Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor 
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
Posts: 1,474 
Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Dec 22, 2013 19:08:35 GMT -8
In the Medusa's hangar, the armored and cloaked Kray rolled his eyes, his shielding and other equipment deactivating in an electric zap. "You know," he started, "I never will stop turning on the Silence Projector instead of the Disruption Generator." He shrugged, acting surprisingly casual toward his 'captors' simply because he was aware of the circumstances of the Mando'a team's apprehension. Not only could they easily fight back against the Stormtroopers even while unarmored, they probably would not have surrendered so willingly if they were hostile, let alone leave their victims alive. The tall man knelt next to his allies as his armor folded into the shape of a backpack strapped to his back, accompanied by a symphony of metallic clicks and whirs. Aboard the Medusa. Lt. Calhoun stepped quickly through the hangar bay of the Medusa, the head of a gorgon painted across the floor, looking venomous and fiercely antagonistic. He pulled the sergeant off to the side, gesturing quietly as the pair of men exchanged words, the helmet hiding the words of the stormtrooper and Lt. Calhoun's back hiding his. After a moment, Lt. Calhoun broke the sidebar and approached the group of men kneeling. He motioned for them to stand and for the marines surrounding them to be at ease. He spoke quickly, time was of the essence."My name is Lt. Calhoun of Dark Tide intelligence. I'm your chance to prove that you're not here as attackers so I suggest you start convincing me right now. Names, ranks and planet of origin.". His tablet was at the ready to verify their identities against DT's expansive intelligence database.
Meanwhile, Sinistra had received Logan's transmission on the surface. Admiral Monet transmitted her approval for Logan to issue orders to the Shadow Reaper when the Sovereign arrived in orbit. |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 23, 2013 10:14:41 GMT -8
Haar'chak, Bralex thought to himself. He hadn't anticipated the prompts on the console, nor the magcon shielding still being active. Bralex needed another plan, and fast. Bralex began moving from cover point to cover point, while firing at various marines when moving, but more and more blasts were striking him, and his flesh was increasingly feeling the burn of such strikes. Scanning the hangar, Bralex focused on the refueling hoses. He let loose a rocket from his MM9 Rocket system at the largest junction of the hoses he cold see. Bralex hoped something came from this, as he was sure he was working on borrowed time. Aboard the Victory II – Class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent.’ The Imperial marines watched in earnest as their target dove and weaved through the various pieces of cover the hangar bay had offered him. Cargo crates to the shuttle craft themselves, all had not escaped without several freshly inflicted marks of carbon scoring. While the damage had been cosmetic, several circuit panels laid within the walls had burst; showering the immediate area in a shower of crimson and orange sparks. It would not take long for the damage control crews to replace such meaningless circuitry, but the Imperial Marines dreaded the endless train of complaints to following the conclusion of this skirmish. Smoke began to billow into the rafters from the small electrical fires caused by the firefight, doing little to obscure both the attackers and the defenders field of vision, but enough to notice several items of worth had suddenly become unable to comply. Though as the stormtrooper’s did a quick scan of their surroundings; such things of worth had turned out to be nothing more significant, than a pair of mooring clamps attached to the landing struts of a nearby Lambda-Class shuttle.
Designating the shuttle as a possible point of interest for the Mandalorian to make his escape, should the firefight in the hangar prove too much, the first squad’s sergeant began directing his troops towards the yawning boarding ramp in the hopes of cutting off the warrior nomad’s escape. That plan however, had been blown to smithereens when the beskar clad warrior had reloaded and launched another wrist bound rocket into one of the largest of the fueling hoses. The explosive detonation reacted with the volatile fuel within resulting in an even larger explosion, as the fires had spread into the fuel tank of a docked shuttle craft. The tri-winged bird of prey had come apart at the seams as its belly violently burst outwards. Many of the nearby Imperial marines were caught in and at the outskirts of the detonation, several dying instantly as metallic alabaster enameled shards tore through their armour and penetrated the supple flesh beneath. Others had various limbs severed as the shrapnel missed their vital organs, but suffered first to second degree burns where the heated metal had struck the ebon body glove beneath their ivory plates. Nearly a dozen Imperial marines were taken out of the skirmish, either by being killed in the line of duty or incapacitated by the wounds that had been inflicted upon them.
With fifteen men of the original fourty down for the remainder of the battle, and the fires started by the resultant shuttle detonation; what soldiers remained had to shift their strategy. The Mandalorian would most likely break for the shuttle nearest to him, the one that had been cosmetically damaged when the shards of its cousin had flung outwards in all directions. In order for takeoff to occur, one would have to remove the fueling lines. Though as the panels about the far wall were shot to pieces and smoking, the deed of removal would have to be done by hand. Not an easy task to complete, but as many of the imperial marines that were nearby and pouring a fresh onslaught of crimson bolts had been taken out, the process would prove to be much easier than anticipated. As the wounded marines were being tended to by those that had survived or called themselves Corpsmen, the other members of the squads that had remained began to advance upon the intruder. Their guns sung with freshly plucked chords of vengeance, casting their notes into the depths of hell with the intent of sending their far off target into Chaos’ embrace... |
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Bralex Ordo
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Affiliation: [img]http://tinyurl.com/MEOrdo[/img]
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Post by Bralex Ordo on Dec 23, 2013 12:32:31 GMT -8
Aboard the Victory II – Class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent.’ The Imperial marines watched in earnest as their target dove and weaved through the various pieces of cover the hangar bay had offered him. Cargo crates to the shuttle craft themselves, all had not escaped without several freshly inflicted marks of carbon scoring. While the damage had been cosmetic, several circuit panels laid within the walls had burst; showering the immediate area in a shower of crimson and orange sparks. It would not take long for the damage control crews to replace such meaningless circuitry, but the Imperial Marines dreaded the endless train of complaints to following the conclusion of this skirmish. Smoke began to billow into the rafters from the small electrical fires caused by the firefight, doing little to obscure both the attackers and the defenders field of vision, but enough to notice several items of worth had suddenly become unable to comply. Though as the stormtrooper’s did a quick scan of their surroundings; such things of worth had turned out to be nothing more significant, than a pair of mooring clamps attached to the landing struts of a nearby Lambda-Class shuttle.
Designating the shuttle as a possible point of interest for the Mandalorian to make his escape, should the firefight in the hangar prove too much, the first squad’s sergeant began directing his troops towards the yawning boarding ramp in the hopes of cutting off the warrior nomad’s escape. That plan however, had been blown to smithereens when the beskar clad warrior had reloaded and launched another wrist bound rocket into one of the largest of the fueling hoses. The explosive detonation reacted with the volatile fuel within resulting in an even larger explosion, as the fires had spread into the fuel tank of a docked shuttle craft. The tri-winged bird of prey had come apart at the seams as its belly violently burst outwards. Many of the nearby Imperial marines were caught in and at the outskirts of the detonation, several dying instantly as metallic alabaster enameled shards tore through their armour and penetrated the supple flesh beneath. Others had various limbs severed as the shrapnel missed their vital organs, but suffered first to second degree burns where the heated metal had struck the ebon body glove beneath their ivory plates. Nearly a dozen Imperial marines were taken out of the skirmish, either by being killed in the line of duty or incapacitated by the wounds that had been inflicted upon them.
