they passed silently through the great void. Two of the Victory’s , designated the Hades and the Medusa, began to concentrate their considerable firepower upon the two corvettes arrayed upon the plane before them. Dozens of heavy turbolasers and their medium variants fired into the void, seeking to open the iron hides of the corvettes and leave their insides to spoil in the heat of an alien sun. Ion cannons opened up during the recharge time of the turbolasers, keeping the fire upon the two craft consistent and deadly. The other two craft arrayed to the starboard side of the Evanora, designated; Tremaine and Maleficent, followed the identical path of their port side sisters. Heavy turbolasers and their medium brothers had opened up first, before being followed by their Ion cannon cousins. After the Evanora had taken the brunt of the assault from the combined laser fire of the unnamed corvettes, it was her turn to let her fury sing true.
Turning his gaze towards the forward viewscreen the command deck, Ryner watched as bolts of emerald and sapphire streaked from his ship. The South had to hold, but as the two corvettes that had broken off earlier with nearly two squadrons of Bes’ulliks as escorts; Ryner had nothing at his disposal in which to intercept the smaller and much nimbler vessels. The zabrak only hoped that such a decision did not come to stab him in the back at a later time… |
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Bralex Ordo
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Post by Bralex Ordo on Dec 18, 2013 7:09:13 GMT -8
Aboard the Victory II-class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent.’ With the sounds of the many lifts locking into place, a single sound echoed through the near silent hangar bay. In a cacophonous roar, the sound created when the miniaturized charge within the wrist bound rocket had detonated upon impact with the durasteel bulkhead, two Imperial Marines had been cast down to the decking of the catwalks. Their plastoid armour had saved them from any grievous injuries, thus sparing the two men from death’s icy embrace. The places that the armour had covered were now peppered with sharp sections of shrapnel, jutting out from the alabaster plates but failing to penetrate into the ebon body glove and the supple flesh beneath. In direct contrast to the sections of the body swathed in plastoid, the body glove had been shorn open revealing the epidermis below. Both troopers had sustained various second to first degree burns about their necks and in the vulnerable gap between the torso sections. In addendum to the seared flesh they had received, the pieces of the rocket that had survived the detonation had found and wormed their way into the recently exposed areas of the soldiers with such force that they had been forced into an incapacitated state. The sudden shock of being cast to the desk and striking the wrought durasteel deck caused the two Imperial marines to lose consciousness, saving them from the sight of their severed limbs. One man had lost his left arm from the elbow down, the fragmented shards of metal had struck the poor soul with such kinetic force that the shrapnel severed the cartilage connecting the two joints together, which in turn had caused a massive laceration to remain behind in the fury of the rocket’s wake. The other had endured a similar wound, though instead of his arm being separated from the whole of his body, it was his right leg.
Watching the two men collapse to the deck from another of the lifts, the pair of Imperial Marines had begun slowly advancing towards their fallen comrades; in the attempt to shroud their bodies from harm behind the durasteel plating that compromised the lift’s natural shielding. While they were slowly strafing towards their injured brothers in arms, their blasters had been pointed at the control panel the single Mandalorian warrior had taken cover behind. Unlike the sturdier grading of durasteel required to make the whole of the catwalks, the control panel had been formed from thinner plates to allow more room for the sophisticated electronics said terminal needed to continue about its daily operations. In terms of providing cover, that section of the catwalk would not last in the face of the Imperial’s fury. Each rifle that each of these ten men held tightly within their grasp, housed the potential to unleash a torrent of five hundred bolts per cartridge. Under a sustained barrage from the eight Marines upon the catwalk, the inferior grade of durasteel would not last under such an energetic siege. As the two soldiers from the lift nearest to those that had fallen made their way towards their newly designated position, the other six had instantaneously sprang into action. Their triggers poured condensed plasma, which was cast out as crimson beams, into the terminal with the hopes of keeping their Mandalorian foe suppressed under the sheer volume of the fire they were blasting his way; or melting through the terminal to strike the target where he was most vulnerable. While each man had known the possibility for this single warrior to be clad in the traditional Mandalorian Iron, which did not arrest the steady momentum, they had created. Beskar’gam could only withstand so much fire before the man beneath had been cooked alive in his armour, and as they advanced within the ninety degree arc spreading out from the terminal, each man relished in the thought of feeding freshly seared Mandalorian hide to their pets.
