Open Space and Hyperspace

Assault on the New Pammant Station

And the shark, it has teeth,
And it wears them in the face.
And the Sorcerer, he has a knife,
But the knife can't be seen.


The Prophet's fleet left hyperspace with the New Pammant Colony in the distance.
Over there multiple smaller Quarren ships, owned by the warlord opposition already prepared to fight the incoming naval assault force.
A pointless resistance. They were doomed from the beginning and they never figured it out.
On board of the Recusant-Class Dominion Dreadnaught Dominion the Prophet watched as the smaller battleships formed up positions in order to intercept the invading force. The Quarren warlords held dear to their traditional fleets, here and there C'Thyl even saw them utilize other Separatist vessels of older times. Relics from a pointless war.
Like the gouvernment they overthrew with the First Order, they will now perish as rebells.

When C'Thyl and his first Sorcerers came to Dac, he already knew that the Quarren leaders would be the key in building up a galaxy-wide gouvernment, that has the potential to surpass the Galactic Empire. In several months of preparations, the Prophet managed to not only gain the favor of the most local warlords, but as well time to study the Galactic Alliance, study the foes they were battleing. A weak gouvernment they were, a staging ground from which ashes something larger would rise.
When the Battle of Dac came closer and the Imperials of the First Order convinced the Quarren leaders to strike a bargain in return for their allegiance during the battle, the time of hiding was coming to an end with the cult operating more openly. With most of the Jedi and their allies being driven away from Mon Calamari, nothing could hinder the silent rise of C'Thyl on the surface of the 'Blue Pearl' for the warlords were still blind towards his meddling.
Some of them, bureaucrats, administrators, admirals and generals - they eventually noticed that there was more to the Prophet than one would presume.
One by one he executed them, drove them into madness - and recruited even some of them into his ranks.
Even the few Jedi, that went after him, when C'Thyl tainted the planet even further into the slumbering leviathan it would become, were either killed by similiar means, brought down by his creations or enslaved by the means of nihil smokestones to become eventually nothing more than the Prophet's faithful Sentinel guards. Even from the two guards he brought with him, he could still feel the pulsing life, that went through these seemingly droid-like wardens, whose flesh was covered in robes and armour, their bleeded-out lightsabers resting hidden at their belts.
Pawns, made to serve the Great Plan.
Nothing more were the warlords neither.
Pawns within a greater game of Rhandite chess. Yet with no chance of reaching the other end of the board.
The first time the Prophet noticed that the leader council grew suspicious of his activities was during the Siege of Jabiim. Where before most of the Dominion's breeded horrors were just rumors, Sithspawn the Sorcerers of Dac still created in secret facilities and hideouts, the open battle revealed the true potential of those C'Thyl had chosen, the true size of his cult.
Hundreds.
No.
Thousands of cultists served the blasphemous gods and their herald. They served them, not the Triarchy.
Thus the betrayal followed and became a weapon within the Prophet's hand.
Evidence to paint the tribe leaders as the villains, who wished to usurp power from the gouvernment
and at the same time an opportunity to destroy the last major resistance against the Prophet's plans.

New Pammant, a last bastion for those, who build up the Dominion and now tried to fight their creation.
Hundredthousands of Quarren and Mon Calamari inhabited the station, loyalists of the war leaders, standing armies drawn here to prepare a coup upon the Prophet and his minions, citizens and administrators, who have realized the deception of the Prophet.
Their belief within the Dominion as a gouvernment was a naive one. Conservative as the Galactic Empire, militant as the First Order, but benevolent als the Fel Empire. Those were their ideals and they never realized the lie to which they all fell.
The Dominion was never destined to become the next Galactic Empire.
It has always been a tool to conquer the galaxy.

As the invasion fleet progressed, the Prophet felt within his battle meditation that the moment has come.
Now that the traitorous fleet was approaching his own one, the dark tides of war would take an unexpected turn for the defenders.
Jumping out from hyperspace behind the Dominion loyalist's fleet a larger dreadnaught entered the battlefield, it's massive engines propelling it closer up towards the rest of the Sorcerer's fleet.
The Shark has arrived.