With fifteen men of the original fourty down for the remainder of the battle, and the fires started by the resultant shuttle detonation; what soldiers remained had to shift their strategy. The Mandalorian would most likely break for the shuttle nearest to him, the one that had been cosmetically damaged when the shards of its cousin had flung outwards in all directions. In order for takeoff to occur, one would have to remove the fueling lines. Though as the panels about the far wall were shot to pieces and smoking, the deed of removal would have to be done by hand. Not an easy task to complete, but as many of the imperial marines that were nearby and pouring a fresh onslaught of crimson bolts had been taken out, the process would prove to be much easier than anticipated. As the wounded marines were being tended to by those that had survived or called themselves Corpsmen, the other members of the squads that had remained began to advance upon the intruder. Their guns sung with freshly plucked chords of vengeance, casting their notes into the depths of hell with the intent of sending their far off target into Chaos’ embrace... |
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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 23, 2013 21:11:17 GMT -8
Taung's fleet came around the planet, revealing the southern portion of the battlefield from around the fuzzy edge of the planet. Shun's small fleet had been faced with five Victory class Star Destroyers and a Golan III defense station just as in the North, but having met with much less success, and the Dark Tide commander had chosen to reinforce the southern theater with an additional five Victory II class Star Destroyers and a pair of Imperial class Star Destroyers, obviously in a bid to close off that arena of the battlefield and turn towards his stronger fleet as a united force. Taung's ships had already had their guns trained in the specific direction of the Dark Tide fleet, having been fed continuous updates from the southern placed LightStealth-18 recon ship. As soon as the ships had the final calculations for the sterns of the Dark Tide ships, they opened continuous fire starting with a massive volley from the primary batteries. A massive spray of missiles erupted from the five ships, the Mishmure'cya class ships launching 200 heavy proton torpedoes and 200 Superheavy Concussion Missiles and the Mandokars added 120 assault concussion missiles and 120 heavy proton torpedoes into the mix, chasing in a spray pattern the blue dashes of scintillating blue star tears of turbolaser fire aimed at the sterns of the two Imperial class Star Destroyers. At this distance it was best to put as much fire into the void as possible as expected hits at this range were slim. The only positive was that the angle was nearly perfect for a stern shot, the most vulnerable section of a ship with the most exposed components and least amount of armor.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 25, 2013 17:43:50 GMT -8
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 26, 2013 18:55:59 GMT -8
The 3 Leo Transports had managed to clear the Drive Yards, a little rattled and lacking their shields, but all of them were accounted for as they made their approach to Acclamator Medical Zero-One. As the first group of Leo Transports came in to land, another group of 3 Leo Transports took off from another hangar bay, heading towards the Drive Yards via a similar approach to the previous Leo's.
Meanwhile the first 3 Leo's landed in a hangar bay, before opening their rear ramps as a combination of Chiss Field Medics and Human Medics from the RDMC helped escort of the Civilians off the transports, whilst mechanics simultaneously got to work on minor field repairs. Fleet Admiral Draug Hellion continued to monitor the display on board the bridge, doing his best to help ensure safe approach and departure routes were plotted for the Transport ships
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Darth Flvin
Member
Posts: 163
Affiliation: Blackguard Reborn
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Post by Darth Flvin on Dec 27, 2013 19:08:38 GMT -8
Part Two: Captain Ryner; Commanding Officer of the Evanora.Captain Ryner, it is a pleasure to see you’re still alive. The hololithic image of Logan spoke; his digitally generated voice betraying the contempt in his tone. The zabrak did his best to bite back his choler, seeking not to chew out the newly appointed Captain of Lord Sinistra’s flagship and the designated commander of naval operations. The two men did not like each other, and that was made clear upon the first day they had met. A former Imperial Officer ushered into a spot the Zabrak officer had sought to take; the act of taking orders from this man only felt like the knife his Lord and master had planted in his back was beginning to twist. “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…
Dha Gra'tua sat in an offensive formation, all ships pointed forwards towards the planet side defenses. Their three Corvettes continued to make a push towards the defenses, eventually to meet it's destination. Shun sat still, admiring the holographic diagram in front of him. The ships around him illuminated, giving specific details on the battle around him. As he was watching, a sudden alarm came abroad. One of his corvettes was contacting him, and he immediately relayed the display in front of him. The Corvette's commander quickly appeared in front, standing tall in his tidy uniform.
General, what is this plan you have? I will do anything for Mand'alor, but not with out a reasonable explanation!His fear was substantial, and Shun knew it was time to explain things properly.
You're making a run for their ships Lieutenant, it may seem like suicide but it's the only way at this point. Once the corvettes have come within 500m, I want you and your crew to abandon ship. Our crews will pick you up when we've made it to the KDYs. The starfighters escorting you will finish the job once their shields are down, its a tough situation but I think it will work.
It's a bold strategy General, I hope it works.The hologram quickly dissipated, and Shun had only hoped that it wouldn't be the last time he saw his Lieutenant. He quickly looked towards the admiral in front of him, and motioned him towards the throne.
"While the corvettes are making the brunt attack, I want you to change the formation of our ships. I want both SD's pointed towards each other, and the corvettes covering every possible angle of attack. The remaining ships are to be under or above the SD's, I don't want them blocking their fire."The Admiral nodded, and immediately began barking orders towards the bridge. Fingers quickly began speeding up, moving faster then they normally could...or so it seemed. All the ships began to slowly traverse, moving into their new positions. "Admiral, make sure to charge our starboard and port side shields. I want our weapons firing at 100%, pointed towards their defensive line. Prime 4 proton torpedoes, you wait until my order to fire."It wouldn't take long until their ships were finally in position. The plan would seem to work on paper, but if another attack were to happen at the rear, Shun's fleet would quickly come to a halt. As they fleet finally slowed into position, a sudden image came into view. It was another fleet, and as it got closer; it was quickly identified as Taung H'rel's fleet. It was all perfect timing, and things seemed to get a lot easier. Everyone was in postion, and the corvettes were getting closer and closer. Their frontal shields began to cripple, and the bulkhead filled with mandalorian crewman began to quickly float towards the defensive fleet. As the corvettes came into ramming range, the shields quickly dissipated. The front of the ships began to take heavy damage, and the plan was starting to become a nightmare. Once the shields came off, the Bes'uliik starfighter escort quickly broke off, and took a quick break for the space above. The corvettes became increasingly weak, and as they got closer the leading ship proved to be reality. The leading corvettes quickly burst into flames, the ship's ammunition and remaining supplies burst into flames. The remaining two corvettes continued on course, pushing towards the defensive fleet. As they finally hit the no return, the slow release of escape pods could be seen from miles away. The ships became flaming, mindless scrap metal, flying towards it's inevitable destruction. When they finally came into range, the Bes'uliik fighters had reached their preferred altitude. The squadron made quick moves, and made it's first approach towards the ships below.
Shun couldn't look away from the screen in front of him, it was to entertaining to look away. He clenched the arms of his throne tight, and braced himself for the eventual result of his actions. |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 27, 2013 21:37:52 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.
The ‘Yzma’ was upon the edge of the abyss, having taken a majority of the firepower from two mandalorian flotilla’s there was little the Victory II destroyer could do. The shield generators and capacitors were blown and, the Ion drives had gone cold. No longer could the guns of the pocket destroyer defy its fate, consigning ammunition to the void in an attempt to strike back at the menace whom taken the very life from her broken structure. The order to abandon ship had already been given and plenty of the saviour pods had been launched, an act that was mirrored throughout what remained of the northern flotilla. Many of these escape pods had been evaporated in the ceaseless barrage of enemy fire, but those that survived had surged down towards the planet or drifted aimlessly into the darkness of space. Shuttles were used by those too far away to make it to the escape pods in time, and many of those had been caught into the violent decompression of the hangar decks. Several alabaster plated birds of salvation had been sucked out into space, carried along with the venting wind of oxygen. Followed suit by anything not bolted to the decking, ranging from sentient beings to cargo crates filled to the brim with various supplies.
The fate of the ‘Scar’ had been more dramatic than that of the ‘Yzma’, as both the projectile detonations and the electrostatic discharge of the massive turbolasers had torn through its hull; several colossal chunks of durasteel decking had been separated from the main hull. Drifting in the chilled silence of space with its belly shorn and interior decking exposed, the ‘Scar’ died ever so slowly in comparison to the ‘Jafar’, left to bleed the remaining oxygen and power coursing through its dying veins. The emergency lights flickered for several seconds, illuminating the damages sustained within the broken vessel, before finally fading into darkness. The aft section of the destroyer had remained mostly intact, with several of the Ion drive housings having been shot off and scattered amidst the newly created field of debris. It was less abrupt than the death of the ‘Jafar’ but atleast there would be something for the Drive Yards to recover should the Kuati defenders claim victory.
When it had come time for death to claim the life of the ‘Ratigan’ the vessel had eagerly accepted its cold embrace. A superpowered bolt of heavy plasma had blasted the vessel in half, sending the two halves into a wistful spinning arc above the planet. Pressurized oxygen and power spat out into the depths of the void, sending even more radioactive clutter into the field. Be it bodies of those left behind or the cargo that the warship had carried, anything and everything that was not welded to the deck bled out into space. The secondary follow-up shots had blasted through the two halves of the vessel, detonating munitions that were housed within the ventral cargo bay and causing even more of the destroyer’s innards to be exposed to the sea of infinite black.