As the firefight in the rafters above had begun, many of the troopers below had abruptly left their scanning duties to join in on super-heated exchange of plasma in the higher levels of the hangar. With one of the many lifts rendered inoperable by the sudden and cacophonous explosion of a miniaturized rocket, a small selection of Imperial Marines would not be able to arrive alongside their fellow soldiers. Taking up their positions alongside the men that had been stationed about the exits of the hangar bay, a small twang of regret had reverberated throughout the back of their minds. It was almost a shame not to have the honour of the first confirmed kill in the relentless Mandalorian assault upon the fortified system of Kuat. However, ensuring that their duty was carried out to the letter; was honour enough for these drilled and disciplined men and women of the Imperial Marine Corps... |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 18, 2013 19:42:14 GMT -8
Delmani listened to Able's words intently, the man had a lot of insight to offer, of which he was appreciative. "Either way, we'll have air support in the area for the duration of the operation. Our pilots will insert us just outside the city, and stick in case they're needed. Perhaps we should make our priority the ground forces then, and only orient ourselves towards their anti-air if it proves to be a problem? I hadn't thought of it before, but the height of the buildings in the city should prove to hinder their anti-air capabilities, and our Larties shouldn't have much of a problem keeping themselves clear of their guns." Delmani reached for his helmet and sealed it over his head, then gestured to their assigned vehicle, a personally owned gunship named the Hati. It belonged to Leftenant @kaytra, one of the 1st Airborne Commando Support Battalion's best pilots. She served specifically as one of BOG's two pilots, and flew the Black Operators on the majority of their missions around the Galaxy. Delmani trotted up the vessel's rear loading ramp, bringing his gear pack with him.Soviet and Tag grabbed their own gear and followed, Tag waiting just long enough to reply to Australis regarding their arrangement. He nodded as the man spoke, pleased Australis had accepted his challenge, despite Tag's own expectations to lose a decent chunk of change in the process. Fun was fun, after all, no matter if you had to pay for it. Abe it is then, ner'vod. Tag said gleefully before heading into the vessel. Moments after the Black Operators had entered the ship, the Hati would deploy from the hangar with the rest of the LA-AT force, though their destination was the planet's surface, rather than the shipyards. BOG's second vessel, a specially modified LA-AT gunship would deploy along with the Hati carrying the other five Black Operations Commandos on board. This gunship was equipped with the best stealth coating and armor money could buy, and should prove successful in avoiding detection by the enemy until they were close enough to the insertion point within the outskirts of the city.Delmani settled into a seat in the rear of the Hati as he felt the engines thrum to life, checking his equipment again for the last time before keying the comlink to speak with the pilot. Kaytra, just get us there in one piece, don't worry about fancy flying. I know how excited you get behind the stick. After we insert, head outside the city with Larty-Bee-Oh-Two and start scanning the area for enemy forces. Relay all your data to our helmets, I want to know what's going on before we enter the city on foot. Delmani hardly had time to receive a reply before Tagira called for their forces to deploy and the Hati lurched forward and shot out of the hangar bay and into open space nearby the shipyards. It was a deployment Delmani had experienced thousands of times over his long career, but the nervous feeling he got whenever it happened never truly went away. He turned his attention to the mission, reviewing the plan in his mind while he looked over the layout of Kuat City on his HUD. . *
::What's the matter Altic, don't like how I do things?:: *Her cybernetic eyes turned back to the council in front of her. Counting off the paces in her mind, she hit her mental mark before turning the ship downward.* ::Hang on boys. It's reentry time.::
*The Hati hit atmosphere and began to shake slightly from the sudden shift to the planets gravity. Flames rolled up the front of the ship, licking at the cockpit window. With in moments they were above the planets terrain.*
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Panno
The First Order
Posts: 365
Affiliation: Imperial Knights
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Post by Panno on Dec 19, 2013 11:12:26 GMT -8
Coming out from between two corvettes the two Imperial Knights were a little worse for wear. The anti starfighter weaponry had taken a toll on Panno. His right wing was bent and missing a tip. During a flip he had gotten to close to one of the other shots fired at him. It had torn the ship away, and had he been in atmosphere he would be smoking. Plowing straight through a handful of fighters, their shields taking the brunt of the fire the duo finally saw their target. A Venator. Just then a bolt of green flashed right in front of them and as the lighting polarized to compensate for the bright light they fired themselves.