Oh, the shark has pretty teeth, dear,
And he shows them pearly white
Just a jack-knife has the Sorcerer, dear
And he keeps it out of sight

Like an ancient predator, the massive Subjugator-class heavy cruiser was already setting course towards the massive station in range, escorted by both the
Dominionand the Ashavhatl on its flanks, the supporting MC cruisers and Mon Calamari ships taking up their positions in order to support the success of the invasion force.
Though now more hesitant, the opponent fleet decided to nontheless continiue their course, given that the colony was now in great danger. The war leaders wouldn't give up this station without a fight.
As it was forseen.
With a nod of the Prophet towards the bridge commander, the orders were given out for the Dominion's starfighters and dropships to launch.
It was time to bring their enemy the destruction which was promised upon them.

There are some who are in darkness
And the others are in light
And you see the ones in brightness
Those in darkness drop from sight.


==============================================

The Dominion's Fleet:

Faction Fleet (1 points)

- 1 Recusant-Class Dominion Dreadnaught - Dominion
--36 starfighters
---12 Amphibious Fighters
---12 Trilobite Assault Bombers
---12 Kokad-Class Interceptors

C'Thyl:
- 1 Providence-Class Carrier/Destroyer - Zatarus (64 points)
--120 starfighters
-32 Amphibious Fighters
-32 Trilobite Assault Bombers
-32 Kokad-Class Interceptors
-24 Droch-Class Boarding Ships
-8 Gulomi-Class Dropships

2 MC90 Star Cruisers - Unmaker, Desecrator (128 points)
- Unmaker
- Desecrator

--144 starfighters (72 per ship)
-44 Amphibious Fighters
-32 Trilobite Assault Bombers
-44 Kokad-Class Interceptors
-24 Droch-Class Boarding Ships

2 MC140 Scythe Battle Cruisers (64 points)
--96 starfighters (48 per ship)
-24 Amphibious Fighters
-24 Trilobite Bombers
-24 Kokad-Class Interceptors
-24 Droch-Class Boarding-ships
-8 Bantha-Class Assault Shuttles

Shaxad:

1 Recusant-Class Dominion Dreadnaught - Ashavhatl
-- no starfighters

Event ships:

Shark, a Subjugator-class Heavy Cruiser
-- no starfighters

Shaxad @everyman

Part 2

Kaine's squad battled forward through the slaver force as his second in command; Darzeka, took his squad to the rear of the captured transport. Blasterfire criscrossed the hallways as the slavers fought doggedly against the Mandalorians invading their ship, knowing they could expect no quarter.

Kaine and his commandos gave none, mowing down the slavers as they advanced. Mercenaries and the scum of the galaxy were no match for seasoned Mando'ade.

After several minutes of intense fighting which took the squads out of sight of one another through the darkened transport, Darzeka commed Kaine.

We've captured the bridge. Good work, thought Kaine, and went to say so, but Darzeka went on. One of the helpful chakaare here said their cargo is in the forward hold.

Kaine swore. Cargo to these bastards, for chakaare they were, meant living beings.

Meet me there. Kaine said, real anger stirring in his blood. He kept it professional for the troops.

Fighting died down as the slavers retreated and ran, most of them cut down by enfilading fire from Mandalorian commandos who used every angle to their advantage, with the overwhelming firepower they were known for.

Kaine reached the main hold just ahead of Darzeka and Sunset, who joined him. Hold here. He said to Bors and Darzeka. You're with me, he said to Sunset, who followed Kaine into the main hold.

The sight was ghastly. The Zygerrians were slavers alright, and they had plenty of cargo. Worse, they were all children. Kaine felt real anger rising. Slaver shabuirim.

Two Zygerrians stood waiting, blaster rifles levelled. A third held a remote. That one spoke.

Don't move, Mandalorian. I press this. He waved the remote, and then waved it around at the cages, from where frightened, grimy, young faces stared out, eyes wide.

They all get gassed. Hands where I can see them.

Kaine obeyed, keeping his hands out to his sides. If this hut'uun thought that was going to save him, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Kaine's HUD had by now noted at least ten other beings in the room, all armed. Not too many to deal with.

He whistled a short sharp tone, over the private comm where only Sunset would hear him. She clicked once to signify she understood.

The Zygerrian continued, unaware. We walk out of here, and none of you Mando Dianoga turds touch us.