As the newly created debris field had been outside of the planet, none of the particulate refuse had been sent towards the planet’s surface. It hung above the world like a spotted bruise, a stain to remind the people below of the sheer terror such Mandalorian vessels could instill. Had Tarkin survived the destruction of the first Death Star in the Battle of Yavin, Captain Kale was sure that he would be impressed with such magnificent tools of death. From the shattered bridge of the ‘Yzma’, she watched everything unfold before her as the sundered command bridge lifelessly spun away from the rest of the destroyer’s superstructure. Kale would have plenty of time to watch, as the icy grip of death slowly advanced upon her broken form. For the life support system that had sustained the bridge was slowly starting to cycle the air from the room, as it was damage in the last volley that had seen the vessel scattered to the wind. Death was a certainty as the atmosphere began bleeding from the command deck, and Kale had not defied her fate. She would die slowly, and as peacefully as she could. When the last breath had been issued from her lungs, the ‘Yzma’ became nothing more than a barren hulk cast adrift the stars…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.
Iago, the man known to his fellow squad mates as the “Red Baron”, had smiled slightly as his TIE fighter’s hull had been marked by fresh carbon scoring. Performing a swift barrel roll had saved his ship from the violent fury dished out from the armed transport, surely leaving the man behind the aft cannon sour at the lack of striking a killing blow. His smile had faded slightly as his helmet had fed him the data of the kills his wing had inflicted, wondering why he and his men had even bothered to risk their lives in the first place. It was an old saying the Galactic Empire Stormtrooper corps had created, a phrase they could use when everything seemed to go belly up and they needed something other than themselves to blame. If he had remembered it correctly, what affliction his men had found themselves fighting against was a solid bunch of plot shielded void capable craft. With the memory of the flash imprinted past filling the centre of his thoughts, an echo of laughter began to resound within his helmet. Iago found it hilarious that he had been sent against such vastly superior and advanced craft, left to die as laughably as the next piece of cannon fodder.
It was a shame the enemy had thought of him and his brothers in arms as such outdated and outclassed craft, that just because they had the bigger and sharper stick they instantly believed themselves the victors. With the fighters about him unleashing their beryl beams of death, the rear echelons had noted several new signals entering their sector of space. Their IFF transponders had instantly noted them as hostile, as their projected path of entry had traced them back to one of the ships in the smaller section of the Mandalorian flotilla. The small ‘New Republic’-esque fighter wing had darted through space as the X-wing classified craft sought to attack the rapidly depleting Imperial wing from behind. Having seen and tracked their descent towards the shielded surface of the Drive Yards, the TIE fighters currently not engaged with firing at the advancing hard sealed LAAT/I gunships, dropped their forward momentum and performed a koiogan turn. Having loop-rolled in the direction of their foes that sought to flank the Imperial wing, a matching number of TIE fighters had engaged the enemy.
Knowing that the craft they were facing were an advanced design of Incom’s signature starfighter line, the TIE fighters had fully expected their target lock alarms to wail. Be it proton torpedoes or their heavy laser cannons, there would be plenty of things these skilled pilots would have to avoid whilst filling the void about their advancing foes with emerald streaks of condensed light. It was a dance as old as the Galactic Civil War itself, as the two craft had undergone several generations in the attempt to outdo the other. Now replayed in the skies above the Kuati drive yards, a battle waged between Sienar and Incom would be personified by the Dark Tide and the pilots of GALSAF; respectively. Though the seventh generation XJ X-wings had the advantage of heavier weapons and a shielding system, the first generation TIE fighters had the numbers and maneuverability to more than make up for their shortcomings. As the battle was joined between the two sides, where few TIE fighters had fallen to the relentless technological advantage of their foes; by human errors in judgment, the bolts they had sent out in return sought to score direct or glancing hits. If the swarming fighters had scored direct hits, it was a statistically probability that their deflector shields could not absorb the blatant discharge of energy emitted from the weapons array. The glancing hits, as the XJ-7 line had greater deflector shields than its earlier cousins, would do little against the ship itself; other than reduce the strength of their shield integrity.
Having sated enough of his bloodlust by weaving through the laser fire stitching a path through the void, Iago broke off his attack run. Dipping his fighter low, and noticing that the remainder of his group had followed suit, the “Red Baron” struck towards the more entertaining dogfight. He had grown tired of playing predictable games with the Larty tail gunners, and felt the desperate need to challenge himself against a foe more worthy. Within seconds they would fall upon the advanced generation of X-wings, preying upon them like the predators they were. Attacking from every angle with a reciprocal religious fervour, attacking much like the flies that swarmed a freshly decaying corpse; left out to bake in the sun for far too long. In time through the sheer weight of numbers alone, even the most advanced of foes would crumble… |
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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 28, 2013 13:36:34 GMT -8
*Abe takes his seat with the rest of them and jacks himself into a computer port nearby through an extension coming from his forearm. It looks like it's coming from his armplate but it's actually from his arm. He starts to upload his battle data to the rest and downloads the other maneuvers from others in a few moments. On his Buy'ce it flashes fast on his T-visor and he disconnects from the port. :: Battle data received, organizing and coordinating friendly troop numbers and correlating with known enemy numbers prior to knowledge. Processing. Processing. Data processed. Battle strategy developed with lay of land and likely areas of interest with movements measured and quantified of known enemy troops with 85% efficiency for survival.:: Abe sits back and goes over it repeatedly while the ship heads towards their destination.* |
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Ander Tagira
Member
Well, I'll be...
Posts: 567
Affiliation: GALSAF, Mandalore, Yavin 4 Jedi Praxeum
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Ander Tagira on Dec 28, 2013 13:57:56 GMT -8
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. 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 in anger as Darth Flvin's transmission came through. The man was right; GALSAF's forces had deployed into the system too far from Flvin's own to lend them any support. As he watched the Hardpoint's bow crack and split away from the rest of the vessel, he forced the emotion down, forming a hot ball of frustration and overt rage that filled his gut.I must take full responsibility for that one, Flvin. Seems our battle plans ended up butting heads. He bit out, unable to shirk his sense of responsibility for the cock up, despite the fact that Staton was running the naval aspect of the battle. Staton was his soldier, his Admiral, and such a severe miscommunication could lead to the destruction of Flvin's forces. Fortunately, Taung H'rel had already began maneuvering forces Shun's way, and support would be arriving shortly.
With the Basterd's Hand now tucked safely against the far side of the shipyards, and their boarding crews slipping through the gaps forming in the structure's shields, Ander decided it was time to deploy their forces. He brought up the Brigade-wide comm channel on his HUD and made the call. All gunships, launch. I repeat, all gunships launch. We can't get you any closer with those planetary cannons operational. Sending revised landing coordinates for Kuat City.Ander chose a point further out from the city on the planet's surface that would keep their gunships out of range of the bulk of the defender's anti-aircraft emplacements and loaded them into the comm. He felt his own gunship buck as the pilot launched with the rest of the force, roughly one-hundred gunships. Most were carrying commandos, the rest were carrying the various ground vehicles that would lend their support to the attack on the city, which thankfully had been evacuated for the most part by the defenders before the battle had begun. Ander hoped to lessen civilian casualties, which was why he had decided against attempting to seize the shipyards entirely, not that their forces would be enough to accomplish such a demanding and intensive task.