Their target was small, a box just to the right of the shields keeping the oxygen inside the ship. If their aim was straight and true they would hit it. Opening a momentary hole in the semi permeable sheiks to allow them entrance. If they missed, well then they would become small pancakes on the side. Joining the ever growing list of casualities of the battle.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 19, 2013 18:38:55 GMT -8
As the onslaught of retaliation began, Bralex knew he had kicked the hornet's nest. The integrity of the control panel and catwalk he was on would fail momentarly, as it wasn't designed to be used as hard cover. Looking to his left shoulder, Bralex makes his decision. Bralex broke from his cover and returned fire at the marines on his level. They were good, and several of their shot landed, causing some charring of his armor and slight burning sensations to him underneath. Bralex only returned fire for about 3 seconds, and then jumped over the railing, with nothing below but the fall to the hangar floor. To most this would seem suicidal, but they didn't have a jet pack like Bralex did. As he jumped, his HUD alerted him to some interesting information, the control panel for the external doors and airlock of the hangar. Opening these would suck anything not secured out into the vacuum of space. Bralex engaged his jetpack halfway through the fall and began to jet toward that control panel... Aboard the Victory II – Class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent.’ The squad of Imperial marines, in the rafters high above the flight deck, watched with malicious interest as the beskar clad warrior plummeted to the polished decking below. Several members of the squad had taken pot shots at the descending Mando, hoping to score a critical hit against his jetpack. The super-heated plasma reacting with the propellant would create a massive fireball and consume whoever stood within its fiery wake. In true stormtrooper fashion, they had missed their target, by a mere fraction of an inch. Crimson bolts of condensed technological anger soared through the air and struck nothing but the flooring beneath. Cursing silently that their shots had not rung true, as they had moments before, the Imperial marines began moving back towards the lifts; eager to reinforce the two squads that awaited the Mandalorian warrior below. One of the squad, trained as a corpsman, began tending to the wounded in hopes of bring them back from the violet shores of their subconscious. One of his comrades, whom bore carbon scoring about his breastplate and, battle helm from when the Son of Mandalore broke from cover and fired wildly into their midst; had remained behind to lend a hand and receive medical attention in kind. The remaining six plastoid clad warriors climbed back into the lifts and began the descent, eager to enact the age old deed of revenge.
Upon the flight deck, the soldiers that had broken off from the main group to investigate the shuttles, had withdrawn themselves from the transports holds; only to see an ebon and emerald clad warrior nomad descend from up high. Plumes of fire had erupted from his back, giving him the picturesque visage of a divine angel of the Mandalorian war god. While the Imperial marines knew very little of the Mandalorian figure of old idolatry, they knew enough to mock their gods. Like the Jedi and Sith, mere mortals held sway over the powers of the tongue, knowing that shouted oaths of victory could inspire a people to greater acts of courage, or utterly destroy the spirits of an entire civilization. As the Stormtroopers watched the warrior surge forth, once more upon his wings of fire, they projected his destination without a moment’s hesitation. He sought to remove the emergency bulkhead, and hope that the hangar vented its atmosphere taking everything not welded to the deck out into the void. Within seconds of the man seeking to wrap his gauntlet about the command console, it offered up several prompts that needed to be dealt with. All of which the distant Commander Fordo had remotely accessed, thinking that the soldiers he dispatched, had terminated with their pesky beskar infestation.