Kaine pretended to consider it, tilting his helmeted head.

You have my word that my men outside won't touch you.

Kaine used the basic word for males deliberately. He would keep his word, not one of the males under his command would do a thing. Kaine spread his hands in a gesture of acceptance.

Sunset moved so smoothly Kaine would have sworn she hadn't moved an inch. Her forearm beeped once with the activation of her Whistling Birds. An instant later, twelve minirocket darts tipped with beskar shot from the launcher, picking off each of the hostiles in the room except for the Slaver with the remote.

Kaine was already moving, kicking the Zygerrian's hand, and knocking the remote free. The Slaver fell back hard onto his backside on the deck. Kaine really wanted to kick him in the face, but was afraid he'd kill the scum too soon. He settled for drawing a blaster and pointing it at the bastard.

Don't move, vermin. Kaine's voice had become very low, but was still very audible thanks to his helmet. He wanted the kids to hear this, for their own good. No doubt this chakaar had been the object of fear and terror for their young lives. Time to kill some of that fear. Not everyone in the galaxy was scum, and there were people out there who hunted scum. His people.

The Zygerrian began to blubber.

I'm sorry! He began. Kaine really, really, wanted to kick him in the face now, but held himself back.

Sunset, he saw, had unsheathed a very long, thin blade. He knew her sword, which was a form of rapier or poniard as the ancients would have called it, was razor sharp; he'd seen her practice with it.

Kaine growled. You're sorry you got caught. You're sorry you're going to die.

The Zygerrian tried bargaining. I can tell my people to stay clear of your space, Mando.

Kaine shook his head. Enough of you disappear, your people will get that message.

The Slaver went back to blubbering. Let me walk out of here, and i'll tell you who i was working for and where you can find them!

Kaine really was interested now, though this asshole walking out alive was not on the kad damned table. Still, there was an opportunity.

Tell me and I'll let you walk out of here. The Zygerrian was wary.

Your men too. Kaine smiled inside his helmet. My men, too. Still using the basic word for males. If he'd said Vode, the promise would have included Sunset, which it did not.

She didn't put the blade away, but the Zygerrian didn't seem to have realised the trap. Kaine watched him speak his final words, making himself useful for once in his scumbag life.

Mongo The Hutt, on a space station in the Wayland System!

Kaine nodded. Thankyou.

Sunset moved in a blur, her blade extended. The Zygerrian's head was skewered like a piece of fried nerf, blood spurting from the exit wound as the beskar blade pierced his skull from one side to another. He fell to the floor dead as she twirled the blade and withdrew it. A pool of spreading blood coagulated around the body.

Kaine, with Sunset following his lead, removed his helmet, presenting a pair of human faces to the scared kids. He moved to a master control station and opened the cages, while she began helping them out of their prisons.

::Wild Boar, prepare to recieve casualties. There are a bunch of kids here and they'll all need checked out.::

Foundlings, Kaine mentally corrected himself. They'd try to reunite the kids with their own people, their own families, if that were possible. Otherwise, they'd be adopted as Mando'ade, and given new families. This was the way.

Winning battles was easier than winning wars, and Kaine's forces had had surprise on their side for the opening engagement. The enemy would be more cautious now, and more dangerous, having been mauled in the battle in the foothills.

War was not meant to be fair or reasonable, as the Australis Alor pointed out to the rebel commanders when he proposed his second operation to their command council. Having gained their trust with a successful victory on the battlefield, they were more willing than before to go along with the Mandalorian's ideas.

The very same day that the enemy had lost their attack force, a rebel guide took a half squad of six Australis commandos across enemy lines and into a rebel safehouse, where they secured transport. A half day's travel put the team in the enemy capital, with the local guide providing the location of the primary command building. Six men wasn't enough to wage war, but these beings specialised in the art of not being seen.

Quick and dirty, the mission called for a breach of the facility and decapitation of the enemy's command structure. Uniforms provided by the rebels were enough to get the team onto the grounds, though they had to utilize stealth to get inside the building via a first floor window by way of a support column. Once inside, the team was on their own, the guide waiting with their transport.