His gunship jerked hard to starboard as they launched from the bow hangar bay of the Bastard's Hand, swinging around the shipyards and bolting for the surface of the planet. They had roughly five minutes of travel time before arriving in force on the planet, which shone in the troop bay's external camera display like a bright blue and green landscape painting. They descended rapidly, far enough from the attacking TIE Fighter flights harassing 4th Battalion to avoid being noticed for the time being. Ander stood and gripped the handhold above him, then relayed another message, to his own forces as well as Shun Flvin's and Taung H'rel's.This is Commander Tagira. We're making for the planet's surface now. I have uploaded new landing coordinates for my own forces outside Kuat City with this message. Send any support forces there and we will organize for our attack on the city. This insertion point will also serve as a regroup zone for any friendly forces making their way to the military compound. I advise we wait to launch an attack on the compound until the city is secure; the compound is heavily defended and the defenders are sure to have support elements in the city. I have scouts moving in advance to report what forces are located in Kuat City. Send any revisions or suggestions to me. Tagira out.Ander closed the comm channel, but left it active for any replies from Flvin or H'rel. GALSAF's gunships continued their approach, nearing the upper atmosphere of the planet, but lacked support from local assets as GALSAF's fighter flights were tied up in battle with many of Kuat's defending TIE-series fighter groups. Ander silently wished pilots on both sides the best of luck, and secretly regretted how expansive and deadly the conflict against Force Users had grown. There was no helping it now, he reminded himself again and again, though he didn't always feel so confident that was so. |
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2013 0:19:09 GMT -8
Aboard the ship designated Acclamator Medical Zero-One, in a cozy little storage room filled with whiskey lubricant, Nurse Sarah had once again found herself lost, this time with a dashing young Chiss Medical Officer, eager to let her taste of some blueberries=Nurse Sarah=So that's what blue balls look like... =Chiss Medical Officer=Wanna see how they work with my blue stick... =Nurse Sarah=Oh mah gahd doctor, please do... Sometime later... Nurse Sarah lightly stepped out of a storage room as she buttoned up her shirt and gave her hair a quick ruffle. Behind her, a young Chiss Medical Officer swaggered out of the storage room, another satisfied visitor to Nurse Sarah's valy of nektor. She then gave the Doctor a very playful wink=Nurse Sarah=Thank you for the... assistance doctor. I seem to be making something of a habit of getting lost with handsome young doctor's like yourself... She then gave him a kiss on his cheek before prancing off along the corridor towards the hangar bay where the refugee's from the KDY had arrived. She casually resumed helping check them out and make sure they weren't too injured, before sending them off to the ship's mess hall to get some food
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Jena Shaewe
Red Dawn Medical Center - RDMC
Posts: 87
Affiliation: RDMC/House Of Shaewe
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Jena Shaewe on Dec 29, 2013 1:30:50 GMT -8
Aboard the Acclamator, Medical Zero-One (RDMC medical ship)--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The 3 Leo Transports had managed to clear the Drive Yards, a little rattled and lacking their shields, but all of them were accounted for as they made their approach to Acclamator Medical Zero-One. As the first group of Leo Transports came in to land, another group of 3 Leo Transports took off from another hangar bay, heading towards the Drive Yards via a similar approach to the previous Leo's.
Meanwhile the first 3 Leo's landed in a hangar bay, before opening their rear ramps as a combination of Chiss Field Medics and Human Medics from the RDMC helped escort of the Civilians off the transports, whilst mechanics simultaneously got to work on minor field repairs. Fleet Admiral Draug Hellion continued to monitor the display on board the bridge, doing his best to help ensure safe approach and departure routes were plotted for the Transport ships.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2013 2:02:03 GMT -8
Nurse Sarah did her best to try and look as innocent and unassuming as possible, as Jena approached her, with as stern a look as the other woman could muster and inquired if she was done with her eximinations. To be fair, a raging fleet battle was always a good setting for studying up on some raging carnal knowledge. She then tossed Jena a bottle of Whiskey Lube=Nurse Sarah=Yep, I'm done, and I certainly found what I was looking for... and then some...
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2013 12:51:00 GMT -8
Emerald and Sapphire light illuminated the dark space around Kuat. Two sides were established, and both were putting up a good fight. The Mandalorian fleet making the attack stood tall, posing as a strong aggressor. Their natural instinct to war, drove their thirst for blood. They seemed strong, but their sheer numbers at the south pole posed a threat for the Mandalorian advance.
Dha Gra'tua sat in an offensive formation, all ships pointed forwards towards the planet side defenses. Their three Corvettes continued to make a push towards the defenses, eventually to meet it's destination. Shun sat still, admiring the holographic diagram in front of him. The ships around him illuminated, giving specific details on the battle around him. As he was watching, a sudden alarm came abroad. One of his corvettes was contacting him, and he immediately relayed the display in front of him. The Corvette's commander quickly appeared in front, standing tall in his tidy uniform.
General, what is this plan you have? I will do anything for Mand'alor, but not with out a reasonable explanation!His fear was substantial, and Shun knew it was time to explain things properly.
You're making a run for their ships Lieutenant, it may seem like suicide but it's the only way at this point. Once the corvettes have come within 500m, I want you and your crew to abandon ship. Our crews will pick you up when we've made it to the KDYs. The starfighters escorting you will finish the job once their shields are down, its a tough situation but I think it will work.
It's a bold strategy General, I hope it works.The hologram quickly dissipated, and Shun had only hoped that it wouldn't be the last time he saw his Lieutenant. He quickly looked towards the admiral in front of him, and motioned him towards the throne.
"While the corvettes are making the brunt attack, I want you to change the formation of our ships. I want both SD's pointed towards each other, and the corvettes covering every possible angle of attack. The remaining ships are to be under or above the SD's, I don't want them blocking their fire."The Admiral nodded, and immediately began barking orders towards the bridge. Fingers quickly began speeding up, moving faster then they normally could...or so it seemed. All the ships began to slowly traverse, moving into their new positions. "Admiral, make sure to charge our starboard and port side shields. I want our weapons firing at 100%, pointed towards their defensive line. Prime 4 proton torpedoes, you wait until my order to fire."It wouldn't take long until their ships were finally in position. The plan would seem to work on paper, but if another attack were to happen at the rear, Shun's fleet would quickly come to a halt. As they fleet finally slowed into position, a sudden image came into view. It was another fleet, and as it got closer; it was quickly identified as Taung H'rel's fleet. It was all perfect timing, and things seemed to get a lot easier. Everyone was in postion, and the corvettes were getting closer and closer. Their frontal shields began to cripple, and the bulkhead filled with mandalorian crewman began to quickly float towards the defensive fleet. As the corvettes came into ramming range, the shields quickly dissipated. The front of the ships began to take heavy damage, and the plan was starting to become a nightmare. Once the shields came off, the Bes'uliik starfighter escort quickly broke off, and took a quick break for the space above. The corvettes became increasingly weak, and as they got closer the leading ship proved to be reality. The leading corvettes quickly burst into flames, the ship's ammunition and remaining supplies burst into flames. The remaining two corvettes continued on course, pushing towards the defensive fleet. As they finally hit the no return, the slow release of escape pods could be seen from miles away. The ships became flaming, mindless scrap metal, flying towards it's inevitable destruction. When they finally came into range, the Bes'uliik fighters had reached their preferred altitude. The squadron made quick moves, and made it's first approach towards the ships below.
Shun couldn't look away from the screen in front of him, it was to entertaining to look away. He clenched the arms of his throne tight, and braced himself for the eventual result of his actions. Aboard the Victory II – Class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Evanora'
The smile that had curled upon Captain Ryner’s face had stretched from ear to ear as he watched the tactical display before him. His vessels had performed well considering the circumstances they had found themselves in, meeting a portion of the Mandalorian fleet head on and taking several of their corvettes out of play through the sheer brutality of their roaring guns. What remained were shattered husks of durasteel, venting precious oxygen tailed by the explosive pillars of fire brought about by the detonation of munitions. While fire could not thrive in space, the tendrils of consumption flickered violently within the hull of the broken ships; before being snuffed out by the sudden absence of fuel in the sea of infinite black. The zabrak’s heart was gripped by an overwhelming sense of pride at the thought of his ships tearing the corvettes hulls asunder, leaving them to bask under an alien sun with their bellies bored open to rot. He thought it was a fitting end to those whom sought to take his home, a justified death to those whom lived by the sword. That overwhelming sense of pride suddenly changed as he saw the tactics of his foe become more… suicidal in the attempts to break his defensive picket line. Captain Ryner almost wanted to laugh! While it was admirable that his foe seek to take the charge and break his lines with sheer force, the zabrak had hoped it was through more conventional means. Ryner wanted his ships to earn their battle scars, to feel the blistering heat of their enemy’s guns across their alabaster plated surface. He knew it would give his vessels the character they needed, despite some bearing the most peculiar of names.
Looking at his command table, the Captain began plotting out what possible options his vessels could undergo. Letting the destroyers take on the brunt of the corvettes suicidal charge was not something that Ryner wished to endure, losing men and women to such an event would not be acceptable. It would be a stain upon his honour as a Captain and it would only serve to prove he was unable to com bat the threat he had been faced with. No, something more was needed than simply letting these Mandalorian craft violently spread themselves out across his hull. A rictus grin peeled back his lips as the thought came to mind. His vessel and those beside it had not yet used their tractor beam arrays, leaving the emitters primed and ready to task upon the heavy burden of latching onto the incoming vessels and steering them off course. Or, as the dastardly idea had set into the steaming meat of the Captain’s mind, tear the ships asunder through sheer force. The idea was sound, as the ships had passed well within the effective and optimal range for the tractor beams to have any effect. Using the projectors from the sister ships flying formation beside the ‘Evanora’, they pull the two corvettes apart like a wishbone found within a roasted chicken upon Lifeday. Relaying the order with a slight hint of a smile, the captain watched the hololithic display with a ravishing interest. Seeing his orders take place in real time was the most interesting thing he could think of at this moment, as it rid himself of one troubling problem before tasking himself to deal with the others.