The two pieces of starship grade durasteel began to part, ideally venting the atmosphere into the darkness of the void. Yet, even before the bulkheads began to part, a violet screen of condensed magnetic energy bathed the giant gap as the emitters began to connect and embrace. Standard aboard any vessel, the Magnetic Containment shielding (Or magcon shielding for short.) prevented the interior artificial atmosphere of a ship’s hangar bay from violently venting out into space, should the flight deck be exposed. As nothing happened, several of the Imperial marines, furthest away from the Mandalorian, had burst into a chorus of laughter. For they were sure he expected something different, and each of these comically inclined marines began wondering what the Mandalorian’s face had looked like at that moment. The ten men that had the good fortune of being upon the port section of the hangar bay, had already raised their rifles when the Son of Mandalore had descended from the rafters above. In turn they began tracing his path with their nozzles, waiting for the right moment to open fire. As he made his way towards the terminal in the vain hope of venting the hangar bay, the Imperial marines had unleashed a storm of fully automatic crimson fire with the intent of striking a killing blow... |
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Bralex Ordo
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Post by Bralex Ordo on Dec 20, 2013 13:58:25 GMT -8
Aboard the Victory II – Class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent.’ The squad of Imperial marines, in the rafters high above the flight deck, watched with malicious interest as the beskar clad warrior plummeted to the polished decking below. Several members of the squad had taken pot shots at the descending Mando, hoping to score a critical hit against his jetpack. The super-heated plasma reacting with the propellant would create a massive fireball and consume whoever stood within its fiery wake. In true stormtrooper fashion, they had missed their target, by a mere fraction of an inch. Crimson bolts of condensed technological anger soared through the air and struck nothing but the flooring beneath. Cursing silently that their shots had not rung true, as they had moments before, the Imperial marines began moving back towards the lifts; eager to reinforce the two squads that awaited the Mandalorian warrior below. One of the squad, trained as a corpsman, began tending to the wounded in hopes of bring them back from the violet shores of their subconscious. One of his comrades, whom bore carbon scoring about his breastplate and, battle helm from when the Son of Mandalore broke from cover and fired wildly into their midst; had remained behind to lend a hand and receive medical attention in kind. The remaining six plastoid clad warriors climbed back into the lifts and began the descent, eager to enact the age old deed of revenge.
Upon the flight deck, the soldiers that had broken off from the main group to investigate the shuttles, had withdrawn themselves from the transports holds; only to see an ebon and emerald clad warrior nomad descend from up high. Plumes of fire had erupted from his back, giving him the picturesque visage of a divine angel of the Mandalorian war god. While the Imperial marines knew very little of the Mandalorian figure of old idolatry, they knew enough to mock their gods. Like the Jedi and Sith, mere mortals held sway over the powers of the tongue, knowing that shouted oaths of victory could inspire a people to greater acts of courage, or utterly destroy the spirits of an entire civilization. As the Stormtroopers watched the warrior surge forth, once more upon his wings of fire, they projected his destination without a moment’s hesitation. He sought to remove the emergency bulkhead, and hope that the hangar vented its atmosphere taking everything not welded to the deck out into the void. Within seconds of the man seeking to wrap his gauntlet about the command console, it offered up several prompts that needed to be dealt with. All of which the distant Commander Fordo had remotely accessed, thinking that the soldiers he dispatched, had terminated with their pesky beskar infestation.