Their targets were known to be on the second floor. The team leader took two of his comrades up the stairs while the other three fanned out across the first floor. Silently, the commandos began to take down and conceal any armed personnel they came across, careful not to break silence. Before the leader had reached the second floor, the first floor had been efficiently cleared, and the three man second team moved down to the ground floor.

Up to this point, the mission had gone perfectly, and the team had enjoyed luck. Now, fate played her cruel hand, and things all went to osik in a Keldabe minute. The second team were halfway down the stairs when an alert officer on the ground floor noted three armed and unfamiliar looking soldiers descending the steps towards him, and called out for them to halt. The sound of shouts and then blasterfire from upstairs gave the game away, and the soldier drew his pistol, shouting the alarm. Other soldiers grabbed at their own weapons as the Mando'ade opened fire.

Upstairs, the map room was blasted apart and in flames from the torrent of blasterfire from the leader's team, cutting down most of their targets in the first volley. A pair of thermal detonators were thrown, before the three hightailed it back down the stairs towards the sound of shouting and gunfire below. Behind them, the upper floor exploded in flame and destruction, blasting out every window in the building and taking out everyone in the room.

The ground floor was a mess. Five of the enemy soldiers were down, with two of the Mando'ade taking wounds. They were huddled in the shadow of the main stair, engaging targets through the main doors, and with a second group of enemies coming from a side door that seemed to lead downstairs. It would not do to be trapped or flanked. With the choice between the two, the second team leader pitched a grenade into the side door, lowered his head, and pulled his wounded comrades behind him as he charged into the wake of the explosion. The wounded soldiers continued to fire behind them, and though they took down three more enemy, one return bullet caught a wounded commando in the neck, fatally wounding him.

The first team came down the stairs catching a group of soldiers entering the main doors in the flank, and cutting them down with well aimed blaster shots. One Mando took a shoulder wound, but they quickly secured the ground floor and then moved into the lower floor to rendezvous with the second team. The second team leader wanted to break out a prisoner in a cell, but the leader was having none of this, with a man down, two wounded and the situation compromised, they were gone or they would be gone. They were exfiltrating immediately.

With two men wounded, the five remaining now only had two fully capable operators, with two other men responsible for one of the wounded each, dropping the strike team's firepower quite considerably. Their combat efficiency was down more than fifty percent, and considering the enemy's superior numbers and their long road home, they were in serious need to get the kriff out of there. Mercifully, the team didn't draw fire as they exited the building, appearing through the smoke to be local soldiers helping wounded comrades escape the attack. The team reached their guide, however when the prisoner was mentioned, the guide became extremely agitated, but with five angry soldiers bearing their dead comrade, he wasn't in a position to argue.

The team managed to reach the safehouse before local nightfall. Wounds were dressed and their fallen vod's body wrapped up as best they could. No jokes were exchanged, and the mood was sour. They'd achieved the objective with flying colours, but the special ops community was a tight one, and losing even one of their own hurt.

Hours later, the team was back at the rebel base. Kaine had been watching through the visors of the strike team, though the locals had had to content themselves with his report that the mission had been accomplished, until the team arrived for their debriefing.

A local officer protested the decision to leave the prisoner behind. The team leader spoke his mind.

I had one man dead and two wounded, I didn't have time to kriff around. Kaine patted him on the shoulder. He knew, better than most beings, losing your people was hard.

The local officer burst out. You consider rescuing our President kriffing around?

Kaine's face became a mask of calm to cover his own anger at the intelligence that hadn't been passed on. He squeezed the strike team leader's shoulder and spoke before the commando could tear the officer a new one.

Look, the point is not what might have been done, but what we do now. If you wanted a rescue mission, then you should have asked for one. The officer melted away under Kaine's stare. Which was good, because Kaine wasn't going to let his team take any stick from the locals, not when they'd gotten the job done and lost one of their own doing it.

Another officer spoke up. We have the advantage now, we should assault the city, drive in with our armour and crush them.

Kaine smiled. That's a terrible idea, but it's exactly what I want us to do. That got the room silent. Kaine waved the others back into their seats.

This is going to be where we finish this fight, so listen up.

And he began to lay out plans for the final assault on the enemy. Smiles began to light up rebel faces as the Field Marshal explained just what he had been holding his own forces in reserve for.