Projected from the brim trenches of the two destroyers arrayed beside the ‘Evanora’, a flickering emerald force field had enveloped the space surrounding the two corvettes. Having seen the deed of evacuation already taken place, the three destroyers had treated the oncoming vessels as nothing more than trash, seeking to be discarded. Indignant in their display, the tractor beam emitters had locked onto their targets and slowly began to pull in opposing directions. Whilst the tractor beams had set about tearing apart the corvettes, the gunnery commander had shifted several of his forward batteries to assist in destroying the craft. Dozens of turbolaser cannons broke through the regenerating field of the tractor beam and strike true against the abandoned hulks. Interior decks were exposed as the turbolasers had torn through the durasteel frame of the corvettes midship, leaving the two halves to drift wistfully towards their target. That acceleration was arrested seconds later and the tractor beam projectors along the Victory II’s hulls had lit up and carried the sundered vessels harmlessly over the warships deflector shields. Tossed over their shoulders like spilled salt, the two pieces of the two corvettes slowly began spinning as they were left to their own devices. Having retracted the tractor beams and let the gunnery control direct their cannons at the opposing flotilla, the destroyers silently growled in contempt. Eager to seek a greater challenge, their Ion drives had thundered to life and sought to bring each ship up to combat speed. To close the gap between the two gatherings of mighty warships and, test the stones of each sides Commander. Back in the chaotic silence of the command bridge, the captain had ordered his alert fighters be launched; giving his TIE pilots the chance they needed to step outside and relish in the minor victory their commander had won.Meanwhile on the Ventral Hangar Deck…
When the madness of the mandalorian assault had become apparent, the TIE pilots had rushed towards their nimble vessels in anticipation of the order to be launched. Their hearts had pounded violently within the enameled prison of their ribcages, eagerly rocking back and forth inside their star craft in the hopes an order would soon come. They wanted to fly in the darkness of space, to be set free in the hopes of sating their thirst for blood. While they were not like the pilots who claimed the TIE interceptor as their own, making their need for speed rival that of their lust for death, these regular TIE jockey’s simply wanted to get into grips with the enemy. One could say it was a suicidal line of thought for a man to jump in a nimble craft that was bereft of shielding and essential systems found upon most modern starfighters, but when you would ask a TIE pilot why he did it; he would say that through his skill alone he would prove himself worthy of the helmet he wore. Skill is what defined a TIE pilot, rather than relying upon technological means to overcome the shortfall failings in a pilot’s ability to handle his craft.
When the order had been giving, the TIE racks had swung into life. In rapid succession an entire squadron of TIE/ln fighters had been deposited into the darkness of the void. Dropping through the ventral magcon shielding, the pilots had their first taste of the void flow into their deprived fighters. It was a glorious feeling that served to temper their aggression. Cooling their rage to a point where it would simmer, enough to heighten their reaction times but enough not to cause their sight to become myopic. They would not be blinded by the anger flowing through their system; instead they would harness it into something a bit more practical. Flying in formation after the entire squadron had been deposited from the ‘Evanora’, the two halves of the secondary squadron had been launched. From the hangar bays located upon the port and starboard sides, six fighter craft had joined the fray in a loose formation before merging into a fully-fledged squadron of twelve. Twenty four fighter craft had exited from each of the five destroyers in a similar fashion, leaving the display of theatrics to be somewhat artistic in the face of overwhelming odds. After they were freed from the metallic bonds, these ten squadrons had swarmed out from underneath the bellies of the craft that berthed them and screamed towards the targets above. While the craft that they had been arrayed against were vastly superior in the category of armour and weapons, the sheer numerical advantage of one hundred and twenty odd TIE fighters would see to the interception of their foes. If these Bes’ullik’s had sought to engage the destroyers below, they would have to fight through an entire screen of blued titanium fighter craft.Taung's fleet came around the planet, revealing the southern portion of the battlefield from around the fuzzy edge of the planet. Shun's small fleet had been faced with five Victory class Star Destroyers and a Golan III defense station just as in the North, but having met with much less success, and the Dark Tide commander had chosen to reinforce the southern theater with an additional five Victory II class Star Destroyers and a pair of Imperial class Star Destroyers, obviously in a bid to close off that arena of the battlefield and turn towards his stronger fleet as a united force. Taung's ships had already had their guns trained in the specific direction of the Dark Tide fleet, having been fed continuous updates from the southern placed LightStealth-18 recon ship. As soon as the ships had the final calculations for the sterns of the Dark Tide ships, they opened continuous fire starting with a massive volley from the primary batteries. A massive spray of missiles erupted from the five ships, the Mishmure'cya class ships launching 200 heavy proton torpedoes and 200 Superheavy Concussion Missiles and the Mandokars added 120 assault concussion missiles and 120 heavy proton torpedoes into the mix, chasing in a spray pattern the blue dashes of scintillating blue star tears of turbolaser fire aimed at the sterns of the two Imperial class Star Destroyers. At this distance it was best to put as much fire into the void as possible as expected hits at this range were slim. The only positive was that the angle was nearly perfect for a stern shot, the most vulnerable section of a ship with the most exposed components and least amount of armor. Aboard the Nebula-Class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘The Black Caisson’ Logan’s face had soured into a frown as he watched the Northern pole fall, the merciless guns of his enemy savaging the fetid corpses of the Victory II’s he had sent to intercept and stall their advance. He was responsible for their deaths, and such a fact had worn heavily upon his heart. If he had seen the end of the battle, a distant dream upon the horizon, Logan would ensure that a massive pyre would be built in their honour and that whatever he could recover would be returned to the families that borne such brave and reckless soldiers. Closing his eyes for a moment, Captain Aximand breathed out a deep and heavy sigh of frustration. Everything about this battle had been wrong from the very start, as he had fully expected the Dark Tide to be outnumbered by the sheer numerical superiority of the Mandalorian Empire. Now, even as they have brought the heaviest guns to bear, the advantage of numbers still lay heavily upon the shoulders of the Dark Tide. If they could rid the skies above Kuat of the masked menace, the battle would be over and all sides could withdraw to recoup their losses. But such a monumental task of ridding Kuat of her foes would not come as easily as he desired. Logan would have to work harder than he has ever done, sheading his persona and mindset of simply commanding a vessel and moving towards directing the efforts of an entire theatre of war.
The Dark Tide had given him a great honour, one he had taken with gusto in the chance to prove himself to his new lords and master. Though as more and more of his armada began to falter to the guns of the enemy, the seeds of doubt slowly began to take root; leaving him wondering if he would ever see another day dawn upon his newly adopted homeworld of Kuat. He felt vulnerable and weak against a foe that would instantly turn much of his ships to molten slag by merely looking at them. What could he even hope to do against such odds, hopelessly fire all of his guns in a chance the bolts flung into the depths of space would strike true; somehow overcoming the odds? Logan knew he had a better chance of flailing wildly in the void, than simply beating down these Mandalorian behemoths in a straight up slugfest. Terror began to slowly take hold of the Captain’s heart, until it was banished by the comradely grip holding his shoulder tight. Blinking away the encroaching darkness, Logan turned to look at who held his soul aloft as the tendrils of darkness began to drip and recede away. Commander Borodin disarmed the Captain with a warm and genuine smile, filling Logan’s heart with a sense of brotherhood, something he sorely missed when Gideon was transferred to the surface in order to direct the efforts below.