The two pieces of starship grade durasteel began to part, ideally venting the atmosphere into the darkness of the void. Yet, even before the bulkheads began to part, a violet screen of condensed magnetic energy bathed the giant gap as the emitters began to connect and embrace. Standard aboard any vessel, the Magnetic Containment shielding (Or magcon shielding for short.) prevented the interior artificial atmosphere of a ship’s hangar bay from violently venting out into space, should the flight deck be exposed. As nothing happened, several of the Imperial marines, furthest away from the Mandalorian, had burst into a chorus of laughter. For they were sure he expected something different, and each of these comically inclined marines began wondering what the Mandalorian’s face had looked like at that moment. The ten men that had the good fortune of being upon the port section of the hangar bay, had already raised their rifles when the Son of Mandalore had descended from the rafters above. In turn they began tracing his path with their nozzles, waiting for the right moment to open fire. As he made his way towards the terminal in the vain hope of venting the hangar bay, the Imperial marines had unleashed a storm of fully automatic crimson fire with the intent of striking a killing blow... |
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Bralex Ordo
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Post by Bralex Ordo on Dec 20, 2013 14:04:21 GMT -8
Aboard the Victory II – Class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent.’ The squad of Imperial marines, in the rafters high above the flight deck, watched with malicious interest as the beskar clad warrior plummeted to the polished decking below. Several members of the squad had taken pot shots at the descending Mando, hoping to score a critical hit against his jetpack. The super-heated plasma reacting with the propellant would create a massive fireball and consume whoever stood within its fiery wake. In true stormtrooper fashion, they had missed their target, by a mere fraction of an inch. Crimson bolts of condensed technological anger soared through the air and struck nothing but the flooring beneath. Cursing silently that their shots had not rung true, as they had moments before, the Imperial marines began moving back towards the lifts; eager to reinforce the two squads that awaited the Mandalorian warrior below. One of the squad, trained as a corpsman, began tending to the wounded in hopes of bring them back from the violet shores of their subconscious. One of his comrades, whom bore carbon scoring about his breastplate and, battle helm from when the Son of Mandalore broke from cover and fired wildly into their midst; had remained behind to lend a hand and receive medical attention in kind. The remaining six plastoid clad warriors climbed back into the lifts and began the descent, eager to enact the age old deed of revenge.
Upon the flight deck, the soldiers that had broken off from the main group to investigate the shuttles, had withdrawn themselves from the transports holds; only to see an ebon and emerald clad warrior nomad descend from up high. Plumes of fire had erupted from his back, giving him the picturesque visage of a divine angel of the Mandalorian war god. While the Imperial marines knew very little of the Mandalorian figure of old idolatry, they knew enough to mock their gods. Like the Jedi and Sith, mere mortals held sway over the powers of the tongue, knowing that shouted oaths of victory could inspire a people to greater acts of courage, or utterly destroy the spirits of an entire civilization. As the Stormtroopers watched the warrior surge forth, once more upon his wings of fire, they projected his destination without a moment’s hesitation. He sought to remove the emergency bulkhead, and hope that the hangar vented its atmosphere taking everything not welded to the deck out into the void. Within seconds of the man seeking to wrap his gauntlet about the command console, it offered up several prompts that needed to be dealt with. All of which the distant Commander Fordo had remotely accessed, thinking that the soldiers he dispatched, had terminated with their pesky beskar infestation.
The two pieces of starship grade durasteel began to part, ideally venting the atmosphere into the darkness of the void. Yet, even before the bulkheads began to part, a violet screen of condensed magnetic energy bathed the giant gap as the emitters began to connect and embrace. Standard aboard any vessel, the Magnetic Containment shielding (Or magcon shielding for short.) prevented the interior artificial atmosphere of a ship’s hangar bay from violently venting out into space, should the flight deck be exposed. As nothing happened, several of the Imperial marines, furthest away from the Mandalorian, had burst into a chorus of laughter. For they were sure he expected something different, and each of these comically inclined marines began wondering what the Mandalorian’s face had looked like at that moment. The ten men that had the good fortune of being upon the port section of the hangar bay, had already raised their rifles when the Son of Mandalore had descended from the rafters above. In turn they began tracing his path with their nozzles, waiting for the right moment to open fire. As he made his way towards the terminal in the vain hope of venting the hangar bay, the Imperial marines had unleashed a storm of fully automatic crimson fire with the intent of striking a killing blow... |
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