In the past week, the two men had slowly bonded in their desire to see that Kuat was made safe from the iron grasp of the beskar clad marauders. It had put them past their earlier differences, in which Commander Borodin would have simply stabbed Captain Aximand in the back and taken control of the Flagship. Instead of betraying his commanding officer in a time of need, the man yanked Logan from the edge of the abyss and forced him to settle into the grim reality of the present. Nodding his thanks and placing a mirrored hand upon his Commanders shoulders, a moment of silent understanding passed between the two. Though the future seemed to be concrete in its decision over who would emerge victorious in this battle above Kuat, Logan; now emboldened by the bond of brotherhood, sought to defy the will of the gods and shape the future with his own hands. He would not easily submit to the terrors that sought to control his fate. No, he would defy death itself until he could no longer do so. It would be when his body was so broken by the demands of his station, when he could no longer speak or think, that he would gladly accept death’s embrace. To the seven hells with the idea of death, he thought, I have a battle to win and a council of gods to piss off.
Letting his arm drop from his Commander’s shoulder and turning his gaze back to the battle at hand, Logan swiftly reacquainted himself with the battle. The flotilla currently stationed at the Southern Pole had remained relatively untouched in comparison to the flotilla placed at the North Pole. The shields upon the Golan II were slowly being whittled away under the ferocity of the newly swiveled Venator’s guns. The ancient Republic craft were more deadly when engaged from the sides, as the length of heavy dual cannons were able to open up without fear of shooting through the cannons placed before them. The hololithic readout had displayed the Myrmidon’s shielding holding at fifty percent with major damages to the hull. His eyes narrowed as the exchange between the defense platform and the enemy flotilla had become more intense. The data coming back from the two Venator’s was fuzzy and he was left wondering what their operational capacity was. Had they sustained heavy damage from the firing strength of the Golan III, or had the shots gone wild due to unbelievably poor targeting computers? Logan was sure once the data streamed from Captain Ryner had become clearer, the answers would follow soon after.
It was then that he had noticed his gathering of reinforcements had arrived at the southern portion of the planet, easily within maximum weapons range of the opposing flotilla. A small smile crept upon his face as he thought of the major victory he would garner from eliminating these brave warriors from the battle. It would be something to spark a greater flame within the hearts and minds of each of his soldiers and pilots, giving them hope when all seemed lost. Captain Aximand would give each and every one of his officers and soldiers a proverbial and comradely hand upon the shoulder, bringing them back from the pit of despair. Commander Borodin’s act would resonate throughout the entire crew of each and every one of his warships, for if it did not then the end would come sooner than Logan desired. As the two flotillas had slowly begun to become one, warning klaxons blared throughout the command deck. As the information from his officers manning the sensor terminal had bled into the hololithic display, Captain Aximand’s eyes opened wide in sheer surprise. Nearly a thousand missiles of various makes and models had been launched from the battlegroup that had taken out the Northern pole, a dangerous volley of projectiles that would and could see the entirety of his flotilla turned to ash before they had a chance to return fire.
Giving the order to launch the alert fighters, nearly two hundred and sixty four TIE/ln craft had been deposited from the bellies of the various beasts within Logan’s flotilla. Screaming through the silence of space they sought to intercept the launched missiles before they had struck true. While the TIE fighters were not built for such a task, being that Interceptors were more akin to such duties than the standard space superiority fighters, the colossal amount of craft sent that would see many of the projectiles destroyed. Yet as the fighters soared through space, casting their bolts from underneath their cockpits, the superior number of missiles would streak by the advancing TIE’s and continue upon their path unhindered. Squadrons of fighters had taken losses as they swarmed about the advancing missiles, but as stated before the number of fired projectiles was too great. Logan watched on as hundreds of rockets streaked towards his craft, with nothing left to directly halt their relentless assault the guns of the flotilla currently not engaged with that of the battle group before them, turned towards the wave upon wave of incoming fire. Turbolasers of every shape and size thundered into the darkness, lighting up the void with premature detonations, leaving massive holes in the approaching wave of various payloads.
Captain Aximand cursed as he watched the firepower of the advancing flotilla do little to halt the wave of firepower coming their way. Bracing for impact, Logan watched as the projectiles had struck true, peppering the armada with such violence that his display was interrupted for a fleeting moment. As the table righted itself and the hologram it displayed, Logan looked on in horror to see that three ships had been sunk in the barrage; while several others had reported everything from minor to severe damage. The Silence, and Imperial I –class Destroyer had been turned into several massive chunks of molten durasteel in the fury of the combined power of the missiles and superheavy turbolasers impact. The command tower had been severed from the superstructure as the vessel broke apart, bleeding oxygen and condensed plasma into the void as the pieces spun about with deafening slowness. Several munitions caches had detonated aboard the craft, causing the silent and severed sections of the warships to take on a more violent spin as they fragmented even further. Two of the Victory II star destroyers had followed in the path of their larger cousin, fragmenting under the ferocity of the Mandalorian barrage. It was the ‘Grimhilde’ and the ‘Maleficent’ that had turned into molten slag, their shattered husks spreading themselves out amongst the stars in such a death that was bereft of grace. The smaller reactor of the ‘Grimhilde’ had silently gone dark, bleeding pure and violently energy into the stars yet remaining intact enough for the core to remain unbreached. The same could not have been said of the ‘Maleficent’, as the ship had broken apart and the saviour pods and shuttles made their way towards the planet’s surface, the reactor core had been breached by a premature detonation of munitions stored aboard the imperial warship. The broken shell of the Victory II had been thrown further out into the void with such furious anger, several sections of nearby vessels had been scorched in the violence of the ‘Maleficent’s death.
Shaking his head, Captain Aximand set his sights upon the opposing fleet arrayed before him. He had to rid himself of the chaff before he struck towards the wheat; it was the only option he had in order to see that Kuat was safe. It could not happen any other way! Gripping the edges of his table tight, he waited until his ships had stalked into optimal weapons range of the enemy flotilla before he issued the order to open fire. Such a deed would see more of his batteries strike true, leaving little room for the errors the Golan II had seemingly committed. With baited breath, Captain Aximand watched the battle unfold and attempt to play along with this deadly game of chess.Bralex took notice of the chaos he had caused. It made him proud. Now he needed an exit from this hangar, either deeper in the ship, or out of it, Bralex didn't care which. The closest marines were out of commission for the moment, but more were descending onto his position. The closest shuttle would require some pre-flight work before it would be ready. Bralex wasn't sure if he had that kind of time. Quickly surveying his local area, Bralex sees a few options: a sealed door leading to who knows where, and a large vent, leading to who knows where also. Bralex set the computer in his buy'ce to try and trace each options exit. The vent would be easier to open, than the door, so Bralex chose the vent. Placing a few well placed shots at the vent from his DC-17m, Bralex blasts up to it, going to use the moment of the flight to finish opening the vent... Aboard the Victory II-Class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent’ ~ Minutes before the Reactor Breach. The action in the port side hangar bay had proven to be a bit more tiresome than he had ever expected. If Commander Fordo had lived to meet the Mandalorian’s upon the battle field once again, he would be sure not to doubt their prowess in combat. Next time he would send in troopers armed with plasma casters and Arc throwers, things to burn the man beneath the armour rather than the other way around. Tearing his mind from the battle taking place within his vessel, he turned his thoughts towards the actions taking place out in space. He could scarcely believe that his Captain had been so calm in issuing the orders for his TIE fighters to launch, even with a Mandalorian warrior aboard; that sought to sneak about the ship through the ventilation system. An admirable tactic, he had to admit, but as it took place during a violent exchange between two opposing flotillas such a deed was foolhardy. Such an act was about to prove true as Commander Fordo watched in horror as the Mandalorian behemoths had launched their deadly payload of nearly a thousand missiles of various makes and sizes. He watched as the Captain reacted; by turning their guns towards the encroaching wave of projectiles and letting loose the energetic hounds of war. The act had been made in vain as the batteries failed to clear the skies of the oncoming projectiles. Unable to combat the threat as they had launched their fighters to deal with the two score Mandalorian bes’ullik’s , what remained of the launched payload struck the hull with such violence, Commander Fordo had thought he bit through his tongue as the ship was pockmarked by dozens of massive detonations.
Shaking itself apart in the fury of the impact, the Victory II-Class Star Destroyer began to come apart at the seams. Munitions detonated and, jets of plasma spilled forth from the broken sections of the Victory cruisers. The hangar bay was filled with explosions as jets of superheated gas, flowing through the vents and bursting out onto the flight deck. Dozens of the Imperial marines burned alive as the plasma vented into the hangar bay, cooking them inside their armour and turning their alabaster plates a uniform charcoal. What survived within the bay, a dozen Marines and several officers crawled into one of the last remaining shuttles and escaped the chaos that ensued. That act was mirrored throughout the ship as the vessel began to break apart, saviour pods and shuttles ferried what remained of the ship’s population to the planet below. Commander Fordo had not been a part of the command crew that escaped, as he stayed behind in his Captain’s place in order to ensure that all emergency bulkheads had been sealed, in an effort that proved to be vain to contain the violent spread of the fire seeking to scour all life from the durasteel vents; coursing throughout the Destroyer’s veins... |
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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 30, 2013 0:56:07 GMT -8
Aboard the Acclamator, Medical Zero-One (RDMC medical ship)Nurse Sarah did her best to try and look as innocent and unassuming as possible, as Jena approached her, with as stern a look as the other woman could muster and inquired if she was done with her eximinations. To be fair, a raging fleet battle was always a good setting for studying up on some raging carnal knowledge. She then tossed Jena a bottle of Whiskey Lube=Nurse Sarah=Yep, I'm done, and I certainly found what I was looking for... and then some...
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 30, 2013 1:39:43 GMT -8
Nurse Sarah smiled mischievously at Jena, half contemplating the amount of fun the two women could get up to with that bottle in a storage room somewhere. After all, privacy was something she was sure Jena would appreciate=Nurse Sarah=Of course, gotta keep up workplace relations and all that... Sarah gave a wave to Jena as the other woman walked off to return to work, whilst she, herself, snuck out of the hangar bay and made her way through the Acclamator towards the bridge. Just short of the bridge, she made a quick stop into a storage room, to do a quick change of clothes, into something more comfortable, before she stepped out and continued on her way to the bridge.
She then gingerly made her way onto the bridge as she arrived, before strutting across to where Fleet Admiral Draug was currently standing, bent over a holographic view of the battlefield. As she got close, she pulled out her requisite metal riding whip from a latch on the back of her top and gave Draug a smack... over the head with it=Nurse Sarah=You look like you could do with some help relaxing...
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Bralex Ordo
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Affiliation: [img]http://tinyurl.com/MEOrdo[/img]
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Post by Bralex Ordo on Dec 30, 2013 6:22:51 GMT -8
Aboard the Victory II-Class Star Destroyer; Designate; ‘Maleficent’ ~ Minutes before the Reactor Breach. The action in the port side hangar bay had proven to be a bit more tiresome than he had ever expected. If Commander Fordo had lived to meet the Mandalorian’s upon the battle field once again, he would be sure not to doubt their prowess in combat. Next time he would send in troopers armed with plasma casters and Arc throwers, things to burn the man beneath the armour rather than the other way around. Tearing his mind from the battle taking place within his vessel, he turned his thoughts towards the actions taking place out in space. He could scarcely believe that his Captain had been so calm in issuing the orders for his TIE fighters to launch, even with a Mandalorian warrior aboard; that sought to sneak about the ship through the ventilation system. An admirable tactic, he had to admit, but as it took place during a violent exchange between two opposing flotillas such a deed was foolhardy. Such an act was about to prove true as Commander Fordo watched in horror as the Mandalorian behemoths had launched their deadly payload of nearly a thousand missiles of various makes and sizes. He watched as the Captain reacted; by turning their guns towards the encroaching wave of projectiles and letting loose the energetic hounds of war. The act had been made in vain as the batteries failed to clear the skies of the oncoming projectiles. Unable to combat the threat as they had launched their fighters to deal with the two score Mandalorian bes’ullik’s , what remained of the launched payload struck the hull with such violence, Commander Fordo had thought he bit through his tongue as the ship was pockmarked by dozens of massive detonations.
Shaking itself apart in the fury of the impact, the Victory II-Class Star Destroyer began to come apart at the seams. Munitions detonated and, jets of plasma spilled forth from the broken sections of the Victory cruisers. The hangar bay was filled with explosions as jets of superheated gas, flowing through the vents and bursting out onto the flight deck. Dozens of the Imperial marines burned alive as the plasma vented into the hangar bay, cooking them inside their armour and turning their alabaster plates a uniform charcoal. What survived within the bay, a dozen Marines and several officers crawled into one of the last remaining shuttles and escaped the chaos that ensued. That act was mirrored throughout the ship as the vessel began to break apart, saviour pods and shuttles ferried what remained of the ship’s population to the planet below. Commander Fordo had not been a part of the command crew that escaped, as he stayed behind in his Captain’s place in order to ensure that all emergency bulkheads had been sealed, in an effort that proved to be vain to contain the violent spread of the fire seeking to scour all life from the durasteel vents; coursing throughout the Destroyer’s veins... |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 31, 2013 21:01:33 GMT -8
Fleet Admiral Draug was standing on the bridge of Acclamator Medical Zero-One, when all of a sudden he felt a whip hit him over the back of the head. The entire crew on the bridge turned to look at the Admiral and Nurse Sarah, as Admiral Draug rubbed the back of his head and turned to face Nurse Sarah, checking out her outfit as he did so
"What? I'm a little busy with a battle, and there is a few people here..." Fleet Admiral Draug
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2014 9:10:28 GMT -8
Edge of the Empire; Twenty million kilometres from Kuat’s Southern pole. The silence he had enjoyed, when the Dark Tide had not been at war, was finally laid to rest as the call to arms had been made. All about him the bridge erupted into varying degrees of emotion, ranging from despair brought about by the deaths of those lost in the early stages of the Crusades advance; to that of the roaring tide of youthful naiveté in testing their mettle against a vastly superior foe. The reports they had gotten from almost every world belonging to the Dark Tide, was disturbing to say the least. Worlds were left defenseless and quickly fell to the relentless ferocity of their foe, living by the sword only to be severely embarrassed by it as the sword had returned to claim their lives. The Dark Tide had been bloodied by the sons of mandalore and their most interesting allies, leaving the man whom sat within the relative comfort of his command throne, astonished that the so called Guardians of the Galaxy did little while various sectors about the Hydian way burned in the fires of war. While he had been seconded to one of the many organizations under the leadership of the Sith, he had expected to be the one terrorizing the galaxy into submission rather than putting his life on the line to defend it.
He was a man of a different era, when the Jedi; backed by their Republican allies, would charge forth into the fray to liberate a single world from the oppressive force of the fractured Sith order. Like all things in the universe, those days had come and gone. Change, as ironically as it could ever sound, was the only consistent force in the galaxy. Many factions that swore fealty to both sides of the spectrum had crumbled to dust, beaten into submission through the means of force or fading into antiquity never to be heard of again. Time and time again the cycle had repeated, leaving nothing but lasting memories and vague impressions upon the galaxy as a whole. He remembered a time when the Republic was a force to be reckoned with, stretching from one side of the galaxy to the other. Now it was nothing more than a shadow of its former self, broken and cadaverous. Much of the galaxy had broken with its former ties, leaving whatever and whoever was left with spoils ripe for the taking. Such dreams of conquest would have to be placed upon the backburner, as the Galaxy suffered a blight of which had never been seen before. The Galactic Empire had destroyed planets in the attempt to establish their base of power, and various other factions had done so to show how mighty they were.
Yet something was different about this time. Two planets that had been resettled after their original incarnations had fallen, targeted for reasons unknown. Several systems burned in the fires of war, their surfaces salted and left to simmer in the wake of the faithful. This time, far too similar to the extra-galactic invasion of the Yuuzhan Vong, religion had played its destructive part. Warrior nomads caught in the frenzy of one of their fictional deities, slaving themselves to the ideas of old idolatry, and sacrificing themselves upon the pyres of war. Had they left the Dark Tide well enough alone, the old man would have little issue with cheering them on from the sidelines. Since they had attacked his homeworld however, a grievous mistake was made and one he could never forgive. Drowning his aged throat with the sickly sweet aroma of his freshly brewed caf, Vice Admiral Alexis Melusar placed the ceramic cup upon a decorative saucer and stared at the forward viewscreen.
Magnified to the point where he could see the action clearly, the Vice Admiral sombrely shook his head. So much life was lost in the space above Kuat, and with his limited knowledge of the force he could only imagine the feelings of loss and despair aching through the minds of those sensitive enough to feel its touch. Agony and death had reverberating effects upon the force; it caused a welling sadness in some whilst others thrived upon the suffering of others. He was unsure what effects it would have upon the Sith Lords he called master, but his venerable instincts had assured him it was the latter. As his colossal vessel drifted ever closer to the Kuat sector, the Vice Admiral had his vessels sensors garner as much data as they could regarding the action taking place in the skies above his home. Garbled lines of communications and thoroughly detailed reports had seen their way through the void, filling the databanks of the Sovereign dreadnought with vast swathes of targeting information and current positions of the friendly and hostile vessels. In the skies above Kuat there was a plethora of vessels to choose from, to unleash the power of their shipboard superlaser; and enact but a single fleeting moment of revenge against the menace that sought to ruin everything the Dark Tide stood for.
Breathing softly, he keyed in a command upon his console and watched the communications section of his bridge act with furious purpose. With the projectors in his Command throne’s arm chair thrumming to life, a holographic image of Captain Aximand pixelated before him. He was tired by the looks of his hololithic image, and the Vice admiral could not blame him. Logan had the burden of commanding an entire armada of vessels, and it was slowly starting to take its toll on the man. Melusar had been impressed when the acting captain of the Imperial frigate had risen through the ranks so quickly, effectively putting his fellow captains to shame. Both here in reality and the simulated situations his mind had created. The Vice Admiral had begun to wonder if this Aximand fellow was genetically enhanced to handle such duties. Vice Admiral Melusar, it’s a pleasure to see you could join us. The gnarled old man chuckled at such use of formality during a time of war; usually his fellow commanders would make unreasonable demands, or shout at him for being purposefully late to the party. Such a change was refreshing to experience. “It’s a pleasure I could make it, lad. With the data you’ve been feeding my guns and sensors, hopefully we’ll be able to give you the edge you need to defeat this bastard. He nearly destroyed us at Lianna, I think it’s time we enact our revenge.” The holographic image of Logan nodded, before his head turned and issued several orders that went unheard over the encrypted connection. We have two targets for you to choose from, Sir. Might I suggest the vessel tagged as Ram’or? Melusar lifted his ceramic mug and sipped the liquid within. “You could.” Taking that suggestion in mind, it would alleviate a plethora of problems Logan had been faced with during the course of the battle. Perhaps it might draw this Mandalorian Warlords naval force away from the Drive Yards in the hopes of having them engage the ‘Shadow Reaper.’ Logan’s face remained implacable as the words drifted from the Vice Admirals mouth. The Captain had known he was slowly beginning to overstep the boundary of his command, but as a moment of silence played out between the two men the hololithic image of Logan noted that the Vice Admiral had begun to curl his lips into a smile. “However, since you were so kind to little old me when we first met and just moments ago, I suppose I could do you a favour and melt some faces. The Ram’or you say; that big Mishmure’cya – class vessel seeking to take you from behind, eh?” The smile fully formed as the steaming cup of caf had lowered into the saucers embrace once more. “Consider it dead.” In the darkness of space, the ebon plated dreadnought began to wallow in its own splendour, drawing massive amounts of power from the colossal reactors within its husk. Mere seconds later the super weapon beneath the bow section of the massive vessel began to thrum with barely restrained violence. The emitter spun about upon its axis, calculating a route for the destructive beam to take. Once the path had been cemented, checked thrice for any predictable variances that could cause the beam to miss its target, the dish began to power up with menacing slowness. From eight points about the circumference of the central focusing lens, the same number of tributary beams had coalesced at a single point before the dish. Brought together by an invisible focusing field, this eight pointed star pulsed with the power to devastate worlds and bring about the destruction of even the most heavily armoured vessels. At full power, this projected beam could crack open the surface of the planet and leave the world to rot under the heat of an alien sun. When the superlaser had fired, the Vice Admiral watched as the colossal bolt soared through the sea of infinite black towards the aft section of its intended target. Death would soon follow, Melusar’s subordinates had assured him of such, but even he knew the folly of certainty. |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2014 11:22:17 GMT -8
Major Navaro Ularc
Flight Leader, GALCOM XJ7 X-wing Flight Major Ularc kicked his fighter up onto its port stabilizers as an incoming TIE/ln barreled its way toward him, laser cannons flashing. He returned fire in the form of three two-shot bursts, though his evasive maneuver told him his shots would be off. Indeed they were, flashing between and around the TIE's own stabilizer panels even as the green lasers shot past his own."Kriff." He grunted, continuing his maneuver and turning the fighter over on its topside, then looping downward in the direction of the shipyards to come up on his target's aft end. Unfortunately the TIE had already maneuvered away and he lost track of it. Grunting again to himself, Ularc brought Wing Leaders up on his comlink. Alright boys, form up again, in pairs, we're making another run. We need to keep their fighters off our gunships.Ularc fell in line behind Captain Jacobe Tell and his wingmate, Captain Uma Orthib, of Alpha Wing. Being the Flight Leader, Ularc had no wingmate himself; his job was to flitter between the various pairs of fighters, lending support when needed and keep a handle on the overall battle. Like commanding fighting vornskrs, Ularc was tasked with controlling the chaos, unleashing his squadrons when, where and how they were needed to accomplish the mission at hand. The pilots they were facing off with were indeed skilled, able to maximize the capabilities of their TIE/ln's, an outdated craft by most standards. But Ularc knew that standards meant less than little when the you put the right pilot behind the stick of a starfighter.
The Major quickly reran his local scanners, picking up a group of three TIE fighters just beyond the edge of the main battle. The fighters were looping around to make another run it seemed, and Ularc had the feeling they hadn't yet spotted him.Tell, Orthib, on me. We're taking that group of three at Mark Two-One-One. His pilots confirmed receipt of their orders by letting his craft slip past their noses, guiding them towards the nearby TIE's. As the three XJ7's accelerated to close the distance, they began drawing targets independently of one another. The group refrained from locking on with torpedoes to avoid scaring off their quarry, though as they closed past 500 meters distance, Ularc was sure they'd been spotted. He gave the fire order and together, the three XJ7's began leading the three opposing TIE/ln fighters, strafing the space before their ball cockpits with searing red laser cannon bolts. As they fired, the GALSAF pilots cut their speed enough to be able to slip into place behind the enemy TIE's regardless of which direction they maneuvered to avoid their attacker's fire.
Blinking the scrolling screen filled with warnings from his visor, the pilot clenched his teeth as he swung his fighter craft to the starboard side and angled himself upwards. It was a stressful act, more so upon the pilot himself rather than for the ship. Without the graceless tug of gravity to interfere, the TIE/ln fighter would need not to worry of shaking itself apart in the act. The man encased within however experienced a moment of vertigo as his craft angled about to face his foe once more. Letting the sickening feeling course through his system as nothing more than a fleeting dream, “Howlrunner” roared with a sickening fury as he gunned the triggers of his flight stick. The first shots went wide as they began to trace back towards their target, a result of the angle his fighter had taken as it dipped and swung towards a higher elevation. However as the lengthy beams of emerald energy began arcing towards his foe, following the predicted path his targeting computer had generated, the TIE pilot connected to the rest of his flight with a thought. He had orders to issue and a hostile pilot to kill; doing them both at the same time seemed fitting of a man in his station.Form up on the leader, evade and fire at all targets of opportunity.As their leader had done his bout of fancy flying, his comrades designated “Night Beast” and “Backstabber” had followed their commander’s example. Utilizing their strengths of being unpredictable each of the craft had broken off the main arrowhead formation to swing under and over the advancing craft. Like their leader, several of their solar panel cells had been seared in the fury of their foes volley leaving warning sirens to blare within the eyeballs cockpit. Ignoring and stifling the sound with a thought, each of the veteran pilots banked and dipped their vessels respectively to swing about and face their foes head on once more. “Night Beast” banked his fighter to the port and starboard sides as it screamed towards the space superiority fighters arrayed before him. His laser cannons opened up as soon as his targeting computer had garnered a predictable lock upon the craft before him. With a rictus grin slapped upon his face, he wondered how his foe would react or if he would get lucky to add another confirmed kill to his growing tally. Dipping his craft to a lower plane of the three dimensional environment “Backstabber” brought his guns to bear upon his foe once his cannons had garnered a lock. As soon as the soft chime resonated within his ears, the pilot gunned his triggers sending bolts of emerald death directly in the predicted path his enemy would take if he continued on course.
Through the use of their outdated craft’s maneuverability, these three TIE pilots believed that they would survive to fly another day. Yet in a universe where change was the only thing with any consistency, such hubris in their abilities may be proven wrong if their enemy pilots had revealed themselves to be better in every which way possible. |
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